Prose Magica: A Serious House on Serious Earth

Two hours. It had taken two hours for Prime to catch sight of her destination. The Callidus couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Her first journey had taken three times as long. A muted sigh escaped her lips as she pushed her cellphone back into her pocket. The device was little more than an over-sized pocket-watch here, wherever 'here' was.

Prime only allowed herself the rewarding sight of the double doors at the end of the hall for a moment before forcing her vision elsewhere. She strode silently down a narrow hall, only large enough for two people to comfortably walk abreast. Deep, intricately carved mahogany lined the base of the walls, which were papered with scarlet and patterned with gold designs. Potlights ran down the centre of the ceiling, basking the hall with an orange glow.

It was almost exactly like a posh hotel hall, she thought, save for the fact that it had been two hours since she last saw a door. Not a single feature marked the hall - only the ceiling, floor and two walls. Worse still was the complete and utter silence. The only sound that accompanied her was the grating noise of her own shoes scrunching against the carpet. Something struck her as... wrong about the silence. It was as if she expected to hear some some sort of white noise. Whispers, perhaps. Something to make her fears more than irrational. Instead, she was privy only to the sound of her own heartbeat and stifled breathing accompanying her footsteps.

With another quick, shivering shake of her head, Prime withdrew her thoughts once more, clawing them back. She tried to keep her mind occupied, desperate keep herself from being lucid. When she finally reached her goal, she didn't want to remember a single step of her journey. She didn't want to think of the shapes on the walls that seemed to slither just on the edge of her periphery, or the dancing shadows that seemed to be cast by nothingness. For two hours, Prime fought to keep her focus, terrified of what she might behold should she lose it.

For a moment, she stopped thinking entirely. When she finally found her consciousness, she caught herself staring at one of the walls. Of course, there was nothing but simple, blossoming abstract designs. Of course. She used the thought to anchor her mind in the real. There was nothing unusual. And yet, why was it that - in some buried fragment of her mind - she couldn't help but shake the feeling that the markings were laughing at her. She could almost hear it, just on the precipice of perception. But, of course, there was nothing. Only deafening silence. Again, Prime pushed whatever thought she could into her mind and continued on.

Another agonizing hour passed before she reached the doors. They were at least ten feet tall, narrow and peaked with elegant golden angels for handles. She wasn't terribly keen on the angels' gruesome expressions, however. Nor the way they seemed to stare at her, even without irises or pupils. She wanted to blame it on her imagination. She very desperately did. But she knew better.

As quietly as possible, Prime tugged one of the doors open and passed through. She was met with the sight of one of the grand cathedrals of the Church of the Golden Land. Out of reflex, she almost made the sign of the cross before catching herself.

She couldn't help but notice the eerie darkness that shrouded the hall. It took her a moment of awe and two steps before she realized what was wrong. Not a single man-made light illuminated the cathedral - the only light shone through the numerous stained glass reliefs along the walls.

The largest was a grandiose rose window in the apse, casting its light on the altar. In the kaleidoscope of colours, Prime could pick out various figures and scenes. One of the figures, Prime thought, looked almost like a fish wearing a suit of armour. Another seemed to be a candlestick on horseback. None of it made any sense to her.

Prime had once asked Eliphas what the images behind the sanctuary were supposed to depict. Her reply came with a quiet, patronizing laugh and a shake of her head, as if to tell Prime that she could never hope to understand. Indeed, she didn't. "Deliverance," had been Eliphas' answer. After hearing her zealously tainted words, Prime had little desire to press the matter.

As she walked quietly down the right aisle, slowly approaching the altar, she could see several silhouetted heads among the pews, despite there being no mass going on at the time. Some were kneeling in prayer, others bowed their heads, while some simply seemed to be passing the time, admiring the artwork or reading. Strangely, she realized, none spoke beyond the murmured prayers of a few. Being teenage girls, she imagined they ought to be less concerned about religion and more about socializing. Prime couldn't help but admire their respect and dedication.

It didn't take long to find the innocuous wooden door to Eliphas' private chapel nestled off to the side of the right transept. It was too similar to the entrance for her liking - peaked, with the same angel for a handle, only miniaturized. For a moment, Prime considered knocking, but it was impossible for the Apostle not to know she was coming.

With a gentle push, the door creaked open, almost as though opening on its own. The chapel was modest dwelling, furnished with a few chairs around a table and a sofa along the right-hand wall. Even with as few as a half-dozen people it would have felt cramped. Much like the larger cathedral, the only light seeped in through a large window along the far wall, its curtains drawn tightly.

Prime's quarry sat at the table, to the right, sipping from an elegant porcelain tea set. Steam rose from another cup and saucer already set for Prime. The Apostle didn't even turn to look as her visitor stepped int other room.

Eliphas was an unusual looking girl, or so Prime thought. She was small and thin, giving the impression of doll-like delicacy. Next to Prime, who stood nearly six feet tall, Eliphas would have been dwarfed. Her hair flowed down the back of the seat, and would have reached her knees had Eliphas been standing. It was so pale as to be white, but under the proper lighting one would see shimmers of golden blonde.

Prime bowed her head as she took another step closer. "Good afternoon, Elly," she said, fighting to put a warm smile on her face.

Eliphas turned to face her. Prime almost wished she hadn't. After spending so long in the cathedral, the girl's skin had turned an unearthly grey colour. But it took more than unusual skin pigmentation to rattle Hydra Prime - it was the girl's face itself. Once, she would have been attractive - beautiful even - but that time had come and gone long ago. Her eyes were solid, milky white, and the scars... The scars made a shiver run up the green-haired woman's spine. They were no badges of honour won in battle like those worn by other magical girls. Eliphas' scars were carefully self-inflicted. They showed strange runes and symbols, deliberately carved onto her face as a sign of devotion. The most prominent was an eight-pointed star centred on her right eye, even extending to her eyelid.

"Prime," Eliphas said, smiling with the sort of serene contentment that seemed reserved for the so-called 'enlightened', "come in to my home. Have a seat. What brings you here?"

Prime bowed her head again and did as she was asked. "We need to talk," she said. "Plans have... changed."

Eliphas cocked her head. Her expression seemed change in the subtlest of ways. Something hid behind her smile, and Prime swore that she saw faint movement in the white seas of the Apostle's eyes. "Changed?" She asked. "Changed... how? Has Miss Odette accepted The Word yet?"

"We underestimated her," Prime admitted. "Maybe we overestimated Vance. I don't know. Brighton didn't cave and now she's stronger than ever. Even if we got a last minute miracle, she wouldn't be turned fast enough."

The smile and warmth faded from Eliphas' face almost instantly. "Is that so?"

"Hey now," Prime said, putting on the same cold, biting smile that she often used on her own subordinates. "Your gal is the one that fucked up, not mine."

The Apostle's scars danced as her lip twitched, but she conceded. "So what is your plan now, exactly?"

"Joe's getting antsy," the Callidus explained, resting her arm on the chair's back in an attempt to seem at ease, "he wants everything finished 'fore the Warmaster's inauguration."

Eliphas cocked an eyebrow, incredulous. "That's impossible."

"Impossible is our speciality, hun," Prime laughed. "We'll handle everything, but I need everyone you can lend on standby. They'll get their pretty penny for the trouble, of course. How many can you get me?"

Eliphas thought for a moment, hemming and hawing as she tilted her head this way and that. "Perhaps a hundred," she said at last. "I can't say for certain on the spot. The Black Myriad, the Obsidian Roses," Prime mentally took note as the Apostle rattled off names, "the Mourning Angels, the Children of Bone, and, of course, The Inheritance. I can guarantee those at the very least."

"It'll do for now. I'll have my people run checks on them."

Eliphas nodded, her serene aura returning as she sipped at her tea. "The Word has already spread to the Seventeenth's Vindicare rank," she said, just above whisper. "The Eversors turn slowly as well. Soon our ranks will swell with the faithful once again. You do us a great service, Hydra Prime."

"Now, Elly," the green-haired woman said, "let's not go there, m'kay?"

"It's natural to fear the Truth, Prime," Eliphas replied, her voice soothing, almost motherly. "In time, you, too, will conquer this fear and accept the Black Testament."

"Y'know, I think folks would be a lot more open-minded if you picked better names for things," Prime scoffed. She took a loud sip and chuckled to herself. "'I mean, really. 'Black Testament'? Name that one yourself?"

Eliphas glowered, burying her face behind her tea cup. "You would not scoff if you knew the profundity of the Truth. I know full well of the glimpses you've seen," the Apostle said. "You've walked our halls and gazed upon our wonders. You've watched the barriers between the material and the empyrean crumble. How long do you think you can deny the reality in front of your eyes?"

"Great speech, but lemme ask you a better question," Prime replied. "Why do you care so much? As far as I can see, getting me to go to church would only hurt your little operation here."

"Perhaps you don't see far enough."

Prime couldn't help but snicker. "Sometimes I worry that I've rubbed off on you a bit too much," she said before taking another sip. "Maybe I should be the one trying to recruit you."

"Ah, yes," Eliphas murmured as a wry grin crawled across her face, "Araghast, too, once thought I would be an asset to her cause. Look to what has become of her."

"Araghast was an idiot."

Eliphas simply smirked and took a long sip.

"Snarky little piss," Prime muttered.

The atmosphere lulled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occassional sounds of slurped tea and clinking of cups on saucers. The longer the silence dragged on, the more Prime found her eyes drawn to the covered window behind Eliphas. The Apostle's words came trickling back into her mind. She had walked the corridors of the cathedral. She had seen the wailing chandeliers and the halls of glass and bone and screams. It was an impossible structure built from a broken mind.

As if reading her mind, Eliphas turned to look longingly at the window. She seemed to breathe in the sight and bask in it, despite the curtains being drawn.

"You're curious."

The words slithered through her lips. For a brief moment, Prime almost thought she hadn't spoken at all, that it had been a figment of her imagination.

"Would you like to look?" Eliphas asked. She turned her head just enough for the white corner of her eye to show. Even without irises or pupils, Prime had the distinct feeling that the Apostle was staring straight at her. No - not at her -through her, at something buried deep inside her very soul.

"Not really," the green-haired woman lied. She couldn't deny that Eliphas was a master orator. She knew exactly how hard to push, and the precise moment and length of time to let up, allowing Prime's own thoughts to get the better of her. Prime only wished that her subordinates had such talent.

Eliphas stood, clutching at a tome that hung from her waist by a golden chain. Very slowly, she strode over and brushed aside a curtain, revealing a sliver only wide enough for her to look through. The Apostle's body heaved with a deep, profound sigh, as though she was never truly at peace until that very moment.

After staring for a time, she turned back, and asked, "Won't you join me?"

"That doesn't seem like such a good idea."

Eliphas' smile deepened, once again taking on that particular matronly air. "I assure you, your brain won't melt out of your ears. Come," she murmurred, "sate your curiosity."

"Peer pressure's a terrible thing, Elly."

"Would you like me to hold your hand?"

Prime glared at the Apostle. She recognized that smug hint of premature victory in the Apostle's expression. "You remind me of someone I hate," Prime muttered as she rose from her seat. "I've got calls to make, sweetie, so I'm gonna call this meetin' adjurned."

"So soon?" Eliphas pouted, stepping away from the window at last.

"While your sermons are passionately delivered, I think both of us have more important matters to attend to, don't you?"

Something dangerous lurked behind Eliphas' smile as she took her seat once more. She wore a very specific expression, caught somewhere between patronizing and... something else that Prime couldn't quite put her finger on. Again, the faintest hints of movement danced behind the Apostle's milky eyes.

"In that case," Eliphas said, "shall I have Daedalus show you out?"

"I'm sure I'll find the way well enough," Prime muttered. She had met the Architect only once before, but was already keen not to repeat the experience. "Y'all should really get some segways down here or somethin'."

"I don't think I will ever fully understand you, Hydra Prime."

"That's the idea," Prime said with a wink, “Elizavetta.” She curtsied, then disappeared through the door, the final seeming to hang in the air for a few extra moments.

Eliphas' lip twitched at the name as she turned her chair to face the window once more. As she felt the green-haired woman's presence fade, Eliphas thumped her gold-gilded black tome on the table and opened it to page marked by a red silk bookmark. Her finger ran across one line, the ink coming off the page like blackened ash.

She rubbed her fingers together to clear off the dust and whispered, "Eques."

+My lady,+ a rough and grating, yet high-pitched voice replied.

"Follow her and find Vance."

+As you wish, my lady.+

The Apostle wiped a second line away.

"Episcopus," she called out.

+Your will, my lady?+ A second voice asked with a voice deep and rich like dripping molasses.

"Assemble The Inheritance. I wish to address them."

+It shall be done.+

Once more, Eliphas's finger reached for a third line, but hesitated. She clenched her fist, debating whether or not to call the final name. Several seconds ticked by before she finally shut the grimoire and shoved it to the side. Breathing a sigh of contentment, Eliphas sipped at the last of her tea.

"Someday, Prime," she muttered. "Someday..."