Priscilla didn't need to speak because her soul-bound companions were done being polite.
Aurelius stood up, his massive paws cracking the obsidian floor. He didn't growl; he projected. His voice exploded into the minds of the cousins like a physical blow.
"You speak of purity," Aurelius rumbled, his Tidal Class energy washing over them in cold, suffocating waves. "Yet you sit in a palace built on the bones of those she saved. Your blood is not pure; it is thin. It is the blood of scavengers who feast on the courage of a lioness. You are guests in a world she bought with her own life. Act like it, or I shall return you to the dirt you value so much."
Seraphina gasped, her "Social Insight" shattering as she felt the sheer, ancient weight of the Chimera's mind. She clutched her head, tears of spiritual strain leaking from her eyes.
The Spark of the Future
Cypher, the Aether-Drake, stopped playing with the forks. He stood up on the table, his crystalline horns glowing a sharp, warning crimson. He turned his golden eyes toward Julian and Felix, his throat beginning to hum with a Stoker Class heat.
"Mother does not answer the buzzing of flies," Cypher chirped, his voice a melodic yet terrifying harmonic that caused the crystal glasses on the table to shatter one by one. "The clock-man Marcus was louder than you, and he is now a ghost in a jar. Would you like to see how the Sharp Class feels against that silk collar, little man?"
Cypher's wings blurred, a Strike Class vibration that created a monomolecular hum in the air. A nearby porcelain vase, a Vane-Crest heirloom, suddenly split in half, perfectly bisected by the sheer frequency of the Drake's intent.
The Architect's Command
Priscilla finally moved. She placed her hand on Cypher's head, and the terrifying aura snapped back into her like a retracting blade. The silence that followed was even more frightening than the pressure.
She looked at her cousins—these people who shared her name but understood nothing of her sacrifice. She saw their fear, their greed, and their profound insignificance.
"The tea is cold," Priscilla said. Her voice was a low, melodic rasp that carried the weight of a death sentence.
She stood up. Aurelius moved behind her like a living shadow, and Cypher leaped onto her shoulder, his scales reflecting the violet light of her port.
"Felix, Alexander, Seraphina," she said, calling them by name for the first time. "You spent your lives guarding a grave. I have built a world. If you wish to live in it, you will learn to speak with respect. If you wish to rule it..."
She leaned over the table, her golden eyes flashing with a predatory light.
"...then I suggest you find a way to survive the descent I am about to make. Because when I return from the Core, there will be no room for the 'Old Blood.' Only the New Heart."
She turned her back on them, walking toward the balcony. She didn't look back to see Julian collapse into his chair or Marcus shaking with silent rage. She looked at the stars, where the Dragon had flown, and then down at the ground, where the Sentinels waited.
"They are finally quiet, Little Star," Aurelius purred as they reached the balcony.
"Quiet is better than loud, Aurelius," Priscilla whispered. "But the Core... the Core is going to be the loudest thing we've ever heard. Let's get the ship ready."