Preparations
As they proceed down the dimly lit corridor, the General's deliberate stride contrasts with her anxious steps. The grand architecture of the military base encases them, its imposing beauty setting a somber stage for their journey. The hallways echo with distant conversations and the soft rustle of fabric as others prepare for the ceremony.
Her hand nervously grips the folds of her gown, the silky material cool against her skin. She glances at the General, his presence both reassuring and daunting, as she tries to reconcile the elegance of her attire with the seriousness of the occasion. The rich purple marbles on her coat, subtly shimmering in the corridor’s soft light, symbolize the weight of her role, intensifying her inner conflict.
When they reach the entrance to the ceremonial chamber, the General opens the heavy door with a practiced motion. The room beyond is richly adorned with dark velvet drapes and flickering candlelight that dances across the walls, creating long, shifting shadows that deepen the atmosphere of mourning. The chamber is filled with an air of somber reverence, as if the walls themselves absorb the collective grief of those present.
She steps into the room, her heart pounding with each echoing footstep. The assembly of dignitaries and mourners are already gathered, their solemn expressions reflecting the gravity of the ceremony. The ambient light casts a warm, amber glow over the assembly, softening the harshness of the day and creating an almost dreamlike quality. Her eyes scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of strangers, every face etched with grief and respect.
The General stands beside her, his presence a steady anchor amidst the sea of emotions. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity as she faces the gathering. "Remember, you're not alone in this," he whispers, his tone conveying both strength and comfort. "Everyone here respects your bravery, and your presence is a tribute to her legacy."
As she moves forward, she notices a large, ornate pedestal at the center of the room, draped in deep purple fabric. On it rests a beautifully crafted urn, its surface intricately carved with symbols of the queen’s reign. The urn is surrounded by a sea of candles, their flickering flames casting a soft, golden light that highlights the delicate patterns of the urn and the surrounding floral arrangements.
The ceremony begins with a solemn procession, and she follows the General’s lead, her heart heavy with the weight of the occasion. Each step she takes seems to echo her emotions—an amalgamation of sadness, confusion, and a profound sense of duty. As she approaches the pedestal, the room falls into a hushed reverence, the collective breath of the assembly held in anticipation of the rituals to come.
The General's hand remains on her shoulder, a constant reminder of his support amidst the swirling emotions. She takes a deep breath, her resolve strengthened by his presence, and prepares to honor the queen’s memory with the dignity and grace befitting the occasion.
The people of Noxits gather solemnly before their deceased queen. Her once vibrant veins, which carried the translucent Noxit blood, are now invisible beneath her pale blue skin, which remains the last vestige of her royal essence. The King, seated among his people, gazes down with somber eyes, clutching a delicate, white silk handkerchief. He has reverted to his original form, his elongated arms and legs a testament to his mourning.
"I... I can't be this strong..." the King murmurs, his eyes glistening with crystalline tears that trace a shimmering path down his cheeks. His grip on the handkerchief is tight, as if trying to anchor himself amidst the overwhelming sorrow. As he collapses to his knees, a deep purple lightning bolt streaks across the sky, its flash echoing his immense power and sorrow. "My queen..." At these words, the Noxit people break into a more profound display of grief, their cries growing louder in the wake of the King’s despair.
Whispers circulate among the gathered Noxits, recounting tales of the queen's remarkable deeds and the profound impact she had on her people. Her legacy, a blend of compassion and strength, is the focal point of their sorrow and reverence.
As the ceremony continues, she finds herself shedding a few tears despite having only seen the queen briefly. Her emotions are stirred by the gravity of the moment, even though she didn't know the queen personally. The General remains composed and serene, his demeanor unwavering as he sits in a special chair beside her. Tolius and Fereyan, now dressed in their somber grey uniforms, stand nearby.
The General and she take their places on two ornate chairs, crafted with intricate designs that lend an air of solemnity to the occasion. She feels a deep blush creeping across her cheeks, experiencing a sense of regal presence that words cannot fully express. Her gaze often drifts to Tolius, whose black hair is immaculately styled and adorned with a single red rose pinned to his chest. White marbles embellish his suit, mirroring the elegance of her own attire. The sight of him, which evokes a sense of admiration and affection she has felt since their first meeting, momentarily makes her forget the events of the past days. She focuses solely on the present moment, her heart warmed by the connection she feels.
In contrast, Fereyan stands on the other side, his blonde hair and azure eyes providing a distinct difference to Tolius's darker features. His serene expression and angelic gaze add to the ambiance of the ceremony. As she takes in the scene, her cheeks flush with a deeper hue, her emotions a blend of awe and admiration. The General, observing the interactions between the three of them, allows a subtle, knowing smile to play on his lips, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and satisfaction at the dynamics unfolding before him.
The General makes a deliberate gesture, signaling for Tolius and Fereyan to position themselves on either side of the ornate chairs, ready to guard them against any potential disturbance. Their presence ensures a sense of security amid the somber ceremony.
Suddenly, she feels a constriction in her chest, a sensation that defies easy description. She presses her hand lightly against her sternum, her breathing becoming slightly uneven. The General, observing her closely, notices the rapid thudding of her heart, visible beneath her delicate attire.
The people of Noxits begin to chant in unison, "And now the ritual begins." They start the ceremonial rites by gently applying an urn of Noxit water to the queen's skin, their voices resonating with the rhythmic chant in their native tongue. The King, overcome with emotion, struggles to maintain his composure. Tears stream down his face as he reminisces about the times spent together with the queen—ruling, fighting, sharing meals, and cherishing moments of affection and joy. His grief is palpable, a poignant reminder of the depth of their shared history.
As the General rises, the rest of the assembly follows suit, all standing in reverence as the burial ritual commences. An elderly Noxit priest, his long white beard brushing the floor and leaning heavily on an ancient cane, approaches the podium near the coffin. With a voice that cracks with age, "Where is that Axar at?" His high-pitched, raspy tone elicits a ripple of laughter, easing the tension in the room. The queen herself seems to almost respond to the humor, her presence felt in the shared moment of levity.
"But seriously," the priest continues, "why are we so glum?" He addresses the crowd, attempting to lift their spirits. "Our gods, and especially our queen, would not wish us to part with sorrowful faces, would have a lot to say if they saw us all moping around. Imagine her looking down and thinking, "I did not spend all those years running this Noxit planet just to have you all sit around like it's the end of the world!", he says, his kind and compassionate energy spreading throughout the room. His celestial aura marks him as a unique presence among those gathered. "General, what do you think? Haven't we already experienced enough loss?"
The General regards the priest with a look of deep reflection, his eyes revealing a tinge of melancholy. "Indeed, Priest, we have lost many. And many have moved on to the Poxit Underworld or a place of greater peace," he replies, his voice carrying a subtle note of consolation.
The priest continues his eulogy, saying, "In death, we do not surrender, for death is merely a gateway to another time." His words resonate with some of the audience, offering a glimmer of hope. The thought that death is not an end, but a transition, brings her a renewed sense of comfort, easing her long-held fears.
"We wouldn’t want the Queen of Noxits to embark on her journey to another world burdened with sorrow, would we? Her spirit still lingers among us," the priest asserts, though his words seem to evoke a calming and enlightening presence that only he seems to fully perceive. "And she is at peace, having been a part of all of you. Though she might seek retribution, as I sense," he adds, glancing at the General who is idly manipulating his hypercube. The General's detached demeanor contrasts with the priest's emotional plea, marking a moment of introspective reflection amid the ritual.
He chuckles, his jovial energy a stark contrast to the somber mood. "So let's put a little cheer in our hearts! Remember, our dear queen would want us to remember the good times and not dwell too much on the sorrow. After all, if she could, she'd probably join us for a laugh, and maybe even give us a witty comment about how serious we're all being. So let’s lighten up a bit, shall we?"
His words, delivered with a mixture of humor and warmth, break through the heaviness of the occasion, offering a moment of relief and shared amusement among those gathered.
The Priest continues his chanting, his voice resonating with a mystical quality that seems to heal and soothe the very soul. His melodious incantations, blending with the soft hums of the other attending priests, create an atmosphere of reverence and calm. The General, along with everyone present, is visibly moved, their eyes welling up with tears as the Priest’s voice touches deep, unspoken parts of their hearts.
“Isn’t he something else?” the General murmurs to those near him, astonished and wiping away his tears. The profound effect of the Priest's voice feels like a gentle awakening, stirring emotions that had lain dormant.
The woman, seated beside the General, feels a profound stirring within her. It’s as though her soul is awakening, coming to life in a way it hasn’t before. She closes her eyes, trying to find solace, but the sensation is overwhelming. Her heartbeat quickens, and she presses her hand against her chest, struggling to steady herself.
As the Priest continues, his chants become a delicate symphony of vibrational sounds. He guides the gathered souls through the ritual, his words weaving a path for the queen's spirit to journey to the afterlife. “And now, the soul of our queen shall depart into the afterlife,” he announces, sensing the ethereal presence of the queen's spirit through his shamanic abilities.
Flower petals and ceremonial noxit attire are carefully placed around her, marking the final respects. Despite the serene surroundings, she feels a pang of sorrow, the silence around her punctuated by soft whimpers as her heart aches.
The Priest's eyes are fixed on a point that seems invisible to everyone else. With a sudden gesture, he points towards the rising blue hue of the queen’s spirit—a spectral vision that only he appears to perceive. The General, with his deep understanding of such matters, recognizes this as the queen’s soul. He points towards a spot in the air, but to most, it seems empty. The General, with his deep knowledge and understanding, recognizes the significance of the priest’s gesture.
In a surprising twist, the Priest then points directly at her, the woman who has been quietly observing. She gasps in shock, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks as she turns to the General, stammering, “I’m sorry, sir… Didn’t mean to—” she starts, but her voice trails off. Her eyes, now glowing a vibrant blue, appear to be in the process of resetting themselves. “Embarrass you…” she finishes, her words tinged with confusion.
As the priest points, he observes her with growing concern. She gasps for air, her face pale with fear, as if her chest might explode from the overwhelming sensations. Her turmoil is visible and unsettling. The priest’s brows furrow in confusion and worry as he takes in her distress, the turmoil evident in her labored breaths and the terrified expression on her face.
The priest, still somewhat bewildered, addresses the assembly with a quizzical expression. “The queen did not depart but… is housed by you?” he says, pointing directly at her. His words leave everyone in the room in a state of puzzled curiosity.
The General, usually reserved in his demeanor, raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, weren’t you joking today that you feel like a queen?” he says, his attempt at humor bringing an awkward laugh from her. Her shyness is evident, and the focus of the room shifts towards her.
The priest’s pointing and the queen’s sudden visible distress spark murmurs among the attendees. Whispers spread through the room, each person speculating about the extraordinary sight. “Could she really be the queen’s new vessel?” one Noxit murmurs. “Is it possible she’s connected to the queen’s spirit?” another voice questions. The room buzzes with speculation, each rumor adding to the collective uncertainty.
The woman, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in attention and the rising rumors, yelps in agony, her distress echoing through the chamber. Her cry is short-lived but intense, her body trembling as she struggles to process the influx of emotions and the weight of the situation. Then, as quickly as it began, the turmoil pauses, leaving her momentarily silent and still. Her eyes dart around the room, her usual anxiety now mingling with a deep calmity and balance.
Meanwhile, Tolius silently observing the unfolding events with a growing sense of awe and disbelief. The ceremony had taken an unexpected turn, something none of them could have predicted. His gaze followed the Priest of Noxits, who was staring at something—something none of them could see. The priest's eyes seemed to lock onto a point in the air, as if he were privy to a reality hidden from everyone else in the room. Then came the sudden gesture, the pointing toward what looked like nothing but thin air.
Tolius felt his heart race. His training, his service to the General, none of it had prepared him for something like this. He glanced at the General, noticing how he didn't hesitate. The General's eyes also followed the priest’s direction, as though he could see the unseen. ~What am I missing?~ Tolius thought. It was moments like these that made him realize how vast the chasm was between his understanding of the spiritual and metaphysical, and the deep, ancient knowledge held by men like the General and the priest.
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When the General nodded in understanding, Tolius knew—he trusted the General implicitly. But still, a part of him was unsure, shaken by the profound and inexplicable. He tried to focus, to make sense of what was happening, but his thoughts kept spiraling. ~How can the General see what none of us can?~
Then there was her, the woman who now carried the essence of the queen. Tolius couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her transformation had been gradual but startling, and now she seemed caught between two worlds. ~Will she ever be herself again? ~He sighed, uncertainty weighing heavily on him. Tolius had always been the one to act, to do, but now he felt utterly helpless, stuck watching from the periphery.
Feeling the weight of the moment and her soul’s awakening, she takes a deep breath, her usual anxiety transforming into an air of quiet authority. Her posture straightens, her previously bowed shoulders now held with regal grace. She wipes away her tears with an elegant motion, and with renewed composure, she stands up.
“I am the Queen of Noxits,” she declares, her voice now imbued with a commanding presence that makes Fereyan blush instantly. The General observes with a mix of astonishment and contemplation, thinking to himself, ~I read about souls, but I’ve never witnessed anything quite like this.~
"And now I am home," the queen admits, her voice carrying a weight that cuts through the murmurs and laughter swirling around her like a tempest. Her eyes, now glowing with a regal authority, survey the room. The air crackles with the remnants of her Noxit power, and she directs a piercing gaze at those who dared to laugh. Her voice drops to a chilling, commanding whisper as she addresses them: "Did I say something amusing, little Noxits?" Her eyes shine with the genuine essence of the queen, sending a shiver through those around her as they shrink under her formidable presence.
As the tension mounts, whispers and rumors begin to ripple through the crowd. The General, observing the unfolding drama, leans in and asks the King, "What could possibly connect an ordinary soul to a queen of such stature?" His voice is laden with genuine curiosity mixed with skepticism, his eyes darting between the queen and those around him.
The King, visibly distressed by the unsettling turn of events, approaches the queen, his face etched with confusion and concern. "Is this truly the queen?" he questions, his voice barely above a murmur. "How does someone with no apparent connection rise to such a significant role?" His words, filled with doubt and wonder, stir the crowd further, fueling a whirlwind of speculation and disbelief.
The queen stands tall, her presence commanding the room as she absorbs the whispers and questions, her mind racing to understand the gravity of her situation and the tumultuous emotions it stirs within her.
She addresses the gathered crowd with an authoritative tone that brooks no argument. "You fools," she declares, her voice echoing with an edge of regal disdain, "do not mistake this body and soul for something ordinary!" She gestures toward her current form, her expression fierce. "My time here is fleeting. I cannot linger long, though I shall remain within her, not by choice, but by necessity and not by her will... my will, I mean." She continues, her voice imbued with a sense of finality, "I have discovered something extraordinary through my death, and I do not regret it. Do not trouble me with your trivial knowledge."
Ironically, the landscape of the female soldier—who had only recently completed her military training—is now compared with the image of the queen of Noxits. The laughter persists, a stark reminder of the absurdity of the situation as the queen inhabits the new vessel.
The General, his patience worn thin, breaks the silence with a menacing growl. "If anyone dares to laugh again in the next three seconds," he announces, his voice cold and threatening, "I will have their head and feast on their eyes." His words cut through the room, instilling fear in everyone. The General, previously perceived as a formidable figure, now appears even more menacing.
He continues, his tone shifting to one of grim seriousness. "I have delved deeply into the mysteries of the soul. It is indeed possible for souls to be interconnected, fragments of one original entity. The true source from which these fragments split remains unknown. Therefore, cease your laughter; this is both a grave and joyous matter. Our queen has not perished; rather, she..." He pauses, a sudden, unexpected giggle escaping him, "resides within her."
The queen, her eyes flashing with authority, turns her gaze toward the General. "General," she says, her tone laced with regal irritation, "I believe it is not your place to mock either. Has this body ever behaved in such a manner?" She gestures elegantly to herself, embodying the majesty of the royal Noxit queen.
The queen, now residing within the pink-hued woman, fixes her gaze on the General with an intense, unwavering look. "I need you to train me," she commands, her voice resonating with an authoritative echo. "I must learn to harness and control my energy and power. Though I will no longer speak with this voice, she will still be me in essence. Think of it as an... absorption process. She needs to become accustomed to this energy and manage my powers. What she does with them—and with me—is solely her and my mutual decision. Her behavior might be influenced by mine, so whenever you observe her making significant and impactful decisions, it will be my influence affecting her, though unintentionally... consider it an augmentation."
With a final, commanding glance toward her people, she declares with regal firmness, "You must seek out another queen if she is unwilling. And as for you, my king... I will remain here, within her, waiting for you. I cannot journey to another world or continue my path, as our souls intertwine and become one."
She offers a last, elegant gesture of farewell to everyone present. As she completes her departure, her form collapses gently to the ground. The General, reacting swiftly, manages to catch her before she hits the floor, her body slipping into a state of faintness. The queen's body begins to dissipate into the air, transforming into delicate blue fireflies that drift toward her unconscious vessel. The ethereal blue light mingles with the pink hue of her skin, her normal colored lips are starting to take a dark blue color, representing the emersion of the Queen with her, creating a mesmerizing and poignant effect. This transition, marked by a celestial glow, serves as a solemn tribute to all who witness it.
As the queen’s essence gracefully merges with the pink-hued woman, a wave of murmurs ripples through the crowd. The atmosphere shifts from somber to a mix of awe and subdued joy. The Noxits, once apprehensive and confused, begin to express their relief and happiness, their voices rising in a soft, collective murmur.
The old Noxit priest, sensing the change in mood, steps forward with a comforting presence. His long white beard flows gently with his movements, and he raises his cane in a gesture of reassurance. With a voice that carries both gravity and warmth, he addresses the assembly:
"People of Noxits," he begins, his tone imbued with solemnity and hope, "this is not the end but a new beginning. The queen lives on, not in the form we knew, but within this new vessel. As long as she remains among us, her spirit will guide and protect us. Her legacy is intertwined with the soul of this woman, and through her, the queen's essence will continue to influence our world."
He pauses to let his words resonate with the crowd, his eyes scanning the faces now filled with a mix of joy and reverence. "Rejoice, for the queen has not truly departed. Her spirit is not lost but has taken a new form to be with us always. This vessel, this pink-hued woman, will carry the queen's strength and wisdom. She will remain a beacon of our heritage and our future."
The priest’s words ignite a renewed sense of hope among the people. The murmurs of happiness grow louder as they grasp the idea that their beloved queen’s influence will persist through the new host. The room, once filled with uncertainty and sorrow, now vibrates with a sense of unity and optimism.
The General, observing the transformation in the crowd, nods approvingly. His usual stoic demeanor softens slightly, reflecting the shift in the atmosphere. He stands with the priest, acknowledging the profound significance of the moment, while the Noxits gather around the pink-hued woman, their faces illuminated with a collective sense of renewed purpose and reverence.
In the midst of this transformation, the priest’s voice rings out once more, reassuring and firm. "Let us celebrate this new chapter. The queen’s spirit is with us, and as long as she resides within this woman, her reign and influence will endure. Embrace this change with joy and pride, for our legacy continues."
With these final words, the crowd bursts into soft cheers and applause, their spirits lifted by the promise of the queen’s enduring presence.
As the ceremony draws to a close, the mood shifts to one of organized departure. The crowd begins to disperse, their conversations buzzing with a mix of excitement and contemplation about the queen’s new presence. The General, still processing the monumental event, gives a subtle nod to Fereyan.
Fereyan, now tasked with a new responsibility, approaches the pink-hued woman who has just fainted. With a sigh of confusion and a touch of hesitation, he gently lifts her delicate form. The absence of the queen’s royal frequency is palpable, leaving behind the woman he knew in her more familiar state. The transformation, though profound, has left her in a state of vulnerability.
As Fereyan carries her toward the General’s bedroom, his movements are careful and deliberate, his thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and duty. He makes his way through the now-quiet corridors, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders.
Meanwhile, the General remains in the ceremonial hall, gesturing toward the priest of Noxits with an authoritative, yet respectful, beckoning. The two exchange nods, acknowledging the importance of their impending discussion. The General’s demeanor is focused, his mind already shifting to the next steps required to navigate the aftermath of the queen's extraordinary transition.
With the last of the attendees drifting away to their respective duties, the General and the priest make their way toward the General’s office. The atmosphere is one of purposeful quiet, the significance of the recent events hanging in the air.
As Fereyan deposits the fainted woman gently in the General’s bedroom, the room’s ambient light casts soft shadows on the walls, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the earlier ceremony. The pink-hued woman remains still, her breathing steady but her expression one of peaceful slumber.
The General and the priest, now joined by Tolius, make their way to the office. The General’s steps are measured, each one echoing with the weight of responsibility and the task of reconciling the past with this new reality.
In the General’s office, the priest takes a seat opposite the General, the room’s subdued lighting creating a calm but serious atmosphere. The General, taking a seat as well, gestures for the priest to begin.
The priest’s eyes are filled with a mixture of wisdom and curiosity as he prepares to discuss the implications of the queen’s new existence, while the General remains composed, ready to delve into the complexities of the situation and the future it will shape for their world.
Outside the office, Tolius stands by, awaiting further instructions, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the bedroom where Fereyan remains with the fainted woman. The sense of transition and change is palpable, and the once-bustling ceremony now gives way to a period of quiet reflection and planning.
Meanwhile, The King stood at the edge of the room, his heart heavy with emotions he couldn't quite name. He watched as the Priest pointed into the air, following an invisible thread that connected the world of the living to that of the dead. He felt the weight of his crown more than ever, pressing down on his brow, reminding him of the burdens he carried. The Queen’s death had left a void in his soul, one that he knew would never be filled. But what happened next defied even his understanding.
The General’s eyes followed the Priest’s gesture, and for a brief moment, the King felt a flash of resentment. ~How can he understand what I do not? ~The King of Noxits, despite all his wisdom and power, could not see the Queen’s spirit the way the General and the Priest could. He had ruled with her, fought beside her, loved her. ~Yet, now I am blind to this final moment~. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration building alongside his sorrow.
And then the King’s attention was drawn to the woman who now housed the Queen’s spirit. She had fainted, her body crumpling as the General caught her. ~How did this happen?~ The King’s thoughts raced, and questions piled up.~ Is this truly my queen, or is this just some unfortunate soul, trapped with a power she never asked for? What connection could she possibly have to the Queen of Noxits?~ He had always understood that the soul and the body were intertwined in mysterious ways, but never had he witnessed something so intimate, so profound. It was both a miracle and a curse, all wrapped into one incomprehensible moment.
The rumors had already begun swirling, voices buzzing in hushed tones around the room. ~What does this mean for the throne? For the kingdom? ~He could feel the tension building. If the woman was now the Queen in some spiritual sense, would she be accepted? Would she even want the responsibility? And if not, how would the kingdom move forward?
As the General and the Priest left the room, the King stood there, staring at the empty space where the Queen’s spirit had supposedly hovered. He felt hollow, a deep sadness filling him, and yet—there was a strange flicker of hope.~ She is not gone, not entirely. Perhaps, somehow, we are still connected.~ But that hope was fragile, resting on the edge of belief and disbelief.