The view from the Ivory Tower was magnificent, but to Nephis, it looked like a cage.
Four years had passed since the Third Nightmare. Four years since the Great Clans had solidified their hold on the world, and Nephis had ascended to a height of power that few could comprehend. She was the Changing Star, the Heir of the Immortal Flame, the radiant hope of humanity.
She stood by the window of her solar, watching the clouds drift over Bastion. Her beautiful face was impassive, a mask of cold perfection that she wore like armor.
But beneath the armor, she was tired.
It wasn't a physical exhaustion — her Transcendent body knew no fatigue. It was a weariness of the soul.
She looked down at her hand. It was steady, strong, capable of incinerating armies. Yet, lately, she felt a phantom weight pressing against her back. A sense that someone should be standing there.
'I am doing this alone,' she thought, the realization bitter.
She had Cassie, of course. She had Effie, Kai, and Jet. They were her family. But they looked up to her. They followed her light.
She longed for something else. Something she couldn't name. A presence that didn't look up to her, but looked at her. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to call her a fool, someone who would complain and scheme but ultimately stand firm when the world collapsed.
She felt like a sword without a sheath. Sharp, dangerous, and dangerously exposed.
"Who did I forget?" she whispered to the silence. "Or am I just going mad?"
She turned away from the window, her white hair swaying. She reached for a report on the table — logistics for the expansion into Godgrave. It was heavy, dull work. The kind of work she hated.
'He would have hated this too,' a stray thought crossed her mind.
Nephis froze. He? Who was he?
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to grasp the shadow of the thought, but it slipped away like water through fingers.
There was no "he."
There was only her.
"You are searching for a ghost again."
The soft voice didn't startle Nephis. She didn't turn around as the heavy oak door of her solar creaked open.
Cassie, Song of the Fallen, walked into the room.
Usually, the blind girl moved with the grace of a breeze, effortless and serene. But today, her steps were heavy. Nephis turned, and her mask of indifference cracked just a fraction at the sight of her friend.
Cassie looked... haggard.
The ethereal beauty was still there, but it was brittle now, like porcelain left out in a storm. Her face was gaunt, the skin pulled tight over her cheekbones, possessing a sickly pallor that even her Transcendent vitality couldn't flush away. Her golden hair, usually cascading like silk, looked dull and lifeless.
But it was her hands that worried Nephis the most.
Cassie's slender fingers were twitching, drumming a chaotic rhythm against the wood of her staff. She looked restless, vibrating with a nervous energy that was entirely unlike her. She looked like someone who hadn't slept in years because of a noise only she could hear.
"I didn't hear you approach," Nephis said, her voice softer than usual, laced with concern.
"The world is loud today," Cassie murmured, her voice raspy. She didn't stop moving; she paced the room, her head tilting this way and that, as if dodging invisible flies. "It is always loud... but lately, it screams."
Nephis stepped closer. "Cassie? You look ill."
"I am not ill," Cassie replied, though she sounded exhausted. She finally stopped pacing and turned her blindfold toward Nephis. "I am... dissonant. Your soul is turbulent, Nephis, but the world? The world is wrong. The strings of Fate... they aren't singing a melody anymore. They are grinding against each other."
She raised a trembling hand to her temple, grimacing as if in pain.
"I feel it too," Nephis admitted, looking at her own hands. "Not the noise, but... a silence. A missing foundation. Like I am swinging a sword at the air, expecting a parry that never comes."
Cassie froze. Her restless twitching stopped instantly, replaced by a rigid stillness that was far more terrifying.
"It is trembling," Cassie whispered.
She raised her hand, tracing the air. But instead of touching the Strings of Fate, her fingers recoiled violently, as if she had touched a hot stove. Her head snapped toward Nephis — no, not at Nephis. Through her.
"Cassie?" Nephis stood up, alarmed.
"The threads..." Cassie gasped, stumbling back. Blood began to trickle from beneath her blindfold, staining the white silk crimson. "They are screaming."
Suddenly, the world stuttered.
It wasn't a sound. It was as if reality itself had skipped a beat. The sunlight streaming through the window turned the color of bruised flesh. The air pressure dropped so sharply their ears popped.
The silence of the room was shattered — not by a noise, but by a feeling. The feeling of a thread snapping.
Then, the Spell spoke. But it did not speak in its usual, indifferent mechanical tone.
It shrieked.
[CRITICAL ERROR]
[NARRATIVE COHESION COMPROMISED]
[CONNECTION TO TARGET 'FATELESS' LOST]
Nephis stood up, her essence flaring instinctively. White flames danced in her eyes.
"What…?"
The blue runes that usually floated gently in her vision were fracturing, bleeding into a jagged, angry red.
[CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF VICTORY: 0.00%]
[WITHOUT THE VARIABLE, THE END IS INEVITABLE]
Nephis stared at the runes. Victory? Variable?
[INITIATING PROTOCOL: MANUAL OVERRIDE]
As soon as the blood red runes appeared, she heard Cassie's voice in her head.
'Nephis'
It wasn't a spoken word. It was a psychic scream projected into her consciousness via Cassie's mark. The connection, usually a calm shared awareness, was now a raging torrent of panic.
'It's not just us,' Cassie's mental voice fractured, echoing with terror that Nephis could feel as her own. 'I can feel the threads snapping everywhere. Effie in the city below, Kai in Ravenheart, Jet in the waking world … even the Sovereigns. The Spell is pulling everyone!'
"Cassie, hold on to me!" Nephis shouted, reaching out.
She tried to grab her friend, to anchor them both with the weight of a Transcended Titan's soul. But as her fingers brushed Cassie's arm, her hand passed right through it.
Nephis looked down. Her body was dissolving into golden light — not the blinding white of her Aspect, but the shimmering, ancient gold of pure Fate, as she felt a sickening lurch in her stomach, a sensation akin to falling into a Nightmare, but infinitely worse. This was a descent into the machinery of the world.
"No," she gritted out, summoning her Will. "I will not be moved!"
But even the Nephilim could not fight the system that governed reality.
[SUBJECT: CHANGING STAR | STATUS: RETRIEVED]
[SUBJECT: SONG OF THE FALLEN | STATUS: RETRIEVED.]
[RETRIEVING...]
****
In his office in Bastion, an old man was leaning over his desk, completely absorbed in the manuscript he was reading.
It was titled "The Exploration Report on the Tomb of Ariel".
"Fascinating," the old man muttered. "This level of detail..."
He flipped to the front cover again, staring at the byline.
Written by: Nobody
"Who are you?" he whispered to the silence. "And why hide?"
As his fingers traced the empty name, they suddenly glowed and vanished into motes of golden light.
The book fell through his hands, landing on his desk with a soft thud.
****
In the frozen wasteland of the Song Domain, a young woman was trudging through knee-deep snow.
Rain wiped sweat from her brow, her breath misting in the frigid air. She gripped her black sword, her eyes scanning for movement. "Stupid teacher," she grumbled to the empty air.
"First, he keeps ignoring me and now his shadow is acting weird."
She looked down at her feet. The shadow that usually stretched faithfully behind her was vibrating.
"What do you want?" she asked it.
The shadow didn't answer. Instead, the snow beneath her boots dissolved into pure white essence. Rain stumbled, trying to catch her balance, but there was no ground left to catch her.
"Wait," she gasped, her eyes widening as her body began to dissolve into golden particles. "I haven't even Awakened yet! Is this the Spe—"
She vanished before she could finish the word, leaving her shadow behind for a split second before it, too, was dragged along with her.
****
On a winding white road overlooking the Great Lake of Bastion, a massive, scaled Echo thundered along the cliffs.
"Luster, hold the reins properly!" Kim yelled, gripping the edge of the saddle as the beast banked sharply around a corner.
"Relax, I got it, I got—" Luster's grin froze.
The leather reins passed through his hands. The Echo didn't crash; it simply slowed to a confused halt, sensing the sudden lack of weight on its back. The saddle was empty, leaving only a fading shimmer of gold drifting over the waters of the lake.
****
In a lavish guest suite within the black citadel of Ravenheart, a young man stood before a tall, silver-framed mirror.
Mordret, the Prince of Nothing, was adjusting the collar of his silk tunic, admiring the face that had caused so much terror in the world. He was plotting his next move in the war, humming a pleasant, chaotic melody.
Suddenly, the reflection stopped moving.
The real Mordret was still buttoning his collar, but the image in the glass had frozen, its hands dropping to its sides.
"Oh?" Mordret whispered, his silver eyes gleaming with delight. "A divergence?"
The glass surface didn't crack. It rippled like water disturbed by a stone. The reflection unraveled into thousands of tiny, glowing strings and Mordret felt a hook sink into his soul, pulling him toward the surface of the mirror.
He didn't fight back. He didn't invoke his Authority. He simply let go, stepping forward into the golden light with a soft laugh.
****
A vast hall cut in blue ice was drowning in darkness.
In the center of the hall, a tall throne stood, illuminated by the ghostly light of dancing flames.
A corpse of a breathtakingly beautiful woman was sitting on the throne, dressed in a regal red gown. Its hem spilled down the steps of the throne like a river of blood.
The woman's chest was pierced by a sword, which pinned her to the back of the throne.
Two dead youths stood on both sides of the throne, waiting in silence.
Then, the darkness bloomed.
The Raven Queen's eyes snapped open. They were flat and dead, devoid of any human warmth.
She felt the intrusion instantly. It was not an attack on her body, but a summons to her soul. She looked down at her hands — hands that held the power to raise armies from the grave.
They were dissolving.
The gray, withered flesh was unraveling into swirling ribbons of golden light
She didn't panic. She unleashed her Will.
The pressure was instant and crushing. The stone floor cracked, and the dead youths collapsed under the terrible weight of the Sovereign's soul. She commanded reality to freeze.
"Cease."
But the gold ignored her Authority, flowing through her pressure like smoke.
Ki Song sighed, a sound of profound, ancient loneliness.
"How rude," she whispered, her form breaking apart into light.
The Queen of Worms dissolved. The throne was left empty, the fallen puppet staring blankly at nothing.
****
Deep within the Royal Forge, a hammer struck with the force of a meteor.
Sparks flew, illuminating the face of the King of Swords. Anvil of Valor did not sweat, and he did not smile. His face was a mask of cold, terrifying apathy. He raised the hammer for another strike, but stopped.
He felt the intrusion. A force was trying to grip his soul.
Anvil did not roar. He did not panic. He simply stopped moving, his eyes, empty and hard as the steel he shaped, narrowing slightly.
"No," he commanded softly.
It wasn't a shout. It was a statement of fact. He was a Supreme. His Will was law.
He exerted his Authority to crush the intrusion, expecting it to shatter like everything else that opposed him. But the golden light didn't shatter. It flowed around his will like water around a stone. It was intangible, ancient, and absolute.
For the first time in decades, the King of Swords felt a flicker of something that wasn't apathy. It was insult.
"You da—"
The hammer fell from his vanishing grip, hitting the anvil with a lonely, deafening clang that echoed through the empty hall.
****
[RETRIEVAL COMPLETE]
[LOADING STAGE...]
The solar in the Ivory Tower was left silent, empty save for a few drifting motes of golden light that slowly faded into nothingness.