The World Ruins.
In the furthest south of Aetheria, where the Primordials' Sanctuary once flourished, desolation stretched as far as the eye could see. What was once a great civilization now lay in waste and ruin.
Crumbling structures stood silent. Their grandeur had faded centuries ago, leaving only skeletal sentinels to mark a forgotten era. Unseen creatures howled across the expanse. Their cries echoed through broken stone and twisted metal.
A warning.
A promise.
Death waited here for the unwary.
And at the heart of this forsaken place, a gaping maw yawned open. Its edges were jagged and uneven.
Within, a familiar figure reclined on a makeshift throne.
Silva.
She lounged in her kitsune form, heels kept tapping the ground. Multiple tails swayed behind her. Each movement hypnotic. Graceful. Her golden eyes fixed on the figure before her.
Suddenly…
A pulse traveled through the earth beneath her. Silva's body stiffened. Her connection to the land, like nerves firing signals to a brain, brought her distant whispers of activity. She felt the tremors through stone and soil. Information flowed upward through her roots of influence.
Her mind constructed the fragments.
Leo.
Moving.
Evolving.
She couldn't see him directly, but every vibration told a story. Every shift in the earth's rhythm painted a picture in her consciousness. Like a body sensing the movement of its limbs, she felt his presence across the vast distances of Aetheria.
Another pulse.
Silva's body tensed. Energy coursed through her like lightning. Her eyes widened. Pupils dilated. The signals from below painted vivid scenes in her mind.
Leo's form expanding, power erupting from him like a volcanic force. A wave of ecstasy washed over her, and she ran her hands along her neck.
A low moan escaped her lips.
"Oh, Leo." Her voice thick with admiration. "How magnificent you are. In such a short time, you've mastered my mimic skills in ways I never dreamed possible."
Silva's body convulsed. Her hands roamed over her form as she interpreted the distant tremors.
In her mind's reconstruction, Leo's silhouette loomed large. A colossal entity erupted from a single limb on his back, all built from the fragments of sensation flowing through earth and stone.
Power.
Overwhelming.
Tremors of excitement rippled through her.
"He's evolving so quickly," Silva whispered.
"Soon, he'll be ready. And then..."
Her lips curled into a deep grin. Sharp canines gleamed.
"Then the real game begins."
The captive woman stirred. Her lips barely parted.
Amusement.
Disdain.
"You're such a boring captive," Silva drawled, her attention returning to the scene before her.
Chains bound a woman of ethereal beauty to the ground. Her Moonlight Dress shimmered faintly in the dim light, once a symbol of elegance and power. Now it hung in tatters around her slender frame. Metallic chains snaked up her arms. Cold metal against warm skin. She sat hunched over, alluring yet pitiful in her defeat.
A young girl approached the captive. Wide eyes filled with curiosity. The mask perched atop her head seemed to move on its own, empty eyes following the girl's gaze.
"When will she wake up?" the girl asked. Her voice echoed in the cavernous space.
"When will she wake up?" The mask repeated immediately after, creating an unsettling artificial echo that stretched the words unnaturally.
The girl tilted her head and frowned. "Is she dead?"
"Is she dead?" The mask's mimicry followed like a shadow, its tone perfectly matching yet somehow hollow.
"She always says 'Mother'." The girl reached out as if to touch the captive's face.
"She always says 'Mother'." The mask intoned with the same melancholy, but stripped of genuine emotion.
Silva waved a dismissive hand. "Leave her be. We can do nothing to her now."
A shadow passed over her face.
An ancient memory flickered.
"I once tried to absorb an Arcanite, centuries ago. But my skill fails utterly with them."
"Mother..."
The word slipped through like a ghost. Silence followed, stretching until the air could no longer hold its breath.
Silva's eyes snapped.
Surprise.
For a moment, her confident demeanor faltered. Genuine concern flickered across her features. But as quickly as it appeared, the moment passed. Her mask of cruel amusement slid back into place.
"Well, well." Silva chuckled and leaned forward on her throne. "It seems our little pawn is causing quite a stir, even here in the depths of oblivion."
She studied Roxanne with renewed interest.
"I wonder, my dear Roxanne, what dreams hunt your slumber? Do you want mama to cradle you in her arms and sing you a lullaby?"
The young girl approached Roxanne again. Childish curiosity mixed with eerie purpose as she knelt before the captive.
Small hands reached out. She grasped the tattered edges of Roxanne's Moonlight Dress at the cleavage.
"I want it," the girl whispered.
"I want it," the mask echoed, its voice creating an artificial reverberation.
Without hesitation, the girl pushed her face into Roxanne's chest.
Searching.
"Searching, searching," the girl murmured.
"Searching, searching," the mask chanted immediately after, the singsong voice echoing off cavern walls with mechanical precision.
Silva's amusement grew. Eyes glinted with malicious glee.
"My, my, what an interesting development. Tell me, my babies, what treasure do you hope to find in our dear Arcanite's bosom?"
Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper.
Then…
A light.
Warm.
Breathing.
Roxanne's chest began to glow with soft, pulsing radiance. The light pulsed in rhythm with her heart, growing brighter with each beat. It illuminated the girl's face pressed against her, casting ethereal shadows that danced across the cavern walls.
The darkness that had shrouded Silva's domain was suddenly pierced by this gentle, otherworldly luminescence.
Silva's face darkened.
Her smile vanished.
Confusion marked her features like cracks in marble.
Uncertainty.
A race which even she could not devour now exhibited unknown power.
The air hum.
The power challenged everything she understood.
The cavern fell into an uneasy silence. The warm light continued to pulse from Roxanne's chest, steady as a heartbeat.
Hope.
Foreboding.
Change.
In this forsaken corner of what was once the First Adventurer's stronghold, the boundaries between nightmare and reality blurred further still.