Mist drifted through the clearing like a pale, collective breath, drawn toward the luminescence of the glowing waterfall. Agora stood ankle-deep in the pool of liquid light, her long blue hair clinging to the curve of her back, her posture a masterpiece of unguarded stillness. The morning sun, filtering through the high canopy, fractured into soft beams that danced across her skin, making her appear as though she had been carved from the very light that surged behind her.
Her gaze, a brilliant, piercing blue, settled on the three robed figures at the edge of the woods.
"Who are you three?"
Her voice was gentle, yet it carried a subterranean echo—something ancient and layered that did not belong to a mortal throat. The sound rippled through the pool, sending perfect rings of light outward across the surface.
Selyndra stepped forward. Her golden hair caught the spray of the falls, igniting into a halo of warm radiance. Her eyes were steady, unblinking, her black cloak whispering against the glowing grass as she moved.
"We are known as the Great Sages," she said. "There are seven of us, though today we are but three."
Agora tilted her head, her curiosity quiet and weightless.
"We were told you were the rogue Twelve-Tailed Wolf," Selyndra continued, her voice firm as iron. "We know of your recent actions against the bandits and the syndicates. For that, you have our gratitude."
The woman's expression remained a mask of serenity, but the water behind her pulsed with a sudden, rhythmic light, reacting to a shift in her spirit.
Selyndra took another step, her boots sinking into the plush, bioluminescent moss. "But your kind is a mystery we have yet to solve. We ask that you come with us peacefully."
Iris moved to Selyndra's side, her red eyes sharp as flint, her black hair dancing in the crosswinds. Her cloak flared behind her like a living shadow. "I will be direct," Iris added. "If you choose to fight, you will be brought down."
The clearing fell into a heavy, expectant silence. The mist drifted lazily; the waterfall roared its light. Agora remained still, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, her expression unreadable.
Then, the air shifted. A breeze swept through, stirring the blue leaves overhead with a sudden, violent shiver. The woman blinked slowly.
"Is that a threat?"
Her voice was soft, but the forest seemed to lean in, breathless, to hear the answer.
"It could be," Selyndra replied. "That depends entirely on your next move."
Agora blinked once more, a slow, deliberate movement. She stepped out of the water, droplets of light sliding down her glowing skin like liquid diamonds. As she moved, something unfurled from behind her—twelve massive blue tails, puffy and radiant, swaying like a slow-moving storm. Two sharp blue ears twitched atop her head, alert and regal.
She walked to a nearby tree, retrieving a blue robe from a branch and wrapping it around herself with unhurried grace. "I see then."
She turned her head. Selyndra felt it first—a pulse. Invisible. Violent. Sudden.
It slammed into Selyndra's chest like a physical hammer, launching her backward through the treeline. Branches snapped like dry bones; leaves scattered in a frantic swirl. She hit the ground and slid, her boots carving deep furrows into the glowing moss before she finally ground to a halt.
Iris and Seraphaine bolted, mana flaring around their feet in a desperate surge.
Agora simply raised a hand.
A secondary force erupted from the sky—a crushing weight like a falling mountain. It pinned Iris and Seraphaine to the earth instantly, the pressure agonizing, forcing the air from their lungs and their knees into the soil.
Agora watched them with a detached, mild curiosity. "Interesting. I sensed your arrival. You carried such vast energy... and yet, you three are weak."
Iris snarled, her face pressed into the dirt as she struggled to rise. Seraphaine's fingers clawed at the glowing earth, her purple eyes burning with a cold, concentrated fury.
"Weak?" a voice echoed from behind the wolf.
Agora's eyes widened. Selyndra stood there, her golden hair glowing with a dangerous, steady heat, her eyes sharp as glass. Her hand was clamped firmly around Agora's neck.
"I recommend you release your hold and calm your spirit," Selyndra said, her voice a low, lethal vibration. "Or I will be forced to ensure you leave this forest with broken bones."
Agora's breath caught—not in terror, but in genuine surprise. She gave a small, conceding nod.
The pressure vanished. Iris and Seraphaine gasped, scrambling to their feet and brushing the loam from their cloaks. Selyndra released her grip. Agora rubbed her neck lightly, turning to face them with a newfound respect.
"Very well," she said. "I will cooperate."
The four of them began the trek deeper into the wilds. Glowing rivers wound around them like threads of living light. Agora's twelve tails swayed in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, brushing the grass and leaving trails of azure sparks behind her.
"So," Seraphaine said, breaking the quiet. "What is your name?"
"Agora."
"Iris," Iris grunted, still adjusting her cloak.
"Seraphaine," the other added with a small, resilient grin.
Selyndra led the way. "Selyndra."
Agora tilted her head. "I have heard those names."
The three Sages shared a sharp look. "From where?" Iris asked.
"A village I passed two days ago," Agora said. "The people spoke of three young women who had ascended to the Council of Gods."
Seraphaine blinked. "Word moves that fast?"
Iris sighed. "News is the only thing faster than a teleporter."
Selyndra remained silent, her golden eyes narrowing as she processed the implications. Agora continued, her blue robe fluttering. "They spoke highly of you. Said you were powerful. Said you were chosen."
Seraphaine's grin widened. "Well, they aren't wrong."
Iris elbowed her. "Don't get cocky."
"It's not cocky if it's confidence," Seraphaine shot back.
Agora watched them, a faint, ghost of a smile touching her lips. "You three are different. Not like the others I have encountered."
Selyndra glanced over her shoulder. "Is that a compliment?"
"Perhaps."
They walked until the trees thinned, revealing an open field of blue grass where the white Gama lay resting. The massive bird lifted its head, blinking its vast eyes.
"You've returned," it rumbled, the sound vibrating through the earth.
Agora stared in awe. "A Gama. I haven't seen one in centuries."
The bird snorted, a gust of wind tossing the blue grass. "I'm not that old."
They climbed onto the broad, feathered back, Agora's tails curling neatly around her legs. With a thunderous beat of its wings, the Gama launched. The forest shrank into a tapestry of blue veins and dark shadows as they ascended into the clouds, heading for the Land of Gods.
Selyndra reached into the bag and pulled out the familiar wooden box. She looked at Agora.
"Do you know how to play?"
Agora blinked, her curiosity piqued. "No. But perhaps you could teach me?"
Selyndra offered a soft, genuine smile. "Of course."