The celestial chamber of Asnexis Nèons shimmered faintly, a muted starlight filling the space. It was an unusual stillness for the gathering of Constellations, whose radiance usually lit the chamber like a thousand suns. Tonight, however, their light was dimmer, their forms flickering with unease.
Above them, the Divine Tree stood as the centerpiece of their domain, its sprawling branches once bursting with vibrant fruits representing the essence of their kin. But now, seven of those fruits hung lifeless, their light extinguished. A pale, silvery mist drifted around the tree, shrouding the empty air where vibrant energy once thrived.
“They are truly gone,” murmured the God of Divine Judgment, his voice heavy. He stood at the forefront of the chamber, his golden hammer glowing faintly. “Seven of our brethren… fallen in the fires of Tivera.”
The War Maiden leaned on her spear, the tip of her weapon resting against the chamber’s crystalline floor. Her gaze, usually fierce, was somber. “Wrath. Pride. Envy. Sloth. Greed. Gluttony. Lust. All consumed in the flames.” Her voice carried a weight that silenced even the faint murmurs of the others. “How did it come to this?”
“Arrogance,” the Owl God said, his galaxies-for-eyes swirling. His feathers, usually luminous, appeared dull. “Each of them fell victim to their own hubris. And in their downfall, Tivera burned.”
A low growl rumbled through the chamber. The Demon Hound God, his form dark and imposing, shook his great head. “They underestimated their enemies. Whatever destroyed them was no mere force of nature.” His crimson eyes narrowed. “It was deliberate.”
The room grew colder as his words settled over the gathering. Each of the remaining Constellations bore the loss in their way, their lights flickering as their grief and anger swirled like storm clouds.
The War Maiden’s voice broke the silence again, softer this time. “The Dragon God of Wrath. His power was unmatched, his fire unyielding… and yet, it consumed him. He burned brighter than he could control.”
“The Snake God of Pride,” added the God of Divine Judgment, his grip tightening on his hammer. “Always believing himself above consequence. His venom spread far, but not far enough to save him.”
“And the Fanged Tiger God of Envy,” muttered the Demon Hound, his growl returning. “Forever chasing the strength of others, never satisfied with his own.”
The Owl God closed his eyes briefly, as if mourning. “The Griffin God of Sloth… he could have acted. But his refusal to move allowed the flames to engulf him.”
The Three-Horned Bull God of Greed was next. His name echoed like a curse. “Blinded by desire,” the War Maiden said. “He thought only of hoarding power, never of how fragile his grasp truly was.”
The room seemed to darken further as the Nine-Tailed Fox God of Gluttony was remembered. “She devoured everything,” said the Owl God, his voice quiet. “Power, resources, even her kin. And yet, it was not enough to save her.”
Finally, they spoke of the Proud Peacock God of Lust. “His beauty was his weapon,” said the God of Divine Judgment. “But he veiled himself in illusion, even as the fire reached his core.”
Silence filled the chamber once more. The weight of their words hung heavily in the air, the names of their fallen etched into their minds like a scar.
“We cannot let this loss be in vain,” the War Maiden said finally, her voice hardening with resolve. “Their mistakes must guide us. We must act with vigilance, or we risk losing more.”
“But what action can we take?” asked the Owl God, his voice weary. “The mortals are in chaos. Dungeons emerge faster than they can close. They fight for survival while our own kin burn. What is our next move?”
The Demon Hound growled low. “We focus them. Challenge them. If they are to fight for survival, let them fight for strength.”
The War Maiden lifted her spear, her eyes blazing. “A colosseum,” she said, her voice firm. “A place where the Genosians can gather and prove themselves. We offer them a prize—a skill worthy of the strongest. An S-level reward from us.”
Murmurs spread through the chamber. Some Constellations nodded in agreement, their lights flaring briefly. Others hesitated, the memory of the seven fallen weighing on their spirits.
The God of Divine Judgment raised his hammer, calling for silence. “Very well,” he said. “The colosseum shall be built. But we must tread carefully. The flames that consumed Tivera may yet reach us. We cannot afford another loss.”
The Constellations dispersed one by one, their lights dimming as they left the chamber. Above them, the Divine Tree stood silent, its seven lifeless fruits a haunting reminder of their fallen brethren.
And as the chamber grew quiet, the stars above flickered faintly, as though mourning alongside them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One Month Ago
Flashback
After the dust of battle settled and silence reclaimed the forest, Uriel, still in control of Nyx’s body, surveyed the grim aftermath. The bandits who had brought ruin to the village lay in heaps, their lifeless forms sprawled among the broken trees.
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“They will answer for their sins,” Uriel declared, her voice cold and resolute.
The shadow army stood at attention, awaiting orders. “Gather the bodies,” she commanded. “Their punishment will serve as a warning to others.”
Without hesitation, the shadow soldiers moved into action. They worked with eerie precision, lifting the bandits’ corpses and placing their severed heads onto wooden stakes. These were driven firmly into the ground at the entrance to the forest, forming a grim row of warnings.
Uriel watched in silence as the macabre display took shape. Each head bore the cruel, mocking grin of those who had once laughed at their crimes, now frozen in death. Their sins would not go unmarked.
“This is repentance,” Uriel said softly, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow. “For every innocent life they took.”
The final stake was planted in the ground, its head mounted like the others. The shadow army stood silent, their dark forms a stark contrast to the haunting display. Uriel turned away, her task done. She gave the silent order, and the shadows dispersed, melting back into the night like a tide receding from the shore.
With the bandits’ punishment complete, Uriel turned her focus to the village. “There is more to be done,” she said, her tone weary but determined.
Uriel, still in control of Nyx’s body, walked back into the smoldering ruins of the village. The silence was deafening, broken only by the crackle of lingering flames and the distant rustle of wind through the charred remains. Nyx, still resting within her own mind, slept on, unaware of the devastation around her.
“This was their home,” Uriel murmured to herself, surveying the wreckage with a rare, quiet sorrow. “And they meant everything to her.”
Uriel turned to the shadow army, her voice sharp and commanding. “Gather them,” she said. “We will not leave them to rot in the open.”
The shadows moved with swift precision, weaving through the ruins to collect the bodies of the villagers. From the blackened remains of the church, they gently lifted Sister Clara, still clutching the child she had tried to protect. From the ashes of the guild hall, they recovered Lyssandra and the guild master, their faces still etched with the determination of their final stand.
The guards were pulled from the gates where they had fallen, their weapons shattered and bloodied. Every life was accounted for, every body carefully retrieved, no matter how broken or burned.
Finally, Uriel stood before Till’s lifeless form. The boy who had been Nyx’s anchor, her friend, and her family. He lay crumpled, his body bloodied but still clutching the pouch and bracelet Nyx had given him.
Uriel knelt beside him, her shadowed hand brushing gently over his dirt-streaked face. “You protected what mattered most to her, even in the end,” she whispered. “You were brave, Till.”
She reached out and adjusted the pouch, tucking it close to his chest. The bracelet gleamed faintly in the dim light, and Uriel hesitated before placing it in his hands. “This is what she would have wanted,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.
The shadow soldiers began digging graves at the edge of the village, a quiet and solemn task under the pale moonlight. The soft thud of earth being moved was the only sound as Uriel oversaw the burials.
Sister Clara and the child were laid to rest together, their arms still entwined. Lyssandra and the guild master were buried side by side, their graves marked by fragments of the guild’s charred sign. The guards, the farmers, the blacksmith—all given a resting place, each grave adorned with wildflowers that Uriel found scattered among the ruins.
Finally, she came to Till’s grave. The largest and deepest of them all. Uriel placed him gently into the earth, her hands lingering as she adjusted the bracelet one last time.
“Rest now,” Uriel said, her voice steady but heavy with grief. “She will carry your memory with her.”
When the graves were filled, Uriel stood in silence, the shadow army forming a silent perimeter around her. She looked over the small cemetery they had created, her chest tight with unspoken emotions.
“They gave her everything,” Uriel said quietly. “And this… this is all I can do for them in return.”
After the final flower was placed on Till’s grave, Uriel stood in the quiet moonlight. The night was still, as though the world itself had paused to honor the fallen. For a moment, she simply stood there, her shadowed form unmoving, the sorrow within her too vast for words.
With a final glance at the resting place of the villagers, Uriel turned and began walking south. Nyx’s body moved steadily, the weight of exhaustion and grief pulling at her every step. The shadow army followed in silence, their forms flickering like wraiths in the dim light.
The journey south was long and unbroken by sound. They passed through dense forests and crossed small streams, the cool water splashing against Nyx’s boots. Uriel remained focused, her mind sharp despite the burden she carried.
Eventually, they arrived at a hidden cave, its entrance shrouded by thick vines and overgrown foliage. Uriel pushed through the greenery and stepped inside. The air within was cool and damp, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the cavern.
“This will do,” Uriel murmured to herself.
She gestured to the shadow army, and they obeyed without question, slipping into the darkness of the Shadow Domain one by one. Their absence left the cave feeling even more empty, the silence pressing down like a heavy weight.
Gently, Uriel laid Nyx’s body down on the cool stone floor. The girl’s face was peaceful, her silver hair fanned out like a halo around her head. Uriel knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“It’s your turn now,” Uriel whispered.
Slowly, Uriel retreated, relinquishing control of Nyx’s body. She sank back into the depths of Nyx’s mind, her presence receding into the shadows.
Nyx stirred, her breath catching as consciousness returned. Her body felt heavy, her limbs weighed down by an exhaustion she couldn’t explain.
She blinked slowly, her amethyst eyes adjusting to the dim light of the cave. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she raised a hand to brush it away.
Before her fingers could reach her face, she felt it—something soft, warm, and unfamiliar. A gentle pressure wiped the tear away.
Startled, Nyx froze, her heart racing as she glanced around the empty cave. There was no one there, only the faint echo of her breathing and the soft drip of water.
“Uriel?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Yes, little one,” Uriel replied, her voice calm but distant.
Nyx hesitated, her hand lowering slowly. “Was that… you?”
Uriel was silent for a moment before answering. “Perhaps,” Uriel said simply.
Nyx swallowed hard, her chest tightening with a mix of emotions she couldn’t untangle. The memory of the village, the graves, and the lives she couldn’t save crashed over her like a tidal wave.
She curled up where she lay, her body trembling as silent tears fell. The presence of Uriel in her mind was a quiet comfort, a steady anchor in the storm of her grief.
“I’ll protect them better next time,” Nyx whispered, her voice cracking.
“I know you will,” Uriel replied gently.
The cave grew silent once more, the two of them lost in their thoughts as the weight of what had been lost settled over them.