The Ashfords

—7 July 2023—

—(4 months before the annual meeting)—

Israel. Southern Israel.

Typically, the further south you get down in Israel, the less amount of people you encounter, as customarily, the majority of the population lives in the many cities in Central and Northern Israel.

But today was a special day.

Today marked the beginning of an expansive multi-national scientific archaeological mining expedition into the heart of the Negev Desert.

As the convoy of assorted mining and transport vehicles snaked its way through the barren yet breathtaking landscape, a sense of palpable anticipation hung thick in the air. 

Idle chatter and laughter intermingled with the rumble of engines, creating a cacophony of sound against the backdrop of the spacious, muted terrain.

As far as the eye could see, undulating dunes rose and fell, golden hues shimmering in the sun.

The contours of the seas of sand were occasionally broken apart by the varying and random rocky hills and the rarer oases of water.

A lone coyote paused—curiosity piqued by the distant rumble from the seemingly endless thrum of a thousand engines.

With a wary glance, it scampered away, instinctively seeking refuge from the completely alien disturbance.

At the forefront of the convoy, a black rugged 4x4 truck, coated in a deep blanket of dust collected by local winds, plowed through the soft sand, leaving behind deep tracks in its rear.

Following closely behind, a line of vehicles stretched out far into the distance.

Other dust-coasted trucks, SUVs, and jeeps filled the majority of the convoy, carrying a giant inventory of spare fuel cans and various equipment, to make both their journey and operation as comfortable as possible.

In the centre of the convoy, laid the stomach.

Several large semi-trucks carrying long lines of trailers carried the main logistics of the fleet, filled to the brim with tents, water, food, and comforts.

No detail was overlooked in the preparations for this venture.

Those few trucks housed enough supplies for a caravan triple its size.

At the tail end of the fleet, the heaviest vehicles made their presence known with a deep grumble.

Large buses filled with people and vehicles specialising in carrying other smaller vehicles, the sort you'd find in large-scale excavation and mining sites. 

"-rew.' 

"-drew."

"Andrew!"

An impatient call awakened the glasses-wearing boy as he jolted forward in cold sweat, and his eyes fluttered violently awake as if he just woke from a terrible nightmare.

He blinked, disoriented, before glancing over to the seat directly ahead of himself, scowling at the one that woke him from his hibernation.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, sa-"

"If you utter one more line from that stupid game, I will delete all your save files," Andrew warned, cutting her off, his fatigue ever evident in his voice.

The girl gasped in exaggerated shock. "You wouldn't do that to your favourite sister! Right?"

"You're my only sister. Thus, you're also my least favorite sister." he deadpaned, his patience wearing thin.

"You're not supposed to say that, you're supposed to say: 'I would never do that to my precious Sarah!'" Sarah deepened her voice in an attempt to mimic his voice.

"You sound gay. I wanna go back to sleep." he yawned and stretched, and then closed his eyes before slumping back into his seat.

"That's supposed to be you though! So, you just called yourself ga-" One of Andrew's eyes snapped open, shutting her up.

An amused giggle escaped from Sarah's mouth before she leaned her head against the bus's unstabilized window, letting her head bounce rather violently but rhythmically against the pane, in sync with the bumpy path the vehicle was forced to take.

The hum of the engine was soothing, and the random chatter of their colleagues filling the coach's cabin served as an excellent white noise for one to fall asleep to; she perfectly understood why her brother felt as lethargic as he did, especially with how busy he'd been.

Deep within herself, she felt the same sense of drowsiness as him.

Seemingly having had enough of the constant minor concussions she was giving herself; her attention came back to her older brother.

His long blonde hair, usually tied back, lay messily in front of his face, obscuring any hint of emotions resting on his features.

"Do I have something on my face?" he murmured, half asleep already, but just aware enough to notice her stare.

"Hair, a lot of it. You need a haircut; you look like a bum." She comments, sharing her thoughts.

Andrew responded with a noncommittal hum, too exhausted to engage in further conversation. Content to bask in the tranquillity of the moment.

Sarah looked back out the window, her own blonde hair, cut just above her shoulders greeting herself.

Her soft red eyes casted a harmonising gradient over the sea of golden sand, her mind drifting with the shifting sands.

A ray of sunlight washed over her features, a parallel to the hope that began to settle into her eyes.

"Andrew." she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the engine.

As if he was never exhausted in the first place, he sat up and leaned forward, taking in her side profile as she continued to idly observe the passing by gold.

"We're almost there, we've almost found it haven't we? Just a little bit more and we'll finally uncover it all, right?" She pivoted her head to face him once more, and an expectant look filled her face, demanding an answer.

The older brother took a moment to read his younger sibling's expression.

He already knew that she knows the answer to her own question.

Dutifully upholding his role as an older brother, he finally answered as his red eyes sharpened.

"Yeah."

------------------------

The entrance of the archaeological site was a fountain of activity.

Amidst the flurry of action, the nearly-thousand-strong team all had their respective jobs to do, no matter how small or grand it was, everyone had a sense of purpose.

Cargo was swiftly unloaded, temporary structures erected, and the air thrummed with the sound of hammering and construction. It was as if a vast swarm of bees had descended upon the site, each member diligently working to build a gargantuan monumental hive of productivity.

Through the organized chaos, in the center of it all, a circle of individuals clad in high-visibility clothing and hats of assorted colors stood in solemn assembly. These were the leaders, the overseers of their respective domains–construction, excavation, archaeology, science, security, resources, and lastly logistics.

Though they had only just arrived at their destination, after many hours out in the sand, they wasted no time in convening, gathering to discuss the tasks that lay ahead. After the initial orders that they delegated to their teams, they all joined together, ready to consult the next steps.

Among them stood a young figure who stood apart from the rest, his long blonde hair tied back in a loose knot, his crimson eyes alight with intent and resolve. His confident smile strengthened the charismatic aura the man radiated.

As the discussions unfolded, all eyes turned to him, recognizing his unique position within the hierarchy. Despite his unconventional role and appearance, there was no doubt that he held a crucial place in the success of the expedition.

"So, Mister Ashford, what's the plan from here?" The man in bright blue, the scientist asked first, curious about their next main course of action.

Andrew Ashford, the focal point of attention, took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. "Please, call me Andrew instead. Firstly…" Andrew picked up a small device seated on the table just beside him before presenting it to the group. "Does anyone recognize this type of gadget?"

A brief silence fell over the assembly as everyone examined the device. Finally, the blue clad scientist spoke up. "That looks like a type of electromagnetic force detector, an EMF device."

"Partially correct, you're completely right in the fact that this was an EMF device, but it's been specifically modified and fine tuned to solely detect one particular frequency that the majority of conventional tech could not pick up." the young man answered with a smile.

The woman wrapped in neon yellow, the construction manager, posed her question, her curiosity evident in her tone. "A particular frequency? What's that boss?"

Andrew's smile widened, a flicker of excitement dancing in his eyes as he responded. "We don't know! Which is the precise reason why we're here. This mysterious frequency was only detected several months ago. The reason that it was just detected now is the real discrepancy, the true anomaly."

Taking a moment to wet his parched throat with a sip of water, Andrew continued. "The cause for it to be such an anomaly is simply since this "frequency" if we can even call it that, has been present in our world this entire time. The reason why our equipment failed to pick it up until recently? It simply lacked the 'density' to register. One moment it's invisible, the next…voila! Like magic!"

Swiveling his chair around to straddle it backward, Andrew rested his forearms on the backrest, his expression becoming more serious. "Whatever this thing is, it's growing. That's why we can discern it now. This brings us back to these handy new thingamabobs that come into play." He slides the tool to the middle of the table.

"Since we're capable of feeling this phenomenon, I told the boys back home to figure out how to pinpoint its source. Hence, the birth of these beauties–'FLDs.' or 'Foreign Locator Devices.' Best part? They're cost-effective! Just be careful not to break 'em; we've got a limited supply." He cautioned.

A contemplative silence hung in the air, each person digesting Andrew's words before the security director, dressed in black and white, broke the stillness. "So, Andrew, you're suggesting that these 'FLDs' led us here and that this 'frequency' originates here?"

Andrew stroked his chin thoughtfully, picking his next words with care. "Yes and no. This 'frequency' permeates everything–air, ground, water, even me and you, it's everywhere! It confused me and the boys back home a lot! But here's the kicker!

Andrew slammed his hand down on the center of the table, his tone brimming with intensity. "Excuse my crude language, but right here? There's an absolute fucking shit tonne. Here, compared to anywhere else in the world is like comparing a single raindrop, to the entire goddamn Pacific Ocean! It's as if it's saying 'Come here! Come here!' So we fucking did!"

The tent buzzed with a mix of astonishment and intrigue, but Andrew pressed on, undeterred. "Our mission, plain and simple, is to uncover the truth behind this enigma. Once we unravel that, we can chart our next steps. Any questions thus far?" He inquired, scanning the faces around the table.

With no objections or further queries, Andrew cleared his throat, commanding attention. "Let's focus on getting operations up and running. Once we're set, we can delve into the mystery at hand. Agreed?"

"Sounds good."

"You got it, boss."

"Aye."

With a nod of satisfaction, Andrew dismissed the group, each member dispersing from the tent, to attend to their respective duties. As they left, a taste of unity lingered, their collaboration a testament to their symbiotic relationship, bound by their joint cooperation.

Now, by his lonesome, Andrew decided that the next best thing for him was to tackle all that recent paperwork he's been avoiding. With a resigned sigh, he reached out to lift the several mountainous stacks of texts out from the nearby drawer, he looked upon this endeavor with a strained smile. God forbid, he wishes he could just lay down and take a nap, but duty calls! Or so he told himself.

Skimming through the first few pages, Andrew's initial impressions were unremarkable. The pages were filled with lengthy requests for his signature and approval, All ostensibly for the betterment of his family and conglomerate. Of course, Andrew knew better than to blindly sign away his authority. He skimmed the opening lines of each document, a practiced eye discerning whether they aligned with his objectives or posed potential risks. It was a tedious process, but one that he approached with the rehearsed diligence of a seasoned leader.

With each passing document, Andrew's hidden weariness grew, but he remained steadfast in his scrutiny. Occasionally, he would come across a clause that raised an eyebrow–a subtle alteration in wording, a hidden implication–but nothing that couldn't be addressed with either a quick annotation or a decisive crumple, he addressed any discrepancies, forging ahead with machine-like proficiency. Despite the monotony of the task, Andrew found a sense of familiarity through it all. A feeling that he longed for.

Amidst the sea of forms, a particular phrase caught Andrew's eye as he skimmed through the near hundredth document: 'Dear Logan Ashford, I hope this message finds you well. I am reaching out kindly…' Simultaneously, Andrew felt something slip from his grasp–a trail of blood, evidence of the unnoticed strain in his grip. With a detached indifference, he observed his self-inflicted injury, the pain registering only as a distant sensation. A stark reminder of the burden he placed on himself.

With a resigned exhale Andrew rose from his seat, pushing his chair back in place with a weary hand. He made his way to the first aid box affixed to the wall, his steps heavy with fatigue. There, he tended to his wound, a small but tangible reminder of who he truly was.

As he attended to his injury, the entrance to the tent swung open, but Andrew, initially ready to resume his facade as the energetic leader, chose not to. He recognized the soft steps approaching him, a familiar presence he didn't need to turn around to identify. Petite arms wrapped gently around his back, allowing him to relax, allowing him to be himself again.

"Sarah…" He murmured quietly, his voice deep and resonant, yet tinged with sincerity. The arms wrapped around his waist only squeezed tighter, offering comfort in their embrace. His head hung low, resigned.

"Idiot." her voice whispered softly, yet with a power that belied her small frame. Sarah had entered the tent intending to playfully mess around and tease her older brother, but the unmistakable scent of blood caught her attention. A quick glance at his desk revealed all she had to know.

She pressed her face into his back, seeking solace in his presence. "You're not alone here. Don't forget that I'm here. Please don't forget that." she pleaded, her voice momentarily cracking with distress.

His bandaged hand snaked his way up to his waist, grasping her hand with his own. Despite the stinging pain from his hand, he didn't care. She was here now, and that was more important to him, more than anything else in the world. He thought to himself, accepting that delusion.

"I'm sorry," he replied. His grasp on her became more worn by the second, her hand becoming slightly moist from the blood seeping through his bandage.

"I know you miss him, feel guilty about him, feel as if you need to do something about him. I do as well, but…" you don't have to become him. That is what she wanted to say, but she couldn't bring herself to say that to him. This was his revenge after all. His self-imposed quest, A pilgrimage he concluded that he had to do.

The Ashford family had once been larger. After all, there was another brother, the eldest. A terrible victim of a disaster. 

Logan Ashford. 

The head of the Ashford family and conglomerate died in a horrific fire accident. He perished in the violent torrent of flames that had imprisoned him. 

That's what the public and media had been told. But for Andrew, it was entirely different, after all, he was there. 

He saw what happened. He knew what happened. Logan Ashford's death wasn't an accident. 

The truth was far darker. Andrew Ashford had to witness Logan Ashford's murder twelve years ago.

It was a moonlit night when the unthinkable occurred. 

Logan, Andrew's elder brother, had been engrossed in the same paperwork that Andrew now faced, diligently working through the unfathomable piles at a pace that bordered on the supernatural. His long blonde hair was tied back in a loose knot, and his red crimson eyes behind a pair of round spectacles scanned the papers with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality.

Andrew paid little attention to his brother's focused demeanor, the seven-year-old boy was content to simply bask in his presence. He whiled away the time playing on a portable game console, likely borrowed (or 'borrowed') from his younger sister's belongings earlier that day. 

It was a little odd however, Andrew noticed that his game would shut off randomly, then turn back on a moment later, like an unknown force was tampering with his electronic. Regardless, it frustrated the young child.

In a sudden shift, Andrew noticed the usual lighthearted smile on Logan's face fade, replaced by a grave seriousness that sent a chill down his spine. It was as if a switch had been flipped within his brother, triggering an innate transformation. 

"Andrew. Hide in the closet." Logan ordered, his voice flat and devoid of its usual warmth.

Confusion gripped Andrew as he hesitated, his typically quiet demeanor shattered by the abrupt change in his brother's tone. "Logan? What's going on?"

"Move! Now!" Logan urged, cutting off his younger sibling, his tone leaving no room for argument. Startled by the forcefulness of his brother's words, Andrew obeyed, retreating to the safety of the closet and burying himself amidst the clothes within.

An uncomfortable tense silence enveloped the room, which was momentarily broken apart by a pair of loud ominous footsteps that echoed throughout the halls from outside of Logan's office. The disturbance halted right outside of the double doors before.

BOOOOOOOM

The two doors flew off their hinges as if they were propelled by an unseen force, revealing two individuals completely cloaked in black, one tall, one short. 

The only part of them visible was their eyes, eyes that were gleaming with a predatory intensity, radiating a palpable aura of bloodlust that sent shivers down the youngest one's spine. It took all of Andrew's willpower to not make a squeak, their entrance had completely startled him, like a rabbit becoming aware of an eagle that is about to swoop down on it.

Frozen with fear, Andrew watched in terror as the confrontation unfolded before him. Logan remained seated at his desk, an island of calm amidst the storm, his chin resting on his clasped hands, gazing unwaveringly as he faced his uninvited guests.

"Hello, old friend. I'm sure you know why we're here." The smaller of the two wearing black spoke, her voice laced with an unsettling mix of affection and menace.

"Today's the day, huh? Well, it doesn't matter. Do whatever you need to do."

With a sigh, Logan appeared to submit to this fate of his. 

Andrew struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation, his mind racing as he grappled with the realization that his brother was in mortal danger. He wanted to intervene, to scream out in protest, but fear held him captive, rendering him powerless to act.

"You don't wish to fight back? You're strong, quite scarily so." The woman in black curiously asked, her head tilting while folding her arms.

Logan's smile was tinged with sadness as he replied. "How could I fight the one that I love? Even then, it's a futile effort, you'd kick my ass back then, and still would today," he replies as a matter of factly.l

Love? Andrew thought, confusion further taking a deeper hold of his mind.

The women's eyes soften. "Logan… please. You can come back, we don't have to do this." the woman implored, her voice betraying a hint of desperation.

"You know I can't Freya. I have them now. I love them." he responded softly, a bittersweet smile creasing his face.

There was a moment of tense silence before Freya drew her holstered pistol and aimed at Logan. His expression remained serene, even as the tear that glistened in Freya's eye contradicted her calm facade.

"I lov-"

BANG

The gunshot reverberated through the room, cutting off Logan's words as the bullet found its way to his heart. Extinguishing his life in an instant.

Andrew couldn't stifle a gasp as he recoiled, his head connecting with the closet door with a loud thud. The taller figure in black, alerted by the noise, flung the closet door open, his own sidearm trained on the small figure that tumbled out before him.

"Cease!" Freya commanded her subordinate who froze momentarily.

The three stood in limbo for a moment, before the intruder in black broke the quiet.

"My lady… our orders were to kill the deserter and any other witnesses."

"We will. But it'll be an accident. Use your 「Arcanum」, burn the building, burn it all." she instructed.

"As you command." the other intruder adhered. Turning around to the other side of the room, he began to unintelligibly chant to himself, before a large white flame spewed out all over the side of the office, quickly spreading to other parts of the whole complex. 

With the subordinates back turned, Andrew watches as Freya silently approached her accomplice, Andrew blinked for barely a second, and what met his sight nearly caused him to pass out from shock and disgust: He saw the man wrung out like a towel, blood seeping out of his eyes, before suddenly…

POP 

The man wearing black, who regarded Freya as his master, had his eyes shoot out from its sockets like a cork in a champagne bottle, splattering against the wall, before sliding down it, in a goopy bloody white mess. 

Andrew, who already has fallen under a half-unconscious state, barely registers the fact that his brother's killer had just also murdered her colleague in an extensively brutal matter. One thought, one word, continued to echo in the boy's mind, however: 「Arcanum」In a sense of sudden sobriety, he knew THAT was the reason for these supernatural happenings.

The supernatural woman's figure turns around to face the young boy, before walking towards him and crouching in front of the new head of the Ashford.

"Why…?" Andrew could barely choke out, his visage too busy stifling with fear and tears.

Her light, extremely pale grey eyes had remained dull, completely void of any human life, She couldn't meet the boy's eyes with her own.

"Figure it out." These were the last three ambiguous words that Andrew comprehended before everything around him faded to black. When his eyes opened again, he found himself on a hill overlooking the burning of their family estate to cinders. His five-year-old sister, Sarah lay to his right, asleep, completely unharmed. 

Clasped in his left hand, was something familiar, very familiar.

A pair of round glasses.