Season of Starlight

Third Month

The Kaleno Museum

The City of Kaleno, The Cronia Region

2326

While The Kaleno Museum brought attention and recognition to the local archaeological society, it was also the stronghold of the Cronia Region's greatest archive of recorded history.

It told stories of eons past, good and evil, the threat and oppression of war and how the world had shifted since its creation.

Betty grew up with the tales and songs of the great battles that had taken place during the first chapter of Aphora's lifetime, spiritual warfare initiated by the four Guardians of Justice against the wrath of their fallen brother Tysceras.

Fatal bloodshed spread across the land for years, ending with a tragedy.

To save the inhabitants of El Olam's mighty kingdom, the Guardians sacrificed their physical bodies to silence Tysceras forever.

With the final blessing of their master, the Fallen One was banished beneath the earth to the underworld, a place thriving on fear and a lust for power.

Thus the era of peace had been restored, but not without significant cost.

The spirit of Tysceras endured, corrupting the souls of men and women and pursuing them to greed. Many wars ravaged Aphora's beauty, but it was never destroyed. With the aid of the Guardians and devoted warriors known to myth as the Angeliks, El Olam triumphed over evil wherever it raised its foul hand.

Light defeated the dark, but that story was a fantasy to the modern age.

While Tysceras failed to overtake the world with his legions of power, he succeeded in spreading lies.

To many, El Olam and the Heroes of Heaven were no more than a fairytale, lost in translation and meaningless to ordinary life.

What was once hope was now a plague. The people of Aphora revolved around themselves, forgetting the sacrifice and love the Creator had to make to ensure eternal prosperity for his people.

To die loving El Olam brought life, but breathing your last breath without him guaranteed death.

Betty longed to restore that lost trust and faith, which could be achieved through her research, then the world would know the truth and be saved.

She entered the museum grounds on a cobblestone path, a circular lot decorated with trees and red flower gardens.

On her voyage to the central building, the path splintered into various side trails, leading through organic hedge archways as possible detours to explore the outdoor sculptures.

Many of them had been forged in the last century, accompanied by a plaque stating information on the artist and a brief history of their process to create the stunning marvel that captivated audiences throughout generations.

The museum was a restored royal palace from the Thornbridge Dynasty that ruled the region in the 1700s until disbanding in 2300. As the city expanded and evolved away from royal courtship, the palace was abandoned. Now it was given purpose, chronicling every political, religious and cultural influence in Cronia.

Betty walked through the hallowed halls, the floor patterned in oak planks stained amber gold.

She diverged from the main lobby and stumbled down a back corridor leading to the sector referred to as The Department of Folklore and Mystery. Betty greeted her co-workers with integrity but couldn't help but speculate what revolved behind their mystical eyes.

The problems of reality did not stop outside the museum gates. Even inside, Betty was regularly the center of attention, not because of her brilliance but for her rumoured delusionality.

Specializing in Prophology was a risky adventure that closed many doors and rarely gifted new opportunities. However, occasionally, one would come along when the time was right. Serving El Olam was her desire, and through him, the right doors would open.

"Dr. Blanche?"

The voice came from a young man, Ricky Pender, the department janitor. He was standing in the hallway, a cleaning station at his side.

Betty smiled. "Good morning, Ricky. How are you?"

"Alive and kicking, Doctor," Ricky replied, twirling a mop in his right hand. "Thanks to you, I have kept food on the table. With the current political shakeup, jobs are scarce. I am indebted to you every day for giving me a chance."

Betty was paying Ricky out of her own pocket.

There was no other way.

She had found the man wandering the grounds, starved and desperate for work.

The museum thought one janitor was enough and had never been so wrong. They needed an army to upkeep the place. Ricky was a blessing in disguise.

"Do not give me all the credit. You are the one who does all the exceptional work. The board is discussing possibly bringing you in under official employment salary. That would be the first good decision made in the last few months," Betty said.

"It would be a dream come true," Ricky said.

He was a handsome man, in his early thirties, with wavy obsidian hair and brown eyes. Rounded cheekbones, a squared jawline covered in short stubble, and narrowed eyebrows formed his alluring complexion.

Betty examined his physic, his body dressed in indigo blue scrubs and feet nestled in ankle-high boots. "You look good. Eating well?"

"Fairly," Ricky said, slumping. "I pick up after my brother. He makes sure I get enough," he grinned.

Betty tilted her head, her glasses shifting down the bridge of her nose. "How is Ollie? Still busy with school?"

"He graduated last winter. He is so excited to meet you today."

"Oh, he's coming here. What for?"

Ricky's grin faded. "You don't remember?"

Betty's heart skipped a beat. Was she missing something?

Ricky's smile returned. "Ollie signed up for the apprenticeship program last summer. With his interests keen on Prophology, the board paired him up with you for the next three months."

Betty was speechless. "Oh. Right. Of course!" she exclaimed. "I do recall the museum sending me a letter regarding the arrangement. Your brother's excitement reciprocates my own, Ricky, but I wish our meeting came at a different time."

Ricky leaned against the mop. "Is everything alright?"

Betty scanned the area, then lowered her voice. "There has been a murder."

"A murder?"

"Yes. Priests of the Prophet Society. Lady Croftdale has asked me to assist with the investigation to provide a religious perspective. I don't know how much help I will be," she said, scratching her head, "but I meet with the detective at nine o'clock."

Betty checked the watch slung around her left wrist and adjusted her glasses.

"I should get ready. What time was Ollie's appointment?"

"Nine," Ricky said.

Betty sighed. "Well, I suppose he could always tag along. It would be a great learning experience."

Ricky looked up and down the empty corridor.

"I told Ollie to be here half an hour early," Ricky grumbled. "What could be taking him so long?"

Betty laughed. "He is a teenager. At that age, your mind is elsewhere. I'm sure he's fine, probably just running around trying to save the world."

***

Ollie Pender was chasing a thief.

The middle-aged man with dirty hair and a skeletal frame wore brown coveralls and a pale blue shirt, pushing through the interwoven crowds of downtown Kaleno with a pink purse in hand.

It belonged to a poor older woman boarding a tram.

Ollie had seen the entire scheme unfold. The man had attracted the woman with a batch of daily papers. The minute she turned her back, he grabbed the purse and took off in a sprint. Ollie hadn't given the situation much thought. He just pursued it.

The attack had happened during one of his morning patrols.

Dressed in loose clothing with a homemade mask of cotton fabric covering his face, Ollie leapt from the rooftops and descended into the city's morning rush hour. He landed uncomfortably on the ground and quickly transitioned into a run once he steadied himself.

"Stop that man!" Ollie shouted, trying to get the crowd to assist.

They were oblivious, transfixed on his strange attire instead of the thief escaping their grasp.

The man broke off from the sidewalk, hopped across the road and fled into Winston Park, bushes and shrubbery concealing his figure from Ollie's line of sight.

Dammit.

Ollie ran into the park and saw the suspect dashing across a stretch of trimmed grass, jumping over a couple lounging on a blanket beneath the shade of a giant oak tree.

The pair looked stunned, their eyes trained on Ollie as he passed.

"Good morning!" he said, saluting them.

Ollie panted, cool air rushing through the holes cut out of the mask over his eyes, nostrils and mouth. Sweat clung to his skin, greasing his joints. He swung his arms back and forth, determination propelling him forward.

"Hey! Stop!"

The thief glanced back and suddenly realized he wouldn't make it. He saw a young woman sitting on a bench reading a book and pulled out a gun.

She looked Ollie's age, but before he could examine her further, the thief seized the woman and pressed the gun into her head.

Screams consumed the park.

Ollie forced himself to a halt and nearly tripped over his own feet.

"One more step, and she dies," the thief threatened.

"Please, don't do this!" the woman begged, clasping the man's arm. She had long golden hair, deep brown eyes, and fair skin, now stained with tears.

"Let her go," Ollie said, holding out a hand.

The thief spat on the ground. "You can have the purse and the girl if you survive long enough to catch me first."

The man pointed the gun at Ollie and shot him in the chest.

Bang!

The young woman screamed.

Ollie croaked and dropped to his knees.

The thief took off, hauling the purse and his hostage along with him.

Silence filled Ollie's head.

His mind stilled, then a loud voice pounded into his ears.

Get up!

Ollie closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were consumed with sunlight.

Rise!

He jumped into the air, screaming as the bullet ricochetted off his chest and dropped onto the ground.

Go!

Ollie spotted the thief. He was crossing the stone bridge in the center of the park. It curved over a lower route of walkways, suspended at least thirty feet in the air.

The thief looked back and saw that Ollie had vanished. Growing restless, he turned to escape. The young woman fought against his grasp, but his arm locked around her throat.

She gagged.

"Let me go!"

"Shut up."

The man reached the center of the bridge and then froze, looking ahead.

"It can't be..."

Ollie stood with his feet spread wide apart, his eyes glowing and hands clenched into fists. "Let her go. This is your last chance to walk away."

The thief hurried to the edge of the bridge, glancing between the woman and the purse. He smirked, returning a devious cackle. "Alright. Make your choice, hero. The girl or the money."

The thief pushed the young woman over the edge.

Ollie leapt after her, his body encased in yellow energy.

He stretched out a hand and grabbed the young woman's forearm, pulling her against him before their bodies struck the ground below.

Thud!

They rolled apart.

Silence.

Ollie looked skyward and found that brave bystanders had reprimanded the thief, retaining him on the bridge. One held the purse into view while other strangers on the lower walkway rushed towards him.

Ollie smiled and exhaled in relief.

The sunlight faded from his eyes, and the mystical energy evaporated from his body.

"Who are you?"

Ollie turned his head to gaze at the young woman. She held a hand against him, startled.

He grinned and helped her into a stance.

"A friend."

Ollie cleaned the dirt from her blouse.

The woman shook her head. "Thank you."

Ollie suddenly looked at his watch and gasped. "I gotta go!" he said breathlessly. "It was nice to meet you!"

The young woman watched him run off with a smile.

"What are you?"