The agreement

Chapter 49

The wall of this castle is filled with ancient secrets that mankind could never understand. To seek this knowledge was said to drive man into madness, but that was the time when mankind was too naive and curious to resist temptation. As the centuries passed, whispers of the castle's mysteries grew louder, drawing in those brave enough to uncover the truth hidden within its walls. The legacy of those who built it lived on, their influence shaping the course of history in ways both seen and unseen.

No human being who entered this forsaken castle saw the other side of its reality , a place that was in-between the human realm and the unknown. This powerful being used their authority and power to stretch space and time in this place because of its significance. It was a place, not part of this reality but a threshold to another, where the very fabric of existence twisted and spiraled through the echoes of forgotten epochs. The castle loomed as a sentinel of enigmas, its stones reverberating with the whispered incantations of those who had come before—scholars, adventurers, and desperate seekers of knowledge.

Each crevice and corridor was a testament to the false promises of enlightenment, as every intersection of stones held energies that flickered with the remnants of ambition, ambition that often spiraled into obsession. Legends spoke of a profound understanding hidden within, a truth that could unshackle the mind from the mundane chains of reality, yet it came at a harrowing price.

As the years weaved their tapestry of time, the stories of the castle became intertwined with the very essence of human experience, evolving from mere folklore into an almost sacred obsession. Scholars meticulously transcribed ancient texts; their studies were often punctuated by a descent into madness, driven to comprehend what was never meant for mortal minds. They became mere shadows, remnants of their former selves, void of sanity yet shining with the brilliance of forbidden wisdom. The castle had a name whispered among hushed circles, a name entwined with both awe and dread—Noxestrum, a paradox where light and darkness existed in perpetual dance.

In this eerie realm between understanding and insanity, time became fluid; seconds stretched into infinity, and moments of clarity flickered like fleeting fireflies. The castle's allure was not just in the secrets it guarded but in the unending question that burned within the hearts of those who approached: what lay beyond the veils of human comprehension? Perhaps it was a truth too profound to bear or a beauty too intricate to capture.

As generations passed, the attempts to unveil the castle's mysteries forged bonds among those touched by its legacy, an unbroken chain of seekers bound together by their shared descent into the depths of the unknown. The walls, adorned with the whispers of their fervent inquiries, waited patiently for the next curious soul brave enough to cross the threshold into the haunting embrace of the night

Those who were part of their lineage could not enter this place. No human being who entered this forsaken castle glimpsed the other side of its reality, a dimension caught in the liminal space between the human realm and the unknown. It loomed like a shadow over the land, an edifice that absorbed echoes of despair and reverberated whispers of an ancient lineage. Within its walls, a powerful being wielded their authority with a deft hand, stretching the very fabric of space and time in this enigmatic bastion. The castle was not merely a relic of forgotten days; it was a gateway, a sanctuary reserved for those of a specific bloodline—an essence rooted in a magic lost to most who roamed the earth.

This surreal realm pulsated with an energy that danced just beyond the perception of ordinary mortals. Here, the air thickened with the weight of untold mysteries, and the architecture shifted imperceptibly, as if the castle itself were a living entity aware of its purpose and the secrets it sheltered. Those who could claim descent from the castle's ancient inhabitants found themselves accorded a privilege denied to others—a chance to step into a space where time folded upon itself and possibilities branched like the limbs of a vast, unseen tree. The walls, steeped in the stories of their ancestors, bore witness to the unfolding of destinies that ebbed and flowed like the tide, revealing truths that would remain hidden from the unblooded wanderer.

To enter this place was not merely to traverse a threshold; it was to embrace a legacy laden with both promise and peril. The powerful being channeling the castle's energy reigned with a complex blend of benevolence and authority, shaping the very essence of this in-between realm. Here, those of the lineage could commune with the echoes of past generations, absorb fragments of wisdom and warnings, and perhaps grasp at the threads of a fate intertwined with the very cosmos. Yet, forgotten souls, lost in the haze of the castle's outer dimensions, left only with remnants of their unfulfilled desires, wandered forever amidst the echoes of their decisions, a reminder of the fragile line that separated desire from destiny.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an orange glow over the rugged rocks of the Belogradchik Fortress, an elderly man approached its grand entrance. Each deliberate step was measured, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of his cane against the cobblestone path. His back, slightly hunched like the ancient walls of the fortress, told stories of a life well-lived, marked by the passage of time. Despite his slow pace, there was a remarkable resilience in his movements; the way he held his head high suggested a spirit unyielded by age.

The fortress, a symbol of strength and endurance, seemed to mirror the old man's own journey. Moss clung to the stones, the remnants of many seasons, just as the lines on his face depicted decades of experience.

As he stepped beneath the archways adorned with intricate carvings, the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the chilly air, blending with the whispers of the past. It was evident that he had not only come to visit the fortifications but perhaps also to reconnect with memories imbued in their walls, a place that had witnessed countless tales of bravery and perseverance—much like his own. He paused for a moment, taking in the majestic view of the surrounding landscape, a serene smile creeping across his weathered face, as if recalling days gone by. In that moment, the intersection of history and personal narrative became palpable, the fortress standing as a testament to both the legacy of time and the enduring spirit of a solitary man.

The guads patrolling the area didn't even pursway the old man as he continued to walk and entered the area that most tourists admire. The old man casually entered the entrace of the surrounding protective wall, and like a mist, he vanished and came out and appeared on the deepest part of the Magura Cave, where no tourists are allowed to enter. Located 22 km away from Belogradchik, this cave is one of the largest in Bulgaria, with a length of more than 3 km. In fact, this 15 million year old cave is home to stunning rock formations and prehistoric paintings that have fascinated archaeologists for years. The old man seemed to know exactly where he was going, as if he had a special connection to the ancient wonders hidden within the depths of the cave.

The sealed, thick, and solid door behind him has never been opened. Legend has it that only those with pure intentions can unlock the secrets of the Magura Cave, making it a mysterious and enigmatic place shrouded in intrigue.

The old man's confident stride, as he was already inside the closed gate, hinted at a deeper understanding of the cave's mysteries, leaving those around him in awe of his knowledge and connection to the ancient world within.

More people were seen walking inside the long passageways, their footsteps echoing softly against the cool, damp stone walls that surrounded them. Shadows danced in the flickering light of torches mounted along the passageways, creating an atmosphere that felt both mysterious and intimate. Some individuals exchanged quiet nods, a simple yet profound acknowledgment of their shared journey through the labyrinthine tunnels. Others engaged in hushed conversations, their voices barely rising above a whisper as they spoke of secrets, adventures, and perhaps even the whispers of ancient legends that the caves held.

As the passageways twisted and turned, leading deeper into the rock, a palpable sense of anticipation hung in the air. Finally, the winding tunnels opened up into a vast hall, its grandeur in striking contrast to the narrow confines of the passageways.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling like chandeliers, illuminated by a shimmering glow that seemed to wash over the smooth stone floor. Here, the muffled sounds of footsteps and whispers faded into an awe-filled silence, with each visitor struck by the sheer scale and beauty of the chamber. It was a place where time felt suspended.

Those who came, including the old man with his weathered face and piercing gaze, stood in a semicircle, their breath visible in the crisp air, as they awaited the appointed mediator to commence the long-anticipated meeting. The atmosphere hummed with a mix of nostalgia and tension, for the remaining active members of the Twelve had not gathered in years, each member etched into the fabric of a collective history filled with both triumph and discord.

As the minutes ticked by, stories from the past flickered through their minds like old film reels—the victories they had celebrated together, the disputes that had torn them apart, and the bonds that time had either strained or strengthened. The old man, a sentinel of wisdom, felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, knowing that this gathering was not merely about rehashing old grievances or reminiscing; it was about forging a path forward, one that could heal old wounds and reignite the shared purpose that had once united them.

Finally, the mediator arrived, confidence emanating from every step, their presence calming the palpable tension in the air. Each member's eyes turned, some more hopeful than others, but all brimming with the anticipation of renewal. The old man took a deep breath, feeling the echoes of the past vibrate in the bones of the ground beneath them. There was a palpable sense that the outcome of this meeting could alter the course of their legacy—an intertwining of lives that had been marked by both collaboration and conflict. As the mediator raised a hand to establish order, the old man silently vowed to contribute more than just his voice and deliver the message from those who were above them.

As they waited for the mediator to arrive, the remaining members casually talked to each other as they still represented their respective monarchs. The balance of power nearly tilted when the first clan who was known to be serving the virtues, decided to distance themselves from the apostles and remain neutral and distant from the rest as they grew tired of constantly being caught in the endless bloodshed as this family was known for its great skill in warfare.

Those who remained were similarly in the same mindset as they grew tired of the constant arguments from both sides, knowing that the fact still remains that they were both abandoned. The apostles that serve the monarchs slowly chose to distance themselves as the monarchs became silent.

"How long has it been?"

"Gathering here every time the monarch gets an itch is tiresome!"

" we are the representative of the two factions, remember?"

"six representing the seven sins, and another six representing the 12 virtues, monarchs,"

"What do you mean, six? There are just four serving the virtues."

" and four serving the seven monarchs ."

" the rest just, abandoned their duties, and just enjoy their life as humanly as possible"

"Either way, we are all gradually getting cast aside; we are still mortal."

" half breed."

"We did gain a long life but we can still die."

"The remaining four are the only ones left fulfilling our agreement with those self centered righteous monarchs."

"ordering us to find a way to reach the other realm, and let the supreme being notice them again and regain their lost glory,"

"When I was given the privilege to become the representative of your clan, I was ecstatic."

"But after eight hundred years of serving them, "

"I have come to realize that our existence is fading into obscurity."

"Yes you are correct, Rollos; we must find a way to reclaim our own lives."

"We are just doing what our previous ancestors were doing."

"Some of you still remain loyal to this mediocrity,"

"We rule the world, and we can even do anything if we want to kill an entire race and civilization ,"

"The Atlantians are a good example; they were directly influenced by our ancestors."

"The first 12 apostles, who were our great ancestors, gave them knowledge and power.,"

"But as soon as the group of monarchs saw this and deemed that the Atlantians were becoming too powerful, they decided to wipe them out completely."

"We might be half breeds, gifted with a portion of their powers, and even gain a long life; the power, influence, and wealth we individually ortain are a result of our own efforts and ambitions. "

"Yes, our ancestors may have passed down knowledge and power, but it is up to us to make the most of it in our own lives. "

"You guys are rebelling against the Monarch of Virtue and Sin?"

"The Monarchs of Sin never mind those who serve them, doing things outside the agreement."

"That is why the first apostles turned their backs and remained disconnected."

"Rollos , you are the oldest member of the current apostles, as your family was able to survive many centuries of war, calamity, petilence."

" do think the mediator will allow us to turn our backs on the Monarchs?"

" Carlson, you have been serving the Monarch of Virtue for near two generations, we all wage secret wars among each other at one point,"

" after many years of conflict, enforcing the monarch managing use to fulfill their needs,"

"All develop a certain camaraderie among each other; from 12 powerful and well known clans we ended up with nine active representatives."

" am tired of this."

"How many times do we have to orchestrate our deaths so mankind won't get suspicious?,"

"We all know the agreement between the two groups of monks.,"

" Windsor how many wars did your clan overcome in the past millennia?"

"Seven great wars,"

"And how many members of your clan died during those wars,"

"There are too many to count, but we honor their sacrifice every day."

"See, he can't even say what he truly wishes to express, all because they are still serving the virtues."

Cromwell, one of those who serve the Virtues, was already upset and was already segregating their beliefs from the rest of the group. He knew that their loyalty to the virtues was causing more harm than good, but he also knew that going against them would have serious consequences. Despite his inner turmoil, Cromwell remained silent.

The one who started this discussion was the third strongest clan serving the 12 virtues; it was the Fujiwara clan elder. And backing him up was the Di Giovanni clan, who were both six hundred years old.

"All this power at our finger tips is useless."

"When the bomb that destroyed my land exploded, I could have healed thousands of my fellow people."

" But instead, I was forced to watch them suffer and die. The weight of that regret still haunts me to this day. "

"What is the use of having a long life when suffering still persists?" "We must use our power for good to prevent such tragedies from happening again."

"But those 12 Virtues insist on never participating in the affairs of humans."

"Have they forgotten that they were the ones who created us half breeds in the first place? The least they could do is help us in our time of need."

"Their inaction only serves to perpetuate the cycle of suffering and death among our people."

"Those monarchs are on the same par with gods; stories and deities all came from them."

"They hold the key to our salvation, yet they choose to remain aloof and indifferent."

"It is time for us to unite and demand accountability from those who have the power to make a difference in our lives."

" I now think serving my own needs is justifiable."

"That's treason!"

"I refuse to stand idly by while our leaders neglect their responsibilities "

"Just idly sit and remain silent in their small void while we do the dirty work."

"That's pretty bold of you to say those things, Fugiwara san."

A voice echoes as they all argue. This person made them stop and think about the consequences of their actions. It was the mediator.

"We must consider the impact of our words and actions on those around us,"

The voice continued, causing a moment of reflection among the elders.

They were all arrogant and thought they were above reproach, but the mediator's words struck a chord with them. They realized the monarch chose this person not because of any particular reason but because she was not part of any of the two.

"Greetings moderator Lilîtu, how long has it been?"

"Ah, it's been a while Grand Patriarch Rollos Siegert. "

"Lilitu is too old fashion, you guys can call me by my human Aurora Night."

"How is my youngling serving you?"

"Those she still pretends to be weak and fragile?"

"Sadly, yes, her fetish to look weak and fragile is still very much alive. But she has proven to be quite resourceful and cunning when necessary."

"That's good to hear. You must continue to keep a close eye on her, despite her outward appearance, she is still the mother of your children."

"What about the woman, that your eldest fancies?"

"Is she still around?"

"Ah, Eurielle,"

"sadly she passed away, leaving only her daughter."

" I have nothing against the woman that your eldest fell in love with, but the name is making me cringe."

"Anyway , I came to facilitate and moderate this gathering; the information I will mention both came from those your clan serves."

" I am in no position to report anything back to them, so rest assured, Fugiwara san, your outburst won't reach their ears."

"Isn't that such a convenient, but if it were me , I would massacre all of your entire blood line."

"All 215 of them!"

"I must say, your restraint is commendable Fugiwara san,"

Lilitu replied with a smirk.

"But remember, my threats are easily made but not so easily carried out."

She leaned in closer, her eyes glinting with mischief.

" I am kidding! But if you ever cross me, rest assured, I won't hesitate to make good on my words."

Lilitu's smile widened as she giggled.

"Of course, Fugiwara san, we both know that it's all in good fun,"

Lilitu said playfully.

"But let's not test each other's limits too much."

"So let's begin with a clean slate, shall we?"

"After all, there is no need for unnecessary bloodshed when we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."