In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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Lea had been taken care of, and had been given his orders. Next was Myde. He was certainly an interesting case. It was time to bring in the Arcane Wayman for questioning.
Telepathy. Ugh. Myde's head hurt every time No. 1 sent a message straight to it. Was a letter too much to ask for? Telepathy had no rhyme or meter. It just...Was. You couldn't write music for it. Myde had tried once, and the results were not pretty.
Myde hadn't been called in for a one-on-one meeting with the head honcho since he'd been brought into the XII (Or, the IX as it was called then) so long ago. To be honest, Ansem tended to leave him to his own devices. Which were instruments. He'd been part of a few missions before, but other than claiming the old wizard's tower and that time he'd offed Stringhead, he hadn't really been told to do anything. As a result, his fourth musical was almost completed.
He wondered why now. Was it the carp that he slipped under Relena's bed? No, she had smelled it out after two days. Did he get something else to waste his time on and distract from his work? Was it about his bucket?!? Did 'Master' Ansem finally have use for the Heartless Choir Myde had been working on for the past few months? Whatever it was, it would have to wait a day. He had almost nailed the final stanza of the song to conclude act II.
