I glance down at my slacks, blouse and tattered backpack. The only jewelry I wear is my Initiate ring and a long chain around my neck with my father's Token of Strife. Not exactly party wear. I could have probably bought something while we were out shopping. I'm not used to having money. I'm grateful for the loaned scarf, which upgrades my ensemble to something a little classier.
Corinne comes back holding two tickets. "Let's go."
I follow her into a grand hall where they serve wine and champagne in tall, sculpted crystal flutes and offer hors d'oeuvres on tiny golden plates. This isn't a regular theatrical production.
Inquisition Guards stand inconspicuously around the theater, protecting the exits and entrances as we enter. The audience sits in a circle around an arena stage. It's centered in the middle of the auditorium and surrounded by water lit up by colorful lights.
"Which seats do we have?" I ask.
Corinne points to the boxed seat section located slightly above and directly next to the stage. It's a private room with luxurious velvet chairs and small tables laden with food and drink. A place usually reserved for the very elite.
"Wow. This must have been really expensive. Let me pay you back."
She waves a small hand at me as I follow her to the seats. "Don't worry about it, really. I got the tickets from a friend."
"Wow! Thank them for me."
She nods, grinning.
An Inquisition Officer guards the entrance to the boxed seats, and lets us through without incident when Corinne shows our tickets. I sink into a plush chair beside her as the lights go down and the show begins.
In the center, mist rises to fill the empty stage as a haunting melody in a minor chord fills the auditorium. The mist dissipates to reveal a throne carved from dark stone, floating in the air. A woman sits upon it wearing a crown of yellow and white gold, large wings glowing behind her.
The Twilight Queen.
To her left and right two men hover in the air with their own golden wings. Their golden armor shines under the lights of the stage.
"I wonder how they make the wings look so real," I say. Because they do. They look like mine or Zorin's. It's almost creepy. They could be Nephilim.
"Zeniths and special effects," she whispers back. "It's cool, isn't it?"
Below the Queen, the stage moves soundlessly as three old men and a woman approach the throne.
"Who approaches the Twilight Queen?" asks one of the guards.
One of the men in the group steps forward. "Varian of the Knights Templar."
Another speaks. "Titus of the Teutonic Knights."
The third man addresses the Queen. "Victus of the Inquisition."
And finally the woman speaks. "Marian of the Knights Hospitaller."
Varian continues speaking. "Our alliance grows frail, Queen Seraphina. There have been men turned against their will. Babes stolen to be nothing more than food. You must uphold your oaths."
The Queen speaks from her floating throne. "I have punished those who have transgressed, and new policies are being put in place so that this does not occur again."
Varian bows his head a fraction. "Then our alliance holds."
"Our alliance holds," the Queen agrees.
The stage grows darker and thunder claps overhead as a voice off stage calls out, "No!"
The theater fills with white smoke, and lightning flashes through the auditorium. A man flies above us, emerging from the mist, his wings like shadows. He wears a white mask.
Nyx, the leader of the Nephilim during the war.
As he flies overhead, audience members cry out, shrinking from the sight of him.
"You have been deceived," he says to the representatives of the Four Orders. "There will be no alliance."
Seraphina rises from her throne, her body floating in the air above them. "Be silent."
Nyx does not back down. "No. Too long have we tempered ourselves. Too long have we allowed a lesser race to rule."
Seraphina's guards charge forward, but Nyx disarms them instantly with a sword black as night. He moves for the Four Knights as other Nephilim, clocked in black, join him from around the auditorium, flying over us all like avenging dark angels.
"Now," Nyx says, holding his sword high and hovering above the slain bodies of the guards, "it's our turn." The stage roars with thunder, and lightning rips through the darkness.
The audience cheers at the spectacle. We can feel the energy moving under us, shaking us.
I sit on the edge of my seat as I watch this version of history unfold. So real. So raw.
Nyx overthrows the Queen, but Varian escapes. Battles blaze above us as Nyx and his army of Nephilim win victory after victory.
The climax mounts as Nyx and Varian set to duel each other.
They battle, Nyx flying through the sky, Varian fending him off with two swords expertly wielded. The fight is long and brutal and I honestly can't say who I'm cheering for.
In the end, they are both wounded and can no longer fight.
It looks to be a draw. Neither can defeat the other.
But then the winds of the battle change. The Pope arrives with reinforcements. Varian never needed to best Nyx one on one. He just needed to distract the Nephilim long enough for backup to arrive. It was all a trap.
The play ends with Nyx executed by beheading and Varian bowing before the Pope as he is named King of the re-established kingdom of Sapientia, a kingdom spanning the south of England, once great but lost even in stories so long ago. Varian's father died in the war, making Varian heir to throne.