Hyades City, Exterior Ward
Spring Court, Hidden World
Terra, Tellus, Solar system
Milky Way Galaxy,
Neutral Free Zone
Emily observed in silence as Sam meticulously arranged the tools for her ascension into the next stage of cultivation. Dressed in a simple white long-sleeve shirt and track pants, Sam moved with deliberate precision, her fingers carefully placing each shard in its designated position. The greenish essence stones glowed faintly in her grasp, their energies humming in harmony with the surrounding air.
She knelt on the floor, arranging the shards into a geometric formation—a perfect hexagon, each stone aligned with an unseen force, an intricate weave of power that only an adept cultivator could perceive. The faint luminescence of the stones pulsed rhythmically, resonating with the natural frequencies of the world around them.
Emily could sense the shift in the atmosphere, a quiet reverence settling over the space. Sam's posture remained steady, her expression one of quiet focus, as if she were attuned to something beyond the physical realm. Each placement of the essence stones was not merely an arrangement—it was an invocation, a silent call to the unseen energies that would guide her transformation.
Emily watched in quiet contemplation, her gaze flickering between Sam and the intricate formation of essence stones now glowing with a faint, rhythmic pulse. She couldn't shake the lingering question in her mind—how had Sam known how to do this? Neither she, Leon, nor Emani had ever taught her the intricate steps required for ascension once a Soul Core reached full saturation.
Perhaps Sophia had taught her. It would make sense—after all, Sophia had trained Sam in the Magecrafts. Still, Emily found it unsettling how effortlessly Sam had arranged the ritual, as if she had always known the process, as if it had been etched into her very being.
Sam, now finished with her preparations, turned to face Emily. There was a quiet relief in her expression, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of what she was about to undertake. More than anything, she was grateful Emily had agreed to help. She didn't want to do this alone.
Stepping into the center of the hexagonal formation, Sam lowered herself into a lotus position. The energy in the air thickened, charged with an unseen force, as the stones began to faintly resonate with the ambient currents of the world around them.
"Thanks for doing this," Sam said, her voice steady but tinged with something softer—gratitude, maybe even vulnerability.
"It's no problem," Emily replied, folding her arms as she studied Sam carefully. "But I have to ask—why me? Why not Sophia? Rex or Rosa? Why ask me?"
Sam lifted her gaze, meeting Emily's with quiet conviction.
"Because you're my friend," she said simply. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "At least, I think we are… aren't we?"
Emily blinked. The words caught her off guard, stirring something unfamiliar in her chest.
A friend?
She had never considered the possibility. Growing up in the Ascension Academy, friendship had been a foreign concept, an unnecessary distraction. She had always been cold, distant, and indifferent to the struggles of others, never seeing the need to bond with anyone. Leon and Rex had somehow managed to slip past her walls, the only ones she could even remotely call friends.
But now Sam was looking at her with open sincerity, offering something Emily had never truly experienced before. A friendship freely given.
"Yes," Emily said without thinking, the word slipping past her lips before she could fully process it. Sam's expression remained unreadable for a moment before she gave a small nod as if she had expected that answer.
"Besides," Sam continued, her voice steady, "I don't trust Sophia as much as I'd like to." She hesitated before adding, "Rosa is kind of busy with her own training at the moment. And as for Rex… I don't know him that well. I appreciate what he did for Stella, but I wouldn't feel as comfortable doing this with him as I do with you."
Emily understood the part about Rex. He was reliable, but still somewhat of an enigma. Yet, the mention of Sophia—the casual yet deliberate way Sam admitted her distrust—struck Emily as odd.
"You don't trust Sophia?" Emily asked, her gaze sharpening.
Sam exhaled, glancing at the glowing essence stones surrounding her. The faint green luminescence cast shadows across her face, making her hesitation all the more pronounced.
"I feel like there's something she's not telling me," Sam admitted.
Emily narrowed her eyes. "Not telling you? Why would you say that?"
Sam swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of her track pants. "I... I think I have a sister."
Emily blinked. The words settled into the air like a dropped stone in still water, creating ripples in the quiet tension between them.
"A sister?" she repeated, the weight of the revelation sinking in. "What makes you think that?" Emily asked, her voice carefully measured.
Sam hesitated, her gaze flickering as if sorting through a whirlwind of thoughts. She took a slow breath before speaking.
"I... I didn't remember at first," she admitted. "But after reaching Ascension, my childhood memories have fully surfaced. Now, I remember everything. And ever since I was a child, I've always had this feeling… this strange sense of incompleteness. Like a part of me was missing, like something—someone—was supposed to be there but wasn't."
Emily remained silent, watching the way Sam's fingers twitched slightly against her knee, betraying the deep uncertainty simmering beneath her composed exterior.
"And then there were the dreams," Sam continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Dreams of another me, somewhere out there. Waiting for me. Searching for me."
"Really?" Emily asked, skeptical yet intrigued.
"Yeah." Sam let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I could never understand why I had them. I was just a kid." She shook her head. "But then… on my tenth birthday—the day my father died. The first day I met Sophia. I remember overhearing their conversation. At the time, I didn't understand it, didn't know what they were talking about."
She exhaled sharply. "But now, after everything that's resurfaced, I think… I know… they were talking about her. My sister. Seraphina."
Emily's breath hitched slightly.
"Seraphina?" she echoed.
Sam ran a frustrated hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. "Aaargh… there are so many things that don't make sense," she muttered, shaking her head. "If the Fallen Star wasn't responsible for the Uprising… then why did my father run from Sophia? Why did he take me away from her? Keep me from my mother without ever telling me the truth?"
She swallowed hard, her voice thick with unspoken turmoil. "He said he wanted to give me a better life. A different life… one different from Seraphina's. But what does that even mean?"
"And then there's the room Sophia gave me," Sam said, her voice laced with uncertainty. "It's not just any room—it's fully furnished, completely equipped as if someone used to live there. Someone who wasn't just me."
Emily considered that for a moment before offering a measured response. "Maybe she just set it up that way because she missed you," she suggested.
"Maybe…" Sam murmured, but doubt flickered in her eyes. "But I can't shake the feeling that she's keeping something huge from me."
Sam's fingers curled slightly against her knee, a subtle indication of the tension coiling inside her. As an Empath, she had always been sensitive to the emotional states of those around her. Her mind had never been strong enough to comprehend what that meant fully—to separate vague impressions from reality.
But now, after reaching Ascension, her mental power has evolved. The fog of uncertainty had lifted, sharpening her intuition into something undeniable. And right now, every instinct, every finely tuned sense told her that Sophia was hiding something from her.
Something big.
"Anyway," Sam continued, her voice quieter now but firm, "I'm more comfortable with you. And I trust you to watch my back."
Emily's heart gave an unexpected shudder at the words. A foreign warmth curled in her chest, unsettling yet… not unwelcome. Trust was not something she had ever sought or expected from others. And yet, here Sam was—offering it freely, without hesitation. She exhaled softly, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. Somehow, the weight of those words settled deeper than she anticipated.
Sam straightened her posture, taking a steadying breath. "Okay. It's time."
With that, she closed her eyes, shutting out the world around her. Emily watched as Sam delved inward, her presence shifting, as if she were slipping into another state of being. A stillness settled over her, but beneath that surface, something vast stirred.
The moment Sam reached for her Odic Force, the air around them shifted. An invisible pulse radiated outward, like the echo of a heartbeat too deep to be heard, yet powerful enough to be felt. The mental energy within her surged to life, fueled by the luminous Star Core nestled deep within her consciousness. It flared—bright and untamed—like a distant sun awakening after centuries of slumber.
And then, like a thread pulling taut, Sam reached for the Odyllic—the great, unseen force that governed the very fabric of existence. Emily felt it. A ripple in the atmosphere. A hum in the bones of reality itself.
The Ascension had begun.
With her eyes closed, Sam's awareness withdrew from the physical world, sinking into the vast expanse of her inner consciousness. She no longer felt the weight of her body, nor the cool air brushing against her skin. Instead, she stood at the precipice of something immense—a threshold between what she was and what she was about to become.
Her internal sight sharpened, focusing on the Gaea Spell Interface, a luminous construct of arcane sequences and celestial glyphs woven seamlessly into the depths of her soul. Its presence was vast, infinite, humming with power that pulsed in perfect synchrony with her Star Core.
A golden prompt materialized before her:
[Enlightened has reached the threshold of Ascension.][Soul Core saturation has reached its limit.][Begin Ascension.]
There was no hesitation.
"Yes."
Her answer echoed through the ether, resonating like a struck bell.
The interface responded immediately.
[Enlightened has confirmed the process of Ascension.][The Gaea Spell System shall now guide the Enlightened through the Breaking Point.]
A shift occurred.
The luminous interface expanded, unraveling like an ancient cosmic tapestry, its intricate threads of divine energy weaving a pattern beyond mortal comprehension. Symbols of forgotten knowledge swirled around her, pulsing with an ethereal glow, each one a sigil representing the laws of transformation.
Then, it began.
A tidal surge of Odic Force erupted from her Star Core, cascading through her being like a celestial inferno. It burned—not in pain, but in revelation. Every fiber of her existence resonated with the unfathomable energy, stretching, shifting, evolving. Sam could feel it—the limits of her current state fracturing, the barriers of her consciousness cracking open as the raw Odyllic Essence poured into her.
Her Soul Core, once stable yet finite, began to expand. It wasn't destruction. It was reforging. The dense, concentrated energy of her core began to unravel, spreading out like the birth of a star, forming intricate lattices of power within her being. It was reshaping, realigning, ascending.
The world around her fell away, leaving only the endless vastness of the Odyllic Realm—a place beyond space, beyond time, where the very essence of existence was laid bare.
Here, in this state, she was no longer just Sam. She was becoming.
The Gaea Spell System's voice resonated once more:
[First Phase of Ascension: Core Expansion—Initiated.][Enlightened must withstand the transformation.][Commencing synchronization with the Odyllic Force.]
The process had begun. And there was no turning back.
****
Watching Sam begin the process of Ascension, Emily felt a rare, unsettling sense of awe. What was unfolding before her defied everything she knew—everything she had been taught about what a true Ascension should be. She could feel it. The shift. The sheer wrongness of it. Sam's Soul Core was expanding—unraveling—not condensing as it should have been. The dense, concentrated energy within it was being released rather than refined, spreading outward in a way that sent the Odyllic into an unnatural frenzy. The very essence of the world around them seemed to tremble, space itself buckling under the pressure of the raw power that had been unleashed.
Emily's instincts screamed at her to intervene. To stop Sam before she did something reckless. Something irreversible. But then—she hesitated. Despite the chaos, despite the sheer overwhelming force radiating from Sam, Emily sensed no danger. No instability. No imminent collapse. And that terrified her even more.
A proper Ascension never started this way. It was supposed to be a slow, controlled refinement—a gradual compression of the Soul Core, condensing and fortifying its energy until it reached a breaking point where the transition to the next realm could be safely achieved. But Sam…
Sam was doing the opposite. She was expanding her core, unleashing the dense energy contained within it like a supernova tearing itself apart. It shouldn't have been possible. It shouldn't have been stable.
Yet it was.
The released energy pulsed outward, resonating with the essence stones arranged in their intricate geometric formation. At first, the stones hummed, absorbing the influx of power. But the sheer magnitude of Sam's energy was too much—too raw, too vast. One by one, the stones shattered, unable to contain the torrent of force surging through them.
The Odyllic roared in response, like a primal force reacting to a disturbance in the fabric of reality itself. Odic energy erupted in waves, amplifying the remnants of the essence stones, their dissipating energy spiraling chaotically through the air. The very space around them seemed to warp, rippling as if struggling to accommodate the presence of something beyond its natural limits.
And then—Emily felt it.
Sam's Odic Force reached outward, pulling every fragment of unleashed energy back into herself. Emily's breath caught. No Adept should have been able to handle such an enormous influx of power. It would have ruptured their core, shattered their mind, and left them in ruin.
But Sam was different.
Her expanded core created an unfathomable void—a vast reservoir capable of containing the uncontainable. And once it was full, her Odic Force shifted again. Now, she was compressing it. Emily watched in stunned silence as Sam did something unheard of—something that rewrote the very principles of Ascension. And at that moment, Emily finally understood why this was possible.
It all came down to Sam's foundation.
Her cultivation base—the very core of her power—was the key to what was unfolding before Emily's eyes. The way Sam's Soul Core expanded instead of condensed, the way she could contain and control such an overwhelming influx of energy without shattering—it wasn't a mistake. It wasn't reckless. It was by design.
Cultivation foundations came in many forms, each one determining the limits of an individual's growth and potential. The Mortal Foundation was the most common—used by Dormant Mystics and Mages alike. It was the default, the starting point for those who sought the path of power.
But above that, there existed stronger foundations. After mortal, there was the fragile foundation, then the Stable foundation. And finally the Perfected Foundation—the divine starting point possessed by all Pleiadians.
Pleiadians, blessed by Gratia, were born with flawless cultivation bases, naturally perfected without ever needing to refine them. Their Odic Force flowed in harmony with the Odyllic, allowing them to surpass limitations that would cripple others.
And Sam…
Sam's foundation wasn't Mortal. It wasn't even Perfected. It was something beyond that. Something unprecedented. That was why her Ascension defied conventional wisdom. Why her Soul Core didn't need to compress—why it could expand, unravel, and reconstruct itself in a way no normal Adept could withstand. Sam wasn't just breaking through to the next realm. She was redefining what Ascension could be.
Even after successfully condensing her Soul Core, stabilizing it was another challenge entirely. The sheer volume of energy she had absorbed was immense, teetering on the edge of instability. Now, Sam had to purify and refine her core—to cleanse it of all impurities and forge it into something stronger, purer, and more complete.
This purification process required her to extend her Odic Force outward, weaving it into the greater flow of Odyllic Forces that surrounded her. It was like trying to grasp the current of an endless cosmic river—aligning, resonating, synchronizing with something far greater than herself. The moment her essence connected, she felt it.
The Odyllic surged through her, a vast, untamed force that existed beyond mortal comprehension. It was primal, boundless, yet within its chaotic tide lay the potential for perfect harmony. Sam's mind trembled under the pressure, every fiber of her being straining to contain the overwhelming connection. But she did not falter. She wielded her Odic Force like a sculptor's chisel, carving away the imperfections within herself, using the Odyllic's purity to burn away the unseen limitations that clung to her very existence.
As a half-human, Sam's level of impurity was far lower than most mortals. Her Pleiadian heritage, inherited from her father, had granted her a natural advantage. Unlike ordinary humans, whose cultivation was often hindered by the flaws of their mortal vessels, Sam's lineage had already provided her with a cleaner, stronger foundation.
Still, no living being was without impurities. Even Daemons, creatures whose very essence was aligned with darkness and lifeforce absorption, carried impurities—though theirs were so minuscule that they were rarely ever affected.
And so, Sam continued the process.
The impurities within her core—traces of inefficiencies, lingering weaknesses—were drawn out, dissolved, and cast away into the swirling tide of the Odyllic. Her very essence refined, her core growing ever more stable, radiant, and powerful. She was no longer simply stabilizing her core.
She was ascending.
Sam was breaking through the final barrier—the mortal limits shackling her existence. She could feel it. The fragile constraints of her vessel—the invisible chains binding her to what she had once been—were shattering one by one. She was evolving, growing beyond her current state, pushing past the confines of what had once been possible.
This was the most dangerous moment of Ascension—the threshold where mind, body, and soul were torn apart and remade anew. The moment one shattered their limitations, the body was subjected to unimaginable strain. It was as if her very essence had been thrust into the crucible of creation, burning away all that was weak, all that was insufficient.
Her mind strained under the immense pressure, threatening to fracture. Her veins ignited, Odic energy coursing through them like a raging inferno, rupturing blood vessels, and sending bright crimson streaks cascading down her skin. Her bones cracked, their structure breaking under the force of the transformation, only to be rebuilt stronger than before. Her flesh tore apart, every fiber splitting as if she were being unraveled at the most fundamental level—her very existence deconstructed.
And yet—just as swiftly as she was destroyed, she was reborn. The cycle repeated. Break. Reconstruct. Break. Reconstruct. Each time, she emerged stronger, her body reinforced with each passing moment. Her cells reorganized, her muscles reforged, and her bones hardened beyond their former limits. She wasn't just enduring—she was becoming something greater.
Then, as if her very mind had crossed a threshold beyond comprehension, reality itself began to shift. Her perception warped, her senses extending beyond the confines of the physical realm. Time lost its meaning. Space became fluid, folding and twisting around her. She could feel the Odyllic, not just as an external force, but as a fundamental part of her.
****
Unknown
Unknown
Unknown
When Sam opened her eyes, she was no longer in the same room as Emily. She stood on a bridge, its weathered stone surface beneath her feet feeling eerily familiar. A sense of déjà vu washed over her, a whispered memory of something she had long buried.
Around her, figures moved with urgency—men and women dressed in the distinctive regalia of Golden Dawn officials, their golden insignias glinting under an unseen light. Some carried strange instruments, their designs unfamiliar, while others wielded arcane devices pulsing with energy. Whatever their purpose, they were in a hurry, moving past her without so much as a glance.
It was as if she wasn't there at all. Sam's breath hitched as recognition struck her like a thunderclap.
This place…
It was the bridge.
The place where her accident had occurred all those years ago.
A low hum vibrated through the air, and at the center of the bridge stood a series of tall poles, each one emitting an energy field that shimmered like fractured glass. Outside the barrier, Sam saw Emani—her orange armor gleaming in the ambient light, her stance firm as she conversed with a group of Golden Dawn agents.
And beside her…
Phoebe Yesh. Sam's gaze followed Phoebe's line of sight. The woman's attention wasn't on Emani but beyond the barrier field, her piercing stare locked onto a specific point on the bridge. Something important was there. Something critical. Sam took a step forward, her movements smooth, deliberate. As she passed through the rushing officials, she noticed something strange.
They didn't react. Not a flicker of recognition. Not a single shift in expression. It was as if she were a ghost.
"They cannot see you."
The voice was soft yet resonant, carrying with it the weight of something immeasurably vast.
Sam turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.
Standing behind her was a woman, draped in a bright golden cassock robe, the fabric shimmering with an inner radiance. A white veil cascaded down her shoulders, parted just enough to reveal her face—a vision of ethereal beauty. But it was her eyes that struck Sam the most. Deep familiar blue, yet woven within them were golden threads, strands of celestial light twisting and interlocking—not randomly, but in patterns, forming complex calculations far beyond anything Sam could comprehend. Then, like a bolt of lightning striking her mind—recognition dawned. Sam had seen this woman before. Once, in a vision, fleeting and fragmented. But now, she stood before her in absolute clarity.
"You're Leon's mother," Sam whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Her eyes widened as realization hit her like a crashing wave.
"Julia Haravok."
She turned her head in shock, her mind racing with questions.
"How is this possible?"
"I brought your consciousness here," Julia said, her voice carrying an almost melodic resonance as if it were layered with something beyond human perception.
Sam's brows furrowed. "My consciousness?" she echoed. "How did you do that? I should be in Hyades City..."
Julia's serene expression remained unchanged.
"I did it through a spell," she replied simply.
But before Sam could press further, Julia tilted her head slightly. "That, however, is not the question you should be asking me."
Sam blinked, her mind racing.
"Then what should I ask?"
The question barely had time to settle in her thoughts before Julia answered, her golden-threaded eyes gleaming.
"You should be asking me why I have summoned you here."
Sam exhaled sharply. There was an undeniable weight behind those words.
"Why have you summoned me here?" she asked at last.
Julia's expression softened.
"You already know," she said. "You saw this place before—not long ago, in a vision. And in that vision, I was there. I told you something important, something you now remember."
Sam's breath hitched. The fragments of her vision—blurred and fragmented before—suddenly pieced together with perfect clarity.
"You told me…" Sam hesitated, her throat dry. "If I want to save Leon, then I must find the Twilight Crown."
Julia's lips curved ever so slightly. "You remember. Good."
Sam felt a sudden rush of urgency. "Is it true?" she asked, stepping forward. "This… this Crown. Can it save Leon?"
Julia held her gaze, unwavering. "Yes."
A slow exhale left Sam's lips, her pulse quickening.
"The Twilight Crown is a Divine-grade Enchanted Item," Julia continued. "It has long been a symbol of Starlight's might and power—both within the Divine Federation and beyond."
Sam's mind reeled.
"Divine grade…" she murmured.
She knew about the tiered classification of enchanted items and mana-based technology. From Common to Rare, from Mythic to Legendary—each grade represented a level of craftsmanship, power, and significance.
But Divine-grade was different.
It was the pinnacle, the absolute highest tier in existence. Divine-grade objects weren't just powerful artifacts; they were relics that shaped history, weapons wielded by gods, and symbols of absolute authority.
And now… she was being told that one of them—the Twilight Crown—held the key to saving Leon.
"Can it really save Leon?" Sam muttered, the weight of her hope fragile, yet impossible to suppress.
"Yes," Julia confirmed, her voice carrying the steady certainty of one who had seen lifetimes unfold. "The Crown was forged millions of years ago, in an era when Celestials walked upon the green earth of Terra—long before the birth of the Divine Federation. It belonged to an ancient kingdom, one lost to history, its name erased from the annals of time. The Crown itself was crafted from the bones and ashes of a Phoenix, imbued with the very essence of rebirth and renewal."
Sam's fingers curled slightly at her sides as she absorbed the magnitude of those words. A relic from an age before history itself. Something that defied time.
Her gaze shifted toward the barrier field, where Phoebe and Emani stood, their attention fixed on whatever lay contained within its confines.
"But I don't understand," Sam said, turning back to Julia. "If the Crown belongs to Starlight, why is it here?"
Julia's expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in her golden-threaded eyes—something between resignation and deep knowledge.
"The Fallen Stars used the chaos of the Uprising to steal the Crown," she explained. "Sophia and James brought it to Terra, hiding it away. Most Pleiadians believe the Crown is lost, its whereabouts unknown. But in truth, it has been here all along—sealed away after your father's death."
The words struck Sam like a physical force.
"Father…" she whispered.
She turned fully toward Julia, the pieces in her mind shifting, realigning with a past she had deliberately left untouched. There were questions she had always wanted to ask Sophia—about her father, about what happened—but she never had.
And now… standing before Leon's mother—this woman who should have been a stranger, yet felt inexplicably familiar—those questions resurfaced. Memories stirred. Memories she had long buried, and avoided, because of the pain woven into them.
"I remember you," Sam murmured, her voice softer now. "When I was a child… you used to visit." Julia said nothing, watching her with that patient, knowing gaze. The recollections became sharper, no longer distant fragments.
"You always brought Leon with you," Sam continued the realization unfurling within her. "He was my friend. He's always been my friend. Ever since I was a baby, you would come, stay for a while… and then you'd leave again. The last time I saw you or Leon was on my seventh birthday. After that…" Her voice faltered slightly. "You never came back."
Julia finally inclined her head, acknowledging the truth in Sam's words.
"That was likely when Leon started attending the Ascension Academy on Agartha," she said. "And it would have also been around the time I began my political career in the Divine Federation."
Sam studied her carefully. Something in her phrasing—the way she spoke of herself, the subtle uncertainty in her words—felt off. A flicker of suspicion crossed Sam's mind.
"You speak like you're not sure," she said slowly.
"Oh, I'm sure," Julia said, a knowing smile touching her lips. "But then again… who knows? Things may not have unfolded as I foresaw. The Julia that exists now… the Leon of the present… their past might not have happened the way I once foresaw all those years ago."
Sam blinked, her mind stuttering over the cryptic words. "What?"
A frown creased her brow. "What do you mean? Aren't you Julia Haravok?"
Julia tilted her head slightly, her golden-threaded eyes gleaming with a quiet, unreadable wisdom.
"Yes… and no," she said.
Sam's pulse quickened. "What does that mean?"
Julia exhaled softly, her gaze distant yet piercing.
"I am a fragment of Julia's consciousness," she revealed. "A piece of her mind, encoded into the spell that summoned this part of your consciousness into the Astral Plane."
Sam inhaled sharply. "You're… not really her?"
"I am her, but only in part," Julia clarified. "A memory given form. A shadow left behind to guide you when the time was right." The weight of those words settled deep in Sam's mind. She had not been speaking to the real Julia Haravok. Not entirely.
"What do you mean, guide me?" Sam asked, her voice edged with uncertainty.
Julia's gaze softened, yet there was an undeniable weight behind her words.
"I am a Seer, Samantha," she said, her tone carrying the quiet certainty of one who had long accepted the burden of knowing. "A witch who can perceive the variable outcomes of what is to come. I foresaw the Uprising before it happened. I saw Mallus's hand moving in the shadows, orchestrating it. Just as I foresaw my husband's death in the chaos that followed."
Sam felt a cold shiver crawl down her spine. The way Julia spoke—so matter-of-fact, so composed—it was unsettling. To know, to see the fate of those closest to you and be powerless to stop it… what kind of weight did that place on a person?
Julia continued, her voice unwavering. "I foresaw the theft of the Crown by the Fallen Stars. I foresaw the sickness that would one day consume my son." A lump formed in Sam's throat, her fists unconsciously clenching at her sides.
"And I foresaw you."
Sam's breath caught.
"I foresaw the role you would play in saving his life."
The words struck her like a blow, resonating deep within her core. Julia had known—long before Sam had even realized it herself. Her being here… her connection to Leon… none of it was mere chance. It had always been part of something bigger.
"When you were born, James and Sophia lost something precious to them," Julia said, her voice laced with quiet sorrow. "In her grief, Sophia lost sight of her love for James. And James… well, he just wanted to give you an ordinary life. A life away from the burdens of being raised as part of the Hidden world. He wanted something better for you."
Sam inhaled sharply, the weight of those words pressing against her chest.
"I know that," she murmured.
Julia studied her for a moment before continuing. "I helped him escape from Sophia," she admitted. "It was my spell that cloaked you both, making it impossible for you to be tracked. My spell that kept your Soul Core sealed."
Sam's eyes widened in realization.
"Otherwise, like Leon, you would have naturally awakened it around the age of nine."
A cold shiver ran down Sam's spine. Leon had awakened his Soul Core naturally. But she...she had been different. She had been blocked.
Julia's gaze didn't waver. "It was also my spell that sealed the Crown within James while he was alive—and when he died, it became bound to this very bridge, hidden away from those who would seek it."
Sam's breath hitched.
The Crown had been inside her father?
She turned her head toward the sealed barrier where Phoebe and Emani stood, unknowingly standing over the remnants of her father's secret.
"Why?" Sam whispered, turning back to Julia, her voice thick with emotion. "Why would you help Father run away from Sophia? Why would Father leave my mother behind?"
She had suspected it for a long time, but now, Julia's words confirmed it. She was right. She did have a sister. Whatever loss her father and mother had suffered… whatever broke them… it had everything to do with her sister.
"Unfortunately, I can't tell you why he wanted to leave Sophia," Julia said, her voice carrying the weight of a truth withheld. "It seems that when I created this construct of myself, I omitted certain things. After all, I knew we would have this conversation, and since this construct is not truly me, it is also not bound by the oath I swore to James to keep his truth hidden."
Sam stiffened, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.
"You swore an oath… to hide his deceit from me?" she said, her voice edged with something raw—betrayal, frustration, a deep ache of not knowing.
Julia met her gaze with quiet certainty. "Yes."
The word hung between them, heavier than anything else she had said before.
"While I cannot reveal James' reasons, I can tell you mine," Julia continued.
Sam remained silent, waiting.
Julia inhaled softly, her golden-threaded eyes darkening with the weight of her memories. "I swore an oath to save my son's life—from Mallus's curse. The sickness that is killing him."
The air around them felt thicker, the weight of truth pressing down on Sam's chest like an unseen force.
"I had just lost my husband," Julia said, her voice quieter now. "It had barely been three years since his death… and I was about to lose my son as well. I couldn't—" She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. "I wouldn't let that happen."
Sam felt the depth of her desperation. The raw, unrelenting fear of a mother who had already suffered one loss too many.
Julia's voice steadied. "But then… I realized something was different. Something had changed from the future I had foreseen."
A pause.
"My boy was supposed to die upon awakening."
Sam's breath caught.
Julia's gaze hardened. "I vowed to never let him awaken. To stop that future from coming to pass. And yet—" She shook her head. "He still awakened. Not through Gratia. Not through outside intervention." Her voice lowered, almost in disbelief. "He awakened… simply from the harmony of his own body."
"Like an Asha'Yee," Sam murmured, the realization settling over her like a heavy weight.
"Correct," Julia affirmed, her voice unwavering. "My family—the Delphi clan—was raised on the ancient stories of Asha, the pagan gods of Terra, and our sacred connection to Eldar, the goddess of the sun. Our knowledge is vast, deep—enough to rival even the archives of the Divine Federation." There was a quiet pride in her tone, but beneath it, something else lingered—something older, something steeped in the weight of centuries of wisdom and tragedy alike.
"So I sought a way," Julia continued, her golden-threaded eyes gleaming with the distant light of memory. "A way to rid Leon of the sickness. To cure him before it consumed him completely."
Sam remained silent, listening.
"He should have died," Julia admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was the fate I foresaw. It was absolute. No matter how many futures I gazed into, they all ended the same way. Upon his awakening, his body should have collapsed, unable to withstand the force of his own power."
Sam's throat tightened.
"But he lived," Julia went on. "Again and again, Leon survived—every time he ascended, he fought against the sickness with nothing but his will. He defied the vision I had seen. He endured. But the pain… the struggle…" She exhaled sharply, looking away as if the memories themselves were unbearable. "I couldn't stand it anymore."
Sam frowned, sensing the shift in the air. "So what did you do?"
Julia's gaze met hers, the golden threads in her irises swirling like constellations unraveling.
"I did the one thing no one should ever do," she said.
A pause.
A breath.
"I played with Fate itself."
Sam's pulse quickened. "Played with Fate?"
Julia nodded slowly. "I did things no one should ever have to do," she admitted, the weight of her words pressing into the space between them. "I tampered with forces beyond mortal understanding. I reached into the Web of Fate, unraveling what was woven, reshaping what was meant to be." She swallowed, her expression unreadable. "And I did it all… to save Leon."
"I ensured that events which should never have happened… happened," Julia said, her voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of something far heavier—an admission of actions that defied the very order of existence. Sam's breath caught. Julia had tampered with Fate itself. She had no idea what that meant.
"Of course," she continued, "manipulating Fate wasn't something I could do alone. Altering destiny, even in the smallest way, requires more than just will—it requires power, precision, and the hands of others who share the same stake in ensuring Leon's survival."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Help from whom?"
Julia shook her head. "Who they are doesn't matter."
Something about the way she said it—measured, deliberate—told Sam that Julia had no intention of revealing their identities. Not yet.
"What matters," Julia pressed on, "is that to save Leon, I needed him to return to Terra. I needed you to awaken from the seal James placed on you—with my help. I needed you to find the Crown and use it to save his life."
Sam clenched her jaw, her mind racing through the implications. Every event that had led her to this point… Julia had orchestrated it.
"That's why," Julia continued, "I placed a minor spell on the seal that locked the Crown away after James' death. A contingency. A failsafe."
Sam frowned. "A spell?"
"Yes. I designed it to react only to you. To pull your consciousness toward its location when the time was right."
Sam's heart pounded. That explained so much. The vision she had seen—the strange, fleeting connection she had felt to this place before—it wasn't some random occurrence. It was by design. Her design.
"We should have spoken back then," Julia admitted, her golden-threaded eyes momentarily dimming. "The first time you appeared here, I was supposed to give you the information you needed. But something went wrong."
Sam stiffened. "What happened?"
Julia's lips pressed into a thin line. "The Odic Force of your mind was too strong. The spell couldn't hold you. It was designed to summon only a fragment of your consciousness, to communicate without disrupting your waking mind. But your will was too powerful, and the connection collapsed before we could speak."
That made sense. Even before her Ascension, Sam had always had an abnormally strong Odic Force. If she had unknowingly resisted the spell, it wouldn't have been able to sustain itself.
Julia exhaled. "Which is why this time, it had to happen differently."
Sam's expression tightened. "You waited for a moment when my mind was vulnerable."
Julia nodded. "Yes. A moment when your Odic Force was occupied—when it was too busy keeping you alive to notice when I pulled a part of your mind here."
Sam inhaled sharply. So that was why it had happened now, during her Ascension, when her entire being was undergoing transformation. It wasn't a coincidence. It was calculated.
"How far into the future have you seen?" Sam asked, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of revelations unraveling before her.
Julia's lips curved slightly, a ghost of a smile tinged with something unreadable.
"You mean how much of Fate I have tampered with?" she mused, tilting her head slightly, as though the answer itself amused her. "Hmm… who knows?"
She turned her gaze upward for a brief moment, as if looking beyond this reality, beyond the limits of time itself.
"My current self is likely still playing her part in ensuring Leon's survival," she continued. "Even now, she is maneuvering, adjusting, making certain that the pieces fall as they should."
Sam narrowed her eyes. "You're saying that this version of you—this construct—only holds the memories of events leading up to this moment?"
Julia nodded. "Exactly. I only retain knowledge of events up until the time I was created—the time I encoded myself into this spell. Anything beyond that? It remains unknown, even to me."
Sam's fingers twitched at her sides, her mind working through the implications.
"Then… you're telling me that things have already changed," she said slowly. "That by speaking to me now, events that were supposed to happen may no longer happen. And events that were never meant to occur… might now unfold."
Julia met her gaze, the golden threads in her irises pulsing like strands of woven destiny.
"That's just how Fate works," she said. "The moment you interfere, you create ripples. Some turn into waves. Others into storms. Destiny is not a fixed road, Sam—it is a sea. And we are all caught in its currents, whether we realize it or not. What matters to me is that Leon survives," Julia said, her voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "And I know you want that too. I foresaw the union between my son and you, and the result of what that union would be..."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Sam threw up her hands, her face burning. "Nope! Don't tell me anything!"
She turned away, shaking her head furiously, refusing to entertain the thought. Just the way Julia had spoken—so certain, so absolute—made her stomach twist into knots.
"I don't want to know what's in store for Leon and me!" she said hastily. Yet, even as she tried to brush it off, she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Julia, ever composed, simply watched her with a knowing glint in her gold-threaded eyes.
"There won't be anything 'in store' if Leon doesn't survive," she said, her tone firm. "And trust me, Samantha, you want my son to live. If not for your personal future, then for the sake of Terra itself."
Sam sobered instantly, her amusement fading.
"Why?" she asked, crossing her arms. "What does Leon's fate have to do with Terra?"
Julia's gaze darkened.
"A lot."
Her next words carried a weight that sent a chill crawling down Sam's spine.
"Terra's fate, your fate, and humanity's fate are all tied to my son's survival."
Sam's pulse quickened, but before she could respond, Julia continued, her voice quieter now, but filled with an undeniable urgency.
"Terra is about to undergo its Awakening through the Celestial Realignment," she said. "Its existence—its very presence—will no longer be able to remain unnoticed."
Sam's breath hitched. She knew what that meant. Julia's expression grew grim.
"And when that happens, the Divine Emperor will take notice." A pause. A beat of silence thick with unspoken dread. Then Julia's voice dropped lower, sharp as a blade. "And trust me, Samantha—that is one god you do not want to be involved in Terra's affairs."