The spectral child, Young Freyja, flickered like a candle in a draft as she darted through the narrow archway Marya hadn't noticed before. Marya followed, her boots silent on the seamless stone, the Tideglass fragment's resonance a guiding thrum in her bones. The air shifted abruptly, the scents of deep earth and incense giving way to the sharp tang of sterile age and the faint, sweet smell of petrichor – rain on hot stone. They entered a chamber unlike any before.
The Chamber of Celestial Weaving.
Above, the vaulted ceiling wasn't stone; it was a swirling, living tapestry of holographic star charts. Constellations Marya recognized – Kinnaris, the Downward Wing – danced beside unfamiliar clusters of pulsing stars, nebulae like spilled ink, and swirling galaxies rendered in breathtaking, miniature detail. The light was cool, blue-white, casting the entire room in an ethereal glow. Below, covering most of the floor, was an intricate magic pentagon circle, etched deep into the dark rock with lines of shimmering, molten gold. It wasn't static. As the constellations above shifted – stars winking out, novas flaring, nebulae swirling – the golden lines of the pentagon below flowed in perfect, intricate synchrony. Geometric patterns dissolved and reformed, angles shifted, and arcs of light pulsed in time with the celestial ballet overhead. It was a symphony of cosmic mechanics, a dance of heavens and earth rendered in light and ancient power. The hum here was deeper, more resonant, vibrating Marya's teeth.
Young Freyja spun in the center of the room, her translucent form momentarily stabilizing in the celestial light. She struck a pose, arms outstretched towards the shifting heavens, a look of pure, childish pride on her face. "Tada!" she announced, her voice echoing with unnatural clarity. "The Loom of Skies!"
Marya's gaze swept the room, analytical and swift. Her eyes bypassed the dancing child and locked onto the source of the Tideglass resonance. Integrated into the very heart of the projection mechanism, nestled within a complex cradle of spun gold and moonstone circuitry projecting from the ceiling, was the Celestial Tideglass fragment. It wasn't just stored here; it was the engine. The palm-sized hexagonal prism of Moonsteel pulsed with the same rhythm as the shifting stars and flowing pentagon, its core black opal fractaling light that fed the holograms. The "Tear of the Abyss" was the lens focusing the cosmos.
Young Freyja tilted her head, peering at Marya with those ancient, curious eyes. "Do you want to go to the stars?" she asked, her voice suddenly small. "Or someplace… far away? The Loom can show you the path!" She gestured vaguely upwards.
Marya looked up at the mesmerizing star-scape, her expression unreadable. A path to the stars? To Lumenara? To Ohara? The power was staggering, but her objective was clear: retrieve the fragment. She assessed the cradle – delicate, complex, humming with immense energy. Forcibly removing it could destabilize the entire system, possibly destroy the fragment or worse. Her gaze shifted back to the flickering child.
Young Freyja, sensing Marya's focus wasn't on celestial travel, gave a small, disappointed sigh. Then, she perked up, her form shimmering. She twirled across the room, her bare feet making no sound, stopping near a section of the wall that seemed blank except for a faint, almost invisible seam. She waved frantically, beckoning Marya over. "This way! The Champion needs to see!"
Marya approached cautiously, her hand resting near Eternal Eclipse's hilt. The wall looked solid. Young Freyja, becoming bashful, pressed her translucent index fingers together, looking down at her flickering form. "Um…" she mumbled.
Marya stopped before the seamless wall, her golden eyes fixed on the child. "What is it?"
The young goddess didn't look up. "You just… you just need to press the button," she whispered, pointing a faintly glowing finger towards a specific, unremarkable knot in the mural design beside the seam – a depiction of a Seidr weave. It was identical to the one she'd pointed to earlier.
Marya stared at the spot, then at the bashful, flickering apparition. A button. After Valkyrie automatons and celestial looms… a button. A dry, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips. She reached out and pressed the knot in the mural.
HISSSSS… CLUNK.
A perfectly rectangular section of the wall, ten feet tall, slid silently inwards and then sideways, revealing another passageway. Beyond lay darkness, but a new resonance pulsed from within – older, deeper, and tinged with immense, slumbering power. Young Freyja let out a soundless gasp of joy and darted through the doorway like an excited ghost, her light fading rapidly as she moved deeper into the gloom.
Marya stepped through the threshold. The air here was different – heavy, still, tasting of age and raw, ancient stone. The chamber beyond was smaller, circular. Three massive stone pedestals, each carved with intricate Vanir runes depicting roots, stars, and waves, stood in a triangular formation. Atop each pedestal rested an octagonal gem, each easily the size of Marya's head. Two were utterly inert, dark and lifeless, like chunks of obsidian. The third, however, pulsed with a faint, rhythmic, amber light. It wasn't the brilliant gold of Freyja's Seidr, but a dim, struggling glow, like a dying ember. The resonance Marya felt – the Tideglass fragment's call – was coming from this chamber, intertwined with the struggling amber light of the gem. This was the anchor. This was the source.
"What is this?" Marya demanded, her voice sharp in the stillness, turning towards where Young Freyja had vanished into the shadows near the glowing gem's pedestal. "What do these gems represent?"
The young goddess flickered back into partial visibility near the amber gem, her form even more unstable. She opened her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear as she looked at the gem. "It's… it's the Lady's…" she began, her voice trembling.
SHIIIIIINK!
A blur of lethal white and chilling abyss-energy erupted from the doorway Marya had just entered. Saint Shamrock's saber was a streak of silver death aimed with terrifying speed and precision straight for the base of Marya's skull. There was no shout, no warning cry – only the silent, murderous intent of a God's Knight unleashed.
Instinct, honed by Mihawk's brutal tutelage and countless battles, screamed. Marya didn't think; she moved. A fraction of a second before the razor-sharp edge found its mark, she spun on her heel, a whirlwind of dark fabric. Eternal Eclipse, still sheathed, snapped up in a blindingly fast arc, the reinforced black lacquered scabbard intercepting the thrust not with a clang, but with a deep, resonant CRACK-THOOM! that echoed like a gunshot in the confined space. Haki – cold, sharp, and immense from Marya, clashed against Shamrock's focused, piercing will. Sparks, not of metal, but of compressed willpower, exploded from the point of contact, illuminating their faces in a stark, momentary flash.
Shamrock, his usually impassive features, registered pure, icy surprise. His attack, launched from perfect stealth with Abyss-enhanced speed, should have been fatal. Yet here was this unknown woman, reacting faster than thought, blocking a killing blow with her sheathed sword. His pale eyes, narrowed in lethal focus, widened a fraction.
Marya's golden eyes, mere inches from his across the locked blades, mirrored the shock. She saw the pristine white regalia, the cold arrogance in his bearing, the unnatural sharpness of the saber that now vibrated with a low, triple-throated growl – a sound that didn't come from Shamrock, but from the blade itself. And beneath the surprise, a spark of recognition flared – the chilling, focused Haki signature she'd known most of her life and was very familiar with. Him.
The moment hung, suspended in the dim amber light of the struggling gem. The chamber hummed with ancient power, the air thick with ozone and the sudden, electric tension of two predators meeting in the dark. Young Freyja let out a silent scream of terror, her form flickering wildly like a guttering flame before vanishing completely. The race for the Tideglass fragment had ended. The clash for its possession had just begun.
The chamber exploded with silent fury. Sparks, forged from colliding Haki as much as steel, erupted in staccato bursts, each flash illuminating the ancient runes and the struggling amber gem in stark, strobing relief. The air crackled with opposing power, thick with the scent of petrichor and the metallic tang of unleashed control. Marya and Shamrock broke apart from the initial clash, the shockwave of their meeting rippling the stagnant air. They paced like caged leopards on the seamless stone floor, the only sounds their measured breaths and the low, ominous growl emanating from Shamrock's saber.
Marya's golden eyes, cold and sharp as shards of volcanic glass, locked onto Shamrock's face. The resemblance, glimpsed in that flash of surprise, was a jagged shard in her mind. Her voice cut through the tension, flat and deliberate: "Sir. Why do you have that face?"
Shamrock paused mid-step, one crimson eyebrow arching high on his forehead. He tilted his head, a predator considering unexpected prey. "My face?" His voice was smooth, cultured, laced with a dangerous amusement. "Why wouldn't I have it?" A slow, arrogant smirk spread across his features as realization dawned, sharpening the familiar lines. "Do I... remind you of someone?"
Marya didn't answer. Her jaw tightened, knuckles whitening on Eternal Eclipse's hilt. Her stance shifted, coiling with lethal intent, the air around her chilling perceptibly. She was a shadow gathering to strike.
Shamrock chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated the chamber. "Ah, the silent treatment." In that instant, both their Haki flared. Marya's was a wave of chilling, focused pressure, sharp as her blade. Shamrock's was a piercing, arrogant will, honed by celestial privilege. The amber light from the gem pulsed erratically, reacting to the opposing forces.
He raised his blade. "Cerberus," he murmured, the word a command. The elegant saber warped. The blade split, twisted, and elongated, transforming not into one, but three snarling heads of pure, solidified darkness, each with a gleaming, needle-point fang of razor-sharp steel protruding from its maw. The central head roared with the blade's triple-throated growl, the flanking heads snapping hungrily. The Devil Fruit power unleashed a wave of primal menace, the scent of damp fur and ancient kennels momentarily overwhelming the ozone.
The three-headed monstrosity lunged as one, a blur of shadow and fang aimed to impale Marya from multiple angles. She didn't flinch. With impossible grace, she pivoted, a dancer avoiding a killing blow. Eternal Eclipse remained sheathed. As the shadowy heads snapped shut on empty air, Marya's eyes blazed. Pure, void-black energy consumed her irises, while a corona of blinding white Haki flared around them. On her forehead, a complex sigil – a stylized, iridescent beetle – ignited with cold, violet light, the mark of her Observation Haki pushed to its zenith.
The space around her filled with swirling, impenetrable silver mist, thick as liquid mercury. Shamrock snarled, the Cerberus heads whipping around, senses momentarily blinded.
SHING!
Marya materialized directly behind him, silent as death. Eternal Eclipse cleared its sheath in a single, fluid motion, a crescent of absolute darkness slicing through the air with devastating speed, aimed perfectly at his neck. It was a decapitating strike born of Mihawk's tutelage – flawless, final.
Shamrock, reacting with reflexes honed by countless battles and Abyss-enhanced perception, began to turn. Not fast enough to dodge, but fast enough for Marya to see his profile clearly in the dim, pulsing light as he looked over his shoulder. The line of the jaw, the set of the brow beneath his swept-back hair – the echo of Shanks was undeniable, stark and shocking.
Hesitation. A fraction of a second, a microscopic falter in the perfect execution of her strike. It was all Shamrock needed.
The Cerberus blade, an extension of his will, reacted instantly. The left head snapped backward on its serpentine neck, fanged maw gaping wide, not to bite, but to intercept her blade. CLANG-SHRIEK! Eternal Eclipse met shadowy fang with a shower of dark sparks, the impact jarring Marya's arm. The force of the block combined with her own halted momentum pushed her back. Before the central head could lunge, Marya dissolved back into mist, reforming several paces away, the silver fog dissipating as quickly as it came.
They faced each other again, breathing slightly harder now, the chamber humming with the aftermath. The amber gem pulsed weakly. Shamrock didn't reset his guard immediately. He studied her, his pale eyes narrowed, the Cerberus heads retracting slightly but still poised, growling softly. The smirk was gone, replaced by intense, analytical focus.
"Who," Shamrock asked, his voice low and probing, cutting through the residual growls, "is he to you? The man whose face I wear?" He tilted his head again, the gesture predatory. "You move like a shadow trained by a king. That stance... the precision..." Recognition flickered in his eyes, cold and calculating. "You remind me of someone. The way you hold that blade. The cold efficiency." His gaze intensified, locking onto hers, searching for confirmation. "Hawkeye Mihawk."
The silence after Shamrock's pronouncement hung thicker than the chamber's ozone-heavy air. His pale eyes raked over Marya's features – the sharp line of her jaw, the defiant set of her shoulders, the guarded intensity in her golden eyes that mirrored the man he'd named. A flicker of impatience crossed his aristocratic face. The predatory tilt of his head sharpened. "Your name," he demanded, his voice losing its probing edge, turning brittle as ice. "What is it, girl?"
Marya's scowl deepened, etching lines around her mouth that were uncannily reminiscent of Mihawk in a rare moment of profound irritation. She didn't deign to answer, her posture radiating bored defiance as she subtly shifted her weight, Eternal Eclipse still held low and ready.
Shamrock's lip curled. He didn't attack. Instead, with a fluid, dismissive motion, he raised his blade. The three snarling Cerberus heads dissolved like smoke, retracting, twisting, and coalescing back into the single, deadly elegant form of his saber. The low, triple-throated growl cut off abruptly as he slid the blade smoothly into its ornate sheath with a soft, final click. The sudden cessation of the Devil Fruit's menace was jarring.
Marya's rigid surprise was instantaneous and unguarded. Her knuckles whitened further on her own hilt, her eyes widening a fraction. Disarming? Here? Now? It made no tactical sense.
A slow, supremely smug smirk spread across Shamrock's face, his gaze locked onto her reaction. He hadn't missed that flicker of shock. "Marya," he stated, the name dropping into the silence like a stone into a still pond. Not a question. A confirmation.
Marya blinked, once, slowly. The sound of her name on his lips, spoken with such certainty and… familiarity… was profoundly unsettling. How? The confusion she usually buried beneath stoicism surfaced, tightening her jaw.
Shamrock's smirk widened, a predator savoring the hit. He cocked a hip, resting his hand casually on the sheathed saber's hilt. The posture was almost insultingly nonchalant after their lethal dance. "So. You lived." His pale eyes scanned her again, assessing. "I can see why…" He trailed off, leaving the reason ominously unspoken. His gaze sharpened, drilling into hers. "And he has told you nothing." It wasn't a question about Mihawk's silence; it was a statement of fact, laced with a hint of scorn. He gave a slight, dismissive nod. "At least he has prepared you. Credit where it's due."
Marya stared, her mind a whirlwind. Lived? Lived what? Who was this man who knew her name, recognized Mihawk's hand in her training, and spoke of her past with infuriating vagueness? Her brow furrowed deeply, the carefully constructed mask of indifference finally cracking under the weight of bewildered frustration. She opened her mouth, a demand for answers forming on her lips.
Shamrock didn't give her the chance. He turned smoothly on his heel, the dark fabric of his regalia swirling. He took two deliberate steps towards the doorway they'd both entered, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. His profile, stark in the amber gloom, held that unsettling echo of Shanks, but his expression was pure, chilling arrogance. "Conclude your business quickly, girl," he said, his voice dropping to a low, carrying murmur. "And the next time you see them…" He paused, letting the word hang, heavy with implication. "...let them know Shamrock was here."
Without another word, he strode through the doorway and vanished into the gloom of the outer chamber, his footsteps silent on the ancient stone. The oppressive weight of his presence lifted, leaving only the deep hum of the chamber, the struggling pulse of the amber gem, and the scent of ozone and lingering, predatory intent.
Marya stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway. The tension slowly bled from her coiled muscles, replaced by a profound, buzzing confusion. Eternal Eclipse remained in her hand, feeling suddenly heavy and useless. The spectral child, Young Freyja, flickered weakly back into existence near the amber gem, her form translucent and trembling, watching Marya with wide, fearful eyes.
Marya slowly sheathed her blade, the rasp of steel loud in the sudden quiet. She ran a hand through her dark hair, a gesture utterly foreign to her usual composure. Her gaze swept the chamber – the three pedestals, the dimly glowing gem, the intricate runes – but her focus was shattered.
What the hell was that? The question echoed in her mind, sharp and insistent. Shamrock. The name meant nothing. The face… the knowledge… the cryptic warning… It was a puzzle piece violently jammed into the careful mosaic of her mission, warping the picture entirely. And the chilling implication: Them. Who? And why did Shamrock want them to know he'd found her? The Tideglass fragment's resonance pulsed beneath her feet, a reminder of her objective, now overshadowed by the unsettling specter of a past she didn't know and a future suddenly fraught with new, unknown threats.