Magilou stood under the watchful eye of the stars; before her stood a monument to the Great Lord of Earth, Eumacia.

She'd been wandering the world, unseen and unheard, for centuries, always keeping track of the goings-on of mankind through the oaths she'd taken: the Storyteller of Time, conduit to the Earthen Historia, forever watching and remembering, never once appearing to interfere in any historical event. After Velvet's merry band had split up, Magilou had decided she wanted to do the opposite of what her former master, Melchior, had once tried to raise her to do, and instead preserve and remember the world, in all its glorious imperfections, while never once having a hand in any of it. Maybe it was petty, but it was a purpose, and without Melchior or Velvet or any of the crew, she had no other.

Still, she'd gotten tired in recent decades. Melchior would have gone on forever, and Magilou had decided she didn't want that; it was about time for her to rest. But she wanted to spit on the old man's grave one last time, and leave a successor or two, someone to carry on the mantle of "Storyteller of Time". On the other hand, a relationship would be so tiresome to pursue, and childbirth wasn't something she particularly felt like subjecting herself to; so, instead, she'd come here, to the Morgause Shrine in the southeast, where humans abandoned unwanted children and babies, to take one of them for her own.

"M-Miss Magilou?" squeaked a voice at her feet.

Magilou looked down at her far-from-faithful companion, Bienfu. Since she'd taken on her new role, he hadn't tried to escape from her again, but she would never tell him that she appreciated his company.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bienfu asked nervously. "Lord Eumacia probably doesn't like it when people trespass in his shrine…"

"He doesn't mind normal humans coming here to litter the place with their children," Magilou pointed out. "And before you start, yes, I'm fully well aware that the children who die here play an important role in the grand scheme of things, but humans are notoriously irresponsible; one soul saved from this fate won't change anything, there will be plenty left to create the Minotauros either way. Truth be told, I could probably take a dozen children and not make a difference."

With that, she sauntered through the door and into the desert shrine. Earth mana permeated the space, as did a remarkable amount of malevolence; the broken hearts of children haunted these halls, she knew full well. All to force any new Shepherd to face the worst atrocities of their own kind, she thought. What a vile ritual…even I wouldn't have come up with something like this.

Eventually, the sound of crying reached her pointed ears, and she picked up her pace, trotting through the stone rooms and dusty courtyards until she found the abandonment site. Two baby boys were writhing and wailing in the dirt, naked and probably cold in the night air.

"Two, huh?" Magilou mused out loud, eyeing the babies. "Well, I only need one…Hmm…" She waved a hand. "Eenie, teeny, spiny, tree, who will my successor be?"

"You'd just leave one of them to die here?" Bienfu asked, alarmed.

"Hey, it's not my problem," Magilou shrugged. "Besides, it's not like they're brothers. That one over there has definitely been here longer - he's on the verge of wasting away, while this one probably just got dropped here a few hours ago, if not a few minutes."

"But…but to just leave a helpless baby behind so it can starve to death…" Bienfu protested.

"That's what the Great Lord Eumacia demands, isn't it?" Magilou asked lightly. "The despair of children, to create the Minotauros and reveal the ugliest side of humanity to whatever Shepherd may rise to protect the ones who would do such a thing? Such is the purpose of this shrine; there have been many, and there will be many more. I can't save all of them."

"I know," Bienfu whined, "but it's so awful!" The little normin sniffled. "It's no wonder Lord Eumacia chose Lord Melchior to incarnate himself into…"

Magilou blinked, almost flinching at the sound of the old man's name. "He did, didn't he…?" she said softly, remembering the belated arrival of the Great Lords of the elements to crown a new leader in Innominat's place, and which voice had sounded like which exorcist. "Heh…probably sensed a kindred spirit in the old man…"

Suddenly, Magilou found herself seized by a desire to oppose anyone who even reminded her of Melchior. Not being one to resist succumbing to sudden bursts of passion, she bent down, scooped up one baby, then walked over to the other and picked him up too. The boys cried and wailed, they were sticky and smelly and filthy and she would probably never get the stains out of her clothes, but she hugged them close, and, possibly feeling her warmth, they clutched her back.

"I can take care of two," she decided. "Who knows? Maybe one of them will be more suited to taking my place than the other…" She blinked, then raised her voice dramatically. "Oh, to think that I could have passed over the perfect Storyteller in favor of a hopeless lout, just because I didn't know them before leaving one to die! This could have gone very poorly indeed!"

"Bieeeeen!" Bienfu wailed, clutching her ankle as he spouted fountains of tears from his eyes. "Oh thank you, Miss Magilou! You're so kind!"

"Don't get the wrong idea," Magilou huffed, turning to leave the shrine, still clutching the dirty babies even as she kicked Bienfu off her leg. "I just want to make sure my legacy is carried on properly! It's not like I'm going to be their mother or anything."

"Then how will they grow up?" Bienfu asked, trotting after her, his stubby legs squeaking against the ground, as normin legs did.

"Oh, I'll raise them, sure," Magilou groaned. "But they're going to have to look elsewhere if they want some affection. Look, I won't even give them names! They'll be nameless until they earn the name 'Mayvin'." A wicked smile curled her lips. "Until then…how about we call them Number One and Number Two? Doesn't that sound appropriate, Bienfu? The one who was here longer gets to be Number One, and his healthier companion will be Number Two. There! They don't need more than that." And that way, if the only name they ever know is 'Mayvin', then once I'm gone, that's the only meaning that name will ever hold again, she added to herself; even after all these centuries, she still couldn't let it go.

Bienfu didn't reply, not even to comment on the little joke she was making by giving these two abandoned children titles instead of names, nor on how she was tacitly denying them both actual identities in doing so. An awkward silence hung between the witch and her familiar as they left the shrine, broken only by the wailing of the babies.

"Well," Magilou sighed at last, "I guess I can give these two a bath using some water artes, and have some seraphim at the Pendrago Bazaar get them some clothes and milk. I don't really know much about babies, so you'll have to do most of the legwork - feeding, changing diapers, that sort of thing. You don't mind, do you, Bienfu?"

"Ohhhh…" Bienfu sighed. "I guess I should have expected this…"

"Indeed you should, my loyal servant!" Magilou said cheerfully. "Glad that's settled."

But as one of the boys started pulling at one of her pointed ears, she couldn't help but remember her own origins. Had she been born after the rise of Maotelus, no doubt her parents would have left her in that very same shrine to wither and die, just as these boys' parents had them; and though she was an empty shell, she almost felt herself develop a small bit of…of something, for these two babies who at least wouldn't have to grow up alone or without a purpose. There but for the grace of the Heavenly Realm go I, she thought, looking more closely at her two charges…and despite herself, despite her complete lack of any intention to become any sort of motherly type, not even for their sakes…she smiled at them.

~X~

Twenty years went by, as Magilou set about raising her successors.

At first, she couldn't really do much with the infants; aside from casting water artes to rather forcefully wash them - which she always insisted they needed, being gross, filthy babies - she left most of the work to Bienfu and the occasional seraph who happened to cross her path. Obviously, the nomadic life of the Storyteller wasn't really suited to raising children, so with some help from a couple of water seraphim from the Plitzerback Wetland, she built a small shack, with two separate rooms for the boys and a third room to store all the books she'd written (it was a relief not using Bienfu to carry them all), right on the border between the marsh and the Zaphgott Moor, carefully cloaked from human eyes by multiple artes, of course. She herself slept in a nearby cave, preferring to just feel the earth around her, alone but for the presence of Bienfu in her chest. It was more…peaceful, that way, even after the children outgrew the crying-all-night-long phase.

Though she stuck with her idea of calling them "Number One" and "Number Two", she couldn't help but get slightly attached to the two tiny people she'd taken under her wing. Amazingly, Number One actually survived, despite having been at death's door when she'd found them; he and Number Two were completely different, yet they were inseparable, and it was…kind of cute, to watch them grow up as brothers. Of course, she never lied to them about who she was and their relationship with her; to be a motherly sort was not her destiny, she knew that full well, so she didn't try. Still, the boys seemed to be attached to her, though they knew not to turn to her for affection, instead getting the emotional support they needed, again, from Bienfu and the occasional passing seraph. When they were old enough, Magilou started taking them out to a nearby village so they could get used to interacting with their own kind, and all in all, they grew up to be as normal as they could be given the circumstances.

As students, fascinatingly, they were completely different, and put together, they would have been perfect for the role of Storyteller of Time - Number One had a passion for history and knowledge, always clamoring to know everything that ever happened in the history of ever, while Number Two, though studious, was patient, more passive in his studies, careful and obedient, never the sort to start anything. If the boys worked together, they could carry on the name Mayvin well…but Magilou had a nagging suspicion that it wouldn't all turn out quite so perfect; their flaws were just as valid as their merits. Though Number Two was reserved, it was to the point of shyness - whenever he spoke to someone other than Magilou or Bienfu, he would get nervous and not know where to begin, which wasn't a quality suited to someone meant to tell stories to whoever sought them out; Number One, on the other hand, had no such shyness, he loved telling stories almost as much as he loved reading or hearing them, but sometimes he would get a gleam in his eye that made it very clear that he wanted to be part of a story of his own, to have some reason for tales to be told about him. Magilou reminded Number One almost daily that to be unseen and unheard so that others' stories would be remembered was its own virtue, that not all contributions had to be known throughout the land, but he never stopped lusting for adventure, it was clear as day to his mentor's watchful eyes. Of course, neither of the boys knew that Magilou herself had been part of a story once - that was going to be their final lesson, when she explained to them why she'd invented the job of Storyteller of Time, when they were ready to hear it, and it would determine whether or not either of them would truly be suited to take the oath and allow her to finally rest. Yet, two decades later, even though they were both grown men, they still hadn't overcome their childish flaws; they were still boys, and they had a lot of growing up to do.

Still, she wouldn't force the needed maturity onto them, as Melchior had attempted to do for her - sooner or later, surely, they would come around on their own, right? This was what she told herself as the time went by, and her students still lacked that certain quality she felt they needed in order to take her final test.

Then, one night, Magilou was lying in her little nest in her cave, and found that she couldn't sleep. It wasn't worry about her charges or their future, such things weren't worth losing sleep over. No…there was just something in the air that had her restless…something she couldn't pinpoint…

"Magikazam," she mumbled under her breath, hoping to dispel whatever pointless trouble was keeping her from her beauty rest.

As though in response, a loud THUNK! echoed from outside the cave - distant, but the night was quiet enough that she could hear it clearly. It sounded like the thunk of a solid object against wood…and there was only one wood structure within hearing distance of her cave.

"Bienfu," Magilou said softly, getting to her feet and quickly reaching for the few things she'd taken off for the night. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," the normin replied, emerging from within her and speaking as quietly as his squeaky, grating voice would allow. "Sounds like the hut…You think they're okay?"

"Some guardian I'd be if I didn't check," Magilou grumbled irritably, but in truth, alarm bells were clanging in her head. Her instinct told her that something was very wrong, and that she needed to act fast.

Her accessories donned, Bienfu at her side, Magilou ran out into the desert air. Above, the stars twinkled watchfully, and never before had those twinkles of light seemed more ominous to her. A light was on in the hut - in the back room, where the archives were kept.

Voices were already becoming audible: the quiet, muffled voice of Number Two, and the louder, clearer shouts of Number One, who sounded upset. Even as Magilou opened the front door, she could see the open doorway down the short hall where the two brothers were confronting each other.

"All this time!" Number One was shouting furiously. "She's been usi-!"

"What the devil is going on?" Magilou asked lightly, stepping into the candlelit room of bookshelves. "You two shouldn't be up so late. A tired mind is a sluggish mind, after all."

"You," One growled, turning his brown eyes on her, and Magilou recognized the flame burning behind them: outraged hatred.

"Is something wrong, Number One?" Magilou asked.

It was Number Two who spoke for his seething sibling. "My brother says you've been lying to us," the calmer young man informed Magilou. "Said he…came across some books that prove your role as Storyteller of Time is a farce."

"Now why on earth would he say something like that?" Magilou questioned, folding her arms behind her head. "I haven't lied to you boys even once. Well, you know…not about history or anything like that." In truth, she'd never lied to them about anything, only withheld information she knew they weren't yet ready for. "Is this about your parents? I told you, I found you both as babies in the Morgause Shrine to the southeast. I have no idea who your parents are."

"You might not have lied to us about us," snarled One, "but you've done nothing but lie to us about you!" Before Magilou could protest, he hefted the leather-bound volume in his hands and flung it at her. "How do you explain this?!" the nameless man demanded.

Magilou caught the tome deftly and examined it. A quick glance at the cover was all she needed to understand where this was coming from.

"Naughty, naughty," she tutted, waggling a finger at Number One. "Taking lessons for yourself that I haven't deemed you ready to learn. I was going to tell you eventually, you know; it would be silly if you took on the burden of being the Storyteller of Time without knowing why I invented the job in the first place."

"So it's true, then," One breathed, his voice shaking. "It's all true. All that talk about the virtues of staying uninvolved, of watching and listening without being seen or heard, it's all tripe!"

"No," Magilou sighed. "Really, if anything, reading this book should have told you the opposite."

"Don't play games with me, witch!" her charge roared. "Everything this world is now is because of you! You were involved in history, our world would be completely different if not for your involvement!"

"Well, while I am certainly magnificent, I'm not sure I'd give myself that much credit," Magilou chuckled, setting down the book that held the story of how Maotelus came to be in as much detail as she'd been able to recall - it hadn't been lying out in the open, but clearly her efforts to keep it hidden had been insufficient against Number One's insatiable curiosity. "But yes, I was involved, before I took my oath."

"And what, you expect us to just never have a part in anything?!" Number One demanded. "To die in obscurity, with nothing to show for the fact that we ever existed, no legacy to leave behind?"

"I've told you many times, Number One; keeping track of all the world's affairs is legacy enough," Magilou stated in response. "It certainly is for me, at least. Trust me, you never know when a single tug of a thread might cause the entire tapestry of fate to unravel. Best to sit back and watch it be woven, so the lost pictures are never forgotten."

"Hypocrite!" Number One raged, and he started tearing at the bookshelves, hurling tomes around the room, some of which came dangerously close to the candle he'd lit to read by - it was likely that the noise that had summoned Magilou here had been a book hitting the wall.

"Hey, cut that out!" Magilou exclaimed, but the furious young man didn't listen.

"All of this is so much dust!" he shouted. "History is meant to be made, not watched! You want to trap me in an oath that will leave me obscure and forgotten forever?!"

"I'm not trapping you in anything," Magilou sighed, crossing her arms; the boy's attitude was starting to irritate her a little. "You're free to leave if you don't want to take my place and my name. Of course, you'd have to find your own name for yourself, and make up your own purpose. But if you'd really rather do that, then go ahead." She turned her back, folding her arms behind her head again. "I won't stop you."

"You steal me as a baby, you raise me, and now you're tossing me aside?!" Number One shrieked.

"I didn't steal you," Magilou pointed out, her back still to him. "And I'm not tossing you aside, I'm giving you your freedom. Isn't that what you just said you wanted?"

"You…!"

"Lady Magilou, watch out!"

Number Two's cry of alarm didn't startle Magilou; it was clear that Number One was on the verge of a tantrum. Not even blinking, she let herself be tackled to the floor by the more heavyset young man…but when a ball of fire swept past where she'd been standing to explode against the doorframe, what did startle her was the sudden lance of pain through her chest, as though something had cracked ever-so-slightly.

Instead of making a snarky comment to her charge for knocking her down, she turned around to look at the one who'd attacked her, and was mildly alarmed to see malevolence pouring off of him. Whoops, she thought. Guess I should've handled that differently. Oh well, not like he should have expected more of me anyway. Never had she pretended to be anything other than who she was with the boys: a wild, carefree, empty shell, neither kind nor cruel, good nor evil, simply without feeling. All the love they'd needed growing up had come from Bienfu and the occasional passing seraph who stopped by to say hello to the Storyteller; though her students were attached to her, and she knew they thought of her as something like a mother, affection was never something they'd turned to her for. She'd reacted to Number One's rage exactly as he should have known he would.

But that crack in her chest, that tiny fracture…

"You want me to do what I want, witch?!" Number One growled, his hatred morphing his body even as she watched, and the crack split a little further as fire and scales began to replace hair and skin. "What I want…What I want…!"

The monster roared, his flaming, lizardlike body erupting into being through Heaven's curse, the manifestation of his inner darkness setting the book-filled room ablaze.

"What I want," he declared, his crimson eyes blazing, "is to destroy your legacy! You hold all this so precious, when you were once a part of the events that transformed the world forever?! All of this is dust! It's nothing! Your legacy is in what you made happen, and now, mine will be too! I want all of this dust to burn!"

Pain lanced through Magilou's chest again, sharp enough that she cried out as the crack split further, wider, straining her ties to the bindings that kept her alive. My oath, she realized. My oath is breaking…but…but that means…!

Fire surged, blasting the wood and paper, which all lit readily; in minutes, the shack was an inferno. Magilou tried to stand, or conjure some water artes to clear a path so she could escape, but the life was slowly, slowly leaking out of her, and she didn't have much strength to spare.

"Lady Magilou!" Number Two exclaimed, shielding her from the flames with his stocky body. "Lady Magilou, are you okay?"

"I'm…fine…" she panted, her head spinning as she tried to sit up. "Nothing to…worry about…"

Behind Number Two, his former brother cackled. "Burn!" the lizardlike fire daemon roared. "Burn! Burn it all!"

"We have to go," Number Two mumbled, gathering his teacher up in his arms. "He's gone crazy, we have to go."

"Yeah," Magilou managed. "Yeah, no kidding…"

She didn't have the strength to resist being carried out of the burning building; Number Two charged through the flames into the desert night, then ran, seemingly aimlessly.

"Good…thinking…" Magilou told him. "Don't go…anywhere in particular…and he can't follow us…"

"I thought I managed to shield you from the blast, but I must have misjudged its force, or maybe I hit you too hard," Number Two mumbled frantically. "Once we're safe, I'll find out where you're injured and heal you as best I can."

Magilou gave a labored chuckle. "I think the damage…is beyond you, kiddo," she told him.

When they finally stopped and Number Two laid Magilou down in the sand, they were hidden among some desert trees and sandstone cliffs - a spot she knew at a glance wasn't too far from the Great Camelot Bridge she'd watched the humans finish recently.

"Lady Magilou, where are your wounds?" Number Two asked.

"I'm not…wounded," she panted, struggling to stay conscious, as Bienfu emerged.

"Her body isn't damaged," Bienfu informed Number Two; "the damage is something much deeper. Neither of us can help her."

"My oath," Magilou confirmed faintly. "The oath I took…to never involve myself in worldly affairs…is breaking…"

"But how?!" Number Two gasped. "What's going on?"

"Only one way…that could happen," Magilou chuckled breathlessly. "Your brother…isn't just a hellion. He's gonna be…the next Lord of Calamity."

"The Lord of Calamity?!" Number Two yelped, jumping to his feet. "My brother?! No, no, it can't be!"

"Oaths are very complicated," Bienfu informed him, "but if Miss Magilou's oath is breaking, then something very significant indeed must be going on as a direct result of her actions. One hellion isn't enough to alter the course of history, but…"

"But the Lord of Calamity…is another story," Magilou breathed. "Heh…doesn't that just figure…?"

"But he only just turned!" Number Two insisted. "Her oath can't have broken when nothing's even happened yet!"

"Not broken yet," Magilou managed. "But…breaking. Slowly. Very slowly." She closed her eyes, thinking hard. "We need…to do something. But I'm…useless, right now…"

"What we need is someone to stop Number One before he can wreak any havoc as the Lord of Calamity," Bienfu said. "If his reign of terror is stopped before it starts, the oath won't break!"

"Then how do we do that?" Number Two asked seriously. "There must be some way."

"Need…a Shepherd…" Magilou mumbled. "A Shepherd…and seraphim…Ugh, I can't think like this…"

"I'll go stop him," Number Two suggested. "With Master Bienfu at my side, I'm sure I can conjure some artes-"

"Against the Lord of Calamity?" Magilou laughed, even though the effort made her dizzy. "In your dreams. I barely taught you any self-defense artes…" Squeezing her eyes, she fought to stay conscious. She needed to think, needed to make careful, rational decisions. But she wasn't good at that at the best of times…

…but maybe she knew someone who was.

"Bienfu," she said softly.

"Yes, Miss Magilou?" Bienfu asked, waddling closer so he could hear her.

"A tracking arte," she mumbled. "Help me…conjure it…I need your power…"

"Of course!" Bienfu exclaimed, and he lifted his stubby arms, granting her the boost to seraphic artes that normin were able to give.

Summoning an image in her mind, Magilou forced a hand skyward. Light gathered into an orb on her palm, then slowly lifted from her skin and drifted towards the Great Camelot Bridge.

"Boy," Magilou said, addressing Number Two, "follow that arte. It'll take you to…someone who can help you…I hope…"

"But Lady Magilou-!" Number Two began to protest.

"Tell him…you were sent by…the evil witch Magilou," she told him. "And don't worry…about me. I'll be fine…as long as you…stop your brother…before too long…"

"Do as Miss Magilou says," Bienfu told Number Two; "go follow that arte! I'll take care of her and make sure she stays safe and well while you do. Hurry! Her oath will only hold for so long!"

"Go," Magilou croaked, forcing a carefree smile. "Not much point…waiting around here…much as I love the company…"

"Lady Magilou…" Number Two's blue-green eyes were soft and sad, but he took a step in the direction the tracking arte had gone. "Please, hold on. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Don't worry about me," Magilou called after him. "If there's…something to worry about, it's…everyone else…"

Settling back in the sand, Magilou turned her focus inwards. That tiny fracture in the binding on her soul hadn't severed her ties to life yet, but she could feel it, could feel a bit of her life force trickling out of her with every moment that passed, as one of her students set out to claim the mantle of Lord of Calamity.

I wonder what else could go wrong? she thought cynically, before finally passing out.