The vast, shadowed expanse trembled violently, the ground quaking as if the land itself was alive. Then, as suddenly as it began, the tremors subsided, replaced by an unnatural calm. Shapes shifted, and rows of luxurious reclining chairs—eerily reminiscent of a grand theater—rose from the obsidian floor.
Figures appeared, seated in precise order. To the right sat the Sovereign of the Sword Domain, Anvil, flanked by his saints—legends whose glory echoed through both the waking world and the Dream Realm. To the left, the Queen of Worms, Ki Song, presided over the champions of the Song Domain, her serene gaze hiding fathomless intent.
In the center row sat Nephis, the Changing Star, her presence sharp and unyielding, like a blade honed to perfection. Her cohort occupied seats nearby, Rain resting quietly to her left.
A few seats behind them, a man lounged with effortless grace. A crescent moon symbol adorned his forehead, his easy-going smile tinged with amusement. Yet, when his gaze shifted toward the woman beside him, that smile faltered—turning taut, almost alarmed.
She was beautiful—enchanting even—her chestnut hair cascading like silk, her allure undeniable. Yet something in her smile was wrong… too cold, too still. Eerie.
On the same row sat an elderly woman, her warm face softened by a myriad of wrinkles, her gentle smile at odds with the unsettling strangeness of this place. Beside her rested a towering man—broad-shouldered, strong-jawed, his long braid draped over a regal, archaic robe that whispered of forgotten eras. Next to him, a young woman shared his striking features—a rare beauty of smooth, dark skin and shimmering black waves of hair, clad in azure robes traced with vivid white.
Farther up, in the darkness, another cluster of figures lingered. Four people, partially obscured by the dim. One man had hair black as midnight, his steel-gray eyes gleaming like tempered blades. His fingers were intertwined with those of a woman whose warm smile radiated serenity, a quiet comfort that seemed to melt the surrounding gloom.
Suddenly,Hovering above all, luminous runes pulsed with an eldritch glow.
[State your name, affiliation, and soul rank.]
The command resonated in their minds like a silent thunderclap.
A tense hush followed—until the crescent-marked man broke it with flamboyant ease.
"Rejoice, strangers… you stand in the brilliant presence of Noctis, the great Sorcerer of the East—and a Transcendent!" His voice rang proud and theatrical.
The woman beside him sighed, her expression dripping with disdain. Without sparing anyone a glance, she spoke flatly:
"Solvane. Priestess of War.
Taking the cue, the rest began introducing themselves.
---
The saints of Valor rose first—figures whose names were etched in human history:
**Saint Gilead**, the Summer Knight.
**Saint Jest**, heir of the Dagonet clan.
Saint Tyris serene yet formidable, seated beside her husband, Raon of the White Feather clan.
Yet among them, a few shone brighter still:
Morgan of Valor, the Princess of War.
And towering over all—
Anvil, the King of Swords. A Supreme.
The Song Domain followed—its seven Transcendent princesses, each a force of nature:
Beastmaster. Seishan. Silent Stalker. Moonveil. Lonesome Howl. Revel. Hel.
And at their forefront, the Sovereign herself—
Ki Song, Queen of Worms.
---
Finally, the center row stirred. Nephis stood first, her voice steady, carrying the weight of fire and steel.
"I am Changing Star, Nephis of the Immortal Flame Clan. A Saint."
Her cohort followed in turn. Yet, among the introductions, the unknown loomed like shadows creeping along the edges of light. After Noctis and Solvane, another man rose.
"I am Daeron, the Serper of Twilight. A Supreme."
Shock rippled through both domains—another Sovereign? Murmurs surged like a rising tide.
Next, a soft voice spoke:
"Windflower, Princess of Twilight."
Then came a revelation that struck like a blade to the heart.
"I am Ananke, Priestess of the Nightmare Spell."
The elderly woman smiled gently toward Nephis—who returned the gesture, her calm surface concealing a storm within.
But the true tempest came next.
"BrokenSword. Supreme."
Time itself seemed to stutter. Even Anvil and Ki Song, paragons of composure, faltered. Broken Sword—the man long thought dead—stood before them, alive.
And among all present, none were more shattered than Nephis. Her father—dead since she was three—was here. Real. Breathing.
Before the echo of his words faded, another voice spoke—warm, melodic:
"Hello, everyone. I am SmileofHeaven, an Ascended."
Nephis' heart clenched. Her mother. Alive. Her vision blurred, her composure cracking as questions clawed at her mind. *How? Why? What does this mean?*
Her voice broke in a whisper:
"H-how…?"
What was one supposed to do when faced with ghosts made flesh? Run to them? Embrace them? Scream? Cry? Nephis wished, absurdly, for a nightmare creature instead. Anything but this.
---
Above, the runes blazed anew:
[The Viewing will begin shortly.]
[Five questions shall be permitted—then the history of the Forgotten One will be revealed.]
Arguments erupted instantly. Both great legacies fought for advantage—until an aged voice cut through the noise.
Professor Obel rose, his gentle smile belying the iron in his tone.
"Since we are granted five questions, let us share them. Two for Valor, two for Song, one for the central region. Fair?"
Surprisingly, even the Sovereigns—minds still reeling from Broken Sword's return—nodded absently.
---
Morgan stood first for Valor.
"Our question: Where are we?"
[You stand in a realm beyond existence—where time and space are bound and severed. A sanctuary outside the tapestry of fate.]
Minds churned. Such a realm could only be the work of a being beyond gods—a truth heavier than any steel.
Before the next prepared question came, Anvil's voice sliced the air like a blade drawn in anger:
"How is he alive?" His glare burned into Broken Sword.
The reply came—not from the man himself, but the runes above:
[Broken Sword is indeed dead in your timeline. For this Viewing, his soul—and many others—have been drawn from Shadow's embrace.]
Whispers spread like wildfire. Who… or what… wielded such power?
Song's turn came. Seishan's voice was steady.
"Who is the Forgotten One?"
[His identity shall unfold as the tale flows.]
Then Mordret rose, his smile dripping malice.
"How is the Forgotten One tied to us? And is he alive?"
[Many among you have crossed his path. Some as allies. Some as foes. Some were saved—or slain—by his hand.]
[Yes. He lives.]
Finally, from the middle, Cassia asked:
"Will what we learn harm us—or plant corruption in our souls?"
[This realm is beyond corruption. While you remain, you are safe.]
---
With that, the shimmering barrier dividing the three factions dissolved into mist. The runes flared one last time:
[Fragments of the past are being prepared. Until then, do as you wish. Violence shall bear consequences your souls cannot endure.]
[Here, laws do not bind you. Hunger and thirst will not touch you. You shall taste the comfort of your favorite meal, always.]
Then, silence. Heavy, expectant. And slowly, the murmurs returned.
---
Nephis rose on unsteady feet, heart pounding as she approached her parents. Grace masked her turmoil, but inside? Chaos. *What will they say? Will they even want me? Will they—*
"Hello…" Her voice trembled. "I am… your daughter?"
Both parents stared for a heartbeat too long—before Smile of Heaven laughed softly, like the chiming of silver bells.
"We know, dear. Gods, you're just like Broken was before we started dating."
She pulled Nephis into her arms, her voice cracking like porcelain.
"I'm so sorry, my precious child. You've been so lonely… but no more. Your mother and father are here."
Nephis wanted to deny it. To say she was strong, that she wasn't lonely. But in her mother's embrace—the woman whose hollow shell she had carried all her life—her defenses crumbled. Silent tears traced her cheeks.
And for the first time in decades, Nephis felt… whole.
---
Elsewhere, Cassia watched quietly, warmth blooming in her chest. Effie muttered about phantom pancakes while sneaking glances at her own family. Kai approached Noctis with wary curiosity.Soul reaper jet was discussing the current situation with saint cor and a few other government officials
In Valor's section, Anvil's fury burned like a silent forge as his stare bored into Broken Sword—met with equal, icy contempt.
And then, the runes pulsed again.
[Preparations complete. The tale of the Forgotten One shall now begin.]