CHAPTER 14: IDEAL
The coast was all jagged edges and black stone, where basalt cliffs plunged into a restless sea. Wind hissed through cracks in the rock, carrying the salt-sting of waves that battered the cliffs below. Far out on the horizon, an arched spine of stone curved over the water like the rib of some ancient leviathan, framing a window into the gray beyond.
A white Airssel hovered just above the rocks, gleaming like a blade against the storm-dark backdrop. Its hull curved with impossible smoothness, blue lines pulsing faintly along its seams. Through its canopy, the stripped-down interior glowed like the inside of a lantern.
Siah dangled his legs over the cliff's edge, scuffing bits of stone into the surf.
"How long are we supposed to wait?" he groaned.
Asha's arms folded tight across her chest. "Thanks to you, Jade left us behind. You owe me five thousand Grelly." Her tongue clicked sharp as flint.
Siah flopped backward onto the rocks, his sneer crooked. "I didn't ask to join Crew County. Theal owes you the Equi—not me."
Asha broke from him, her steps clipped with irritation, and pressed her palm against the Airssel's sleek skin. The Airssel answered with a low hum, then shot upward in a blur. It vanished into the cloudbank without stirring wind or sound.
Siah whistled low. "You nobles… flying around Dyson in your sky toys. Must be nice." His voice carried envy.
Asha's eyes stayed on the clouds. "House Ardour wouldn't let me wander freely. That's why I need Crew County—to break their chains." Her words thinned into the sea air, frayed with hope.
Siah scoffed, sitting up. "You could find another way. Joining a military organization isn't the only path—you'll die for your stupid dream."
Asha turned, her smirk sharp as glass. "What would a village thug know about ambition?"
The retort froze in Siah's throat. His jaw slackened, eyes widening. "...What the—"
The sea itself peeled apart. From the void rose a shadow too vast to be real. Steel towers and walls surged from nothing, black against the horizon, until the ocean quaked beneath the weight of a fortress afloat.
A massive Tessel loomed—its hull carved in ruthless geometry, every edge lined with burning light. At its heart yawned a hexagonal maw, descending into a hangar that swallowed light and ocean alike. Inside, smaller Tessels floated in orderly rows, their frames lit with veins of blue. Airssels darted between them like insects under a lantern.
On the fortress decks, spires bristled with antennae and command towers. Squadrons of craft moved in rigid precision around the main Tessel. The immensity of it shrank even the sleekest escorts to motes of dust.
Siah found his voice only in fragments. "They're… not heading toward us."
"Of course not." Asha stepped close to the cliff edge, hand outstretched. "A fortress like that wouldn't dock on such a tiny cliff. They showed themselves for us to see."
"You know I hate swimming." His groan was weak, his face pale under the shadow of the Tessel.
"They won't linger. Once they vanish again, even the last sight of them will be lost." Urgency cut into her words.
Siah stared at her hand, then past it, at the impossible fortress drifting on the sea. With a curse under his breath, he seized her grip.
Asha didn't give him time to reconsider. She pulled. They hurled off the cliff. The ocean swallowed them whole with a thunderous crash.
---
They broke the surface in gasps and splashes. Siah clutched at the open water, dragging air into his burning lungs, while Asha floated beside him her silvery-white hair clung to her cheeks, but her breathing was steady, her gaze already fixed on the fortress that loomed above.
Siah slapped the water in frustration. "Aren't you supposed to be a Status Nine Stillness? Your House has a light blessing from the Pantheon. Your uncle could appear anywhere he pleases—yet you drag me deep under water like baggage."
Asha gave no answer. She tilted her head back, eyes half-lidded, letting him sputter while the sea rocked them.
"Asha!"
The call carried smooth and melodic, cutting clean through the crash of waves. Both turned toward its source: a white Airssel hovered near the main colossal Tessel, its hull gleaming against the iron sky.
"Jade!" Asha's face lit up; her arm rose, waving hard enough to ripple water.
The Airssel drifted down, skimming just above the waves. Lines shimmered on its flank, tracing the shape of an illusory door. Asha seized Siah's wrist before he could protest, pulling him through the glimmer. The sea fell away, replaced by the muted glow of the Airssel's interior.
Inside, Jade stood waiting.
Her features carried an elegant sharpness—cheekbones cut clean. Platinum hair fell in precise lines over her shoulders, sleek and unruffled. But it was her eyes—golden, piercing—that seized Siah's attention and tightened something in his chest.
"Jade, why did you leave us behind?" Asha's lips pouted, petulant after the swim.
Jade's reply came flat, measured. "You were late."
"You can be so cold sometimes." Asha's protest melted into laughter as she lunged into a hug. "I missed you."
Jade endured the embrace only a breath, patting Asha's back once before pushing her away with a firm hand. "You're soaked." Her gaze flicked over the dripping clothes.
"You're in armor, Jade." Asha rolled her eyes before pivoting toward Siah. "This is the one I wrote to you about—Siah."
Siah sat stiffly on the long seat along the hull, eyes narrowed. Jade's golden stare shifted his way.
"So," she said, extending a hand with soldier's formality. "Theal's younger brother."
Siah sneered. "We're twins. I'm not younger. We share the same age." He ignored her hand, sinking into the seat as if to carve distance.
The corner of Jade's mouth lifted, a faint, amused smile.
"We should move. The main Tessel will soon recharge the Karman Line." Her voice firmed, commanding now. She slid onto the seat beside him, her gaze resting on him intently.
Siah turned away, refusing to meet the golden eyes that seemed to pry deeper than he wanted.
Asha, sprawled across from them, caught the tension and stifled a laugh. She hid it behind her hand, watching the two in secret delight as the Airssel tilted toward the fortress, carrying them into its shadow.
---
Outskirts of Gourmand City.
A castle loomed like a jagged fang on the horizon. Its twin curtain walls rose one nested within the other, each lined with grisly watchtowers that pierced the low sky like spears. A wide moat curled around the outer wall, fed by a sluggish, winding stream. The water ran black—thick and sludgy.
"Luca… does this mean blindness before I reach Status Three?" Theal's thoughts pressed inward, sharp with worry.
The voice inside his head came calm, deliberate. "There are ways around it. But you've only just awakened your Hue. For a Status Ten, I advise against even thinking of opening them yet."
Theal exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. He reached for the cloth he used to clean his sword, rough from use, and wound it around his eyes. The knot at the back of his head pulled his hair uncomfortably, but he welcomed the pressure.
"If I knew awakening Hue was this convenient," he muttered, fingers brushing the blade at his side, "I wouldn't have leaned on you so much in the past."
"Convenience can become a crutch," Luca's voice answered, low. "Do not rely too heavily on Hue. It deceives as easily as it reveals. Its true purpose is not to sharpen your senses—it is to fuel your abilities."
Theal nodded once, the cloth blinding his vision. His hand clenched over the hilt of his sword.
"The High Marshal said I'd discover the abilities of the Slates of Schism on my own." His lips twisted into a humorless smile. "I assumed he meant you would guide me. I underestimated him. I thought his Status being lower than yours kept him from noticing you."
He let out a bitter sigh, shoulders sinking.
Luca's voice carried a weight he rarely allowed through. "Status Three Stillness are formidable—the same as status as the Heads of noble Houses. But that isn't why he uncovered me. I revealed myself. They intended to kill you. The Pantheon had no intention of strengthening the Redbane's son."
Theal's fists crashed against the table beside him. The wood rattled, his breath tearing from his throat. "I am not that thing's son!"
The words rang in the silence.
"Calm yourself," Luca's tone pressed with weary patience. "Unless you want your Bloodhound comrades to believe you've gone mad."
Theal froze, chest heaving. Slowly, deliberately, he drew in air, then let it out in steady measures until his fury dulled. He flexed his hands once before resting them flat on the table.
"What are the origins of the Slates of Schism?" His voice steadied, though his knuckles whitened. "And what can they do?"
For a moment, silence stretched. Luca seemed reluctant. Then, finally:
"The Slates of Schism are not blessings, not bestowments from spirits that humans receive. They are Stillness of Fracture—belonging to the Crittens. The one who bore these eyes was not a Status Three. He was lower—likely Status Five. Still bound to the physical plane."
Theal tilted his head, listening intently.
"Something catastrophic must have shattered his consciousness. In that instant, Fragments of the shattered consciousness interacted with his eyes creating a Status Three totem of Fracture the Slates of Schism. The transformation devoured all his Hue killing him on the spot."
The words seemed to drag something cold down Theal's spine. He adjusted the cloth at his eyes, as if to shield them further.
"And their abilities?"
Luca exhaled through the bond, voice measured. "The Slates of Schism inherit the Trinity combat system of the Critten."
His tone shifted, weary but deliberate.
"Its Default Technique: Compression Fracture. With your gaze, you may focus pressure on a target until it collapses depending on the duration. Its Gambit: Tensile Fracture. You anchor opposing points with your sight —pulling the target apart, torn in every direction at once."
Theal nodded.
"The Complex Plane remains sealed. Locked in the Crittens Stillness he was still bound by the physical plane having no access to his Complex Plane. I cannot perceive it, not without a soul. My senses tell me… it has something to do with twisting."
Theal paced slowly across the keep, boots grinding against the stone floor.
Luca's voice grew faint, each word heavier.
"I have spent much of my strength relaying this to you. I need to rest. The First Lieutenant will soon return for his position. Let him reclaim it. We've played our hand."
Theal inclined his head, pausing at the doorway. "That was already my plan. I have no intention of dying for a rank." His fingers brushed the frame of the door before he stopped again. "Before you rest… any guesses of that thing's current situation?"
Luca's answer came with a dry chuckle.
"Your brother? Most likely bound for Crew County. If not, the Empire would already be parading the Redbane's son's execution."
Theal resisted a frown smiling faintly though it did not reach his eyes. "It would have been fitting if it died that way. But I can't let my preference ruin the bigger picture. Crew County is a sharper bait than the Eidolon Pantheon. That thing will hate it there. But it's skilled—skilled enough to rise through the Crew County ranks and catch STALE's attention."
He let the thought linger, then asked softly, "What do you think?"
Only silence answered. Luca had withdrawn.
Theal pushed open the heavy door of the keep.