Anna's phone buzzed in her palm. Henri's voice crackled through, hurried and tense.
"You can come home now," he said, his words clipped and urgent.
"The Squidi are here. They arrived earlier than usual—looks like the fighting in the Central District drove them away. Until the war dies down, they'll be staying in the Stem." His voice dipped momentarily, muffled, as if he was speaking to someone nearby.
"Yeah, here," he muttered off-screen. The hum of a moving vehicle vibrated faintly in the background.
Anna's grip tightened around the device, her damp palm leaving faint marks on its surface. She swiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead, glancing over her shoulder at Elara. Elara hadn't moved, her face buried in her arms on the table.
The room around them remained unnervingly silent, the weight of what had just unfolded pressing heavily against them. No one dared to break the spell, still frozen in the wake of divine fury—the wrath of a sage's hand.
"Are you in the Stem?" Anna managed to ask. Her voice cracked—faint, as though speaking cost her more effort than usual.
"No. I realized you all left the Grand Bibliotheca, so I went on the usual," Henri said, his tone brightening slightly.
"The usual?" Anna replied, her brow rising. "Your leaving again?"
"No! I told your mom—I just hope she remembers what I told her, and what usual means. But remember…"
"Don't call until you call first. You'll be back in two weeks?" she asked.
"Yes. I'll come around the time of the election.
Did Aether get everything he needed? Origin and all?"
Anna hesitated, her gaze flickering to Aether. He stood off to the side, his shoulders slumped like they carried a weight far too great for any one person to bear.
His eyes were hollow now, their light seemingly drained by forces too vast and incomprehensible to name. His hands clutched Mirakos's head, sweat still slick on his fingers, but he made no move to wipe it away.
"Yeah... he did," Anna replied finally, her voice tight. She swallowed hard, the taste of the dry water she had just drunk still lingering in her mouth.
Henri's concern bled through the line, his tone rising. "Is everything alright? Where are you right now, precisely?" He stumbled over his words, the unsteady rhythm betraying the fear slowly seeping in.
"Nothing happened," Anna lied, cutting him off before he could press further. Her voice shook ever so slightly. "I'll tell you when you get home."
"Anna—wait, what—" Henri's voice was abruptly silenced as she ended the call with a sharp press of her thumb. His last, unfinished words hung in the air like a knife cutting through the tension, jagged and unresolved.
She shoved the device into her pocket and pushed herself to her feet, the motion almost mechanical.
Her hand fell to Aether's shoulder. The touch startled him out of his trance, and he blinked as if forcing his focus to return to the present.
Wordlessly, he adjusted his grip on Mirakos's head, his fingers trembling slightly.
"Let's go, Elara," Anna said. Her voice was steadier now, though it lacked its usual spark of command.
Elara stirred, slowly lifting her head. Her face was pale, streaked with sweat and grime, her eyes rimmed with red.
She blinked sluggishly, disoriented, as though surfacing from some terrible nightmare. Around them, others began to stir as well—figures rising from their seats and gathering their belongings.
Their movements were sluggish, weighed down by the collective exhaustion and unspoken fear that hung in the air like a shroud.
Aether looked down at Mirakos's face—the boy staring up in pure confusion. His grip tightened. His mind wandered briefly to Hector. He would need to be returned—it was Hector's, after all. Aether had done what was required. That was enough.
"Yeah, Hector too," he muttered under his breath, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. His eyes flicked to Anna, who had already begun moving toward the circular elevator that led upward, her steps quick and determined despite the fatigue clinging to her like a second skin.
"Come on," she urged, her gaze darting back to Elara. Elara nodded mutely, pushing herself up from the table. Her legs wobbled as she stood, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.
Aether followed closely behind, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, unseeing, as though by moving he might outrun the ghosts of what had just transpired.
And somewhere, far above them, in the safety of the upper levels, the Squidi waited.
At the top of the cube room—
"Are you mad? You have to be joking," Marquis said, perched atop the cubic platform with Kai. His sharp eyes flicked down to Ryuji, who had climbed up during the unsettling silence that blanketed the arena.
The distant hum of footsteps below began to rise, swelling louder as the crowd rushed to escape the tension hanging in the air. Despite the growing noise, Kai and Ryuji could still hear Marquis—his voice cutting through like a blade.
"Listen," Marquis continued, his tone both impatient and grim, "this is what happens when someone challenges the Sages. It's not just death—it's erasure." His gaze swept across the arena as if daring it to contradict him.
"And that's not all." His voice dropped, quieter now, almost conspiratorial. "He wore white. Did you see that? He has to be tied to the people responsible for the destruction of the Right Star last week."
Kai frowned, interrupting him. "What do you mean? You're throwing theories around without proof."
"I don't need concrete proof. Patterns are proof. He wore white—the same as the Right Star destroyers. Connect the dots. it was only a week ago, and now it's like no one even cares!" His voice cracked slightly, frustration seeping in.
He rubbed the back of his neck, as if physically trying to massage clarity into the chaos of his thoughts.
"He wore white," Marquis repeated, slower this time, his words laced with grim conviction. "The people who destroyed the Right Star wore white too. That's enough for now. We need to figure out who authorized him to speak—to act. This isn't coincidence." His boot tapped rhythmically against the platform, a subconscious gesture of agitation.
Before Kai or Ryuji could respond, the sound of machinery filled the air. The circular lift beneath them began to rise, carrying Aether, Anna, Elara, and Mirakos to their level. Marquis turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
Aether's jaw tightened. This was going to be difficult. But then again, wasn't everything lately?
Confusion flickered across his face, followed quickly by recognition, then something heavier—an emotion caught somewhere between sorrow and disbelief. "Leonar—"
"It's Aether now," Ryuji interrupted flatly, his voice slicing through the moment like a scythe.
"What?" Marquis turned to him, startled.
"Wasn't it Leonardo?" Kai interjected, trying to make sense of the conversation, his tone uncertain.
Marquis shot Ryuji a sharp glare, muttering under his breath, "Aether."
Aether ignored the tension, stepping off the platform as Mirakos stumbled after him. His boots thudded softly against the surface. His voice was calm but firm. "He's right. I'm not Leonardo anymore. Call me Aether from now on."
Marquis' gaze snagged on Aether's missing limb. He forced a smirk, voice too loud. "Stars, man. Did you pick a fight with a shredder? Or—" His bravado faltered; he rubbed his neck. "...You good?"
Ryuji answered for him, his voice indifferent. "Didn't care to ask."
"You didn't—?" Marquis began, but Aether cut him off.
"A Mystical took it," Aether said, his tone eerily casual, as if it were a mundane detail. "In the 20th realm," he added flatly.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Anna, Elara, Marquis, Kai, and Ryuji stared at him, their expressions frozen somewhere between disbelief and unease. Even the faint hum of fleeing footsteps seemed to fade away.
Marquis broke the silence, stammering, "The 20th realm? Mysticals? What do you mean, Aether—are you alright?"
"And the 20th realm?" Kai echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "How the hell did you even get there?"
Aether's lips twitched upward in a faint, humorless smile. "I, uh... I died."
Marquis's eyes widened, the weight of those words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
If disbelief could physically weigh someone down, Marquis would have collapsed right there. "What could have possibly happened in just one week?" he muttered, turning helplessly to Kai.
Kai rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding Marquis's gaze. "He wasn't in the house for three days. That's all I know," he admitted. "Anna wouldn't tell me anything about what happened to him... so I guess this explains it."
"It's a long story," Aether said, his voice quieter now.
He glanced toward Anna, a flicker of something—bitterness? regret?—crossing his features.
"It all started with fire." He let out a low chuckle, though it held no humor, and his boots began to levitate, lifting him a few inches off the ground.
"Where are you going?" Marquis asked, tilting his head to follow Aether's rising form.
"I have to return him ho—" Aether began, but stopped abruptly as Mirakos tensed violently at the words.
The boy jolted as though struck by a bolt of unseen energy, his movements erratic and frantic. Mirakos thrashed in Aether's grip, his legs kicking wildly as his head jerked back, his eyes wide and filled with primal terror.
Aether's arms strained as he tried to hold Mirakos steady. "Stop it," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low but commanding, though it did little to calm the struggling boy.
Mirakos clawed at Aether's forearm, his voice breaking into garbled cries—half-formed words escaping his lips as if he were choking on them.
"I don't think he wants to go," Elara said cautiously, stepping closer as Aether gritted his teeth, trying to keep Mirakos under control.
Marquis turned to Anna, his expression shifting. "Anna," he said slowly. "You came for the Revival Wars, didn't you? Too bad they were interrupted by a blasphemer."
"A blasphemer?" Anna repeated, frowning. "Is that what you think he was?"
Marquis stiffened. "Blasphemy's a death wish. Always has been." He caught Ryuji's darkening expression and backtracked, voice tightening. "Look—I'm just saying. Worship anything too hard, and it bites back. Even... _especially_... if it's gone."
The moment those words left his mouth, Ryuji's aura flared violently. Bloodlust radiated off him like a palpable force, his hair rising as if caught in an invisible storm.
Kai immediately stepped back, raising his arms defensively, while Elara staggered, shielding her face from the oppressive energy.
"Marquis," Ryuji muttered, his voice a low, venomous growl. "If you say one more word, I'll kill you before your father draws his next breath." He trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging heavy in the air.
"Ryuji, you're exuding too much," Elara managed to say, her voice strained as she tried to shield herself from his overwhelming aura.
Marquis stumbled back slightly, his confidence faltering. "Alright, I'm sorry," he said, holding his hands up defensively.
Ryuji's eyes burned with fury, but he said nothing. Aether turned back toward them, shaking his head as if weary of the entire exchange.
"Let it go," he said quietly, but his voice carried an unmistakable authority. "We've all got bigger things to worry about."