Lilith
Enoch Mansion, Enoch estate
Thornhill, Vanker Island
Northern Isles
Kingdom of Ashtarium
North American continent
December 6th 6414
As soon as Aeternum absorbed the others, I was just about to step in when Mary's voice called out behind me.
"Lilith."
I turned, uncertain whether I should stay. But the look in her eyes—earnest, steady—made me pause.
"We'll leave you two to it," Sanders said, already turning away. "Come along, Hector."
Without a word, Hector followed him, and the door closed behind them.
Mary stepped forward. Her gaze held mine, unflinching, even as I met her with cold silence.
"You have every right to be angry at me—at my family," she said quietly. "We share blood, yet we've never truly been there for you. If I were you, I'd hate us too."
She sighed and ran a hand through her golden hair, a trace of shame flickering across her face. Regret. Sadness.
"I never knew my sisters," she continued. "The eldest died before I was born. And Sarah... she left our parents when I was still a baby. I have no real memories of her. I don't even know if she's alive. I don't know if she thinks of me at all. And yes, sometimes I'm angry—angry that she left and had a new life with you and your brother. That she abandoned me."
Her voice softened.
"Then I met Jonathan. And I met you. I know you don't remember me. I wish I could help with that. But... the Oath binds me too." She paused, then lifted her left arm and rolled back the sleeve of her white robe.
Intricate golden runes shimmered over her skin, flowing like liquid inscriptions across her tan arm. I felt it instantly—an unfamiliar energy stirring within the pattern.
"That's... Primal Harmonics," I said, frowning.
"Not quite," Mary replied. "My bloodline Ability Factor is called Primal Dominion. It allows me to command and shape any form of energy—or matter—through will alone."
She reached out her palm, and a soft orb of light formed in her hand, composed of swirling runic letters in a language I couldn't decipher. The orb pulsed with warmth.
"I want to give this to you."
I hesitated. "What is it?"
"Grace," she said simply. "It's... different from Mana or spirit energy. I can't explain it properly—it's something you'll have to learn, not just understand. For all I know, it might already exist inside you, dormant. This is just a seed—a spark. You can cultivate it to accelerate your growth… or ignore it. It's up to you."
Before I could respond, she flicked her fingers, and the orb shot toward me, entering my body in a radiant wave of warmth. I gasped as it spread through my system, luminous and golden, like sunlight threading through every vein.
The feeling was familiar. The Sin of Radiance—the Ashtarmel House's ancestral power—had felt like this. Warm. Pure. Alive. But Grace... was something else. Something deeper.
I felt it—Mary's emotions radiating through the energy she had passed to me. Warmth. Love. A sorrowful longing for a bond we'd once shared but lost somewhere along the way. It wasn't forced or performative—it was real.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
The anger I'd held—toward her, toward the Avrams—didn't vanish, but it softened. The cold edge I had worn like armor began to dull.
Mary nodded in silent acknowledgment, then turned to face the shelves lining the reading room. With a subtle flick of her fingers, the enchantments warding the books shimmered and unraveled.
A single tome flew into her hand, guided by her intent.
She held it out to me. "Take this as well," she said. "I can't tell you everything about yourself... the Oath still binds me. But this will help you understand the Kain, and the burden that comes with being one."
I took the book, glancing at the title etched in elegant silver script:The History and Achievements of the Kain Through the Centuries.
"Thanks," I said, gripping it tightly. "You should head back to the Dungeon. I know being out here might not be good for your... condition."
She laughed—a light, genuine sound.
"You do remember I'm immortal, right?" she said, amused.
Still, she gave a small nod, and with a flash of golden light, her body dissolved into radiance, vanishing as she shifted through space.
Just like that, she was gone. After a moment of gathering myself, I entered Aeternum's pocket space. The air shimmered with quiet energy, its vast Sanctum pulsing gently with warm, ambient light. Aeternum was mid-conversation with Ella and Eduardo as I approached, their voices low and serious.
I slipped the tome Mary had given me into my space ring, then pulled out the enchanted item Sanders entrusted to me. Without a word, I handed it to Aeternum—she'd be far better at navigating its energy pathways than I would.
Ella looked at me. I could see it in her eyes—the weight, the worry, the questions. She wanted to talk. I wasn't eager for conversation, but I knew we had to clear the air. So I gave Eduardo directions to a cultivation station to rest up.
Once he was gone, Ella and I settled into two seats near the Sanctum's central conduit. She was tense, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. I could feel her nervous energy—her occasional glances toward me, as if I might vanish if she blinked too long.
"Aeternum showed me what happened," I said quietly. "Thank you. For destroying that... thing."
"I wish I could've done more," she replied.
"You did enough," I said. "More than enough. And it looks like you've awakened your Sin Factor, too."
"Maybe," Ella said hesitantly. "But I don't know how to call it out again. I've tried, but... It's not responding."
"Could be a matter of training," I offered. "Sometimes these things take time to settle in."
"Maybe," she said again, then hesitated. "How are you feeling? Now that you're... You know..."
Her voice trailed off, but I knew what she was asking.
"If you're wondering whether I feel a thirst for blood, the answer's no," I said. "No urge to rip out someone's throat. No hunger I can't control."
"Really?" she asked, clearly surprised.
"Yeah," I said. "And I think I know why. It's because I'm not just a Vampire. I'm one of them."
"The Children of the Light," Ella asked.
"Seraph'ilim," I said. Aeternum had explained everything—what the Avrams were, what I had inherited. The Seraph'ilim—a rare and exalted race among the Manaborn. They weren't just born with an Ability Factor—they were born with a Divine Factor, a fragment of celestial origin woven into their very essence. Descendants of Celestial beings, the Seraph'ilim were once considered godlike, radiant warriors whose light could purify, heal, or annihilate.
But their fall was just as legendary as their rise. During the Eternal Night, when the Sun—the true source of their power—was sealed away by ancient sorcery, the Seraph'ilim lost their greatest strength. And in their weakened state, they were hunted. Outmatched. Defeated.
The Vampires had risen in their place.
"The Seraph'ilim were children of the Sun," I said softly. "But in darkness, even light can be forgotten."
Ella's expression was unreadable—caught between awe and uncertainty.
"And now," I added, "I'm both. A Vampire forged in the light... and a Seraph'ilim born in the darkness."
"It's a lot to take in," Ella said softly, her eyes still distant.
"That's what being a Kain is," I replied.
She glanced at me. "So… now what?"
"I'm taking you to Jack Kuria," I said, repeating Sanders' directive. "From there, we'll see if this so-called Radiant Five hero is someone we can trust."
What I didn't say—what I couldn't tell her—was that I had my plans. A part of me wanted to leave after this. To return to the Old World… to the Dread Forest. To retrace the fractured path of my past, to reclaim the memories lost to time and trauma. I wanted to know who I was, beneath the Sin, beneath the blood, beneath the pain.
But not yet. Not until Ella was safe. Not until she stood as Queen. Until then, I wouldn't leave her side. Just then, Aeternum's voice echoed through the pocket space.
"We've arrived in the Region of Ardonia."
Ardonia.
Located on the western coast of the Kingdom, it bordered the vast Pillar Ocean—one of the last two surviving oceans after the devastation of the Long War. The others had dried into wastelands. Only the Salt and Pillar Ocean remained, the latter said to possess a mysterious magic that allowed it to sustain the planet itself—a phenomenon so inexplicable that every expedition sent to study it had perished. Whatever truth lay beneath its waves had been left untouched for centuries.
And yet, despite the danger, Ardonia had flourished. It had become the beating heart of global entertainment—a place where actors, dancers, and musicians came to chase fame. Even Dungeon raiders came here to find sponsors and elevate their status in the public eye. People from beyond the New World crossed continents and oceans just for a chance to break into Ardonia's glittering promise. For someone like Jack Kuria to be hiding here… it was unexpected.
"Are we inside the Dome?" I asked cautiously.
"Yes," Aeternum replied. "The security enchantments were sophisticated, but with the key Sanders gave us, I was able to bypass them. Normally, I wouldn't be able to warp directly into one of the Domes. But the key transferred just enough of Jack Kuria's signature to let us in undetected, and now I'm able to replicate its actions."
I nodded, quietly impressed. Jack Kuria was already proving he knew how to stay ahead of his enemies. Now it was time to meet the legend in person.
"Hey, don't you think we should explore the city a bit?" Ella said, her eyes already scanning the view beyond Aeternum's pocket gate. "I've always wanted to see Ardonia."
"Ella... we're on the run," I reminded her, crossing my arms.
She grinned and pointed to the camouflage bracelet on her wrist. "Relax. I'll use my disguise. No one will recognize me."
I sighed, reluctant but intrigued. "Fine. Even I'm a little curious about what Ardonia's really like."
****
As our group stepped out of Aeternum's pocket space and into the heart of Ardonia, the first thing that hit me was the sound—a layered symphony of music, conversation, footsteps, hovercraft hums, and the ever-present thrum of mana-powered life. Ardonia didn't just breathe. It performed.
The city stretched around us like a living theater—vivid, stylized, and unapologetically bold. Wide crystalline streets shimmered with embedded glyphs that glowed with soft pulses beneath our feet, reacting to pedestrian traffic like pressure-sensitive veins. Above, mana-imbued banners projected moving holograms of upcoming performances, sponsored Dungeon runs, and public rituals celebrating the latest artistic triumphs.
Buildings curved upward in elegant, flowing designs, constructed from mana-tempered glass and stone, etched with aesthetic sigils. Some floated gently above the ground on levitation anchors, slowly rotating like graceful ornaments. Every structure had personality—some shaped like musical instruments, others resembling open stage curtains or celestial spires. Ardonia had no interest in uniformity. It was a canvas, and the city was the brushstroke.
Performers lined the streets—illusionists casting miniature dragons that danced on lamplight, fire jugglers spinning mana flames in arcs of radiant gold, and spirit-song musicians playing instruments made of sound and memory. Even the vendors were theatrical, their carts decorated in vibrant silks, mana-forged crystals, and enchanted trinkets that sang when touched.
The crowd was a tapestry of species and social ranks. Manaborn nobles glided past in robes laced with stardust thread, accompanied by sentient familiars. Dungeon raiders strutted in decorated armor, some with weapons that whispered threats to passersby. Aspiring artists and entertainers handed out enchanted flyers that fluttered through the air like origami birds, each chirping a snippet of song or spoken word.
Ella's eyes sparkled as she took it all in, her disguise holding steady but her wonder unhidden. "This is insane," she whispered. "It's like the whole city is alive."
She wasn't wrong.
Even the air had character—infused with the scent of spiced fruit from floating food carts, ozone from mana channels humming through the buildings, and the faint sweetness of aetherdust drifting from the higher balconies where stargazers practiced their nightly craft.
Above us, the sky was enclosed in the translucent barrier of the Ardonian Dome, filtering the sunlight into a warm, theatrical gold. It was said the dome adjusted the lighting to suit the mood of the region—brighter for festivals, cooler for contemplative seasons. Right now, it glowed like a stage light—welcoming, warm, expectant.
And yet, beneath the glitz and charm, I could feel it.
Watchful eyes. Hidden wards. Traces of defensive enchantments were woven into every lamppost, bridge, and staircase. Ardonia might have been beautiful, but it wasn't foolish. It was a city that protected its legends, and more importantly, its secrets.
"I can see why Jack Kuria would hide here," I murmured, more to myself than anyone. "A place full of masks and magic. Perfect for someone who doesn't want to be found."
Ella grinned. "Then let's start looking. Maybe we'll get lucky."
Or maybe Ardonia would show us exactly what it wanted us to see. Aeternum had dropped us directly into the heart of the Dungeon Raiders District—a gritty, energized sector built for combatants, adventurers, and the wild spirits who made a living diving into the world's most dangerous depths. It was the perfect place to blend in. No one asked too many questions here. Everyone had secrets, scars, or stories they didn't want to explain.
Even Eduardo had a Dungeon license, granted by the Dungeon association in Xibalba. Fortunately, these licenses were recognized internationally. It gave us cover. Just four Raiders moving through the scene like any other team.
We walked through the market stalls, where the scent of oiled metal, fried meat, and mana incense clung to the air. The roads were less polished here—rougher stone, patched with older glyphwork, and faint scorch marks where spells had misfired or duels had gotten out of hand. Still, it was alive. Every corner buzzed with the noise of barter, laughter, and the occasional clash of steel from nearby training halls.
Vendors hawked their wares beneath worn-out canopies stitched with sigil thread: Monster parts displayed on crystal-lined counters—horns, fangs, scales, and crystallized blood sacs from slain beasts. Potion merchants shouting over one another, advertising mana boosters, regen serums, or illicit brews that promised a 50/50 chance of enlightenment or hallucination. Enchanters seated in circles, offering temporary spell-runes carved into skin or armor, glowing faintly with warding light.
One stall offered tamed spirit-beasts for hire—low-tier familiars bound in aether cages, their eyes glowing dimly. Another sold battle banners, designed to amplify a raider team's synergy through formation glyphs.
We passed a bounty wall, a massive board made of reinforced soulwood. Paper contracts fluttered in the wind, each marked with a seal, a sketch of a target, and a reward value. Some were common—escaped beasts or rogue raiders. Others were high-risk: Ascendant-class targets, their faces burned into the page by golden ink.
"Feels a lot different from Thornhill," Ben muttered, his eyes scanning a wanted poster featuring a bandit crew that was said to wander the Salted lands.
"This is more city like," I said.
We stopped at a central plaza where a dueling circle had been carved into the stone. A crowd was gathered, shouting as two young raiders faced off—one wielding elemental chains, the other a spear reinforced with fire runes. It was fast, brutal, and theatrical, meant more for spectacle than function. The kind of fight that earned sponsorships.
Overhead, floating screens projected highlights from top-ranked Dungeon teams. Their kill counts. Their loot. Their drama.
This district wasn't just a staging ground. It was a stage. Fame here wasn't just earned—it was curated. The right kill, the right rival, the right story… and you became a legend.
"This whole place is like a coliseum dressed as a marketplace," Ella said, both fascinated and wary.
I nodded. "Everyone's hunting something here—glory, gold, or redemption."
"But we're hunting a legend," Eduardo added. "Jack Kuria. I thought we were supposed to appear where he is or one of his associates..."
"Hello, Eduardo," a voice called out.
We turned to see a woman—no, someone around our age—dressed in a black robe, her hood drawn low. As she pulled it back, fiery ginger hair tumbled over fair skin, and warm brown eyes met ours. She was striking in the way Ascendants often were—effortlessly graceful, unnaturally composed.
"Greta Stregha," Eduardo said, clearly recognizing her.
"You know her?" I asked.
"She's Jack's Ta'Valur," he replied.
"Wait—really?" Ella exclaimed. The Ta'Valur—the Fey term for Disciple—was no small title. It referred to the chosen right hand of a Paragon, someone entrusted to lead the Ranger Force, a powerful global organization tasked with maintaining world stability. They answered to no kingdom—only the Paragons themselves.
"Actually," Greta said with a small smile, "I'm not his Ta'Valur. I'm his daughter. Jack never appointed one, so people just assume it's me."
"You didn't correct them back in Thornhill," Eduardo pointed out.
"Thornhill?" I asked, eyebrows raising.
"She's the one who brought me there—with the elixir that helped your transition," Eduardo explained.
Greta turned to me, her smile soft, but something in her gaze stirred a sharp pain in my head, like a memory buried too deep, clawing its way to the surface. I winced.
She just kept smiling.
And for a moment, I felt the strange, unnerving pull of déjà vu.
"It's a pleasure to see you, Lith Rochester. Anna Rochester," Greta said with a subtle smile, addressing Ella and me by our aliases. "Jack is waiting for you at the Holly Palace."
She led us through the winding streets, guiding us beyond the Dungeon Raiders District—Raider City, as the locals called it. As we walked, Greta gave us an informal tour, pointing out notable landmarks and oddities scattered throughout the district: old dueling rings turned into theaters, market alleys that doubled as recruitment grounds for raiding teams, and mana-charged monorails ferrying performers and mercenaries alike.
Eventually, the towering buildings gave way to open space, and we arrived at a sprawling estate—far grander than even the Enoch property back home. A wide gate opened into a pristine courtyard, where tall palm trees swayed gently in the coastal breeze. At its heart stood the Holly Palace, an ivory-colored masterpiece of architecture, all sweeping archways, gilded edges, and smooth curves that gave it a regal yet serene presence.
Every inch of the grounds radiated wealth and power. I spotted powerful Ascendants scattered across the estate, standing watch or moving with deliberate grace. Their auras were refined—controlled—but still carried the weight of years of combat. In the distance, a glimmering body of water caught my eye. A pool... or was it a small lake? It was hard to tell. Everything here was too grand to measure by normal standards.
The palace doors parted for us without a word. Inside, the air was cool and fragrant, perfumed by enchanted incense. Armored Ascendants patrolled the halls, their armor engraved with sigils and house crests, each movement precise and disciplined. They didn't just guard this place—they belonged to it.
Greta guided us down a marble corridor and into a high-ceilinged dining hall. There, seated at the long table, already mid-meal, was a man who immediately pulled every ounce of my attention.
Dark skin. Silver hair. Violet eyes.
The moment I laid eyes on him, something deep in my instincts flared. A silent alarm rang in my core. My senses screamed—not in fear, but in recognition. The kind that precedes a storm.
Jack Kuria.
The legend. The ghost. The one we came to find.
-
Royal Institute of Academia
Pandemonium City,
Hudsonia Region
April 12th 6412
Ariella and Lilith arrived precisely on time for their appointment at the Royal Institute of Academia. Their guide, a robed attendant bearing the Institute's sigil, bowed low before leading them through the polished stone corridors toward the Archaeology Wing. Ariella walked with eager anticipation, her pace quickening as they neared the chamber. Lilith, ever vigilant, trailed slightly behind her—her sharp eyes scanning every corridor, shadow, and ceiling for signs of danger.
She wasn't the only one on watch. A full detail of Royal Guards had been stationed across the complex, though hidden from view. Lilith could sense them—trained warriors masked by subtle enchantments, positioned to intervene at a moment's notice. Still, as Ariella's guardian, Lilith remained on edge. The artifact they had come to see had stirred attention in the wrong circles, and Lilith knew curiosity often attracted more than scholars.
They entered a vast circular chamber with vaulted ceilings and warm lighting that spilled over rows of antique shelves. Massive murals and cave etchings adorned the walls—depictions of pre-Sundering civilizations, early Manaborn emergence, and celestial convergence myths. Books and relics from various ages lined the shelves, from preserved scrolls sealed in crystal to ancient mana-bound tablets faintly glowing under their display fields.
This was the Department of Archaeology—a haven for historians, researchers, and seekers of truth. For Ariella, it was a second home.
"Professor, the Princess has arrived," the guide announced respectfully.
From between two towering shelves emerged an older man with fluffy white hair, olive-toned, weathered skin, and a sharp gleam in his pale blue eyes. He wore a crisp cobalt-blue academic coat lined with gold thread, and leaned gently on a polished cane inlaid with memory quartz.
"Princess," he greeted warmly, voice crackling with delight.
"Professor Tanner!" Ariella's face lit up as she stepped forward. The old scholar had been one of her earliest and most beloved tutors—hired personally by the Royal House to oversee her education. While other aristocratic children studied within the Institute itself, Ariella had been homeschooled, trained privately in statecraft, languages, and historical sciences. Now, at just fourteen, her grasp of archaeological theory and artifact reading was sophisticated enough to earn her a position as a guest lecturer—if she ever chose to claim it.
"Lilith," Tanner said with a respectful nod. "Still ever watchful, I see."
Lilith inclined her head. "Old habits," she replied.
Though Professor Tanner was Manaborn human, he was a Non-Awakened—individuals whose mana-rich bloodline had not gone through the process of cultivation. His lineage granted him longevity beyond mundane humans, but age had still etched deep lines across his face and slowed his step. Even so, his mind remained sharp as a blade.
"I take it you're here to see the piece recovered from the borderlands between Ardonia and Zellux," he said, shifting the cane slightly as he motioned them deeper into the chamber.
Lilith's expression darkened slightly. "That artifact… came from the Pillar Coastline, didn't it? Between the southern Ardonia sector and Zellux's upper ridgeline, near Mesa Azul."
The professor nodded gravely. "Yes. A dangerous convergence point. That stretch of land has seen its share of conflict… and forgotten relics."
Ariella's eyes sparkled. "Even better."
Professor Tanner led them toward a sealed alcove at the far end of the chamber, where a crystal containment field hovered above a dark obsidian pedestal. The room dimmed slightly as they approached, the display rune sensing their presence and adjusting the lighting to highlight the artifact within.
Inside floated a stone tablet no larger than a shield, its surface worn by time but preserved through a temporal stasis field. The edges were cracked, and traces of silver dust clung to its carvings like moonlight caught in stone.
"This," the professor said with reverence, "is the Lykari Tablet. Recovered two months ago during a joint excavation along the Pillar Coastline, between Ardonia's entertainment district and Zellux's Outer Ridge. It was found inside a collapsed cliffside vault—completely sealed, as if hidden deliberately."
Ariella stepped forward, eyes wide as the carvings came into view.
The tablet depicted an ancient gathering of Lycans, tall and regal with elongated limbs and bestial grace, their fur carved in intricate detail. They were kneeling in a circular formation around a colossal moonstone, its radiant light etched with mana-imbued silver lines that still faintly glowed. Hovering above the moonstone was the engraved figure of a divine being—Lykaos, the Wolf Goddess of the Moon.
Lykaos was depicted with four arms, twin crescent horns curving back over a wild mane of hair, and eyes that seemed to follow Ariella as she looked closer. Moonlight was engraved like a cascade falling from her form, touching the Lycans below as though blessing them. Around the edge of the tablet, in a script Ariella could barely translate, were glyphs of the Lykari Tongue—a language long thought extinct.
Ariella's brows furrowed. "That's… divine iconography."
"Indeed," Professor Tanner said. "The Lykari culture was a lunar-tied civilization, believed to have vanished over nine million years ago. Their worship of Lykaos predates even the earliest moon cults of the Silver Clans of today. Until this tablet, we had no definitive proof of their divine matron's actual depiction. This—" he gestured to the artifact, "—changes everything."
Ariella leaned closer, eyes scanning the glyphs. As she reached out with her mana to inspect the tablet's energy signature, she paused. A subtle hum stirred in the air—one only she seemed to notice.
It's responding… to me?
A flicker of moonlight passed over her palm, invisible to all but her perception. Somewhere deep within the tablet, a resonance stirred—as if the moonstone in the carving still held a fragment of Lykaos' divine essence.
Ariella's breath caught. "This isn't just an artifact. It's a seal. Or a vessel."
Professor Tanner blinked. "What did you say?"
Lilith immediately stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Ariella, what are you feeling?"
"I… I'm not sure." Her voice was barely a whisper. "But I think it's calling to me."
The hum faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Ariella standing in silence before the tablet. The warmth beneath her palm vanished, replaced by the sterile coolness of the stasis field. She blinked, trying to focus her senses again—but whatever had resonated with her was now still, as if hiding just beneath the surface.
Professor Tanner adjusted his spectacles, studying her. "You sensed something… didn't you?"
Ariella hesitated. "Maybe. It could've just been my mana brushing against a residual enchantment." She glanced at Lilith briefly, then stepped back. "Nothing happened. It's dormant."
Lilith didn't look convinced, but she said nothing. Her gaze lingered on the tablet a moment longer before resuming her usual sweep of the room.
"Dormant or not," Tanner said, his tone grave but excited, "this piece is extraordinary. The depiction of Lykaos is unlike anything we've seen—more than a goddess, she was worshipped as a celestial force, almost on par with early moon deities recorded in the Codex of Silver Realms."
"And the moonstone?" Ariella asked, eyes drifting back to the radiant carving.
"We believe it was central to their rites. Possibly even a conduit—either to Lykaos herself or to some lunar source of power. But its exact function remains unknown. The tablet's enchantments are too old, too layered. It'll take time to unravel them safely."
Ariella gave a slow nod, the earlier flicker of connection still weighing on her mind. She said nothing more.
The three of them stood there in silence for a while, letting the presence of the artifact settle into the room. Despite the field surrounding it, the tablet exuded a quiet gravity, as though it remembered something the world had forgotten—and was simply waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Or the right person.
****
Zellux RegionCrimsonspire Citadel – Throne Hall of House Mircalla
The air in the throne hall was thick with incense—smoke curling like spectral fingers through the black marble pillars and blood-red velvet drapes that lined the high, arched chamber. Crimson moonlight streamed in from the cathedral-style windows, casting a soft luminescence over the obsidian floor. At the far end of the hall, seated atop a throne carved from voidglass and bone, Patricia Mircalla, Matriarch of House Mircalla, opened her eyes.
They were like mirrors—twin pools of amber flecked with crimson—and in that moment, they flared. She had felt it. Not a quake. Not a tear in the Veil. No—this was something more ancient. Something quieter. A pulse. A breath. A lunar heartbeat echoing across the leylines of the world, too subtle for most to detect—but not for her.
"The Moonstone..." she murmured.
The courtiers gathered below her throne paused in their conversations, glancing up with sudden reverence.
"Matriarch?" one of her handmaidens asked cautiously.
Patricia didn't answer immediately. She rose from her throne with regal grace, her tall, statuesque form wrapped in a layered gown of silken nightshade and enchanted lace. Her silver-white hair flowed down her back like a cape, and her voice—when she finally spoke—carried both velvet softness and steel resolve.
"Something has stirred beneath the surface of the world. A relic of the Lykari civilization... has awakened."
She stepped down from the dais, each footfall silent despite her presence commanding the weight of centuries. Her fingers curled slightly, mana weaving around them like strands of woven moonlight and blood.
"A moonstone touched by the divine. A memory of Lykaos, the old wolf goddess." Patricia said.
"Does this have anything to do with the artifact recovered by our border," One of the Advisor said. He was an Old one, one who had lived for as long as Patricia had regined over the Mircalla house.
"It seems so," Patricia murmured.
Her gaze drifted eastward, sharp and distant—as if it could pierce through the jagged peaks that separated Zellux from the Hudsonia Region. She made a deliberate effort to avoid meeting the eye of the King, knowing full well that he too had also sensed the power sruge.
Her voice lowered, almost a whisper laced with fascination. "It appears the Princess herself has made contact. She's touched something that once belonged to us... to the ancient blood." Her eyes narrowed. "How interesting."
Turning away from the windows, Patricia faced her court. Her daughters and sons stood in silence along the edge of the chamber, poised and obedient, waiting for her command.
"How long until Rosa returns from Xibalba?" Patricia asked, her tone casual but calculating.
"Two days, perhaps less," replied Renee Mircalla, the eldest of Patricia's daughters. She stood with the confidence of a seasoned governor, dressed in formal attire befitting her role as Zellux's Regional Overseer and representative in the royal courts. "She's on her return route now."
"And she's bringing my grandson with her, is she not?" Patricia asked.
"Yes," Renee confirmed. "Eduardo is accompanying her." A brief pause. Then:"Why?" she asked, her gaze narrowing. "You've never taken particular interest in Eduardo before, Mother."
Patricia smiled faintly, though her eyes remained sharp. "Because until now, he lacked... context. But I've finally seen a use for him—something worthy of his bloodline and his time."
The room shifted subtly with the weight of her words.
"Send a formal message to House Ashtarmel," she ordered. "A diplomatic note proposing a private agreement regarding the artifact recovered from our land. Include an offer—a price generous enough to silence any objections."
Renee raised an eyebrow. "An alliance?"
Patricia's smile deepened—cold, elegant, and deliberate.
"An alliance of blood and marriage," she replied, her voice smooth as velvet and sharp as a blade.