Brechketten

  Noun

  Translation: Chainbreaker

  Definition: Brechketten is a term bestowed upon a legendary figure, revered across cultures and tales as the only entity capable of breaking the chains of cyclical destinies and infinite loops. This figure is often depicted as a magi of unparalleled strength and wisdom, possessing the unique ability to disrupt and alter the courses of fate that are deemed unchangeable. The Brechketten's intervention is believed to be a monumental act, capable of altering the fabric of reality itself, by ending the End of Times.

  Cultural/Contextual Background: The mythos surrounding Brechketten spans various narratives, but central to each is the belief that such a figure emerges only in times of great need, when the loops of infinity threaten the essence of existence itself. This legendary magi is not just a liberator of individuals but a savior of the cosmos, breaking chains that bind the universe to repetitive cycles of events. The Brechketten symbolizes hope against despair, change against stasis, and freedom against predestination. Until today no creature ever owned the title.

  As the Ship came under attack so suddenly, brutally rocked, Claramae and Jericho found themselves forcefully thrown against doors and walls.

  Uncertain of the nature of their assaulter, they rushed toward the stairs leading to the deck, driven by the war cry that echoed through the vessel—a gigantic whale.

  The limited visibility concealed the creature's true form, but as Shuri manoeuvred the vessel in an attempt to distance themselves from the behemoth, fleeting glimpses illuminated by the mast's lights hinted at an anomaly—parts of the giant creature suggested something deeply bizarre.

  For a fleeting moment, Claramae could have sworn she saw six eyes glaring back at them.

  Shuri, her face shielded again by a hoodie and goggles to protect against the spray of the sea, glanced back at everyone and shouted, "Go inside!"

  "Will help you!" Jericho shouted back.

  "Go the fuck inside, it's tailing us!" Shuri bellowed in response, her efforts focused on steering the ship away from the whale. The creature seemed bound to sink the boat.

  "Shuri, hold on! I'm coming!" Jericho declared once more, yelling, nearly crawling his way towards the helm as the boat pitched dangerously, tilting into a near-vertical position. Claramae could only listen to Shuri's frantic commands, "Go back! Are you fucking crazy? Go back, you fucking idiot!"

  Jericho, with his clothes clinging to his body, soaked through as he balanced himself next to the railing. With one hand holding his weight and the other raised to the sky, he cried out, "Ra!”

  Tiny orbs of light, reminiscent of the sun, erupted from his palm, shooting into the dark sky as if signalling for aid.

  "What are you doing? Do you want to make it easier for the whale to see us?" Claramae shouted.

  Undeterred, Jericho roared out again, "Ra!" His invocation brought forth more luminous spheres that began to encircle the boat. Remarkably, it seemed as if the whale was hindered by the light, hesitant to approach the bright vessel.

  "Can you cast a fire spell?" Jericho then yelled towards Shuri, hoping to amplify their defence.

  "What?" She was baffled, her attention torn between navigating the explosive waters and deciphering Jericho's shout over the cacophony of whale splashes, the ship's creaking framework, and waves crashing against the hull.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Fire spell!" Jericho repeated, louder this time, trying to fight the cluttered noises.

  "Fire spell?"

  Jericho responded with a hand gesture, a combination of a thumbs-up and a wave, ensuring she caught his signal. Shuri then dashed to the centre of the deck, positioning her hands in a diamond shape. Channelling her Saatgut, she launched a barrage of fireballs directly into the whale's gaping maw.

  Despite the ferocity of her attack, it failed to deter the beast.

  "We need more light!" Claramae yelled from the opposite end of the boat. She attempted to soar towards the centre, but the tumultuous wind and water significantly hampered her flight, making it challenging to maintain altitude. "Jericho, we need more light!"

  "I can't make it any brighter than this!" Jericho shouted back.

  "You can!" Claramae called out, fully aware of the immense toll her request could take. After all, she had met Xendrix. So, for Jericho to amplify his magic, he would need to channel his very life force into the spell.

  "I can't..." His protest was barely more than a whisper, yet in the chaos, it resonated with the weight of a thunderclap. But they had no choice. Jericho released his grip from the railing, lifting his hands towards the heavens. With a voice that cut through the roar of the sea, he summoned his strength and cried, "Eu Ra!"

  A monumental beam of light erupted from his palms, piercing the night with such intensity that, for a fleeting moment, Claramae thought she glimpsed the serene cyan of the daytime sky. The whale, startled by the sudden brilliance, veered away, diving into the depths away from the ship. As the vessel steadied, returning to its rightful orientation on the water's surface, a heavy silence fell.

  Jericho lay motionless on the deck, the exertion of his spell rendering him unconscious.

  As Claramae and Shuri rushed to Jericho's aid, a thunderous roar split the air. From the shroud of the Long Night descended a green dragon, its size dwarfing the ship by thrice. With a majestic plunge into the waters, it reemerged, soaring back into the veil of darkness, a dead whale clutched in its talons. Claramae's eyes had not deceived her—the whale, indeed, possessed six eyes.

  "Why is a dragon so far from Cragua?" Shuri wondered aloud, carefully turning Jericho over. To their astonishment, his hair, once red, had turned white.

  Claramae helped, grasping Jericho's feet, "He needs to rest."

  "And the dragon?" Shuri glanced back at the retreating figure in the sky.

  "That's something I'd rather not fret about right now," Claramae admitted, focusing solely on ensuring Jericho's safety. “Grab his arms!”

  Claramae felt a gnawing unease in the pit of her stomach. The intensity of the magic he had summoned, fueled by his life force, was not without significant risk. Did she inadvertently set Jericho on a path from which there could be no return?

  Would this shape Jericho into a new Xendrix?

  However, Claramae’s fears, though understandable, were misplaced. Jericho's journey was not destined to mirror the downfall associated with the last King of Keblurg. Instead, his story was set to unfold as something entirely different—a miracle.

  

  From my father's robe, which became the notebooks made by my Godmama, I found the inspiration to pen countless volumes, each a guideline and instruction that I meticulously crafted over and over. I have lived this day so many times that I lost count. Although crucial to my tale, the trips I made to the past and future to this point are a chapter I hesitate to unveil so early.

  Yet, you must grasp the urgency that fueled my writings. Upon realizing that the End of Times was not merely a looming shadow but an inevitability, my purpose crystallized: to steer all creatures towards a path that might not avert the apocalypse but ensure its aftermath would not be a cycle doomed to repeat. Becoming myself or finding someone more suitable to become the Chainbreaker.

  My journey was not mere wanderings but a quest to gather the scattered pieces of a puzzle that, once assembled, would teach me the point of no return for the End of Times.

  This book, born from the legacy left in my father's black robe, is perhaps not the final iteration of my message to the world. The act of writing has become both my burden and my purpose.

  Should this version fail to encapsulate the essence of my guidance, I will take up the quill anew —and again and again until the End of Times becomes a concept that even I will be oblivious to. My goal is only one, driven by the hope that I will one day hold my child in my arms.

  It is all that I want to smell her scent from her hair, feel her little hands against mine, teach her to walk and to fly and protect her like she never was. That is all that I ask for. Please, let me teach her. Let me love her. what else can a father ask for? ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer