Saint-Louis fell to the Beast Tides, its three Magus-Protectors overwhelmed by the sheer number of Wildland Beasts attacking from the lands and a strike force estimated at a thousand elite Mermen and a dozen Sea Priests with their escorts of Wave Riders and Water Elementals. A first tentative strike to take back its fortress failed in 1987, the Magus in command of the operation, Major Raynaud, the son of Colonel Raynaud 'The Beacon' was killed in an ambush from an Ancient Crowned Boa before he could pierce the walls. His subordinates and colleagues from the Réunion Militia were then massacred by Mermen Priests from those same walls. Saint-Louis was only retaken in 1989, by virtue of a combined assault headed by Chieftain Barmak and then-Militia First Lieutenant Pierre de Bourbon (now permanent Envoy to the Orc Tribe) on the ground and Brishna Nabeelah and Major Sylvie Garnieu (now Colonel and Commandant-Castellan of Saint-Louis) in the skies that broke the Magical Beasts outside and the Mermen inside the walls.

Extract from “History of the Last Men ” by Tanaka Inagi, First Librarian of La Réunion

“Cûn Anûn, could you please sedate Damien?” Dr. Ferrand asked the Spirit, cringing. He usually preferred local anesthesia whenever possible, which could be devised with local plants. For global anesthesia, he was forced to either require the help of the Addington family or use rare magical plants. This time, since young Manon was his patient’s friend, it was her and not her overworked father who had come to assist him with that problem.

The doctor observed as the Plant-Spirit had touched his patient's neck with a stinging nettle-like leaf on its tail. Soon, Damien's muscles relaxed and his breath became more regular. Another minute and he was fully unconscious.

“Good. That will be all, Manon. Can you please wait in the corridor, just in case?” The doctor asked her. The Oracle nodded at the little girl, keeping her eyes focused on Damien’s now-unconscious body. The boy had insisted on having all the possible exams and diagnostics done as soon as possible so that he would be able to concentrate on his Work. The capital in "work" had been audible, so the doctor didn’t protest. Instead, he grabbed his finest hollow needle, examined once again the drawings the Oracle had provided, grateful for the elderly woman’s ultra-precise drawing, marked a point on his needle, and connected it to a tube leading to a piece of paper.

He then jabbed it through a pink scar on Damien’s torso, directly to the top of the heart, where it’s beating wouldn’t disturb the operation. He waited for the blood he was drawing to soak the piece of paper, then looked at the Oracle.

“Now.” She simply said.

He instantly took the needle out and examined the scar, dreading a hemorrhage. Having found nothing, he allowed himself to breathe. In his opinion, the information collected wasn't worth the inherent danger of the operation, but both the youth and the elderly sorceress had insisted.

“He’ll be alright, ma'am.” He told her. ‘He’ll be up in half an hour if Cûn Anûn didn’t overshoot with his tranquilizer.”

Damien woke up. He was in Dr. Ferrand’s clinic's examination room. His torso still ached, but he felt relatively good, considering he’d blood drawn from his heart just over an hour ago. On the table in front of him were three pieces of paper soaked in blood; one drawn from his arm, another donated by his father, and the last taken directly from his heart. Old Lucinda, with the mysticism common to some Diviners, had insisted that blood was needed for the spell she was preparing to cast. He looked away from her, finding Roland, Étienne, the good Doctor, and even, to his surprise, Manon in the room.

Noting his surprise, his tutor explained. “Little Manon here has been sent on her father’s behalf. He insisted that any information concerning the appearance of birth anomalies in Saint-Denisois children were technically in his purview as Mayor - ”

Interrupting him with a grunt, his sister announced. “The spell is ready. Please observe and be ready to testify to the results.” She waited for everyone to assent, and incantated; “Reveal Blood Bonds”

Étienne’s blood shone a brilliant white, the piece of paper moving to place itself over the other two, which shone white too. Then, Damien’s took a crimson hue, like spilled red wine while his heart’s brightened to a vibrant gold. They arranged each other to form a triangle with Étienne’s.

Roland, who knew the spell’s working, sighed, while his sister ogled Damien.

“Well, what does this mean?” Étienne asked impatiently.

“Your son and his heart are brothers.” The Oracle answered in a deadpan fashion. “Doctor, is there a nonmagical explanation for such a phenomenon?”

The good doctor Ferrand thought a moment, trying to remember his obstetric lessons. Finally, he saw the light. “An absorbed twin. You probably had a twin, that was Half-Elven for… the same reason as the little Halla Montel, I suppose? It died in the womb, and you absorbed part of it, that grew to become your heart.”

Manon gasped. The petite girl looked at Damien, who was frozen by the horror of the situation. “So, I caused the death of my sibling in my mother’s womb?” He asked, horrified.

“No. This happened early during the gestation since there was only enough matter to form your heart. The fetus wasn’t viable anyway” The doctor answered in a definite tone.

“I see. Thanks, doctor. Are we done with the exams?” Damien asked, his tone indicating that he really, really wanted to be answered “yes”.

“Yes,” the Doctor and the Oracle answered together. Damien breathed easy, glad to be rid of the burden of ignorance, and gladder to be free to concentrate on his Work.

The holidays were ending. Damien’s had been mostly occupied by his Work -He proudly patted his sword’s scabbard at the thought of it- and a few chance meetings with Julia and Manon. He’d allowed Manon to explain what she knew of his curious anatomy to Julia in the name of their friendship, and had himself explained the grudge Elven-kind probably possessed toward his family. In a typically Julia fashion, she had shrugged and asked whether it would matter here, considering that the only Elf on the island had decided to save him instead of avenging a slight two millennia old.

Damien yawned. He was waiting for Jean on a cliff over the path he was supposed to take to come back. When he finally saw him, accompanied by a few Orc warriors and Pyrite, who was playing with her cat, throwing pieces of meat in the sky for him to catch before they touched the ground. Damien couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing at his the sight. Jean was wearing Orcish war paints! And he was bare-chested under the hard-hitting sun!

Jean heard him, of course, and grumbled at him. “I don’t know how they don’t get baked… I think I have more sunburns than healthy skin…”

“How did you go from holidays at your grandfather’s home in Saint-Louis to camping out with your cousin and her friends?” Damien asked. His roommate had evidently spent at least four of five days with Orcs. There was at least one layer of old war-paint under the fresh, shinier one.

“I defended her in an argument with gramps,” Jean whispered. “He said that if I don’t appreciate civilization, I should probably take a week with the savages… He’s been angry with the Orcs since Pyrite’s mother 'took' uncle Pierre from the family. Apparently, the old family used to have a lot of problems with the Green Orcs back in the days. They were always raiding our lands back in Europe, or so he said. He knows they’re our allies, but he didn't expect to become related to a Half-Orc.”

“Uh. I suppose that’s understandable.” Damien hoped that the old mayor would never act on his prejudices and that the de Bourbon family would one day resolve their differences. However, he first had something to talk about with Pyrite. He beckoned to her. She approached her cat on her head.

“What’s going on, Damon?” She asked, intrigued.

“Huh, it’s Damien.” He corrected.

She reddened. “That’s what I said!” She protested.

“Of course it is,” Damien sighed. “Listen, Julia, Manon and I spoke about your cat.”

“What about it?” Pyrite asked suspiciously.

“Well, we think it really needs a name.” the young man explained. “So we consulted everyone who saw it, militiamen and Acolytes, and we found one for it. What do you think of Soot?”

“Sounds nice.” the Half-Orc answered. “What do you think?” She asked the catin question, scratching it under the jaw. “Like the name?”

The Felitera loudly meowed. Pyrite cuddled it to the ground, laughing. “All right! You heard it, boys?” She told her warriors, “This is Soot, understood?” She waited, glaring at her men. “Really? No applause, no calls for a feast? Come on, guys!”

After some hesitation, a pair of Orcs began to slow-clap. The others simply began to prepare to camp a little way further from the human city. It wouldn’t do to cause a diplomatic incident just because their boss was too preoccupied to remember that they were not supposed to enter Human territory, after all.

Damien and Jean left Pyrite to her leadership problems. She was planning to throw Soot at them anyways, and they wanted to be out of its AOE when the screaming would begin. They were going to his house when Jean noticed the Cores on the three points of Damien’s sword. He let out an admiring whistle.

“Did you work on your sword during the holidays, Damien?” He inquired.

Damien had hoped that his friend would be curious. “As a matter of fact, I did. Want me to show it off? Manon and Julia were curious too… I’m afraid I neglected my friends a bit these holidays.” He replied. He felt bad about not being with the girls more often, though he had heard that they were working hard as well.

“At the Manufactorium's testing ground, in half an hour?” Jean suggested. When Damien nodded, he summoned Lucille and sent her to seek out Julia and Manon.

In the Manufactorium’s testing room, Damien had asked for dummies to be put in place. As soon as Jean, Julia, and Manon arrived, Damien greeted them with a question.

“Do you want me to explain how this works first?” He asked, indicating his sword, which was laid bare on a table near the dummies. “Or do you want to see a demonstration first?”

“You’re dying to make a demonstration,” Julia answered with a rare smile. “Go on, explain the principles later.” Manon nodded, half-hiding behind Julia.

“Alright then,” Damien grabbed his sword and touched the ground with its tip. “Conjure Minor Elemental!”

From each edge of the blade, small smoldering forms unfolded. They were identical in shape and resembled the Fire Ants they had learned to fear, although they were slightly longer, with a length close to thirty centimeters. Manon let out a strangled cry, stopping herself from manifesting Cûn Anûn. However, after a second look, she ascertained that they were clearly Ember and Sun-fire Elementals, not flesh and blood Magical Creatures. The pair of small Elementals charged at a dummy when another duo fell from Damien’s sword. And another. Half a minute later, three dozen Elementals were swarming the dummies. The first one to be attacked was already a smoldering slug of slag, and three others were well on their ways to join it.

Damien coughed and interrupted the spell. He estimated that he couldn’t conjure more Elementals, but that he would have no problem keeping the minor Elementals manifested for at least two more minutes.

Jean approached, looking suitably impressed. “So, how does that work?” He asked, puzzled. “Elemental Swarm is a fourth Tier spell! How did you emulate that?”

Damien cleared his throat and presented his sword’s pommel. “I used the Crowned Boa’s horn to fashion most of the pommel,” He explained. “It already contains a natural mandala that can easily be repurposed to conjure Elementals. Beyond that, The Ant Core on top of the pommel contains the minor incantations to kick-start and stop the spell, and the ones on both sides of the guard are filled to the brim with Elemental mana. As for the Ant Soldier Core in the middle of the guard, it’s shaping the Elementals and serves as an emergency mana reserve.”

“So, you’re not using Elemental Swarm?” Jean was unsure of his understanding of Damien’s innovation.

“No. The sword casts multiple instances of Conjure Minor Elemental until I stop it or it runs out of mana. With the Cores I have, it can sustain thirty-five seconds of uninterrupted casting, then I have to begin fueling it myself. What do you think? Nice little toy, right?”

Julia smiled at him. “I believe the first real Work of an Enchanter is a good reason for a drink, right? I’d like to thank you for your trust, Damien. This evening, I think we should celebrate your success! The first orange juice is on me!”

Later in the evening, as the four friends were stargazing, Manon’s voice broke the silence.

“Did you think of a name for your sword, Damien?”