Mystic Mystic Night's mood had been foul for days. It wasn't just the failure to retrieve the Hades Sword Sword from the Celial Peaks, but it was Mystic Mystic Moon – his daughter, Princess Petal Stella Mystic Moon. The Order of the Heavenly Edge had humiliated the might of the Papacy? Fine, losing to the Saint of the Heavenly Edge under that old monster's crushing spiritual pressure was no disgrace, especially since only the Order's members and Princess Petal Stella had witnessed it. But since leaving those jagged peaks... no, precisely since separating Princess Petal Stella from that oaf, A-Dunce, the vibrant, mischievous spark in his daughter had vanished. Replaced by a heavy silence. She complied with every request without protest, a disturbing passivity. Worse, he'd caught her crying alone, tears streaking her pale cheeks, multiple times. Even when they travelled, her eyes were distant, clouded, as if her spirit had fled elsewhere, leaving only a hollow shell.
"Princess Petal Stella, we're almost home. Pope Mystic is just beyond this ridge." Mystic Mystic Night gestured towards the low hills shielding the sacred valley. Home – the beating heart of their power, their sanctuary.
Mystic Mystic Moon – Princess Petal Stella Mystic Moon – spared the vista only a glance, no flicker of anticipation in her tired eyes. Home... since leaving the Celial Peaks, a restless ache had replaced her usual fire. Days spent with A-Dunce? Annoying, clumsy A-Dunce. She hadn't appreciated him then, not truly. But this sudden separation? His absence carved a raw wound, a relentless tide of longing washing over her daily. No more pretending. She knew now, a painful certainty: she loved that awkward, earnest idiot. Her body was returning to the Holy Church, but her heart? It remained stubbornly tethered to that dense boy wandering the world without her.
"Princess Petal Stella? Aren't you happy we're home?" Mystic Mystic Night pressed, concern warring with his frustration.
Princess Petal Stella snapped from her reverie, shaking her head silently.
Mystic Mystic Night's brows knitted. "What exactly do you see in that... A-Dunce? He has no lineage, no prospects, barely any skills! Beyond that accursed dragon lineage in his blood and the Hades Sword Sword he stumbled upon, he's practically useless! Princess Petal Stella, you're too young for this... entanglement. Love brings nothing but pain, traps you in its web. Be strong. You'll understand my intentions later. Cheer up! You'll worry your mother, coming home like this. She's been frantic since you ran off!" He deliberately tapped into her deepest bond.
The mention of her mother, Naisha, struck Princess Petal Stella like a physical blow. Longing surged, fierce and immediate. She lifted her gaze, eyes reddening, voice thick. "I... I miss Mommy."
Relief softening his rigid features, Mystic Mystic Night placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Princess Petal Stella, don't cry. You'll see Mommy soon; you *should* be happy. Once we're settled, no compulsory magical drills, I promise. Take time. Adjust. Recover your spirit. Forget all this... drama. Time heals everything." He truly believed it. Princess Petal Stella and A-Dunce? A fleeting attachment, nothing more. With her naturally impulsive, novelty-seeking nature, surrounded by the Holy Church's finest young acolytes, Princess Petal Stella would forget the bumpkin soon enough. Could she really forget A-Dunce? Mystic Mystic Night dismissed the doubt.
Princess Petal Stella looked up. "Daddy, let's hurry. I want to see Mommy."
Surrounded by their escort of Senior Archons and Silver-ranked Templars, they entered the sanctified heart of the Holy Church. Archons bowed deeply as Mystic Mystic Night passed, acknowledging the High Blood Skeleton Monk Priest. The core compound was a constellation of majestic stone temples – the central ones reserved for the hierarchy's governance, the surrounding sanctuaries housing the priests. The Templars and Holy Knights guarded the perimeter, vigilant protectors.
Naisha had sensed their arrival even before they crossed the border. Joy surged through her – her husband and daughter, both safe. She'd vehemently opposed Mystic Mystic Night's idea of sending Princess Petal Stella into the world prematurely. Him bringing her back was a gift. Disregarding protocol, she rushed out to greet them.
Naisha reached the vast marble steps of the Basilica of Light just as the entourage approached, Mystic Mystic Night and Princess Petal Stella at the center.
"LUNA!" The cry tore from her lips, all composure forgotten as she sprinted forward.
Hearing her mother's voice after weeks of isolation and heartache shattered Princess Petal Stella's fragile control. A sob ripped through her, tears exploding down her face as she launched herself into Naisha's waiting arms, burying her face against familiar warmth, body wracked with grief she'd bottled up for too long.
Holding her child again, Naisha wept too. Since Princess Petal Stella's birth, this was their longest separation. Stroking Princess Petal Stella's azure hair, her voice trembled. "My girl, my Princess Petal Stella... shhh, shhh. Tell me, did you suffer out there? Promise me, never leave me like that again. I thought my heart would stop."
Mystic Mystic Night stepped close, enveloping both wife and daughter in an embrace. The reunion washed away the last of his gloom. Around them, their guards melted away silently, granting the family this intimate moment of fragile peace.
Long moments passed before Princess Petal Stella's tears subsided. She looked up into her mother's ethereally beautiful face, sniffling. "Mommy... I missed you so much. I'm sorry I scared you."
Naisha brushed tears from Princess Petal Stella's cheek. "Oh, sweetheart, my Princess Petal Stella is home. That's all that matters. Mommy forgives you. Now, let me look at you." She cupped Princess Petal Stella's face, kissing her forehead. "Oh, Princess Petal Stella! You're so thin! So pale! You must have gone through hell." Her touch was gentle, assessing.
Princess Petal Stella shook her head slightly. "No, Mommy, I was okay. Can we... can we go home?"
"Of course! Home it is. I'll make you all your favorites, and you *will* eat, young lady." Naisha held her daughter close as they moved, Mystic Mystic Night's arm around her waist. "No more vanishing acts. You are my heart, Princess Petal Stella. If something happened to you..." She couldn't finish.
They navigated the serene corridors behind the Basilica, reaching the secluded residence reserved for Blood Skeleton Monk Priests and their families.
Seeing her mother eased the constant ache for A-Dunce, though it lingered beneath the surface. Naisha guided Princess Petal Stella to sit on the plush bed. "Now, tell me everything, Princess Petal Stella. What did you do? What did you see? Were you ever in danger?" Her worry was palpable.
The question unlocked a floodgate. Images of her journey with A-Dunce flashed through Princess Petal Stella's mind – the chaotic alley fights, the eerie quiet of abandoned towns, A-Dunce shielding her from harm, his clumsy kindness. A wistful, almost dreamy expression settled over her face. "Mommy... what does it feel like to love someone?"
Naisha's breath hitched. She exchanged a sharp glance with Mystic Mystic Night. That look... she knew it intimately. It mirrored her own youthful turmoil when she'd first fallen for Mystic Mystic Night. Could her barely sixteen-year-old daughter have found... love? In just over a month? "Why... do you ask, Princess Petal Stella?" she probed gently. "Do you have feelings for someone?" She carefully avoided A-Dunce's name for now.
Princess Petal Stella shook her head absently, lost in thought. "I don't know... Mommy, I want to see Grandfather."
Mystic Mystic Night frowned. "He is in deep meditation. We shouldn't disturb him." Privately, he burned to see the Grand Pope Mystic. The situation with the Order of the Heavenly Edge demanded discussion. Their existence challenged the Holy Church's authority. Strategy was needed, but only the Grand Pope Mystic could decide. His status demanded it.
Naisha intervened. "Take her, Mystic Mystic Night. Father finished his retreat two days ago. He's been meditating alone in the Sanctuary since. Both of you need to see him." She sensed her daughter's need was deeper than caprice.
Mystic Mystic Night considered, then nodded. "Very well. Princess Petal Stella, why this sudden desire to see Grandfather? You usually avoid him like plague season." Princess Petal Stella had a history of dodging the Grand Pope Mystic's rigorous training demands. Her innate talent for channeling holy light, surpassing even her father's prodigious skill, had made her a prime, albeit reluctant, pupil. She'd only tolerated it because of the Grand Pope Mystic's deep affection and her parents' indulgence.
Princess Petal Stella kept her eyes downcast. "Daddy... I want Grandfather to teach me. Teach me the Sacred Light."
Mystic Mystic Night and Naisha stared at her, stunned. Naisha touched Princess Petal Stella's forehead reflexively. "My goodness... no fever. Are you feeling alright, darling? This isn't like you. Learning magic? Why the rush? And why the Grand Pope Mystic? Your father can teach you perfectly well." Naisha had endured strict magical training herself under her own demanding father, one of the current High Blood Skeleton Monk Priests. She'd longed for Princess Petal Stella to have more freedom, a happier childhood – which partly explained Princess Petal Stella's rebellious streak.
Lyna lifted her chin slightly, determination hardening her tear-stained features. "I feel fine. I just... I saw how weak I am out there. In the real world, beyond these walls, I'm nothing. Daddy and Grandfather talk about the Great Tribulation coming... I want to help the Holy Church. To matter. Learning from Grandfather... maybe I'll learn faster." It was part of the truth, the visible part. Deeper down burned a desperate need for strength – the strength to choose her own path, to stand beside A-Dunce without being a liability.
Mystic Mystic Night almost choked. His own daughter thought him *inadequate*? He was the youngest High Blood Skeleton Monk Priest in centuries! Yet, beneath the indignation, flickered hope. The world had scared her? Humiliated her? Good. Now she'd settle down to her true purpose. Focused study might finally cleanse her mind of that foolish boy. "Faster is not necessarily better, Princess Petal Stella," he managed, voice tight. "But... dedication is commendable."
Naisha studied her daughter. The transformation was profound. She saw beneath the surface plea. Softly, but firmly, she steered the conversation back. "Learning takes focus and rest, Princess Petal Stella. You've just come home. Rest now. Sleep. Later, when you wake, Daddy will take you to see Grandfather. Alright?" Her calm maternal authority soothed the jagged edges of Princess Petal Stella's emotions.
Princess Petal Stella nodded, surrendering to exhaustion. She burrowed into the familiar comfort of her own featherbed. Naisha tucked her in, smoothing her blue hair, humming a childhood lullaby. Under her mother's gentle, grounding presence, Princess Petal Stella's breath evened out, deepening into sleep. The physical and emotional toll of weeks crashed over her at once.
Watching her daughter finally rest, Naisha's expression hardened. She rose, motioning Mystic Mystic Night out of the room and into their private chambers next door. She shut the door firmly.
"Mystic Mystic Night," she started, her voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You went off searching for my daughter without a word? And look at her! What happened out there? What did you do?" Her eyes demanded answers.
Mystic Mystic Night sighed, facing his wife's fierce protectiveness. "Naisha, beloved," he began, trying to placate. "I went alone for *you*. To spare you the worry! I nearly brought you along, but feared the journey's hardship..." He reached for her.
Naisha stepped back, crossing her arms. "The journey's hardship? Save your diplomatic skills for the Council. Explain my *daughter*. If not, your high status won't save you from sleeping in the prayer chamber tonight." It was their longstanding dynamic. In public, Naisha was the picture of respectful obedience. Privately? She was the heart of their home, the one who held her brilliant, formidable husband's affection in the palm of her hand. He adored her; she wielded it with care, knowing how deeply she loved him in return. Their bond was their bedrock.
Mystic Mystic Night threw his hands up slightly in surrender. "Alright, alright. It's... complicated." He recounted Princess Petal Stella and A-Dunce's story – meeting in the city, their accidental travels, the danger they had faced together, the undeniable, burgeoning connection he'd witnessed, the forced separation at the Order of the Heavenly Edge. He omitted the part about Princess Petal Stella wanting to go to the perilous "Mountain of Little Little Bone" – the point wasn't relevant now. The telling took time, painting a vivid picture Princess Petal Stella's own hesitant words hadn't conveyed.
When he finished, Naisha was silent, thoughtful. "So... she's serious," she finally murmured. "Mystic Mystic Night... I think you're wrong about A-Dunce. The Hades Sword Sword is darkness embodied, true. But from your own account, the boy's heart is pure light. His holding it... maybe isn't the catastrophe you fear. And look at Princess Petal Stella! Her pain is real. Is breaking their bond the answer?"
Mystic Mystic Night's eyes flashed cold silver. "No, Naisha. I *refuse* to let my daughter tie her life to a nobody wielding ultimate darkness! Pope Mystic is filled with worthy prospects – young Archons, talented Templars – any one of them exceeds A-Dunce in every measurable way. He is *unworthy*! Tandor't worry," he soothed, pulling her close despite her stiff resistance. "Time is our ally. Princess Petal Stella's temperament? Impulsive, thrives on novelty. With her safely here, surrounded by excellence, A-Dunce will fade. In time, she'll forget him entirely. Then we'll find her a match that befits her legacy." He sounded utterly convinced. Could time truly erase such a connection? The stubborn set of Princess Petal Stella's jaw even in sleep suggested otherwise.
Naisha nestled against him reluctantly, seeking reassurance. "But... what if she doesn't forget? Mystic Mystic Night? What then? I... I may have already promised her..."
He stiffened. "Promised? What did you promise?"
Naisha sighed. "That when her power surpasses mine – when she can stand alone as an Archon without relying on sacred relics – if she still feels this way... she can go find him." She had seen the despair in her daughter's eyes and offered a sliver of hope, however distant.
Mystic Mystic Night processed this. Calculating. "That level of mastery... it's a monumental task, Naisha. She has innate strength, yes. But becoming your equal?" He dismissed it as unlikely in the near term. "Very well. If, against all odds, she achieves that impossible standard *and* persists in this... infatuation... then she may go. Perhaps it *is* Divinity's will, and we cannot thwart it. Although..." He added, the reminder sharp, "...I have the wager with the Saint of the Heavenly Edge. That boy's fate hangs on five years."
Naisha's head snapped up. "Do you doubt you can win? In five years?"
Mystic Mystic Night shook his head slowly, not entirely certain. "Doubt? Not exactly. But the Saint... you've never faced him. His power is... primordial. Unpredictable. What secrets might that obsessive relic impart to the boy in five years?" He straightened, pride returning. "But don't underestimate your husband, Naisha. I will not stagnate."
Naisha melted against him, her fear finding solace in his strength. "Plots and prophecies mean nothing," she whispered. "Only you and Princess Petal Stella... safe and whole. That's all I want."
He kissed the top of her head. "Let's wake the storm then. We have an appointment with the Grand Pope Mystic." The thought of the upcoming audience rekindled his drive. They returned to Princess Petal Stella's room just as the girl emerged, transformed.
Princess Petal Stella wore a simple white gown edged with gold thread. Her sapphire-blue hair was plaited into a thick braid that cascaded past her knees. Color had returned to her cheeks, the haunted look replaced by a fragile but resolute sparkle. The Angel Staff rested in her hand. She looked like an icon – pure, powerful, yet young.
Mystic Mystic Night's breath caught. He looked at Princess Petal Stella, then at Naisha. "She has your fire, Naisha. And your grace. It was this... radiant resolve... that captivated me all those years ago." The memory warmed him.
Naisha blushed, nudging him. "Hush. Such memories are not for daughterly ears. Especially now. Princess Petal Stella?" She turned to her. "Ready? Grandfather awaits us in the Sanctuary. As promised."
Princess Petal Stella saw the deep affection passing between her parents, felt a pang of envy mingled with longing. *What if A-Dunce and I...* The thought sent warmth flooding her cheeks. She pushed it down, banking it like a precious ember deep within. Moving swiftly, she slipped between them, capturing her mother's hand from her father's grasp. "Let's go! We shouldn't keep Grandfather waiting!" Her voice held a new vibrancy, purpose restored.
Mystic Mystic Night watched his wife get commandeered by his daughter. He offered a wry, resigned shake of his head. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Lead the way, Princess Petal Stella."
**The Sanctuary:**
The air inside the immense Sanctuary of Light held a palpable silence, thick with sanctity. Grand Pope Mystic Benedictus sat in serene stillness upon the central dais, directly before the towering statue of the Six-Winged Slenderph. His long, snow-white hair spilled over his ornate golden robe. The Holy Crown, a circlet of woven light and precious metals, rested upon his brow, casting a soft halo. An aura of profound peace and immense, controlled power radiated from him. His eyes were closed, face peaceful. Behind him, the Slenderph statue, wrought from luminous white stone, seemed to shimmer within a perpetual veil of holy mist, its features obscured, radiating both majesty and mystery. He was alone.
"High Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Mystic Night, Archon Naisha, and their daughter Princess Petal Stella Mystic Moon seek audience with the Grand Pope Mystic!" Mystic Mystic Night's clear voice echoed respectfully through the vast space.
Pope Mystic didn't open his eyes. "Enter." His voice was calm but carried effortlessly to the entrance.
The family entered, bowing formally at the prescribed distance. Before her parents could react, Princess Petal Stella Mystic Moon broke protocol. "Grandfather!" she called, darting forward.
Mystic Mystic Night made no move to stop her, simply shaking his head ruefully. Some rules couldn't constrain Princess Petal Stella.
The Grand Pope Mystic opened his eyes. They were startlingly clear, ancient yet infinitely gentle, holding the wisdom of ages. A genuine smile touched his lips. A gesture, and ribbons of warm light curled around Princess Petal Stella, lifting her gently onto the dais beside him. "Impulsive child," he rumbled affectionately. "So you decided to come home."
Princess Petal Stella grinned, the familiar mischief briefly flashing. "Daddy caught me! Grandfather... I missed you." She impulsively reached for his magnificent white beard.
He chuckled, catching her wrist playfully. "My beard, Princess Petal Stella? My most majestic feature! Spare an old man's vanity." The light wrapping her solidified slightly, holding her comfortably in place. His gaze then turned to Mystic Mystic Night, the warmth still present but layered with expectation. "Report, Mystic Mystic Night." His tone invited his son to speak freely, family and duty entwined.
Princess Petal Stella Mystic Moon leaned against her grandfather's sturdy frame, the light a comforting embrace. Her gaze drifted past the Pope Mystic to the veiled Slenderph. *A-Dunce*, she thought fiercely, clutching her staff with renewed determination. *Wait for me. I will be strong enough.* The path ahead was daunting: mastering the sacred light to a degree that would grant her freedom. But the prize – the chance to reclaim her happiness, to stand beside the boy who held her heart – ignited a fierce flame within her. For the first time since leaving the mountains, hope, not sorrow, took root. She had a purpose now. She would not fail.