With Ivy's immediate safety secured and the coalition's broader defenses continuing under Seraphine's and Aria's careful management, I returned to the delicate, uncertain work of formally reaching out toward the Court of Heaven — this time with considerably more urgency, given Ivy's mysterious countdown adding a fresh, pressing dimension to everything else already at stake.
I built the formal petition carefully, drawing on everything Selene, Malakar, and my own understanding of the choice I'd been offered upon completing my training could contribute — a deliberate, structured lowering of "Hide It," combined with a clear, specific intention communicated the same way I might have directed Skill Creation or Magic Creation toward a defined purpose.
I request audience, I focused, standing alone atop a quiet hilltop outside Valoria under a clear night sky, regarding a threat that originated within your own historical jurisdiction, and regarding the fate of a soul currently caught incomplete between worlds through a process I believe your Court bears some responsibility for overseeing.
For a long moment, nothing happened at all, and I began to wonder whether my earlier, accidental connection with Ivy had been a fluke rather than evidence of any genuine, functioning channel to whatever authority actually governed these matters.
Then the sky itself seemed to hold its breath.
It wasn't dramatic, not the way I might have expected from stories or games back on Earth — no thunderous proclamation, no blinding descent of divine light. Simply a quiet, absolute stillness, as though every insect and night bird within a mile had simultaneously paused mid-sound, and a single point of soft, golden light appeared several feet above the hilltop, steady and patient, waiting.
"Someone From Another World," a voice said, emanating from that point of light without any visible speaker attached to it, carrying a quality that was neither male nor female, neither young nor old, simply and completely present. "Your petition has been received and reviewed. This is a preliminary audience only. Formal review of matters pertaining to the Grey Sovereign's exile requires considerably more extensive process than a single hilltop conversation permits."
"I understand," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the genuinely overwhelming sensation of speaking to something so far beyond ordinary comprehension. "I'll take whatever audience you're willing to grant. There's a war building on this world, connected to your Court's own historical judgment against the Grey Sovereign, and a soul currently trapped in an incomplete transfer process I believe your Court has some responsibility for."
"The Grey Sovereign's exile remains, technically, an internal Court matter," the voice said, something that might have been careful, deliberate diplomacy coloring its otherwise flat tone. "Direct intervention in his current activities would require justification beyond what a preliminary petition typically warrants."
"He's building a Realmgate," I said bluntly, deciding that careful diplomacy mattered considerably less than conveying the full urgency of the threat. "He intends to breach realms like the training grounds I emerged from. If that succeeds, I don't think this will remain an 'internal Court matter' for very long."
The point of light was quiet for a longer moment this time, and when the voice finally responded, something in its careful neutrality had shifted, however subtly, toward genuine attention. "That is... considerably more significant than the initial assessment of your petition suggested. A Realmgate construction, if genuinely underway, would represent a serious violation extending well beyond the Grey Sovereign's original sentence."
"Then will you help?" I asked directly.
"I am not authorized to commit Court resources based on a single preliminary audience," the voice said. "But I am authorized to grant you formal passage to petition the Court directly, in person, where a fuller accounting of evidence may be properly reviewed and acted upon if warranted."
It was, I recognized, considerably more than I'd initially expected to secure from a first tentative attempt at contact — not a guarantee of help, but a genuine door, cracked open rather than simply acknowledged from a careful, bureaucratic distance.
"I accept," I said. "What do I need to do?"
"Prepare yourself," the voice said. "The passage between your current realm and the Court's own domain is not without risk, even for one of your considerable capability. And know, Someone From Another World, that formal audience before the Court carries obligations as well as opportunities. Nothing granted by our authority comes without eventual cost."
The point of light faded, leaving me alone on that quiet hilltop with a genuine, if cautious, sense of progress — and a fresh, uneasy awareness that whatever "eventual cost" the voice had warned me about would likely prove considerably more complicated than I currently understood.