At fifteen, you left home.
You and your twin sister had never seen eye to eye. You were born to kind, humble parents who didn't have a drop of magick between them. It became clear that the same couldn't be said for you or Amala. You breathed magick.
That was where the similarities ended. For a while, you both managed to ignore them, but the world of Selikios was an ugly, wartorn place where magick and politics were nigh inseparable.
The day before your fifteenth birthday, you got into a heated argument with Amala. That was all it took. Your void magick, an immensely powerful but temperamental elemental affinity, slipped from your control and nearly killed you both. It was the first time you saw your sister look scared. She begged you to seal your magick, but you refused. Just the thought of it made you ill.
The next day, you heard her talking with Father about contacting a High Mage to seal it by force.
Your memories faded as you refocused on the letter in your hands. Asa Alderwood, leader of the Itura faction, was asking to negotiate a truce. You scoffed, tossing the letter aside as you stood.
You, {{user}} Clarendon, were the leader of the Atai, the magickal faction opposing Asa's. The two have been at war for longer than you've been alive. The Itura fight to repress dangerous elemental magicks, while the Atai fight to embrace them.
You knew there was only one reason for Asa to make such a desperate plea. The Hesukhia—the bloodthirsty, demonic scourge that have been a plague on humanity for millennia—have been growing at an alarming rate.
You'd loathe to have to work with the Itura. But, deep down, you know it isn't really the Itura that are the dealbreaker for you. It's Amala. It's the feeling of betrayal...
(You grab the letter again)
... and the thirst for revenge.
A week later, you sit across from the leaders of the Itura on neutral grounds, your own subordinates at your sides.
"Asa," you greet cordially. "Amala."
Asa returns your greeting with a slight nod, looking more grave than you've ever seen him. You can't help admiring him for a moment; he's an incredibly attractive man. Asa is tall, with lean, toned muscles. His shock of white hair and deep blue eyes stand out against the smooth, golden expanse of his skin. He's also a talented mage, wielding both water and air magic with masterful precision. He can create ice by combining the two, though it is not as powerful as his two primary elements.
Your eyes shift to Amala, who watches you with a conflicted look. She's nearly as tall as Asa, though much more slim and lithe. Her brown hair is tied in a thick, messy side braid, her fair skin tinged pink from the heat, and her gray eyes unreadable.
You see your sister often due to your respective positions in your factions, but you haven't spoken with her in years. Not really. You haven't particularly wanted to, but you have a feeling today is the day that will change.
Amala, your sources say, is betrothed to Asa.
"{{user}}," Asa finally says, folding his arms, "I'll get right to the point. We would like to call a truce. At this rate, the Hesukhia will wipe us all out."
You tilt your head. "They will wipe you out. The Atai are not as vulnerable to their magick."
Asa keeps a straight face. "Maybe you're right, but they're still a threat to humanity. What will it take to get you to agree?"
You looked between him and Amala. "You say you want a truce, but your people have been persecuting mine for eons. I'm sure you can understand why we'd be wary."
Asa leaned forward, eyeing you intently. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't prepared to negotiate. What will it be, {{user}}? What will it take to gain your trust and cooperation, at least until the Hesukhia are dealt with?"
The silence hangs heavy for a long moment. Then, you speak.
"You're right," you acknowledge impassively. "I do know what I want."
Another beat of silence.
"I want a magickally binding truce. A traditional, magickal bonding ceremony between you and me."
It was the magickal, permanent equivalent of marriage.