Chapter Text
Her face was still pale from the fright, her lips slightly parted, breathing erratically as she clumsily clung to Hysilens's shoulders. And yet, beyond the evident tremor of someone who had been seconds from death, there was something in her expression that couldn't stop looking at him.
Dan Heng felt a shiver run down his spine.
Why? Why that feeling?
He wanted to look away, to force himself to ignore her, but he couldn't. There was something magnetic, an invisible bond that kept him tied to those golden eyes. He recognized it. Not from a casual encounter or a fleeting impression. He recognized it from a previous time, from shared past experiences.
His first impulse was to approach. To take a step towards her, break the distance, utter her name —a name he didn't even know— and seek in her words a confirmation or some kind of sign, any. The urgency was so intense that his fingers hurt from restraining himself.
But he didn't.
Fear stopped him. Not a fear of ridicule, nor of rejection. What if that familiarity wasn't a mistake? What if it was true? What if the memories he felt he carried stored away, sealed under layers of silence and time, were beginning to shatter right in front of him?
"Easy, you're safe," Hysilens's serene voice broke the silence. All of that happened in less than a second. His breathing became slow, measured, forced. He forced himself to maintain his composure, to show nothing. But inside, that strange sensation was devouring him: that brutal mix of nostalgia and emptiness, of a desire to know and a dread of discovering. "What were you thinking? It's your first day here and you already decide to slip down several floors. What kind of uncivil act is that? Don't you know you could have hurt someone?"
The woman lowered her eyes, shrinking as if she had been caught in a childish mischief. The blush on her cheeks betrayed her indignation at being scolded, but she found no words to defend herself.
Dan Heng, on the other hand, did not look away. He watched her silently, studying the way the gold in her eyes seemed to still vibrate with fright. It was a familiar gold. It had the metallic tone of the finest goldsmith's work and the warmth of a bonfire in the middle of a blizzard. For no reason, he felt the impulse to speak.
She beat him to it, her golden eyes staring intently at him. Dan Heng was convinced she could see into the depths of his soul.
"You..." she swallowed. She looked away for a moment, as if questioning whether to proceed, before taking a deep breath and looking at him again. "What's your name...?" she asked, her voice low, trembling but determined, as she stared at him.
The world stopped for a second. Dan Heng opened his mouth, and the true name was about to escape. The initial syllable burned on his tongue, so natural, so inevitable, that for an instant he thought he would be unable to stop it. He didn't even know why, but he wanted to tell her.
But he restrained himself.
That name could not be spoken there. Not in the middle of a public place. He already had another name there. There was only one name he could say. He felt the seconds stretch out, with her waiting for an answer.
"Terravox," he said finally, in a deep, controlled tone, like someone closing a door before anyone can peek inside.
The name fell among the three of them with a strange weight. Hysilens, who seemed to sense something was out of the ordinary, accepted it with a slight, graceful nod, as if nothing had happened. However, Dan Heng knew from the look she gave him that she sensed something was wrong. But the young woman, Stelle, repeated it silently with her lips, frowning slightly, with an expression on her face that Dan Heng could have sworn was bewilderment, or even doubt.
Dan Heng looked at her once more, and in those golden eyes he felt it again: the déjà vu, the sting of something lost that had returned to torment him. Inside him, a terrifying certainty that he couldn't voice aloud began to form: she knew him, or, at least, she must be feeling something similar to what he was feeling at that moment.
Stelle didn't know what she expected to hear from his lips, but when she heard it, the name floated in her mind like a spark in the darkness.
Terravox.
She repeated it mentally, over and over, savoring it, as if by doing so she could discover why it felt so strange and, at the same time, so wrong. It didn't fit, and it didn't match. As if it wasn't the first time she had heard it, although she was sure she had never heard it before.
The contradiction shook her from within, almost as much as the fall she had just suffered. She didn't even know why, but she was tempted to scream at him not to lie to her, that he could trust her. She shuddered, not knowing where that instinct came from.
She raised her eyes to him again. The man did not look away, his gaze cold and serene, still with something she couldn't define in his expression, a contained weight, as if he was hiding more than he was saying. That face, framed by dark hair, with those green eyes with golden hues that drilled into her in silence, awoke in her a disturbing sensation: that of recognizing someone very close, someone she had lost.
Stelle swallowed, suddenly self-conscious. She felt exposed, as if he could read the confusion and tremor of her thoughts.
"Your... your name is Terravox..." she murmured finally, almost testing the name on her lips, with a clear shadow of doubt in her voice.
He barely nodded, without looking away. Stelle couldn't define the expression on his face. Perhaps they both had the same one.
Before she could say anything else, Hysilens broke the tension with an audible snort, as if the entire scene seemed like a waste of time to her.
"Enough of long looks and dramatic silences," she said with dry irony, adjusting Stelle's weight better in her arms before setting her on her feet. "The important thing is that you almost killed yourself by slipping around as if wet floors didn't exist. You could have hurt someone when you fell."
The reprimand fell like a bucket of cold water. Stelle lowered her head, biting her lip, wanting to excuse herself, but found no words. The worst part was that he was right: the fall had been clumsy and ridiculous, and now, in front of these two imposing figures, she felt even smaller.
"I... I'm sorry," she managed to say in a low voice.
Hysilens sighed, although her tone seemed to soften just a little. Carefully, she deposited her on the ground, looking her up and down for any wounds.
"You'd better learn quickly to watch where you step."
Stelle nodded, not daring to look up yet, while Hysilens seemed satisfied with her inspection. However, the presence of the man in front of her, Terravox, was too strong to ignore. Almost unconsciously, she looked at him again, and found him still watching her intently. There was something more than simple curiosity in his eyes: a kind of echo that responded to her own.
A strange invisible thread seemed to tighten between them, impossible to cut.
Stelle realized she was holding her breath. Was it just her imagination, or was he doing the same? Stelle was convinced that her face was still pale from the fright, her lips slightly parted, breathing erratically as she clumsily clung to Hysilens's shoulders. And yet, beyond the evident tremor of someone who had been seconds from death, there was something in her expression that couldn't stop looking at him.
Dan Heng felt a shiver run down his spine.
Why? Why did he have that feeling?
He wanted to look away, to force himself to ignore her, but he couldn't. There was something magnetic, an invisible bond that kept him tied to those golden eyes. He recognized it. Not from a casual encounter or a fleeting impression. He recognized it from a previous time, from shared past experiences.
His first impulse was to approach. To take a step towards her, break the distance, utter her name —a name he didn't even know— and seek in her words a confirmation, any. The urgency was so intense that his fingers hurt from restraining himself.
But he didn't.
Fear stopped him. Not a fear of ridicule, nor even of rejection, but of what he might find if he tried. What if that familiarity wasn't a mistake? What if it was true? What if the memories he felt he carried stored away, sealed under layers of silence and time, were beginning to shatter right in front of him?
"Easy, you're safe," Hysilens's serene voice broke the silence. All of that happened in less than a second. His breathing became slow, measured, forced. He forced himself to maintain his composure, to show nothing. But inside, the sensation was devouring him: that brutal mix of nostalgia and emptiness, of a desire to know and a dread of discovering. "What were you thinking? It's your first day here and you already decide to slip down several floors. What kind of uncivil act is that? Do you want to give the impression that you don't know how to behave or even stand on your feet?"
The woman lowered her eyes, shrinking as if she had been caught in a childish mischief. The blush on her cheeks competed with the indignation of being scolded, but she found no words to defend herself.
Dan Heng, on the other hand, did not look away. He watched her silently, studying the way the gold in her pupils seemed to still vibrate with fright. And, almost without thinking, he felt the impulse to speak.
She was the one who pushed him to do it.
"What's your name...?" she asked suddenly, her voice low, trembling but determined, as she stared at him.
The world stopped for a second. Dan Heng opened his mouth, and the true name was about to escape. The initial syllable burned on his tongue, so natural, so inevitable, that for an instant he thought he would be unable to stop it. He didn't even know why, but he wanted to tell her.
"Enough of long looks and dramatic silences," she said with dry irony, adjusting Stelle's weight better in her arms before setting her on her feet. "The important thing is that you're fine and no one was hurt in the end."
Stelle nodded, not daring to look up yet. However, the presence of the man in front of her, Terravox, was too strong to ignore. Almost unconsciously, she looked at him again, and found him still watching her. There was something more than simple curiosity in his eyes: an echo that responded to her own.
A strange invisible thread seemed to tighten between them, impossible to cut.
Stelle realized she was holding her breath, her cheeks still warm from the reprimand. With an effort to regain her composure, she turned to Hysilens, deliberately avoiding the magnetic gaze of that man.
"Lady Hysilens," she began, her voice a little firmer, "I thank you deeply. Your quickness... saved me from something much worse. I'm sorry for being so... imprudent."
Hysilens observed her with her penetrating eyes, and for a moment, Stelle thought she saw a flash of something that wasn't just impatience. Perhaps a hint of genuine concern.
"Don't do it again, little grayfish. That's all the thanks I need," she replied, her tone dry but without the initial harshness. Then, she turned on her heels. "Let's go, Terravox."
Terravox. The name resonated in the air again, and Stelle couldn't help a quick, furtive glance towards him. She found him already looking at her, and that sensation of deep recognition, of a lost echo in time, hit her again with an almost physical force. He said nothing, only held her gaze for an eternal fraction of a second before turning around with serene elegance to follow Hysilens. His back, straight and distant, framed by his ebony hair tied in a low ponytail, seemed to erect an invisible wall between them just as that "invisible thread" tightened almost to the breaking point
Stelle stood there, feeling a bittersweet relief and an inexplicable pang of loss. The elevator finally arrived where that pair was, with Aglaea, Verginia and Tribbie, hurrying to where Stelle was. Terravox looked at them for a moment, before going behind Hysilens and getting on with her.
"Stelle! Kephale above, there you are!" Aglaea's voice, full of maternal anxiety, preceded her arrival. She ran down the steps, followed closely by Virginia, whose face showed clear concern. Both were still dressed in their towels and bathrobes, evidently alarmed by their companion's disappearance and probable accident.
"You scared us to death!" exclaimed Verginia, taking Stelle's face in her hands to examine her. "One of the attendants said you had slipped and fallen... Several floors! Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"
"I'm fine, really," Stelle tried to calm them, allowing them to check her over. The blush on her face was now a mixture of residual embarrassment and the discomfort of the situation with Terravox. "It was a scare, but... Lady Hysilens rescued me."
"Yes, we saw them walking away," commented Virginia, her perceptive gaze scrutinizing Stelle's face beyond the physical fright. "My, my... They are more intimidating in person... You can really tell their rank just by looking at them."
Stelle nodded, not paying full attention, her gaze fixed on the platform that was rising, taking the mentioned pair away from her. She didn't want to talk about them, especially not about him.
"Despite our disagreements, blessed be the speed of her reflexes," sighed Aglaea, relieved, bringing a hand to her chest. "Come, let's get you properly dry and changed. You're trembling."
Stelle let herself be guided, but she couldn't help throwing one last look over her shoulder towards the top of the baths, where Terravox and Hysilens had disappeared. The world seemed to have resumed, that strange moment of frozen tension had broken, but something had been left behind, a seed of unease and an unanswered question burning deep in her chest.
As Aglaea and Verginia surrounded her with their care and practically carried her away, murmuring about the dangers of wet floors and the importance of being more careful, Stelle's mind was far away, on a pair of green eyes with golden glints that looked at her as if they could see through all her layers, and on the overwhelming certainty that, even though he was gone, her story with Terravox was far, far from over. Or perhaps, it had started a long time ago.
The baths they occupied were deserted, away from the usual hustle and bustle, broken only by the splash of water when both submerged themselves in it. Dan Heng only wore a towel around his waist, which exposed the enormous number of scars that adorned both his back and his arms. As always, Hysilens, isolated from social norms, couldn't help but stare at them with curiosity, creating a funny contrast considering her own natural nudity. She had once asked him what kind of monster he had to have faced to get all those scars, with him being unable to give a concrete answer. If it weren't for the irregularities of those patches of skin, one might think it was his natural pattern.
Dan Heng sighed, satisfied, as he felt his skin make contact with the icy water, stretching his legs and trying to enjoy the sensation. He rested his head on the edge, looking at the piece of sky that could be glimpsed through the roof. The tension emanating from Dan Heng was palpable, especially due to the restless movement of his tail, which stirred the water around him.
"Dan Heng, who was that woman?" Hysilens asked finally, without preamble, her voice echoing in the vastness of the baths. She didn't use his alias. Alone, there was no need to pretend.
His expression barely faltered, but his back tensed slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by the fish.
"The woman who called out to her named her 'Stelle'," he replied, and his voice sounded laden with a confusion he rarely let show. His gaze remained fixed on the sky, wondering what he found so strange about it.
Hysilens glanced at him sideways. "I don't mean her name. I mean what happened there. You looked at her as if the whole world had stopped spinning. I don't think I've ever seen you yearn for someone like that with just a look."
"And what about you?" Dan Heng interrupted, finally stopping and turning towards his companion. His mask of serenity had cracked, revealing a naked urgency that he knew perfectly well was unlike him. "You seemed to know her too. Have you seen her before? Do you know her?"
Hysilens held his gaze, assessing the rarity of the request. Dan Heng had never asked about someone who barely stood out that he had just met, let alone a lady. The yearning in his voice seemed like that of a lost little fish, afraid of being devoured by a larger predator.
"Yes," Hysilens admitted, her tone neutral, not mentioning anything about her companion's yearning tone. "I know her. We met recently."
Dan Heng remained silent, waiting. His eyes, usually so impassive, shone with an almost feverish need for answers that would normally have gone unnoticed.
"A group of Cleaners had cornered her near the Western Limit," Hysilens continued. "She was their target. I managed to arrive in time to intervene. I simply saved her, finished off the Cleaners, and along with Dux Fatorum, I brought her to Okhema. I hadn't heard of her again until a few minutes ago."
The explanation was the truth, but in Hysilens's eyes, it didn't seem to satisfy Dan Heng, judging by the strange gleam in his eyes. "Why are you so interested in her?" From what she had learned over the years, humans didn't have mating seasons (except for pre-arranged group ceremonies without a natural pattern). Although, come to think of it, Dan Heng didn't exactly look human.
"It doesn't make sense, I know..." murmured Dan Heng, running a hand through his dark hair, frowning. "When I saw her... it was as if something activated inside me. A memory that isn't in my mind, but here." He brought his closed fist to his chest, right over his heart, trying to find the origin of that knot oppressing his chest. "I recognize her, Hysilens, and I find myself unable to determine from where or when. It seemed mutual. I recognize her from a previous place, from a time I don't even remember living. It's like a pang of nostalgia for a place I've never been."
Hysilens studied him silently. She submerged for a few minutes, going from one side of the baths to the other like the little fish she was. Dan Heng said nothing, looking at the sky the whole time, of an intense, immutable sky-blue color. He frowned. The blue sky was a good sign, as it meant Kephale's device was still working. If it were different, it would be very bad news for Okhema. And yet, he felt something was missing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, Hysilens surfaced again, without any modesty about her nudity. If any warrior had passed by, they would have been happy with the view. Dan Heng averted his gaze out of respect.
"Perhaps your paths crossed in the past and only when the currents of time brought you together again did you realize it," murmured his bathing companion, as she began to wring out her hair. "Be careful with that, Dan Heng. Echoes from the past are sometimes warnings. Or traps."
Dan Heng nodded slowly, averting his gaze.
"I know," he whispered. "But... what if it isn't? What if I knew her in those early years I can't remember?"
The question floated in the air, unanswered. Hysilens had submerged again, determined to enjoy her bath. Only the splash of the water, which now seemed charged not only with the weight of a mystery, was all he heard in response. He looked at his nails, which would soon be so long they would start to bother him. He brought them to his mouth, biting them with determination, trying to get it all out of his head.
The tranquility of the room they were in contrasted brutally with the internal whirlwind of Stelle. She let herself sink into the deep softness of her bed (the real one, which didn't belong to any of her roommates), her legs still trembling. The terror of the fall and, above all, the intensity of that last exchanged look with General Terravox, resonated in every fiber of her being.
Verginia watched every little tremor, every ragged breath, with a concern that clouded her usual serenity. Sitting beside her on the bed, with a hand on her shoulder, waiting for her to speak, kneeling before her, she took her hands, which were ice-cold.
"It's over, it's over," she whispered, her voice a melodious balm, while her hand rubbed Stelle's back trying to calm her. "Inhale... and exhale. That's it, very good. Your body is still fighting the shock. Take your time."
Stelle nodded, focusing on the sensation of the soft wool and the calming touch of Virginia's hands. "Yes, I'm just... just so... wow. Everything happened so fast."
"I know, easy," replied Virginia, gently rubbing her hands to warm them. Stelle didn't have siblings (that she knew of), but she supposed this must be what having an older sister was like. "Anyone would feel like that. When we saw you fall..." Her voice broke slightly, a rare show of emotion. "We thought the worst. Lucky that Dux Gladiorum caught you."
"I'm sorry," murmured Stelle, although her mind, for some irrational reason, kept drifting to her savior's companion.
"No," Virginia interrupted firmly, but gently. "Don't use that word. Ever. You were a girl who tripped. Who had an accident. You're human, Stelle, not a titan or a semi-goddess incapable of making mistakes." Her eyes, the color of healthy grass, studied Stelle with a compassionate intensity. "The important thing is that you're here, safe, breathing. That's all that matters."
Stelle said nothing. Virginia blinked, before finally connecting the dots. "Is there something else that's troubled you more?"
Stelle tried not to look at her, but she had never been a good liar. She wasn't sure if she could trust Verginia. She was part of the Flamechase Army, but still, experience had taught her not to open up easily to others. However, Virginia didn't seem like a bad person... "It's silly, but I was just thinking about Lady Hysilens's companion. He was very handsome." It wasn't 100% a lie, but it saved her from confessing that whole mountain of emotions that warrior had caused her. Let her roommate think she was a superficial fool.
"Terravox?" repeated Virginia, and a shadow of recognition crossed her face. "Lord Terravox?"
Stelle fell silent, her eyes wide open, turning sharply. "You... you know him? Is he important?"
At that very moment, the door swung open with a dry thud, revealing the imposing and slightly swaying figure of General Séneca. Her entrance was like thunder on a quiet afternoon.
"So the reckless one has decided not to turn the lobby into her personal tombstone!" she announced in her hoarse voice, slamming a ceramic jug onto a table with a force that made a lamp's glass vibrate. The smell that accompanied her, along with the quiver she dropped, made it clear to both that she was drunk. "By the gods, kid, if you wanted to get attention on your first day there were less drastic methods!"
Virginia frowned, a slight but deeply exasperated gesture. "Séneca, please. A little tact. Stelle needs calm, not your sergeant's shouts."
"And calm is achieved with a good story and better liquor!" retorted the general, collapsing into an armchair that creaked in protest. "Nothing cures a scare like hearing about misfortunes greater than your own. Right, girl?"
Stelle wiped a furtive tear and shook her head. "Actually... I'd like to know. Anything to help me stop thinking about..." her voice broke again, "the fall." "And about him."
Virginia sighed, resigned. She sat next to Stelle on the couch, placing a protective arm over her shoulders. "You were saying... about Lord Terravox. Yes, I know him by name, although I've never had the chance to see him in person. He is a prominent general in charge of the northern front, and a great warrior, capable of holding his own against Dux Gladiorum. He usually keeps a very low profile, almost ghostly." Her eyes settled on Stelle, studying her, who tried to keep her expression one of curiosity and not yearning. "Why do you ask? Did something else happen besides... the fall?"
Stelle swallowed, feeling the blush on her cheeks. "It was... the way he spoke to me. When I asked his name... he seemed to be lying, but at the same time it was as if a part of him was struggling to tell me the truth. He said 'Terravox', but..." she fell silent, searching for a way to explain the inexplicable. She opened her eyes wide, realizing she had said too much. She decided the wisest thing was to remain silent.
Seneca, who had been drinking from her jug, lowered the container with a dry thud. "Another name? What are you saying, girl? Do you think Lord Terravox has been lying to all of us?"
"No," confessed Stelle, overwhelmed. "I just know that when he said 'Terravox', something inside me screamed that it was a lie. S-silly, I know. And then... then he looked at me again, and it was as if... as if we were both unearthing a memory we had buried together."
Virginia exchanged a significant look with Seneca. The tension in the room was palpable.
"Look, girl," said Séneca, her tone a bit softer, "I've worked with him, and I can tell you that this Terravox seems to carry a complicated past. Dux Gladiorum trusts him, and that, here, means a lot. But if your instinct tells you something doesn't add up..." She paused, taking another drink. "Well, at your age, instincts are often sharper than a general's sword."
"But that doesn't mean you should chase ghosts," added Virginia, her voice laden with concern. "Lord Terravox is one of the Empress's trusted men."
"Bah!" grumbled Seneca. "What this girl needs is to hear about real battles, not get tangled up in mysteries of intense looks and fake names. Do you know what it's like to face a Titan, girl? That will really bring you back down to earth."
Stelle shuddered; the change of topic was abrupt but welcome. "Just... Well, just forget it... Maybe it's just my nonsense because of the fall."
Silence reigned in the room for a few long moments, interrupted by Séneca finishing her jug, which seemed to be starting to run out of content. Virginia gently squeezed Stelle's shoulder. Finally, unable to bear the silence, she stood up and clapped her hands to get her companions' attention. "Well, come on, let's not let the mood die down and focus on the good. Ignoring that bad experience, what do you think of Okhema, Stelle? Do you have any questions or anything you want to know?"
Stelle remained silent. She decided it was better not to seem ungrateful and try not to generate distrust, so it was best to ask about something obvious. "I've been seeing quite a few injured people due to the fight against Talanton." she asked. "That's what we Chrysos heirs do, right? Like... how was the battle?"
Seneca nodded, her expression becoming unusually solemn. Virginia seemed to have a face that said that wasn't how she wanted the conversation to go. The drunkenness seemed to clear for a moment, revealing the veteran soldier who had survived that campaign. "Talantos wasn't just any enemy, girl. He wasn't a monster you could run through with a sword. He was Law made flesh, Rule personified. And their labyrinth..." she searched for the right words, "wasn't made of stone. It was made of decisions. The kind that break your soul in two and force you to choose which half to sacrifice."
"Like what?" asked Stelle, fascinated and somewhat afraid at the same time.
"Like choosing between saving your squad, a few people, people you love, with whom you've shared bread and danger, or a town full of strangers who, however, are the hope of a region," said Seneca, her voice laden with bitter echoes. "Like deciding whether to break the most sacred oath you've ever made, staining your honor forever, to prevent a madman from massacring hundreds of innocent hostages. Like condemning a man you know, with absolute certainty, is good and just, for an atrocious crime he didn't commit, knowing that his public execution, though unjust, will calm tensions and prevent a civil war that would kill thousands. Rulers' decisions."
Virginia closed her eyes for a moment, as if the words caused her physical pain. Something told Stelle that she knew what Séneca was talking about.
"Every drink," confirmed the general in a hoarse voice, "drowns the echo of one of those questions. But the next day, the echoes return. They always return." She took a long drink, as if to prove her point. "But it was The Imperator, the cold brain, who found the solution. Always her, with her damn relentless logic."
"And what did she do?" asked Stelle, completely absorbed now, the mystery of the one who called himself Terravox momentarily cornered by the tragic epic unfolding before her.
"I couldn't witness it, but from what I understand, she presented him with a paradox," explained Seneca. "A case with no possible legal solution. A situation where any ruling Talantos issued, any choice he made, would irreparably break one of his own fundamental, immutable principles. When the Titan tried to solve it... his own perfect logic turned against him. He tangled himself up, contradicted himself, and finally... broke. That brat might be a lot of things, but as a general I can't do anything but admit her cunning."
Virginia shook her head slowly, a deep sadness in her gaze. That woman who seemed so sweet making such a face... Stelle wasn't starting to like the idea of having joined the Flamechase Journey.
Stelle looked from one to the other, feeling the overwhelming weight of responsibility and destiny closing in on her. "So... what is she going to do now? Is she a semi-goddess? What is our next move, or what is expected of us?"
"Now," said Virginia with a softness that brooked no argument, probably seeing Stelle's reaction to her expression, "you are going to rest. Your body and soul have been pushed beyond their limits today. Too much for a first day. Tomorrow, at first light, when we have the assembly with the Imperator in her obsidian throne room, we will know more. She will give us our direction."
"But…"
Virginia leaned over and took Stelle's face in her hands, forcing her to look into her eyes. "Listen to me, Stelle. Listen to me well. And you will not be alone in this," Virginia's voice regained its melodious calm, but with a core of steel. "We will be here to guide you, to protect you, and, when necessary, to push you. Perhaps you have been alone, but now you are part of something much bigger that will shelter you."
Stelle felt as if an immense weight she didn't know was there lifted from her shoulders. The tears she had been holding back finally welled up, silent and hot, but this time they weren't from fear or self-pity, but from overwhelming relief. She wasn't alone. There were more lost people like her.
"Thank you," she whispered, not knowing what else to say.
Seneca cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable with the emotional effusiveness. "Well, it's not that big a deal. Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed before you can be useful. And with how clumsy you seem to be, it'll be a full-time job, I'm afraid."
Virginia smiled, a warm smile that reached her eyes. "And I," she said, directing her gaze back to Stelle, "will take care of watching over your heart. Because something tells me, dear, that the challenges ahead will test not only your strength and ingenuity, but also what you harbor here inside." She touched her chest, over her heart.
Stelle's sleep was a whirlwind of fractured images. She fell eternally through a dark void full of bright points, while a pair of green and gold eyes watched her from the darkness, charged with an intensity that pierced her like a spear. She dreamed of labyrinths of polished stone that whispered impossible dilemmas in voices that weren't human, and her own voice uttering a name that faded in the air before she could capture it.
Her awakening, however, was far from the serenity she needed. A soft but persistent hand shaking her shoulder tore her from the clutches of the dream.
"Come on, time to get up, sleepyhead," Verginia's voice was a sweet whisper, but with an edge of urgency.
Stelle blinked, confused, her mouth pasty and her mind submerged in the mists of sleep. The light of Kephale filtered through the high arched windows, bathing the room in a golden, dusty glow that made the dust particles dancing in the air shine.
"Mmm? What...?" she managed to mumble, sitting up on her elbows with clumsy movements. Her hair, a rebellious silver tangle, fell over her face like a curtain, partially blinding her.
It was then that a hoarse and not entirely contained laugh erupted from the foot of her bed. Séneca was there, leaning against the carved wooden canopy with her arms crossed over her imposing chest, a mocking smile on her weathered face. She wore her hardened leather armor and polished metal plates, and she seemed as fresh and alert as if she had slept twelve deep hours and the hangover she should have been having hadn't affected her.
"Aquila above, kid," said Seneca, shaking her head with amused exasperation. "You snore like a veteran warrior after a victory celebration with barrels of sour beer. If we didn't know you were alive and kicking, we'd swear there was a hoarse bear hibernating in our chamber."
Stelle blushed furiously, trying to untangle her hair with fingers clumsy from sleep. "I don't snore!" she protested, her voice still hoarse and rough.
"Whatever you say, little liar," replied Seneca, unfazed. "But if you don't want to convince the entire court that you're just a lumberjack with a hangover, maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut when you sleep." Stelle was sure her face was redder than Tribbie's hair.
Verginia let out a sigh of infinite patience, as if she were already used to it. Her presence was a serene counterpoint to Seneca's abrasive energy. "Ignore her. We have an hour, not a minute more, to be at the assembly. All high-ranking residents, commanders, counselors... and special guests must be present." Stelle couldn't help but wonder who those "special guests" were.
She jumped to her feet, her legs still trembling, feeling panic overwhelm her. She looked around, at the opulent but completely unfamiliar room. "But I don't know where any of my things are! I don't have proper clothes for an imperial audience! Wait, I don't have any clothes! My hair looks like a bird's nest after a storm! I'm not ready!"
"Breathe, little one," calmed Verginia, putting her firm but gentle hands on Stelle's agitated shoulders. "Breathe deeply. That's what we're here for. I have no problem lending you my clothes. I think we're the same size. And I..." she added, with a tender and slightly amused smile, "well, I'll take care of the glorious mess you call your hair. Don't worry. Everything will be fine."
The next minutes were a whirlwind of activity meticulously orchestrated by Verginia, with sardonic comments from Séneca as a soundtrack, who didn't seem to have anything better to do. Stelle, guided by Verginia's gentle hand, discovered the hidden wonders of her quarters that had escaped her the previous day. The bathroom, carved from a single magnificent piece of white marble, had ancient bronze taps in the shape of eyeless dromas that spat hot and cold water at will with a simple turn of their heads. There were several blown glass jars containing perfumed oils and bath salts that, when poured into the water, released an intoxicating fragrance of lavender. While Stelle showered under the hot water in the bathroom, marveling at the silent luxury surrounding her, Séneca entered without ceremony and left on a stool, already laid out carefully, a set of clothes.
"It's not a suit of obsidian plate armor, but it will make you look less like a lost orphan and more like a young lady who matters in the designs of the kingdom," declared Séneca, evaluating the clothes with her critical general's eye. "Although with that face of perpetual sleep and confusion, maybe we need a ceremonial mask or, at least, a very opaque veil."
Stelle ignored her, assuming from the faces Virginia had been making that this was how she usually behaved, and already dressed in the soft yet elegant garments, she sat on the ebony stool in front of the dressing table with a polished silver mirror, looking at herself in the mirror. The fabric of the tunic, of a deep night blue, despite not being of the best quality, was incredibly soft against her skin, and the intricate silver embroideries on the high neck and cuffs, which formed joined dots between lines, sparkled faintly with every movement. But her hair was still a monumental problem. Fine, with a strange, rebellious texture and full of stubborn tangles, it resisted every attempt to tame it like a wild colt. She looked at herself in the mirror, her pale reflection and golden eyes too large for her face, and a wave of frustration flooded her. After several minutes struggling with it, she seemed incapable of achieving a halfway decent hairstyle for an assembly that seemed so formal. She dropped the mother-of-pearl comb that Verginia had given her with a dry snap.
"It's not going to work," she sighed, defeated, letting her shoulders slump. "It's been... a long, long time since I've braided it properly. There's never time, or... tranquility, or..." she fell silent, not wanting to delve into the hazy memories of constant haste and danger. "I just don't know where to start."
Verginia approached from behind, and in the mirror's reflection, Stelle saw her soft, understanding smile. She liked her more and more. "Here, let me."
"Are you sure?" said Stelle, somewhat embarrassed that she needed help like a little girl. "It's not necessary, really. I'll just pull it back into some kind of ponytail."
"Nonsense," she said, taking the comb with expert and surprisingly strong hands for her delicate fingers. "It's an art I haven't practiced in years, since I used to braid the hair of..." she paused briefly, a quick blink, "...well, of loved ones. It will be a pleasure for me. Really."
And so, while hearing Seneca checking her own armor, adjusting straps and muttering about the chronic unpunctuality of who-knows-which civilian counselors, Verginia began to work. Her fingers were not only skillful; they were intuitive. They didn't pull, they didn't tear; they felt each strand, untangled each knot with a patience that seemed woven of pure kindness. She separated the silver hair into sections with the tip of the comb, her movements fluid and sure.
"You have beautiful hair," she commented quietly, almost to herself. "It has the texture of silk and the color of silver. It's a shame to hide it behind a simple ponytail. It should be a celebration."
Stelle closed her eyes, surrendering completely to the sensation. It was such a simple, such fundamental luxury, but so profoundly absent from her life until now: feeling cared for. Protected. A knot of emotion, so intense it almost hurt, formed in her throat, and she had to squeeze her eyelids shut to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. She hated when that happened to her. Seemingly mundane moments, which she had never experienced before, but which felt terribly familiar to her.
"Where... where did you learn to do this?" she asked, her voice a bit broken, to break the silence laden with a feeling she didn't dare name.
"From my mother," replied Verginia, her voice taking on a nostalgic and distant tone, as if she were seeing scenes from a past life. "In my Castum Kremnos, as in all the poleis, it's quite common for..."
"Castum Kremnos?" Stelle couldn't help but interrupt, opening her eyes wide and turning her head slightly to look at Verginia in the mirror. "The polis of the... the...?"
"Of the 'stone barbarians'?" finished Verginia with a kind smile, but her eyes held a glint of irony. "Yes, that one. Not everything there is battle cries and the sound of axe against shield, though that's what merchants prefer to tell to make selling their products easier." Her fingers continued their work, weaving the hair with a skill that seemed magical. "There, the women in my family used to braid each other's hair on the seventh day of the week. Every braid, every style, every accessory in them, told something about the person wearing those braids or about the one who made them: if your father was at the Kremnos festival, if you had lost someone in battle, if you were convinced you would survive the cruel winter... My mother taught me that hair isn't just hair; it's a map of your soul, a canvas of your history written with strands." Her fingers stopped for a moment, resting gently on Stelle's head.
Stelle remained silent. The serene and apparently sweet woman behind her, whose presence was like a tranquil melody, came from a place of which she had only heard stories of ferocity and roughness. It was hard to believe.
When Verginia finished, what seemed like a long time later but was only a few minutes, Stelle opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror. She was literally breathless. Her hair, once a wild, untamable mass, was now gathered in an elaborate yet practical crown of braids that intertwined complexly at the nape of her neck, leaving a few strategic strands free that framed her face and accentuated her jawline. Beautiful, and at the same time perfectly practical. The braids enhanced her high cheekbones and the luminous clarity of her golden eyes, giving her an appearance of serene nobility and inner strength. She no longer looked like a scared, lost girl; she looked... like a young woman worthy of being at an imperial assembly.
"Verginia... it's... it's beautiful," Stelle stammered, gently touching the intricate work of art on her head, afraid to ruin it, not knowing what to say. "I... I didn't recognize myself."
"You look gorgeous," said Verginia proudly, placing her hands on Stelle's shoulders and looking at her reflection in the mirror. "If you want, I can teach you how to braid later."
"Alright, alright, enough contemplation," interrupted Séneca, who had approached to inspect the work with a professional gaze. She nodded, a genuine approval in her hard eyes. "Yes, this works. I don't know about you, but an empty stomach is the worst of counselors, it clouds your judgment and puts you in a bad mood. Let's go to the Marble Market, grab a quick breakfast to fuel the furnace, and from there, straight to the assembly. Let's move!"
The Imperator's private area in Dawncloud near Kephale was steeped in the quiet of dusk. The sun's rays illuminated the entire area, casting long shadows on the polished marble floors. On a wide ebony table, several detailed maps showed the territories north and east of Amphoreus, with markers indicating troop movements and reported sightings.
Hysilens, standing in front of the table, pointed with her characteristic precision to three specific zones on the largest map. "Furthermore, the scouts' reports confirm sightings east of Styxia, in the area north of The Grove, and even a possible group settled in Aidonia." Her voice, clear and measured, broke the silence. "The pattern remains scattered, they avoid direct confrontation. But the frequency of sightings has increased significantly in the last seven days."
Cerydra, seated in a high chair facing the table, studied the maps attentively. Her eyes scanned each marked point, assessing distances and tactical possibilities. "Double the patrols in these three zones. There's no need to establish additional watch posts in the mountain passes, not even in Aidonia. We would only waste resources." She paused briefly, calculating. "I want daily reports of any unusual movement. We cannot allow them to consolidate positions."
Dan Heng, who had remained silent near the table watching how the light of Kephale reflected in the gardens of Dawncloud, slowly turned towards the Imperator. "There is another matter that concerns me, Your Highness. Not directly related to the Purifiers or the open fronts, but which I consider equally important."
Cerydra looked up, directing her full attention to Dan Heng. "Something unrelated to the open fronts, Dux Draconum?"
"No. It's about the Antikytheran Lycurgus."
From the corner of the room, where General Labienus leaned against a shelf full of scrolls, came a sound of disapproval. "Again?" he asked with evident skepticism. "Didn't we agree in the last meeting that it was nothing more than your paranoia?"
Hysilens intervened before Dan Heng could respond. "Do I have to remind you, Dux Fragoris, that Dux Draconum possesses specialized knowledge that often proves valuable for the security of Amphoreus in its broadest sense?"
Dan Heng kept his gaze on Cerydra, who had her gaze fixed on him, ignoring Labienus's comment. "I have no concrete evidence to present. There are no hostile actions or worrying statements." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But Lycurgus gives me bad vibes. We already know he has maintained contact with Cleaners, and that he claims to remain neutral towards the Flamechase Journey. He has never openly supported us. His current silence is... unsettling. My instinct tells me he is plotting something, and in the past I have already proven to be trustworthy."
The Imperator studied Dan Heng for a long moment, her fingers interlaced on her lap. The light accentuated the edges of her youthful, almost childlike face, giving it a appearance sculpted in stone. "Lycurgus is under routine observation, as determined." Her voice was calm but firm. "But at this moment, the titans represent the immediate and true threat. Let's concentrate our resources on what is important." She stood up decisively, a fluid movement that put an end to the discussion. "Dux Draconum, your priority must be to continue being the northern front. That is the most valuable contribution you can make at this time. However, I will keep your instincts in mind."
Labienus made a gesture of contained frustration. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but are we not dedicating too much attention to the speculations of...?"
"Dux Fragoris." Cerydra's voice did not rise in tone, but acquired an absolute firmness that immediately silenced the general. "The assessments of Dux Draconum are not questioned in this room. His record speaks for itself. Understood?"
The general straightened up, visibly displeased but disciplined. "Yes, your Highness."
"The general assembly will begin shortly," announced Cerydra, rising from her seat, adjusting the multiple cushions on it and heading towards the amphitheater in the distance. "It is essential that we present our unity before those polis delegates. Any sign of internal disagreement would be exploited by our enemies. Let us proceed to the main hall."
When the Imperator had moved away sufficiently, waiting for them to follow, followed by a visibly annoyed Labienus, Hysilens approached Dan Heng. The sound of her steps was almost imperceptible on the marble.
"The Antikytheran," Hysilens said in a low voice, now that they were alone. "Why mention him now, when we know the focus must be on the Purifiers?"
Dan Heng kept his gaze forward, towards the assembly. "Because everything must be connected somehow, Dux Gladiorum. The movements of the Cleaners, Lycurgus's silence..." For an instant, an image of golden eyes and silver hair crossed his mind, but he immediately dismissed the thought. "They are not separate coincidences. There is a pattern here that I cannot see completely, but that I feel is there with certainty."
Hysilens nodded slowly, her face impassive as always, but her eyes showed she was processing the information. "Then, rest assured that I will keep my guard up for the good of the Imperator. But for now, the assembly awaits and we must show unity."
Dan Heng was clear that Cerydra had not completely dismissed his warning about Lycurgus. She had simply postponed it, filed away for consideration at a more opportune time. And yet, he felt that knot inside him only growing.
"Don't wander off," warned Seneca in her hoarse tone, without looking at her, her eyes scrutinizing the crowd like a hawk. "This crowd is a breeding ground for idiots, opportunists, and even some daring pickpocket." Stelle refrained from mentioning that she had no money or anything of valuable appearance that could be stolen.
Verginia, in an instinctive and maternal gesture, took Stelle by the arm and drew her a little closer to herself. "Don't worry. It's normal for there to be so many people. The assembly convened by the Imperator is a crucial event for all of Okhema."
Upon reaching the monumental entrance of the amphitheater, the scale of the place took Stelle's breath away. It was a natural and artificial coliseum at once, with immaculate white marble stands opening in a wide circle, capable of holding thousands of people. In the center, a platform of dark, polished stone, almost an altar, awaited under the open sky. The morning sun reflected off the light stone, blinding at times.
It was then that a group of soldiers with insignia different from Seneca's approached them. "Dux Brumalis," said one, bowing his head. "The other generals require you in the command circle. They say your presence is required."
Seneca stared at them for a few moments, before opening her eyes wide and then letting out a grunt. "It was about time. They were late." She turned to Stelle, fixing her with her penetrating gaze. "Remember what I said, kid. Stay in your place, be quiet and observe. Don't even think about speaking out loud or saying anything bad about the brat—" And without another word, she walked away with her martial stride, cutting through the crowd like an armored ship plowing through waves.
Verginia sighed. "If she keeps talking like that in public she'll get into a fine mess..." Suddenly, her expression turned to panic. "Oh no..." she murmured, paling slightly. "With all the commotion of your fall and getting you ready... I had completely forgotten!" She brought a hand to her heart. "Forgive me, I have to go. I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be one of the official chroniclers of this assembly. I'm sorry, you'll have to sit alone among the audience. You can't miss it; ask for the heirs' section."
Stelle felt an instant void in her chest. Seneca's departure was one thing (in fact, she was almost grateful for it), but Verginia's, whose calm presence she was starting to like, was a different blow. "I... don't worry, it's fine," she managed to say, forcing a smile that she hoped looked carefree. She wasn't very good at smiling.
"Find a spot where you're comfortable, but not too conspicuous. Just observe. You'll learn a lot about this place and its people today. Few have the opportunity to attend an assembly in their first days." She gave her one last encouraging smile before turning and hurrying, with the grace of a leaf in the wind, towards the center of the assembly, where there seemed to be a table with what she assumed were the scribes and chroniclers.
Stelle was left alone, immersed in the current of the crowd. She felt the sting of hundreds of curious gazes, whispers that seemed to carry her name. It took her a few moments to realize again that she was just another heir, that no one would look at her as anything out of the ordinary.
She sought refuge in the stands, finally finding a stone bench in a middle row, near one of the aisles, away from the center of attention. She settled in, feeling the coldness of the marble through the fabric of her tunic. From there, she watched the coming and going of Okhema's elite: generals with their cloaks, nobles with sparkling jewels, priests with fearful faces. Truly, from an external perspective, the Chrysos heirs were barely distinguishable from common folk. Only their blood made a difference. The buzz of conversations was a blanket of sound that covered everything.
Suddenly, the stone of the bench in front of her darkened. A long, narrow shadow fell over her. She looked up and the air caught in her throat.
A figure stood before her, blocking out the world. He was tall, slender, and his bearing was of a majesty that was both oppressive and unsettling. He wore armor of an obsidian black with filigree of gleaming gold. Every line of the armor was elegant, symmetrical, with fluid curves that intertwined like rivers of precious metal flowing over his body. There was not a single aggressive angle, only a perfect geometric harmony and, because of that, deeply disquieting. In the center of his chest, a hole through which she could see the sky, framed by a radiant golden glow.
But the most disturbing thing was the helmet. An ornamented helm, also white and gold, which hid any human feature completely apart from his thin mouth. There were no slits for eyes, and a slight mocking smile peeked out from beneath it. A "bad feeling," intense and primitive, ran down Stelle's spine. Every instinct screamed at her that that thing, because it didn't seem entirely human, was dangerous.
"Excuse me, my Lady, the Heirs of Chrysos..." declared a voice. It didn't come from his visible mouth, but seemed to emanate from the helmet itself, metallic, cold, devoid of all human inflection or emotion. "...have a reserved section in the stands. If it's not too much trouble, please follow me."
The figure turned on its heels with mechanical precision, without waiting for confirmation or a reply. Stelle, feeling the weight of the gazes now concentrating on her with intensity, had no choice. With legs somewhat trembling, she stood up and followed the silent, spectral escort. He led her along the side aisle, away from the general stands, towards a clearly privileged section, closer to the center of the circle. The seats here weren't simple stone benches, but carefully carved chairs adorned with rich garnet silk cushions.
In the first row of this box were Aglaea and Tribbie. Aglaea, with that serene beauty and eyes that seemed to see everything, gave her a slight, reassuring smile. Tribbie, smaller and with a lively expression, gave her an animated wave, like a little girl would. Stelle slipped into an empty seat, her heart still beating hard. The unsettling guardian in the white armor moved away, to stand motionless at one end of the stands, turned into a silent, watchful statue.
Stelle barely had time to process what had just happened when a sudden change in the amphitheater's atmosphere flooded everything. An absolute silence, heavy as a lead blanket, fell over the thousands of people present. It was an expectant silence, charged with a palpable tension. All heads, as if moved by the same invisible string, turned in unison towards the great arched entrance leading to the main platform, where a girl with white and sky-blue hair in regal clothes was drawing the public's attention. A crown of flames rested on her head.
Cerydra The Imperator made her entrance.
Her presence needed no fanfare or announcements. Simply, upon appearing, she took possession of all the space. Following her, forming a wake of palpable authority, were three figures that immediately captured Stelle's attention: a tall man with a closed helmet that only allowed two points of bluish light to be seen in the darkness, emanating a cold threat; Hysilens, with her impassive elegance and her gaze that analyzed everything; and Lord Terravox, whose mask of serene distance was perfect, but whose eyes, in a calculated and fleeting sweep over the audience, met hers with an intensity that made her hold her breath.
The Antikytheran stopped in front of Lady Stelle's seat and, with a cold smile that was visible even from a distance, spoke a few words to her. Then, with a slow gesture, he pointed out something in the amphitheater, as if explaining some architectural detail, pointing out some relevant person, or, most likely, indicating that the Heirs of Chrysos had a reserved section in the assembly. It was the gesture of a "polite host" to a newcomer, nothing more.
But Dan Heng felt a coldness coiling in his gut.
There was nothing objectively incorrect about the scene. Lycurgus didn't touch her, didn't invade her space in an evident way, there wasn't a single movement that could be labeled inappropriate, nor that could indicate they knew each other. Hysilens, beside him, watched the scene with a slightly raised eyebrow, but more due to Dan Heng's unusual interest than to what was happening in the box.
"Terravox?" Hysilens asked in a barely audible whisper. He averted his gaze, seeing Cerydra and the other generals looking at him. "Focus, please."
Dan Heng did not respond. His attention was fixed on Stelle's back, on the slight rigidity with which she received Lycurgus's words. It wasn't fear, nor open rejection. It was... an instinctive caution. A subtle discomfort that only someone watching her with a sick intensity, as he was doing at that moment, could detect.
"Something is wrong," he murmured, more to himself than to his companion.
"The antykytheran is just welcoming her," commented Labienus from the other side, with a tone of annoyance. "Stop looking for ghosts where there's only courtesy. We have real problems to deal with."
That was the most disconcerting part. Labienus was right. There was no visible threat, no malicious act. But Dan Heng couldn't shake the feeling. It was like a low-frequency hum, a subtle poison in the air that only his senses, sharpened by a connection he didn't understand, could perceive. Even at that distance, he could see how every smile from Lycurgus seemed to him a mask too perfect, every courteous gesture, a calculated movement. Why her? Why now?
He saw how Lycurgus, after his brief explanation, made a slight and respectful gesture urging her to follow him and moved away, blending back into the crowd like another shadow. Stelle watched him for a few moments, hesitantly, before following him upon seeing the looks around her, an almost imperceptible sigh that only the prior tension made evident.
Dan Heng was left with his heart pounding against his ribs, his hands cold. Logic screamed at him that he was being irrational, that he was letting his own ghosts cloud his judgment.
But a deeper instinct, more visceral and akin to an animal's, whispered to him that the most insidious danger doesn't always come with drawn swords, but with a smile and kind words, ready to snatch away the most valuable possessions. And his instinct didn't fail. Lycurgus, whoever he really was, had just singled out that maiden with an attention that, he felt in the depths of his being, boded nothing good. That the best thing he could do for her would be to intervene.