MYSTIA

THE END OF THE WORLD brought many things: Chaos. Ruin. Corruption.

And it was fantastic for business.

The Elysian Lily had never been livelier, bustling with a seemingly-infinite stream of Astraelans in pursuit of an evening drink... or a morning one. Or mid-afternoon.

It wasn't an unwelcome sight. Their enthusiasm certainly allowed them to unload their pockets in such hard times, but they wouldn't have money for much longer if they didn't return to work in the outside world.

Mystia Grievland twirled and tossed bottles of the tavern's finest Nectar in an enthralling display for the intoxicated fellows gathered 'round the bar. Chestnut braids whipped her neck as she spun in a flourish, much to the pleasure of the gnome trio sitting on the edges of their stools. Animalistic lust twisted their expressions into ones of ravenous greed. She grinned at them, feigning blissful unawareness of the thoughts brewed inside their dirty little minds.

But she was more than aware.

She removed her eyes from them to sustain the act of naivety, but one gaze out at the rest of her establishment nearly made her well-practiced smile falter. The patrons had been clustered inside for an unreasonable amount of time, and their boisterous ruckus had grown to such a volume that she longed to rip off one of her curled horns and drive it through her skull.

Surely, it had carried on longer than her average shifts... but how long had it really been?

Hours? Days?

If only the sun shone for more than a few hours every couple of afternoons—then she may have been a better judge of how much longer it would be before she could shove everyone out the door and bolt it shut behind them.

"Mystia! Who ordered a round of Angel Tonics?"

She jumped when a lanky figure slammed into her, nearly making her trip over her own hooves. Whirling around, she caught the wide-eyed stare of the moon elf who had just finished concocting his beverages not five feet to her left.

The boy—who looked too young to even consume the teal-colored drinks on his tray—gave her an apologetic smile. While she was immune to Vesryn's infectious innocence, they were on the clock. She could do nothing but return the kind expression, even once her eyes returned to the highball glasses he carried.

Angel Tonics held the brightest glow of any Nectar she offered, but the ones on his serving tray could have replaced the Guild's beacons with their artificial light. He had used too much Starblossom syrup again.

She repressed a sigh. "The two witches. Last booth on the right."

With a curt nod, he zipped away as fast as his skinny legs could carry him, weaving between customers in clumsy bounds.

Not that the crowds made it easy on the poor kid.

An ever-present haze hung over the room from the cigarettes in their mouths, blurring Mystia's vision at the edges. The enchanted herbs within each roll provided their own benefit, fusing in the stale air until an overwhelming combination of emotions fired off at once in her patrons' brains. If it hadn't been for the protection charms she had concealed in her thigh holster, the aroma alone would've kept her from functioning enough to keep her business afloat.

The moon elf shuffled his way past tables with the tray on his palm, not even missing a beat when passing their heaviest smokers: a gang of feisty wood nymphs who practically owned the half-booth on the far right. But when he shuffled by their table, he made the mistake of sneaking a glance at their delicate features, twisted with intoxicated glee.

Vesryn slammed into the side of a half-orc who was ambling back to the bar.

At first, Mystia prepared to throw down her own drink to aid him in cleaning up the collision's aftermath, but the young boy managed to save the tray on his own. Instead, the object that bounced off the floor was far worse for business than a few lost glasses of Nectar.

It was his left ear.

If she could've had one gold Exia for every time she had watched the same situation unfold, she would have had enough to pay for the therapy any clear-minded person would've needed after witnessing such an event. But, thanks to the extended visits of her patrons, who were lucky to be coherent enough to holler for another round, that wouldn't be an issue.

The boy crouched down swiftly to pick up the object and slide it into the front pouch of his apron. Ruffling his shaggy, white-blonde hair, he covered the earless side of his head enough to remain unnoticed.

Mystia made a mental note to snip off the pointed tip of his ear the next time she had to sew it back on.

With one final twirl of her cocktail shaker, she unscrewed the cap and motioned for the gnome in front of her to slide his tumbler across the bar.

"Add some extra Moonblood to that mix, wench." The stench of his last Wormwood Twister wafted from each slurred word. "I'll need the kick when you come home with me tonight."

Mystia strengthened her smile into a sultry number that turned the patron's dazed eyes ravenous. His gaze traveled down the length of her as she clopped toward the floor-to-ceiling backbar, filled with glowing decanters of varying shapes and sizes.

The gnome was so enthralled in her movements that he never noticed her hand slip to a small vial tucked behind his precious Moonblood. Nearly the same deep red hue, he would be none the wiser to her alteration.

After adding a single drop to his cocktail and turning around to perform one final flip of her shaker, she emptied the dark, shimmering liquid into his tumbler. A hungry smirk wound his lips while Mystia leaned on the bar, providing a convenient view of the cleavage beneath her off-the shoulder bodice.

"Drink up, Fradnic," she said, her tone an alluring rumble over the rowdy slew of voices.

The gnome did as he was told.

Before he could blink, he had downed the glass with nary a cough from what should've been a substantial kick. Despite his lack of acknowledgment to the changes in his longtime favorite beverage, the effects had already begun to take place. Wiry black whiskers slithered from enlarged pores beside his nose; the ever-bulbous schnoz elongated away from his face, and its tip shriveled into a solid, dark ball.

Though a mere three feet in stature, the man shrunk to a rodent's size, much to the amusement of his drunken comrades—both so high from their environment that the squeaks from their pal's lips only aided their obnoxious laughter.

Mystia held back a grin at the gnome's misfortune. He'd had it coming for a while, after countless attempts at 'seducing' her led to repeated rejections. Ones he always ignored. Watching the rat turn into one of his own kind was more than satisfying. He would forget by morning, anyway... whenever morning finally came.

Shattering glass pierced the air.

It wasn't an uncommon sound with her customers' belligerence increasing by the hour. She had already sent employees to clean up dozens of spills and glass shards on their current shift, let alone the mess they'd repaired from the previous one.

The silence that followed, however, was far from normal.

Mystia turned in the direction of the calamity, where her young employee had been on his way to the farthest booth on the right. The moon elf lay sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by the overpowered glow of his Angel Tonics. Eyes wild with fear, he watched the two witches rise from their seats.

Their motions were smooth and intricately placed, like a dance choreographed for centuries before its revelation. They shifted ever so carefully, not wobbling in the slightest as they stood atop the wooden booths to tower over the rest of the tavern.

It wasn't the tightness of their posture that made them intimidating, nor the way their faces had drained of color.

It was the hollowness in their eyes, shining such a luminescent ice blue that it sent shivers down Mystia's spine. She had witnessed such an event a few times in her life, but never so suddenly.

Never so close to home.

Visionaries.

"Be still, for the Goddess commands you," the first witch spoke, her tone low and mechanical.

Not one being moved. They hardly dared breathe, with all eyes locked on the two women.

The second witch followed, her voice as inhuman as her companion. "The Darkness looms closer; the Barrier grows weaker. The Corrupted rise to devour the hearts of all in their path. Soon, our worlds will merge as one."

"For centuries, the Celestials have remained in their slumber, content enough in their creations to take a long-awaited rest." The first witch craned her neck to scan the crowd. "But they shall sleep no longer."

The floor rumbled beneath their feet, glasses rattled against tables, and a crystal decanter fell from its perch along the backbar, missing Mystia's head by an inch. Already-unsteady patrons grabbed at tables, support beams, and anything else in arm's reach, though most succumbed to gravity's pull.

"Prepare, citizens of Astraela, for the Guardians to split. For the gods to vanquish the Darkness and silence its creator." The second witch's voice rose, thundering in the ears of all who witnessed. "The time has come for a beast of great ruin to invade our land."

Together, the witches joined hands across the table. Shadows danced and flickered under the cyan cast of their glare.

"The Child of Darkness will soon be upon us."

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