> Place : Prime Dyfost
> Realm : Nathro
> Time : 1042nd Rev of Timestar.
> Population : 67.5615485% ( Lyzgith, Fotrissia, Astryla, Mirgeth, Sylvir destroyed completely. Veliara is under attack)
Thalassa stood tall and composed on the elevated observation platform, her regal presence radiating calm authority despite the sprawling chaos of the Prime Dyfost before her. The colossal structure thrummed with an almost palpable energy, its immense size dwarfing the surrounding terrain. From this distance, the Dyfost’s glowing core pulsed a faint blue, radiating waves of Yniz energy that rippled through the air like heatwaves.
image [https://ibb.co/7j9P12N]
This was Nathro’s lifeline—the water conduit for the remaining realms, and its current load was pushing its limits.
Thalassa: "Chief Engineer, what is the current water supply rate?"
The Chief Dyfost-Engineer, an older fairy with calculating eyes and a posture that spoke of years of technical expertise, responded crisply.
Chief Dyfost-Engineer: "Feylum, we’re supplying 69,875 Eos across all realms—48% more than our previous capacity. The increase in Phls for Dalve cultivation has driven demand sharply."
Thalassa’s sharp gaze flicked to the glowing pipelines stretching out from the Dyfost toward distant portals.
Thalassa: "And the Dyfost? Is it stable under this load?"
The Chief hesitated briefly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she replied.
Chief Dyfost-Engineer: "Not entirely, Feylum. Yniz radiation levels are escalating, and routine repairs are now highly dangerous. The Dyfost’s core is consuming Ynerzon at an alarming rate. At this pace, we’ll deplete our reserves in just 7 Eru."
Thalassa’s jaw tightened. Seven Eru—barely enough time for even a single Dalve harvest to replenish supplies.
Thalassa: "Are you certain? Seven Eru is..."
Chief Dyfost-Engineer: (interrupting) "I am certain, Feylum. Seven Eru is all we have before the system fails. Without more Ynerzon, the Dyfost will shut down entirely__”
Before she could finish, a deafening explosion tore through the Dyfost. BOOM.
The control chamber shook violently, throwing fairies off their feet. Sparks erupted from the system panels, and alarms blared in frantic cacophony. Outside, the horizon was lit by an enormous blue fireball, its brilliance dimming the sunlight. The shockwave hit the control chamber like a physical blow, shattering glass and sending debris flying.
Thalassa stumbled but quickly regained her footing, her composure unbroken even as chaos erupted around her. The massive water channels connecting the Dyfost to the realms ruptured, geysers of water shooting into the air with incredible force. Streams of water flooded in all directions, carving paths of destruction through the surrounding landscape.
Fairies in the control chamber scrambled, their faces pale with terror.
Chief Dyfost-Engineer: (staring in horror) "No... no... The core! The core’s destabilizing!"
Thalassa: (sharply) "Shut it down! Shut it down NOW! No one is to approach the Dyfost core!"
The Chief snapped out of her shock, barking orders to her crew with practiced urgency.
Chief Dyfost-Engineer: "Vuythi! Shut down the Hydotors immediately! Sattira, evacuate the Feylum to safety! Someone override the Ynerzon Actoner—now! I want every fire unit on standby!"
Two Sattira guards rushed to Thalassa’s side, urging her toward the exit.
Sattira: "Feylum, we need to get you to safety. This area is too dangerous!"
Thalassa hesitated, her piercing eyes fixed on the chaos unfolding before her. The Dyfost was a lifeline not just for Nathro, but for every realm depending on its water supply. If it failed entirely...
She turned back to the Chief Dyfost-Engineer one last time, her voice steady but commanding.
Thalassa: "Chief! Ensure no one gets hurt. If it gets worse, call for Ethan’s assistance."
The Chief paused, her expression conflicted.
Chief Dyfost-Engineer: "Feylum, I’ll do everything in my power. But the Savior is at Veliara, dealing with the Neshis. He won’t be able to help us anytime soon."
Thalassa clenched her fists, frustration flickering across her otherwise calm features. Ethan’s absence weighed heavily, but there was no time to lament the situation.
Thalassa: "Then do whatever it takes to stabilize the Dyfost. We cannot lose it—not now."
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The Chief nodded grimly, already turning to coordinate her crew.
As the Sattira led Thalassa out toward Beltolt Fort, the control chamber shook again, another tremor signaling the escalating crisis. Thalassa glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes blazing with determination.
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Thalassa's Lasyk hummed as it hovered effortlessly through the frosty air of Nathro. Its sleek, armored frame shimmered with the glow of embedded Yniz crystals, a hallmark of both beauty and impenetrable defense. Inside, Thalassa adjusted her Bracon—the intricate device on her wrist. With a flick of her fingers, a glowing, holographic map materialized, displaying the status of every Dyfost in the realm. Most blinked green, save for the ominous red mark where the Prime Dyfost had been reduced to ruin.
Thalassa (to her pilot): Take me to the Dyfost Headquarters. Now.
Pilot: As you command, Feylum.
As the Lasyk descended with a soft hum, Sattira warriors at the HQ entrance dropped to one knee, their fists pressed firmly against their chests in a salute. Thalassa disembarked, her gown of frost-blue armor glinting in the pale Nathro sunlight. She strode forward with her Sattira flanking her, her presence commanding respect and reverence.
The Chief of Dyfost HQ, a middle-aged fairy with weathered features and a sharp mind, rushed to greet her at the entrance. She bowed low, her voice steady despite the visible tension on her face.
Chief: Feylum Thalassa. It is an honor to have you here, though I wish it were under better circumstances.
Thalassa offered a polite nod, her smile faint but acknowledging.
Thalassa: Lead the way, Chief. We have no time to waste.
Inside the main chamber, a large projection of Nathro’s Dyfost network hovered above the central table, pulsating with data streams. Engineers and strategists huddled around, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. The Chief gestured for Thalassa to take the seat of honor, but she chose to stand, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the map.
Chief: Feylum, I must apologize. Without the Savior’s assistance, I fear the Prime Dyfost cannot be repaired quickly enough to resume operations.
Thalassa’s icy gaze sharpened, her voice calm yet steely.
Thalassa: Why is that? Do we not have the finest engineers in Nathro? The most skilled labor?
The Chief hesitated, her fingers twitching over the controls of the projection.
Chief: We do, Feylum, but the Prime Dyfost—and, in truth, all our Dyfosts—were extensively modified by the Savior. They now operate more on his... science than our magic. Few truly grasp the intricacies of his methods, and the Savior... he has had little time to teach us properly.
Thalassa’s expression softened, though her frustration lingered.
Thalassa: Ethan has tried to share his knowledge, I know. But his time is stretched thin, and so is ours. What options do we have? The other realms rely on Nathro's water. We cannot let them suffer.
The Chief stepped closer to the projection, her fingers dancing across it as the map zoomed out to reveal Nathro’s other Dyfosts. With a flick, she highlighted the operational ones.
Chief: We can reroute the supply through our other Dyfosts—logistic and auxiliary. It won’t match the Prime’s capacity, but if we dedicate all functioning Dyfosts to this effort, we can sustain water distribution until repairs are made.
Thalassa: What of their other duties? Logistics? Local transport?
Chief: Only the most critical functions will remain active. The rest will be sacrificed for the supply lines. It will be difficult, but... it is possible.
Thalassa straightened, her tone resolute.
Thalassa: Do it. Prioritize water for the other realms above all else. My sisters must not face more hardship because of this failure.
The Chief bowed deeply.
Chief: As you command, Feylum. May the stars guide our hands.
Satisfied, Thalassa turned and left the chamber. As she stepped back into the waiting Lasyk, the weight of the situation pressed heavily on her shoulders. She seated herself, gazing out of the window as the vehicle lifted into the sky, the white expanse of Nathro stretching endlessly below.
Her gaze drifted to the faint stars, dim against the bright white sky. Her voice was barely above a whisper, tinged with a rare vulnerability.
Thalassa: Ethan... my Snow. I need you now more than ever.
She clenched her hands, her regal mask faltering for just a moment before she steeled herself once more. The Lasyk soared towards the Beltolt Fort, carrying its Feylum back to her seat of power, but not her peace of mind.
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Within the grand yet somber walls of Aibel Fort, Supreme Erudite Lamia stood in her chamber, her expression cold and calculating. The room was lit by a soft, pulsating blue glow emitted from the magical conduits lining the walls, their patterns resembling the intricate flow of knowledge itself—a reflection of Arcanaeum’s essence.
Opposite her stood Osylin, the Chief of Arcanaeum’s Dyfost HQ. The elder fairy’s shoulders bore the weight of her years of service, and her face was etched with lines of wisdom and weariness.
Lamia: “Osylin.” Her voice was steady, commanding. “I need your finest Dyfost Engineer dispatched to Nathro’s Prime Dyfost immediately. I want it operational again under any circumstances.”
Lamia’s tone left no room for argument. She turned on her heel, her cloak sweeping the floor as she moved toward the chamber’s arched doorway, her mind already pivoting to the next crisis demanding her attention.
But Osylin hesitated.
Osylin: “Erudite!”
Lamia stopped mid-stride, her back to Osylin. She tilted her head slightly, listening.
Osylin: “I will deploy the engineer at once. But...”
Lamia’s tone remained calm, but her words carried an edge. “But what, Osylin? Don’t you see our realms are unraveling? Make it happen. Quickly.”
The elder fairy lowered her gaze, her voice a hesitant murmur. “As you command, Erudite. But... without the Savior’s assistance, I fear...”
Lamia snapped around, her eyes blazing.
Lamia: “Ethan! Ethan! Ethan!” Her voice rose with fury. “Why must we all depend on him? I am sick of hearing his name!”
Her composure cracked, and the calm facade gave way to a storm of resentment. Her voice echoed in the chamber as her anger spilled forth.
Lamia: “He is no savior. Do you hear me, Osylin? He is not the savior! And yet, here we are, groveling for his knowledge, his science, his... arrogance. It disgusts me!”
Osylin lowered her head further, unwilling to meet Lamia’s blazing eyes. “Yes, Erudite. As you say. I will fulfill your orders.”
Without another word, Osylin turned and left the chamber, her footsteps heavy with unease.
Lamia stood alone, her breaths sharp and uneven, her emotions raw. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as a bitter scowl darkened her elegant features.
Lamia (to herself): “I know who you are, Ethan. What you are. But I am bound.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with barely contained rage. “I cannot kill you... no matter how much I wish I could.”
She stared out of the chamber’s expansive window, her gaze fixed on the darkened horizon of Arcanaeum, where the stars blinked like distant, mocking witnesses to her turmoil. Within her, hatred and helplessness churned—a volatile mix that left her teetering on the edge of control.
Lamia turned away from the window, her face composed once more. But the fire within her was far from extinguished.