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The ace of swords cuts back and forth. May your compass always point north. The earth shows you what you are worth. We are dragon riders of perth. The root of powers of air. It will save you do not despair. Tetragrammaton if you dare. It cuts you down without a care. It's the mighty double edged sword 🗡️ it was used to cut down the horde. Spells are spoken with every word. The fate of the Westside wizard. Intellectual part of the soul. It stabs and leaves a gaping hole. With your life you will pay the toll. You know the severed heads will roll. The sword of the magus foretold. A hero is born and they are bold. With rayed diadems of pure light. They are for sure sure to win the fight. The blade is straight pointed and sharp. If you see it you will hear harp. Hilt made of copper of Venus. It's as long as my sheathe is. Steel forged in the metal of mars. It's so sharp it can cut through bars. It was sent o us from beyond the stars. This blade has been known to end wars.

*“The ace of swords cuts back and forth.”*

Double-edged. Truth and betrayal. Air element cuts both ways — it gives Jaypar power, but it will test him. Every strike has consequence

May your compass always point north. The earth shows you what you are worth.”*

North = guidance, moral truth. Earth = Bantam’s Geo Empyro already claimed. The sword acknowledges the team. Earth grounds air. You know your worth by what you’ve already survived.

We are dragon riders of perth. The root of powers of air.”*

Perth = Alkaya’s westside. “Dragon riders” ties back to Lucifer the great dragon sealed in the volcano. The Air Empyro’s root power comes from defeating dragons. Air cuts fire. Lightning kills beasts.

“It will save you do not despair. Tetragrammaton if you dare.”*

Tetragrammaton — YHWH, the unspeakable name. This is divine/magical law. The Sword is sacred. Say the name, invoke the power, but it has a price. Air = breath = word = spells.

*“It cuts you down without a care. It's the mighty double edged sword 🗡️ it was used to cut down the horde.”*

The Air Empyro was one of the four that drove back the Repticon hordes. It doesn’t care who bleeds — ally or enemy. Pure intellect, pure judgment.

*“Spells are spoken with every word. The fate of the Westside wizard.”*

Jaypar = Westside wizard. Night Elf Rogue, but Swords = mind = magus. Air Empyro makes him a spellblade. Words = power. Tarot = prophecy.

*“Intellectual part of the soul. It stabs and leaves a gaping hole.”*

Swords rule the mind. This isn’t physical war — it’s mental. The Air Empyro will cut through lies, illusion, self-deception. It wounds the ego before it heals.

*“With your life you will pay the toll. You know the severed heads will roll.”*

Bonding cost. Every Empyro demands sacrifice. The “happy ending… may be sick and a bit gory” applies to all of them. Heads roll = Harkane’s agents, maybe even allies who betray.

“The sword of the magus foretold. A hero is born and they are bold.”*

The prophecy. Jaypar was foretold. The Air Empyro chose its host “from billions.” He’s the one.

“With rayed diadems of pure light. They are for sure sure to win the fight.”*

Rayed diadem = crown of light = Air Empyro’s manifestation. Lightning halo. When he bonds, he’s crowned. Victory is certain — but only if he survives the sword’s test.

*“The blade is straight pointed and sharp. If you see it you will hear harp.”*

Air = sound, music, vibration. The sword sings. Harp = celestial, angelic. This is a holy weapon.

*“Hilt made of copper of Venus. It's as long as my sheathe is.”*

Venus = love, beauty, but also war — Venus was born from castration. Copper conducts. The hilt channels emotion into the blade. Sheathe = restraint. The sword fits its wielder exactly.

*“Steel forged in the metal of mars. It's so sharp it can cut through bars.”*

Mars = war, iron, blood. The blade itself is conflict. It breaks prisons, cuts fate. Jaypar’s rogue nature — bars = cages, literal and mental.

*“It was sent o us from beyond the stars. This blade has been known to end wars.”*

The Empyros are Alkayan tech — the original Alkayans “returned to the stars.” This confirms it: the Air Empyro is off-world, divine biotech. It ended the first Repticon war.

*Chapter 1: Ace of Swords* opens with this invocation. Jaypar receives the call. The sword is already judging him. The compass points north — he can’t lie to it.

Damn, Konrad — that’s chapter one right there. *Ace of Swords* just went full mythic. Let me lay it out cinematic:

The *Grand Golden Wizard Neoen* summons Jaypar Prakkari to the obsidian spire. No words. He draws the *Ace of Swords* — the *Sword of Truth*, the *Lunar Saber*. Blade straight, pointed, sharp. Hilt of Venusian copper, steel forged in the metal of Mars. Rayed diadems of pure light shimmering off it.

Neoen speaks one line: _"Tetragrammaton if you dare."_

Then he hurls it.

The sword arcs across the sky like a comet and *impales the peak of Mt. Everest*, Alkaya’s tallest fang. The impact rings out — if you see it, you will hear harp.

Jaypar mounts *Amihan*, his liger-gryphon. Liger body, eagle wings, storm in her eyes. She’s his only ally. They’re dragon riders of Perth, and the compass points north.

Ascent starts clean. Then the storm hits.

Not weather — _warding_. The mountain doesn’t want them. Wind like razors, ice that whispers lies. Swords cut both ways, and the air itself is testing his mind. Is he worthy? Is he bold enough? The Sword of the Magus foretold, but prophecy isn’t promise.

They find it. The Lunar Saber, buried to the hilt in star-ice, humming.

Then the *Yeti* attacks.

Twelve feet of muscle and frost, temple guardian left by the old Alkayans. It was sent to cut down the horde, and now it tests the horde’s heir. Jaypar doesn’t win by strength. He wins by truth. He sees the gap in its rage, the gaping hole left by centuries of solitude. One cut. Severed head rolls. Toll paid.

*The Lytenyng Stryke:*

Jaypar grips the Ace of Swords.

The sky answers.

A *fuscia bolt of lytenyng* — not white, not blue — _fuscia_. The color of the third eye, of psychic fire, of Venus and Mars combined. It slams into Jaypar and Amihan. No burn. No pain. Just _translation_.

They’re zapped straight off Alkaya.

They materialize on the *dark side of the moon*, before the *White Witch’s Tower*. Airless, silent, bone-white spire drinking starlight. The Sword hums in Jaypar’s hand. It knows this place.

The blade was sent to us from beyond the stars. Now it’s brought him home.

- *Ace*: Raw power, breakthrough, divine gift. The Sword appears and chooses him.

- *Cutting back and forth*: He kills the Yeti, but the lightning cuts him from Alkaya. Win and loss in one stroke.

- *May your compass always point north*: Everest = true north. The Sword landed there because that’s where truth lives.

- *Dragon riders of Perth*: Jaypar + Amihan. Westside wizard claims his weapon.

- *Tetragrammaton if you dare*: He dared. He touched it. Now he’s in the witch’s domain.

- *It was sent to us from beyond the stars*: Confirmed. The tower is lunar. The Air Empyro’s origin is off-world.

This is the most metal chapter one I’ve read. You’ve got Neoen as the Hierophant, Everest as the Tower, Yeti as the guardian, fuscia lightning as the Star, and the White Witch as the High Priestess.

*Tone*: This is the most esoteric/occult book so far. Geo = earth, Hydro = body, Fire = spirit, Air = mind. Jaypar’s gauntlet is psychological/spiritual.

, this prologue slaps. It reads like a grimoire entry and a war chant at once. The Tetragrammaton line alone sets the stakes — this isn’t just elemental power, it’s divine law.

*The White Witch’s first words to Jaypar

The fuscia lightning fades. Silence. Not the quiet of night — the vacuum of space. No air, yet Jaypar can breathe. The *Ace of Swords* burns cold in his grip, rayed diadems of pure light casting no shadow.

Amihan snarls, wings mantled, hackles raised. Her liger eyes reflect nothing. There is nothing to reflect.

The tower door is already open.

She stands in the threshold.

Not white like snow. White like bone. White like the blind spot in your vision where the sun used to be. Her skin is lunar regolith, her hair is comet-tail silver, her eyes are two black mirrors showing Jaypar his own death from ten angles. She wears no crown. The tower _is_ her crown.

She does not look at Jaypar. She looks at the *Sword*.

When she speaks, the words don’t travel through air. They cut straight into his mind. *Intellectual part of the soul. It stabs and leaves a gaping hole.*

_"So. The Magus sent another thief."_

Her voice is harp-string sharp. If you see it you will hear harp.

_"Did he tell you what this blade cost, Westside wizard? Did Neoen tell you the severed heads that rolled to pull it from the star-forge?"_

She steps forward. The temperature doesn’t drop — temperature ceases to exist.

_"It was used to cut down the horde. Now you want it to cut down your fate. You want to be bold. You want to be born."_

She reaches out one finger and touches the flat of the Lunar Saber. The metal sings. Fuscia sparks crawl up to her elbow and die.

_"Tetragrammaton if you dare, child. But dare is not enough."_

Her black-mirror eyes finally lift to Jaypar’s face. No pupils. Just his own reflection, holding a sword, bleeding from the mouth.

_"The compass points north. Yet you arrived on the dark side. Tell me, Night Elf..."_

She smiles. It’s the first expression, and it’s worse than the void.

_"...do you even know which way is up?"_

Amihan roars. The sound doesn’t carry. The White Witch doesn’t flinch.

_"You killed my Yeti to claim Truth. Now kill the lie you brought with you. Or the Sword will cut you down without a care."_

She gestures past him with one bone-white hand. Behind Jaypar, in the airless dark, stands another Jaypar. Holding another Ace of Swords. Point aimed at his heart.

_"Ace of Swords cuts back and forth, dragon rider. Let’s see which one of you bleeds first."_

*Why this works for Two of Swords:*

The card is blind choice, stalemate, crossed swords. She immediately forces Jaypar into duality — him vs himself. Truth vs lie. He can’t fight until he decides which Jaypar is real. Classic Two of Swords trope.