"Hey, Lynx, why is there an emergency summons at this hour?"
"I do not know."
"There's something even the Whisper does not know…"
"What it may be, opened the Lusious Palace to disarray. We've arrived."
The two came before the gleaming gates of the Lusious Palace, hovering mid-air for a few moments before descending onto the clouds upon which the palace stood.
"It's as beautiful as the first day I laid eyes upon it."
"Jerrot, now is not the time for admiration. The Heart in me senses restlessness, anguish, and anger within."
"What truly do you sense?"
"I do not know. But many are on the way. This summons is grander and more important."
As they waited before the gates, the sound of distant muttering and the heavy beat of wings drew near. The others had arrived.
"Greetings, Lynx." A voice rang from above. Raising their heads, they beheld an angel descending, porcelain-white wings unfurled in fourfold majesty. All knelt in reverence—save Lynx and Jerrot, who only inclined their heads in acknowledgment.
"We are graced by your presence, Your Excellency."
"No need for formalities. We have been summoned by the Luminous Emperor and Empress. I, too, stand here, not as one of status, but as a member of the court and Empire."
As the assembly rose, one dared to voice the question pressing upon them all:
"Your Excellency, for what reason has this gathering been called?"
"I have no clue. I rushed here as swiftly as possible upon receiving the summons. Perhaps Lynx may have an answer."
"Apologies, but I remain without a clue, as you all."
A hush fell, then whispers broke out among the crowd.
"For the Whisper to have no clue…" one murmured.
"Does not the Whisper span the entire Empire and continent?" another pressed. "How can you bear the title of Whisper, when you fall short?"
Murmurs swelled into unease—worry, doubt, and distress rippling through the gathered court.
"Calm yourselves, people." The Excellency stepped forward, her presence commanding the air. The murmuring ceased at once. "Lynx, even though the Whisper is not Omnipotent—no Whisper across all continents or the Divine Realm is Omnipotent—I am certain he holds more, even if he knows not the reason entire. By name, permit him to speak."
"Gratitude of mine, I give, sister." Lynx's voice carried, now addressing all. "Hours had passed when Majesties woke in anguish. They awoke from dream. They awoke from nightmare."
The crowd gasped. Whispers rose like wind through leaves, but were cut short as Lynx pressed on: "Majesties awoke in restlessness, in anguish, and in anger. Witness my sight bore to—cut out was of His Majesty."
A voice cried from the crowd, disbelief sharp as steel: "The Whisper's senses can be cut out… blocked?"
New murmurs surged, discovery rippling through the assembly. Yet Lynx did not falter.
"Senses may be cut. But the heart of mine remains—sensing, feeling, reading. Minutes of past were within anguish and anger. Now, heart of I senses rage, fear, madness… and intent to kill."
"What?!" The cry erupted from all, a chorus of shock.
Her Excellency's voice rose again, steady yet grave: "What could have transpired to leave the Majesties in such a state?"
"Of which I do not know," Lynx answered, turning to face the gates, "but of which soon be answered."
The gates of the grand palace finally opened. Two single-winged servants stepped forth to greet the assembly. Yet at the sight of them, every face turned to disgust. Even those who sought to hide it could not mask their revulsion; it was palpable, cutting through the air. For a moment, all shock was forgotten, replaced by disdain.
The servants, knowing their place, dared not meet a single gaze. They bowed low in greeting.
"Distinguished guests, the Emperor and Empress of the great Luminous Empire await."
One by one, the court stepped through the gates, heads held high, eyes fixed forward—so as not to behold the disgrace.
"I cannot believe they allow such things to serve within the Lusious Palace," Jerrot declared, his voice loud enough for all to hear. The words struck like a lash, sending shivers down the servants' spines. "They stain its beauty."
"Agreement, I find myself. Out they must be, in the streets they belong." Lynx's voice followed, his cadence unbroken, cold and final.
"Calm down, boys." Her Excellency's arms wrapped around their necks, and their wings unfurled in reflex. "Do you then intend for the wingless—or worse, the Nocthra—to serve the Majesties?"
"Lyntha, how dare you utter such ludicrous words!" Jerrot's fury flared. "I shall have your wings."
"Quell your fury, brother," Lyntha chuckled, dismissive. "The wingless are off the table. The Nocthras can never be considered. These—" her voice rose, sharp as steel, "the single-winged—may not be worthy, but they are the closest things to us."
"I understand their service," Jerrot pressed, "but why not let us serve the palace?"
"Brother, brother, brother…" Her smile vanished. Her voice turned cold, her presence swelling with force. "If we are to serve, then what is their use? Remember: those of little value must prove their usefulness. Isn't that right?"
Her glare fell upon the bowing servants. Trembling, they managed, "You are always right, Your Excellency."
"Ugh. My ears feel damaged just hearing your voices." With a wave of her hand, she continued, "Leave. I shall transport you all."
The servants dissolved into feathers, scattering into the air, carried away on unseen currents.
"They cannot even fly properly. How do they bear the same blood as us?" one in the crowd spat. Another voice followed, darker: "How I have dreamt to end their meaningless lives—to bring reprieve to them, to us, to all. But I cannot. We cannot."
"I do hold… we all hold such desire," Lyntha spoke with grace, though her words dripped with venom, "yet we are bound by law. A law that shackles our very lives."
"Sentimentality I wish to endoge," Lynx intoned, "yet time awaits none."
"Lynx is right. The Emperor and Empress await our presence. Let us depart."
Lyntha raised her hand and uttered: "METAKINÓ."
A thick fog began to coil around them, swallowing their forms as they slowly vanished.
The next moment, they found themselves in the Grand Court. The Emperor and Empress sat upon the Luminous Throne, a palpable tension radiating from the dais. As one, the assembly knelt in formal salutation.
"Before the Luminous Throne, we bow.
Our lives we serve, our honor we offer.
The empire bathes in your blessing, the continent prays for your grace.
Prosperity and abundance—"
"Stop." The Emperor's voice sliced through the ritual chant, sharp and absolute. "Stop it. This is not the time." His face was strained, masked by a cold restraint that failed to hide a profound, roiling emotion underneath.
The court froze in stunned silence. The interruption of the sacred glorification was unprecedented. 'Is that the Emperor? Or an imposter?' The question, unspoken, echoed in every noble mind, and new, chilling doubts began to spread.
The Empress adjusted her posture, her eyes showing a deep weariness. They needed to move past this ceremony.
"Silence!" The Emperor's voice boomed, eradicating the rising disquiet. "All present not of my family, leave at once. This is not a court in session; this is a family meeting."
Instantly, the guards, maids, and attendants dissolved into soft showers of feathers, which fluttered out through the tall, arched windows. The grand hall emptied with a sound like wind rustling silk.
"I will repeat for the last time," the Emperor stated, his eyes piercing the remaining group of nobles. "Those not of my house… leave."
A perfect silence followed. Then, one single, brilliant feather spiraled lazily upward, paused, and dissolved into nothingness.
"Lynx, are we truly alone?"
"Alone we all are, Your Majesties."
"Good, good, good." The Emperor's cold façade vanished, replaced by a profound, shaking fear. "Enthyxia and I stand before you not as ruler, not as Emperor and Empress, but as son and daughter, brother and sister, father and mother, uncle and aunt."
The Empress, Enthyxia, took over, her voice steady yet weighted by immense stress.
"We did not summon you for a court hearing, but to discuss a matter pressing upon our family. Months prior, we rid ourselves of the disgrace that stained our name—the name of royalty."
"My child, what are you getting at?" A distinguished voice rose from the gathering. A man with elegant features and wide, ivory wings stepped forward. "On that very day, I personally branded it with the seal, after the Guardians had left it verg. You witnessed it with your own eyes—it fell upon the path of monsters. Its death was an absolute certainty, a confirmation you yourselves affirmed."
"You speak the truth, Tratrix," the Emperor conceded. "We felt it through the Parental Link; its life had been extinguished."
"Then why bring it up, Father?" Jerrot challenged. "Do you know how difficult it was for us, the Guardians, to subdue it without outright ending its life?"
"I understand the difficulty you endured," the Emperor replied, his voice thick with dread, "yet it lives. The Fallen Death-Bringer still lives. Morvanyth Nocthra still lives."
The court gasped collectively. In that shocking instant, they understood why everyone else had been driven out. This was not a meeting of state; it was the chilling announcement of the second greatest disaster ever to befall the Luminous family.
Morvanyth was more than a mere shame; she was the Empire's gravest disgrace, a stain upon the entire Divine Realm. Since the day her black wings first feathered, the Latious continent and its ruling house had been subjected to unending humiliation. Their honor was shredded, their prestige reduced to a public jest.
And now, just as the Luminous Empire had begun to desperately reclaim the influence, power, and authority that had been so cruelly mocked, this devastating news struck them like a curse resurrected.
"Tell me it is a lie." Tratrix's voice was dangerously low, yet absolute in its command. "The Parental Link is not something that can be easily altered or tricked. Through it, you felt her life end — and now you claim she still lives? Stop joking, elder brother."
His voice rapidly escalated as a long-simmering anger erupted.
"When the former Empress Destia died birthing your sons, Jerrot and Lynx, the empire was thrown into crisis. And you, in your grief, were left ruined. I stepped in and offered to run things on your behalf. Years later, you took an interest in my daughter, and I gave her to you, for she brought you some semblance of stability. Only for you to—"
"Father! Please quell your anger!" Enthyxia's voice snapped, cutting him short with a sudden, sharp clarity. "You speak before your Sovereigns."
"Silence!" Tratrix thundered back, his ivory wings vibrating with rage. "You stand before me now not as Sovereigns, and so I will treat you as such. Your union was meant to usher the empire into a new era. Even the Aetherions watched with hope. And what did it produce? You birthed into this realm something so vile, so utterly wretched, that even an abomination pales in comparison.
After all the struggle to rid ourselves of her, after confirming her death, you now claim she still lives? Then I was utterly mistaken to ever withdraw from the race for the throne. You have profoundly disappointed me, brother."
Before the Emperor could formulate a reply, a hand was deliberately raised from the kneeling assembly, drawing every eye.
"Permission of intervention," Lynx's voice sliced through the charged atmosphere. "Assumption of her survival, I do have. May I offer, father?"
"Please, go ahead."
"Of our reality lies beings, souls not of us.
Outsiders not of us, not our reality.
From outer they originate,
Entering freely is our universe.
These of them referred as Transmigraters.
Walk in shoes of us,
Wearing our very faces.
Into our reality, they emerge as:
Reincarnators, Summons, Drifters, Invitees, and of most—
Possessors.
...."
Tratrix immediately seized upon Lynx's words. "Just as Lynx said, the soul within the body may no longer be Morvanyth's but belongs to another. I'm sure, given the haste of the situation, you failed to examine the soul."
"Yes, that's the only reasoning that makes sense," one of the gathered agreed, and another seconded, "The Link itself confirmed it; it can only be another soul."
"If it is a different soul, then the law may not apply," Jerrot pressed. "Father, tell us where she is currently located. Laying her body to rest is a justifiable and reasonable cause."
"Tell us, Tretrix," Tratrix urged, "tell us where Morvanyth is, for laying kin to rest is a reasonable cause."
The others began to chant in unison:
"Tell us where Morvanyth is, for laying kin to rest is a reasonable cause.
Tell us where Morvanyth is, for laying kin to rest is a reasonable cause.
Tell us where Morvanyth is, for laying kin to rest is a reasonable cause.
Tell us where Morvanyth is, for laying kin to rest is a reasonable cause."
"CUT IT!" Tretrix roared, his voice momentarily regaining its Imperial volume before he brought it down to a desperate plea. "Please… stop. We wish, we truly wish it were so. But our feelings for Morvanyth are too strong to deceive us, making the Link even stronger. Even for a few seconds, we felt her — and her soul was the same."
"Hold on, Tretrix," Lyntha interjected, her fourfold wings shifting slightly. "Are you saying your contact with her was lost? How is that possible? The Three-Way Parental Link transcends all, even space and time — and you lost contact?"
"Whoever rescued her has a way to block information particles," Enthyxia said gravely. "But she is not far from where she landed. She remains on Azure, on the Tensen Continent, in a settlement named Bayport."
Jerrot scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "What exactly do you want us to do, then? Go kill her? None here, not even you, are willing to give up their life to end hers."
"We wish to bring no harm to others," Tretrix answered, his fear replaced by cold resolve, "but we cannot let her be, nor whoever rescued her. Now you all know the situation. We summoned you to lend us your Prints. Enthyxia and I have decided to unleash a Black Star."
A collective, shuddering shock rippled through the court. Some flinched visibly, while others—more calculating—simply hardened their expressions, having anticipated this ultimate measure.
"We would have gladly agreed to lend our Print if it were someone else," Tratrix said, his voice flat with disapproval. "But Morvanyth is of our kin. Her death, even indirectly, would implicate us under the celestial laws."
"That is not our aim, brother." A strange, thin smile spread across Tretrix's face. "We plan to modify the Black Star not to target her, but Bayport. Anyone or any place harboring Morvanyth will face the Misfortune of the Black Star. They dare to shelter her — they shall reap the consequences."