As the door closed behind Roxana, the weight of tradition and duty settled heavily upon the household. Medea's passing had set in motion the intricate dance of Japanese funeral customs, a stark contrast to the political machinations that had preceded it.
The following evening, the Otsuya began. The sprawling fortress, once a bastion of power, now stood draped in somber black. The Azones, Delegates, and Ambassadors from various kingdoms and empires, along with their family members and close allies, gathered for the wake. Nobles dressed in mourning attire whispered among themselves, their expressions somber. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the dim candlelight cast flickering shadows on the grand hall's marble walls. Servants moved silently, offering refreshments, while murmurs of speculation and grief filled the room.
Luxana, her face a mask of porcelain composure, knelt before the ornate Buddhist altar. Medea's body lay in a polished coffin, surrounded by white chrysanthemums and flickering candles. A portrait of the deceased, stern even in death, gazed out at the assembled mourners.
The low, rhythmic chanting of the Buddhist priest filled the air, a hypnotic backdrop to the quiet sobs and whispered condolences. One by one, attendees approached the altar, bowing deeply before offering incense with trembling hands.
Roxana, now thrust into the role of Azone matriarch, stood rigidly beside the coffin. Her eyes, red-rimmed but dry, never left Luxana's face. The weight of unspoken words hung between them, as palpable as the incense smoke.
As night deepened, the priest bestowed upon Medea her kaimyō – the posthumous Buddhist name that would guide her spirit in the afterlife. "Myōjō," he intoned. "Bright Star." A murmur rippled through the gathering, some finding irony in the name for a woman whose reign had cast such long shadows.
The Otsuya stretched into the early hours, a vigil of remembrance and reflection. Tomorrow would bring the Kokubetsu-shiki, the formal funeral ceremony, where the true test of Roxana's newfound authority would begin. For now, in the hushed moments between night and dawn, the living stood watch over the dead, and the fragile threads of the future trembled in the balance.
Luxana remained motionless throughout, her fingers curled around a single, half-wilted rose – a silent reminder of all that had been lost, and all that hung in the precarious balance of what was yet to come.
As dawn broke, casting long shadows across the fortress, preparations for the Kokubetsu-shiki began in earnest. Servants moved with quiet efficiency, transforming the main hall into a solemn space befitting Medea's status.
Luxana emerged from her chambers, a vision in black silk. Her hair, usually a cascade of cooper, was now tightly bound in a severe bun. She moved through the corridors like a ghost, her presence barely registering among the bustling staff.
The funeral hall filled slowly. Dignitaries from allied clans, political rivals, and members of the council filed in, their faces masks of carefully cultivated grief. Roxana stood at the entrance, accepting condolences with grace that belied the turmoil within.
As the ceremony began, the air grew thick with incense and the low drone of sutras. The Buddhist priest, resplendent in ornate robes, led the gathering through the rituals. His voice, strong and steady, seemed to bridge the gap between the world of the living and the realm beyond.
Luxana watched from her place of honor, her eyes never leaving the coffin. She could feel Roxana's gaze upon her, a weight as tangible as a physical touch. The unspoken tension between them crackled beneath the surface of the somber proceedings.
When it came time for the offering of incense, Luxana rose with fluid grace. She approached the altar, her steps measured and deliberate. As she bowed and lifted the incense to her forehead, a hush fell over the assembly. In that moment, power seemed to radiate from her slender form, a reminder of the political chess game that continued even in the face of death.
The ceremony stretched on, a tapestry of tradition and unspoken power plays. As it drew to a close, the priest announced the final journey to the crematorium. The pallbearers stepped forward, lifting Medea's coffin with practiced ease.
As they moved towards the exit, Roxana fell into step beside Luxana. Their arms brushed, a fleeting contact that sent a visible shiver through both women. Roxana's lips parted, as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she reached out, her fingers ghosting over Luxana's hand for the briefest of moments.
The procession wound its way to the waiting vehicles, a somber parade marking the end of an era. As Luxana settled into the lead car beside Roxana, she finally broke her silence.
"Just so you know...," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the purr of the engine. "Don't judge my choices without understanding my reasons."
Roxana's sharp intake of breath was the only response as the carriage pulled away, carrying them towards the final act of Medea's earthly journey – and the uncertain future that lay beyond.
*1 Year Later*
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the battlefield as the armies of the Azones and Alizahs faced each other. Tension crackled in the air like lightning, the calm before the storm of steel and blood.
Roxana, her cooper hair whipping in the wind, stood atop a small hill overlooking the field. Her eyes, cold as zircon, surveyed the assembled forces. To her right, Richard's hunched form loomed, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he fingered the hilt of his sword.
"The Alizahs are on the move." Roxana murmured, her voice carrying to her commanders. "They'll learn the price of such folly for once in for all."
Across the field, Cesare Alizah sat astride his warhorse, his golden armor glinting in the fading light. Beside him, Rudbeckia's crimson cloak billowed like a banner of blood.
The tension snapped as a horn blared across the battlefield. With a roar, the two armies surged forward, crashing together in a cacophony of steel and screams.
Helios, leading his elite mercenary unit, cut through the enemy lines like a scythe through wheat. The Dominion Military followed in his wake, their discipline a stark contrast to the chaos around them.
Richard, cackling madly, waded into the fray, his sword a blur of deadly precision. "Come, you dogs!" he bellowed. "Taste the bite of my blade!"
Roxana watched from her vantage point, her face an impassive mask as she directed her forces with cold efficiency. Allied kingdoms joined the fray, their banners a riot of color amidst the carnage.
On the Alizah side, Rudbeckia's magic crackled through the air, bolts of energy felling Azone soldiers left and right. Cesare led from the front, his sword singing a deadly song as he cut down foe after foe.
The battle raged on, neither side willing to yield. The sun dipped below the horizon, and still they fought, the clash of steel and cries of the dying echoing across the blood-soaked field.
The battlefield erupted into chaos as the two armies collided. Steel clashed against steel, creating a deafening symphony of war. Helios and his mercenaries spearheaded the Azone assault, their precision and ruthlessness carving a bloody path through the Alizah lines.
Cesare Alizah met the charge head-on, his golden armor gleaming as he swung his broadsword in wide, devastating arcs. Bodies fell around him like wheat before a scythe, ally and enemy alike crushed under the relentless advance.
On the flanks, Richard danced through the melee, his twisted form belying an inhuman speed. His blade flashed, finding gaps in armor and slicing through flesh with surgical precision. Screams followed in his wake as he laughed, reveling in the carnage.
Rudbeckia's magic crackled across the battlefield, bolts of crimson energy lancing through the air. Where they struck, Azone soldiers crumpled, their armor melting and flesh searing. The air filled with the acrid stench of ozone and burning flesh.
The Dominion Military pushed forward in tight formation, their shields locked and spears bristling. They moved like a single organism, inexorably grinding through the Alizah defenses. But for every yard gained, they paid in blood.
Overhead, griffon riders from an allied kingdom swooped low, raining arrows on the densely packed troops below. Alizah wyverns rose to meet them, the sky becoming a swirling melee of wings, talons, and falling bodies.
In the center of the maelstrom, Helios and Cesare finally met. Their duel was a blur of strikes and parries, each warrior testing the other's defenses. Sparks flew as their blades met, neither able to gain a decisive advantage.
The battle raged on as day turned to dusk, the setting sun painting the blood-soaked field in hues of crimson and gold. Neither side willing to yield, the conflict stretched into the night, lit by the eerie glow of mage-fire and burning siege engines.
The battlefield fell silent as Roxana raised the Artifact of Lirania, its crystalline surface shimmering with an otherworldly light. The teardrop-shaped relic pulsed in her grasp, each throb sending ripples of energy across the blood-soaked field. Soldiers on both sides lowered their weapons, transfixed by the divine object that seemed to bend reality around it.
Roxana's fingers tightened around the Artifact, her eyes blazing with a mixture of triumph and trepidation. She could feel the raw power coursing through her, a torrent of divine energy that threatened to overwhelm her mortal form. The air grew thick and heavy, charged with potential, as if the very fabric of existence held its breath in anticipation.
Across the battlefield, the Alizah forces stood frozen, their faces etched with primal terror. Cesare, his golden armor now dulled with blood and grime, raised a hand as if to ward off the impending doom. Rudbeckia's crimson magic flickered and died, snuffed out by the overwhelming presence of the Artifact.
Roxana's voice, barely a whisper, carried across the suddenly still battlefield: "Unmake." The word hung in the air for a heartbeat, and then the world exploded into light.
The Artifact of Lirania flared with blinding radiance, a star brought to earth. A wave of pure, unmaking energy burst forth, expanding outward in a perfect sphere of destruction. Where it touched, it erased. Alizah soldiers simply ceased to exist, their very atoms scattered to the cosmic wind. Rudbeckia's form wavered like a mirage before vanishing entirely, not even dust remaining to mark her passing. Cesare's scream was cut short as his golden armor crumbled to nothing, taking its wearer with it.
The wave continued its relentless advance, reshaping the very landscape in its wake. Ancient trees unrooted themselves, their trunks twisting into impossible shapes before dissolving into nothingness. Mountains crumbled, their proud peaks reduced to smooth plains in the blink of an eye. Rivers changed course, their waters evaporating and reforming in new channels carved by the Artifact's will.
In the wake of the destruction, a blank slate remained - a canvas wiped clean of all that had come before. The once-bustling battlefield was now a featureless expanse, devoid of any trace of the conflict that had raged mere moments ago.
As the light faded, only the Azone forces remained, standing in stunned silence on the transformed plain. Where once an army had stood, now there was... nothing. No bodies, no weapons, no scars upon the earth to mark the passing of thousands. It was as if the Alizahs had never existed at all.
Roxana swayed, her strength suddenly leaving her. The Artifact slipped from her grasp, its surface no longer glowing with divine power. As it fell, it shattered into a thousand glittering shards, each fragment dissolving into motes of light that drifted away on the wind. The war was over, won in a single, reality-altering moment.
But the cost...the cost was beyond measure. For in using the Artifact of Lirania, Roxana had not just reshaped the battlefield. She had rewritten history itself, and the consequences of that act would echo through time for generations to come. As she looked out over the blank expanse that had once been a kingdom, Roxana wondered if victory had come at too high a price.
The battlefield fell silent as the dust settled, revealing the aftermath of the devastating clash. Amidst the chaos and destruction, Roxana's eyes frantically searched the war-torn landscape until they locked onto a crumpled form in the distance. Her heart clenched as she recognized Rudbeckia's crimson cloak, now tattered and stained with blood.
Without hesitation, Roxana sprinted across the field, her boots sinking into the blood-soaked earth with each step. As she drew closer, she could see Rudbeckia's labored breathing, her chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic bursts.
Roxana's heart pounded as she raced across the battlefield, her eyes fixed on Rudbeckia's crumpled form. The crimson cloak, once a symbol of their division, now lay tattered and blood-soaked around her friend's body.
Roxana fell to her knees beside the fallen warrior, her hands hovering uncertainly over Rudbeckia's broken body. Deep gashes marred her flesh, and a pool of dark blood spread beneath her. Rudbeckia's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed with pain.
"YAMI!" Roxana's anguished cry tore through the air as she collapsed beside her fallen companion, her knees hitting the blood-soaked earth. Her trembling hands reached out, cradling Rudbeckia's ashen face with such tenderness that it belied the desperation in her voice. Tears streamed unchecked down her dirt-streaked cheeks as she pressed her forehead against Rudbeckia's. "Don't you dare leave me, not after everything we've been through... not when I've only just found you again!"
Rudbeckia's eyelids fluttered—a fragile, butterfly movement—before revealing eyes clouded with pain but still burning with an inner light. A ghost of a smile touched her bloodless lips. "Yoru... you came back for me," she whispered, each word a precious, labored breath that Roxana felt like a knife to her heart. "Even after... everything I said... everything I did..."
Drawing a shuddering breath, Roxana closed her eyes, summoning strength from depths she didn't know she possessed. Her hands began to glow with an otherworldly luminescence, the sacred Kiorian power that flowed through her veins now pulsing visibly beneath her skin. The air around them shimmered with crystalline particles of light, enveloping them in a cocoon of healing energy.
To be Continued...