As Mordax contemplated some more, three stars in particular caught his eye. They shone with an alluring radiance that riveted his focus.

He watched, transfixed, their majestic light pulled at his senses, inviting deeper meditation. Curiosity piqued, he let perception of all else fade away save those three shining dots. To his subtle amazement, they began glowing clearer, as if responding in kind to his mindful regard.

Slowly, oh so slowly, their illumination coalesced into a single silvery beam drifting lazily toward where he sat in still contemplation. Then that silvery beam become an aura that drifted around his vicinity.

With bated breath, Mordax focused intently on it. Though awestruck by its ethereal radiance, he remained steady in spirit. Gradually, he synced his calm inhalations and exhalations with the silvery aura's leisurely pulsations.

Mordax pictured this stellar energy permeating his entire being - filling every cell, every pore with vibrant light. At the same time, he subtly contracted his core, visualizing it drawing in the faintest trace of that stellar might directly into his dantian.

There, with great care and patience, it began to coalesce in a tiny mote of luminous star-dust, glittering suspended in his cultivated inner warmth. As his cycle of breathing and visualization continued he shaped each moted light with refined awareness, gradually lending it form and mass.

Slowly, the gathered motes took on a sphere of shining silver no larger than a dewdrop, harboring the very heart of those stars' radiance within his dantian. Mordax eased from his trance with care, opening eyes that mirrored veneration and quiet fulfillment.

Then the stellar display came to its natural end. The three kindling stars dimmed their radiance and the ephemeral silver aura dispersed and faded into the darkness. Its essence task now complete.

With that, the radiance in his dantian dimmed too, Where before had condensed the very essence of those guiding stars, now rested only his more basic inner energy.

The method already started to nourish his spirit, and it made Mordax remember something about himself. 'I hated myself for being... always honest?'

Grixi watched all of these in awe. 'The Prime Chronicler's visions are true too. He is the...'

"Brother?" She called out.

Mordax turned towards her with a blank expression. "Yes?"

"What happened?" She asked.

Then it dawned upon him. outside his expression unchanged, but inside his mind, a realization struck him like a lightning bolt.

Mentally, his face contorted into a look of stupidity as his mouth fall open agape. 'Oh fuck... I completely forgot about her,' he said to himself.

He contemplated how to navigate this situation. 'All those silvery lights, this is completely off the rails from a normal Vrosqui meditation.' An idea flickered in his mind. His eyes narrowed slyly, a mischievous glint shining through.

'You keep some things from me, sister,' Mordax thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 'It is only natural that I should do the same.'

He cleared his throat instinctively, straightened his back, and adopted a resolute gaze for his important speech. "As you know, last night, in the dream that I told you ended abruptly." He began, his voice steady and confident.

Grixi listened intently, her eyes fixed on her brother's face, searching for answers.

"In that dream, a very old being came before me. He imparted his wisdom upon me. So you could say that what happened right now was, divine."

Mordax did not need say any more. Because Grixi filled in the blanks for him already. 'The Ancient One!' Grixi's eyes widened with reverence and awe.

He could see it in his sisters eyes. Reverence and excitement. 'Aah, I love religion.' Mordax thought.

In truth, Mordax wanted to confide in his sister, to share every detail of his encounter and the true nature of his newfound abilities.

There was a deep connection between them, a bond that transcended ordinary siblinghood as if twin magic. But something within him held back, a lingering doubt that prevented him from fully trusting Grixi.

"So, how are you feeling right now?" Grixi asked, her eyes filled with curiosity.

With a confident voice, he answered, "Reborn!"

Grixi's eyes widened even more, her excitement and awe growing with each revelation from her brother. She was captivated by the changes she witnessed in him.

Mordax couldn't help but laugh internally, his conscience clear. Technically, he hadn't lied. His dream did consist of an ancient being imparting wisdom, and the surge of energy coursing through his veins truly made him feel reborn.

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But amidst his laughter, a pang of guilt tugged at Mordax's heart. 'Did you feel guilty too just like I do now, sister? Are you loyal to me?' he thought.

Mordax yawned and spoke, "Sister, my mind is very exhausted. I want to sleep."

She nodded understandingly. "I have some small things to take care of, but after that, I will join you."

As Mordax made his way to his bed, Grixi ventured towards the Annalist Spire, the place where knowledge was preserved and shared.

There, she met with Zilvera, and a grey alien who held the title of the Prime Chronicler. They convened in a round room made from organic stone, communicating telepathically.

"It was divine, Prime Chronicler," Grixi conveyed, her voice filled with reverence and excitement.

Zilvera, chewing her clawed finger, wished she could have witnessed it herself. The event shared by Grixi filled her with longing.

The Prime Chronicler, his gaze fixed upon the sprawling capital city of Xenon visible from the windows, listened intently. His ancient eyes held the weight of countless years, a repository of knowledge and secrets.

As Grixi recounted everything, the Prime Chronicler felt it again. The prophetic touch of salvation that he felt on that fated day when everything seemed lost.

'This time,' the Prime Chronicler thought quietly, an ominous pause lingering in his mind. 'I will shape you up to be the PERFECT...'

Before he could finish his thought, Grixi interrupted, breaking the stillness that had settled upon the room. "Have you heard anything from THEM since Mordax woke up?"

Both Zilvera and the Prime Chronicler exchanged uneasy glances. Zilvera spoke first, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "No, I have not heard anything from THEM since that night."

The Prime Chronicler nodded in agreement. "Indeed, the silence has been deafening. But it does not matter, for we have found our salvation now."

Grixi's brows furrowed with worry. "But I am afraid of THEIR silence. What if his newfound powers awaken memories that should remain dormant?" As her words hung in the air, the room began to tremble, sending shivers down Grixi and Zilvera's spines.

The Prime Chronicler's gaze shifted towards Grixi, his neck craning all the way backward without his body moving, his void black eyes now radiating an eldritch purple glow.

"Make sure he won't," he commanded, his voice laced with an otherworldly authority. His neck then unwound just as unnaturally back.

Grixi swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in her throat. She dared not speak out against the Prime Chronicler. But deep within her, courage welled up. 'You long-necked bastard, we are all in uncharted territory. How am I supposed to ensure he won't remembers?'

As the intense meeting came to an end, Grixi and Zilvera exited the chamber together, their hulking, behemoth frames barely fitting through the narrow corridors of the Annalist Spire. The tension between them was palpable, each vying for dominance.

Shoulder to shoulder, they walked in silence, as longstanding tensions surfaced. In a sudden burst of movement, Zilvera exerted her strength and pushed ahead of Grixi, a triumphant smirk playing on her face.

But Grixi swiftly retaliated. She grabbed Zilvera by the neck, pinning her against the wall with a resounding boom.

"Don't grow too arrogant," Grixi hissed, her pink eyes blazing with a deadly intent. "If you weren't Mordax's childhood friend, replacing you as a queen candidate would be as easy as Mirrigen broth."

Her bioluminescent tubes pulsed ominously as she bore her weight into Zilvera. However, Zilvera, with a sudden burst of strength, broke free from Grixi's hold. With another loud boom, she pinned Grixi against the wall, her own grip constricting around Grixi's neck.

Grixi's eyes widened in surprise as Zilvera's amber eyes glowed with a deadly intent of their own. "Don't think I am the same Zilvera you once bullied," she declared, her voice dripping with a blend of authority and defiance. "I advise you to start accepting me as his eternal mate... sister."

With those words hanging in the air, Zilvera released her hold on Grixi and strode away, leaving her stunned.

Left to her thoughts, Grixi's narrowed eyes revealed her intentions. 'Time will reveal if you are worthy or not.'

Meanwhile, Mordax was lost in his dreams.

A younger Mordax was walking through twisting corridors filled with strange artifacts. He reached a metallic door and knocked it once.

"Enter," called a deep, haunting voice to inside his mind.

'How can he communicate without seeing.' He said in awe.

He steeled his nerves and stepped into the lair of his new mentor. Within the dimly lit room sat Prime Chronicler Tagxart on a levitating platform.

"So, you wish to be a chronicler youngling? Do you think you have what it takes to fulfill my demands?" his voice was like gravel.

Young Mordax hesitated. "I only wish to learn sir. I will work hard to become the best chronicler I can."

Tagxart levitated with his platform towards him, towering over his small frame. "Merely being the best is not enough. I will push you to the very edges of endurance, molding you into the perfect chronicler through any means necessary. Do you accept this path, knowing the sacrifices it will require?"

A shudder passed through Mordax, yet deep down he felt the calling. He steeled himself and said "I accept teacher."

Tagxart's lip curled into a twisted grin. "Excellent. Your first lesson starts now - survive!" And with a maniacal cackle, he unleashed a barrage of metallic objects upon the young chronicler.

Pain and darkness overtook him as his trial by fire began.

Mordax woke up abruptly, his hand clutching his aching heart, a cold sweat drenching his body. Beside him, Grixi peacefully slept, unaware of the turmoil that had consumed her brother's mind.

As he knelt on the bed, his gaze fixed on Grixi, a surge of intense resentment coursed through him. The memories he had forgotten flooded back, revealing the truth of what she and the others had done to him. They were the reason for his memory loss, the reason his heart ached with unexplained pain.

"I hate you, sister," Mordax whispered through gritted teeth. "You should pay for the things you have done."

He slowly extended his trembling hands, inching closer to Grixi's vulnerable neck.

The darkness within him whispered of revenge. 'Can I overpower her, I've gotten stronger, maybe I can choke the life out of her?'

As his outstretched hands inched closer to her neck, Grixi spoke, her voice calm yet filled with an eerie understanding. "If doing this will make you feel good, do it." she said, her eyes still closed.

"I will welcome death coming from your hands with a smile on my face," Mordax froze. "I did all this because I wanted this..."

Grixi's words trailed off, but Mordax's internal turmoil continued to rage. He was on the precipice of committing an unspeakable act, driven by his pain and resentment. However, just as his trembling hands were about to touch her neck, time seemed to slow to an impossible crawl.

A faint, ethereal green radiance bloomed in the room, and a spirit materialized beside Mordax, mirroring his features.