Tribbie's gaze also softened as it fell upon Phaethon. She watched as he parted from Phionon and then naturally offered a gentle smile to the curious Trianne who approached.
A warm, relieved smile never left her face as she replied softly, "Yes, Agy. He is Phaethon."
"And our premonition grows stronger – the 'Deliverer' foretold in the prophecies to bring a turning point might not be one, but two."
She paused, her tone carrying a hint of awe. "Just yesterday, he met us formally for the first time."
"And today, he can wield the power of the Infinity Gate so effortlessly, so casually... even without any apparent cost."
Aglaea's peerlessly beautiful face shifted almost imperceptibly. She tilted her head slightly, but her voice remained as cold as sacred scripture: "Teacher, I understand your trust."
"But I must speak plainly. He is, after all, not the 'Golden Descendant' explicitly pointed to by the Divine Prophecy. Necessary observation and testing remain indispensable steps to ensure the foundation of the Sanctuary remains secure."
Hearing this, Tribbie let out a soft sigh. Her gaze moved away from Phaethon and settled on Cyrene, who was not far away, excitedly holding Evelyn's hand and chattering nonstop while pointing out the various novelties of the Sanctuary.
That scene, full of vitality and energy, stood in stark contrast to Aglaea's icy words.
"Agy," Tribbie's voice held a trace of barely perceptible pain and a senior's concern, "Your... loss of humanity seems more severe than when we last met."
She turned her head, looking directly into Aglaea's eyes, which lacked warmth, her tone becoming deadly serious, carrying the unique, time-worn wisdom and inclusivity of our kind.
"Rather than using cold tests to measure a possibility that brings hope, we would rather choose to believe."
"To believe in the miracle brought by this power, to believe in that sincere heart that still seeks to protect others even in desperate straits. Sometimes, trust itself is the greatest power, and the best weapon against the cold unknown."
Her words were like a stone dropped into a calm lake, seeming to stir a faint, almost undetectable ripple deep within the constant emerald of Aglaea's eyes, before it settled back into stillness once more.
The Guardian of the Sanctuary remained, like the magnificent golden gate behind her, silent and steadfast, guarding the order she understood.
***
After meeting Aglaea, Elliott, sensing the mood, wisely took Evelyn aside to make their exit. "Well... Phaethon, Cyrene, we'll be taking our leave now?"
He spoke while subtly giving Evelyn a "we should go" look.
Catching his meaning, Evelyn's gaze swept over Cyrene with a hint of complex emotion, and she gave a slight bow. "Indeed, Elliott and I won't disturb your reunion any further. We take our leave."
Cyrene, however, stepped forward and affectionately squeezed Evelyn's hand, her smile warm. "Go on, get settled! Remember to come find me and Phaethon to play later♪"
Watching the two leave, Phaethon finally looked around belatedly. "Huh? Where's Castorice? I haven't seen her since we arrived at the Sanctuary?"
"You," Cyrene said, giving him a mock-annoyed look, her tone teasing, "were so completely focused on your dear brother, you had no eyes for anyone else!"
"Castorice left on her own after dropping us off at the main gate of the Sanctuary."
(Castorice: Witnessing the meeting between Lord Phainon and Lord Phaethon has moved me deeply.
In plain language: The inspiration is here, about family. Time to go write.)
"Welcome, everyone, to Okhema," Aglaea's cool voice interjected at the appropriate moment. Once she had everyone's attention, she continued, her gaze resting particularly on Cyrene, "Especially you, Lady Cyrene. As a token of the Sanctuary's respect for you, I sincerely invite you and Lord Phaethon to join me for a discussion at the 'Heroes' Bath' of Okhema."
Phaethon and Cyrene exchanged a glance, both seeing curiosity and a touch of solemnity in the other's eyes. They nodded in unison.
***
The group followed Aglaea to a corner of the public Grand Bath. Ahead lay the platform leading to the elevator for the Heroes' Bath. The air here was filled with a warm, moist mist and a faint, peculiar fragrance.
Just as they were about to step onto that platform symbolizing honor, a sharp, acerbic voice abruptly cut through the sacred atmosphere:
"Aglaea! Do you truly hold the thousand-year iron laws of the Sanctuary in such contempt?!"
Everyone turned towards the source of the voice. There, standing in the shadowed colonnade beside the bath, was an old woman clad in the standard gray robes of the Senate, her hair dry, gray, and frizzled like withered grass, her features sharp and unkind. It was Caenis, the Senator most at odds with Aglaea within the Council of Elders. Her murky eyes flashed with undisguised hostility and arrogance.
The aura around Aglae instantly dropped to freezing point. She turned slowly, her emerald eyes locking onto Caenis without a trace of warmth, her voice calm yet imbued with undeniable authority:
"Senator Caenis. Before the Council of Elders levels any accusations against me, I advise you to first present a more substantial reason."
"Reason?" Kennis sneered, pointing a finger at Phaethon and Cyrene, her voice rising with inflammatory rhetoric, "What further reason is needed?! The Heroes' Bath! This sacred ground is reserved for the heroes of Okhema, for the noble descendants who carry the Golden Blood! Last time, I let you off with just a warning when you brought that so-called 'Deliverer' of unknown origins inside!"
"And now, you grow even more brazen, intending to lead two outsiders from who-knows-what backwater into this hallowed place? Aglaea! Is this how you Golden Descendants show your disregard for hierarchy and trample upon our rules?!"
Aglaea's expression showed no fluctuation, as if she were stating the simplest of facts: "The Heroes' Bath was built by the Sanctuary in gratitude for the merits and sacrifices of the Golden Descendants."
"Any who carry the Golden Bloodline are naturally permitted entry. This is the founding principle of the Bath itself. How does this constitute trampling upon the rules?"
"Humph! Sophistry!" She pointed sharply at Phaethon and Cyrene, her voice shrill and piercing, "You claim they are Golden Descendants? Fine! Then prove it to me! Prove it to all the people of the Sanctuary!"
"Cut them open, let that 'non-human' golden blood flow forth! Otherwise, how can you prove they aren't impostors you've scrounged from outside to consolidate your own power?!"
"You...!" Phainon, hearing this, felt his blood boil and stepped forward to argue, but was pulled back by Tribbie.
"Little Snowy." Tribbie shook her head.
At the same moment, a soft, warm hand gently grasped Phaethon's wrist.
It was Cyrene, worried that Phaethon might resort to force like he did in Janusopolis: "Little Whitey, don't be impulsive. This is the Sanctuary..."