CHAPTER FOURTEEN: A POETIC EVENING

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Chronifer soon realized that creating the leaf had taken hours. The echoing darkness beyond his window confirmed it. Ruhira had taken the Architect’s Ledger to store alongside her own creation, leaving only two remaining. Shully, however, had insisted that hers would be the focus of the next day.

Before parting, Ruhira explained that the blueprints would need to be submitted to the Under Mistress before they could officially join the summons. Their brief goodnight had been filled with heartfelt thanks, though Ruhira maintained her usual composed demeanor throughout.

That night, Chronifer still felt the lingering high of standing before the Constellation of Laws. The wonder of it buzzed in his chest - a heady blend of awe and satisfaction. Yet, even this sense of accomplishment couldn’t keep the creeping fear at bay.

Six days. Six days until he would face the unknown. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Today had passed in the blink of an eye, leaving him torn, part of him yearned for more time, while another wished the countdown would hasten so he could face the inevitable. What lay at the end of these six days? What trials awaited him? What of his years to come?

The quiet of the night wrapped around him, amplifying the weight of his questions. For a while, they lingered in his mind, refusing to let go. But eventually, even they faded, surrendering to the pull of sleep.

Chronifer woke up the next day not to the knock of Shully or Ruhira, but to the fierce itching of his body. The howling snowstorm outside did little to cool his burning skin, and he felt as filthy as a pig. The feeling gnawed at him, but it wasn’t enough to dampen his drive. He couldn’t even do his usual exercises, which only deepened his frustration. Instead, he forced himself through some stretches before he began shadow training, a practice he knew well.

With no sword in hand, he imagined one - its weight, its balance - and danced through the forms, flowing from one style to the next. His body moved on instinct, each motion of the stances a muscle memory, each twist and turn an echo of the practice his father had instilled in him.

He imagined an opponent. The image was blurry at first, fleeting, often vanishing before he could seize it. Still, he persevered, using the styles his father had taught him to create intricate, twisted deflections. Something stirred inside him. He felt more alive, more awake than he had in days. The style however felt off.

But before he could check what was different about the flow, a knock at the door broke his concentration.

And so, the day began.

Chronifer’s mind was still clouded by the uncertainty of the upcoming Integration, so he asked Ruhira and Shully about it. Surprisingly, neither knew much about it, and their answers were vague at best. They knew that it would bring immense opportunity for power, but beyond that, the specifics were unclear. The lack of answers didn’t help Chronifer’s anxiety. He had hoped for some clarity, but the fear of the unknown only deepened.

The Integration was twelve years off, yet Oniihino had made it seem his life from now till then would be tormenting. So he wondered what challenges would lay beyond the summons.

The girls discussed the completion of their blueprints. The four blueprints were the challenge laid down by Oniihino and the under mistresses to select ten witches from each of the six covens, a process reserved for the thirty most promising witch students - the "Kin."

Shully, true to form, was the first to try. This time, however, she didn’t break free from the Architect’s Ledger in a matter of minutes. She sat there for hours. When she finally broke free, the results were disappointing: the potential score was a high ninety-five percent, but the uniqueness barely touched fifty.

Shully cursed, slamming her hand down on the desk. "Damnit, that’s not enough!" The string of expletives that followed was more expressive than any words could convey, even cursing she kept a light almost joking demeanor.

Chronifer, watching her from the corner, felt a wave of ideas flood his mind. Shully’s two remaining branches, Shatter and Oaths. Still, when he finally got the chance to test his own input, the results were even worse: a staggering uniqueness score of only thirty percent, while potential was just shy of ninety-nine percent.

Frustrated, Chronifer stood and paced around the room, he sighed, letting it go.

Finally, it was Ruhira’s turn. She was calm as always, but there was a flicker of excitement in her eyes. As Shully held her hands to channel essence through Ruhira’s hand and into the Architect's Ledger, the room seemed to come alive with energy. After what felt like an eternity, they had a breakthrough. Ruhira’s blueprint for Shully’s Oaths branch reached an impressive near-equal ninety-five percent for both uniqueness and potential.

Ruhira beamed, a look of satisfaction dancing on her face. She couldn’t help herself; her excitement bubbled over. She spun in place, her hands moving like a conductor’s. “We did it!” she cheered, her voice ringing with joy.

Chronifer smiled faintly.

Once the girls returned to their rooms, leaving him alone, Chronifer paced back and forth, his thoughts churning. Oniihino’s words echoed in his mind: "Chaos, bedlam, and death." The Summons was approaching, and so was the unknown that lay beyond it and even beyond that was a greater unknown the Integration. He thought back to his list of monsters and races, memorizing their anatomy in case battle became inevitable. Knowing the body, man or monster, was the key to striking clean, efficient blows. He’d be ready, he thought. At least, he hoped he would be.

The days leading up to the Summons passed in a relentless blur, each moment weighted with tension. For Ruhira and Shully, the pressure to secure their spots was paramount. With only ten available in their coven, every passing hour tightened the noose. By the third day, half the spots were gone. By the fourth, just five remained. When the fifth day ended, only three openings were left—an unforgiving reminder of how close they were to missing their chance.

Shully, usually full of humor and charm, became a whirlwind of focus, her every moment spent perfecting her Ideas. Her frustration with low uniqueness scores was replaced by an almost frantic determination. Ruhira, though more composed, was not immune to the stress. Her sharp mind worked tirelessly to refine her ideas, but even she faltered at times, her calm demeanor cracking under the weight of what was at stake.

Chronifer, in contrast, faced a quieter yet equally daunting fear. The Summons represented a threshold - a leap into the unknown for which he felt unready. While Ruhira and Shully saw the event as an opportunity, Chronifer’s unease lay in the challenges that would follow. He saw the potential it presented but felt unprepared to face it. Desperation pushed him into his routines, shadow training and repeating the forms his father had taught him. Yet each attempt seemed to only deepen his frustration.

The hum of the styles, their seamless flow and rhythm, came to him with ease. The "instrumentals" - the stances and forms - were second nature, a melody his body could play without thought. Yet the "lyrics" eluded him. The flaws and vulnerabilities, the subtle imperfections his father's performance had once revealed with such clarity, seemed to vanish whenever he practiced alone.

It was as though the styles had lost their voice in his hands, reduced to hollow motions devoid of meaning. The realization gnawed at him, leaving him restless and uncertain. He knew the answer lay somewhere beyond his current understanding, but the path to finding it felt shrouded. It troubled him deeply, this sense of being stuck, he felt truly lost, unsure of how to even begin approaching the question.

Chronifer had hoped to find comfort in his training, yet he only encountered more worries reinforcing his question. Was he prepared?

The Architect’s Ledger became both a tool and a torment. Its glow reflected the intensity of their effort, casting long shadows in their cramped workspace. Each success was followed by a new obstacle. On the third day, Shully finally completed her blueprints, her relief short-lived as Ruhira pushed forward, still racing against the dwindling time. It wasn’t until the fifth day that they managed to finish Ruhira’s final blueprint, a painstaking collaboration that saw both girls rushing out into the corridors to submit their work before the morning.

Chronifer watched them go, left alone in the quiet of his room. The silence felt heavier than ever, a constant reminder of the countdown ticking away and the challenges still to come. Tomorrow would be the second to last day and Chronifer found himself restless for it to come and Pass.

His sleep that night felt like a blur, an eye blink and the next thing he knew It was morning. His body itched fiercely but he was already used to it, his skin was getting reddish spots, which Chronifer mourned.

The day crawled forwards at a snail's pace, the morning felt as long as all the previous days together, Chronifer was sure his hostile thoughts would drive him mad, his heart fluctuating from sharp painful slow downs and daze-inducing fast beats. So when the knock came he rushed to the door like it held his sanity

He opened the door to find… no one, not Shully or Ruhira, instead of a human or animal, standing there in the shape of a full grown man was a spiraling mass of vines covered in barks and pink blossoms, Chronifer took Several steps back in the time it took him to make those assessment, the door still swinging open.

He heard more than felt his heart rate pick up, his visions seemed to focus on the monster.

A voice came from the creature, which Chronifer had expected to attack him.

“Oh dear, my humble servant here would never attack you.” The voice giggled, it was familiar, the lilting and flirty way of speech familiar. “Well, If it escapes my control that would definitely be the first thing it does but that matters little.”

Letting his posture ease a little from the ready stance he had fallen into, Chronifer ventured a guess.

“Oniihino?” He inquired, he took a few steps back ignoring her disturbing assurance.

“Yes, dealing, I know you must have missed me, but unfortunately aunty is an important woman in a very busy time,” Oniihino said, her voice remorseful and dramatic.

“If I did miss you, I'll probably hate myself by now seeing what's standing before me.” Chronifer said his eyes searching the bare rook for the weapon he knew wasn't there.

The monster's body shifted and tangled, like a riving mass of thick individual vines wrapped around each other coiling. Twisting. Expanding. As if the wood was… breathing. “Come let me get a closer look at you.”

“What!” Chronifer exclaimed, she's mad! “Come back with your beautiful self, world's most beautiful like you said.”

“What a naughty young man, you should know I'm blushing.” Oniihino said her voice carrying a light giggle “Step into the Monster.” The totally insane words came in a casual tone. Then the Monster's body untwined, Chronifer took a step back, the vines untangled with a writhing sound to reveal a dark empty void within its hollow untangled mass.

“Absolutely not…” Chronifer began.

A series of tendrils exploded from the monster's dark, seemingly endless innards, cracking through the air like deadly whips. The first lashed toward Chronifer's waist with blinding speed. Instinct roared to life - he spun into a horizontal flip, his body twisting laterally, just inches above the tendril as it passed harmlessly beneath him.

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He crouched low, legs coiled like springs as he landed, ready to launch again. Another tendril shot toward his chest, forcing Chronifer into a desperate backward roll toward the wall behind him. The vine slashed through the air where he’d just been, smashing into the window with a heavy, splintering thud

A third one surged at his face before his feet could fully steady. Kicking off the floor in a daring side flip, he twisted in a vertical arc, narrowly evading the vine as it snapped just shy of his hair.

He landed lightly on one of the writhing tendrils, its surface shifting beneath him. Using it as a springboard, Chronifer flipped sideways, vaulting onto his bed. Mid-flight, another one lashed across his path, missing him by a breath.

His landing on the bed was hard but controlled. Yet beyond the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, Chronifer couldn't help but feel a surge of disbelief - not at the relentless barrage of tendrils, but at how instinctively his body responded, how he moved with precision and grace he didn’t know he had.

The room grew suffocating with tendrils snapping and writhing, each one seeking to ensnare him. Heart pounding, he rolled to the side, dodging two more as they smashed into the mattress behind him.

The space around him shrank as the tendrils multiplied, choking the small room. Chronifer’s breath came in sharp gasps, adrenaline surging through his veins. He was ready for his next move - until there was no room left.

The vines stilled for a moment, then whipped toward him from all corners. They lashed out, tangling, wrapping around his limbs, pulling at his skin with an eerie, silent hunger. The suffocating air in the room couldn’t compare to the way the pulsing, warm vines coiled tighter around him. They clung to him like living chains, their grip tightening with every second.

Chronifer’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath growing shallow, quick, and panicked.

The constricting vines squeezed harder, and suddenly, the world around him went black, as if the tendrils themselves had dragged him into a darkness far deeper than the room they’d filled. A suffocating, crushing darkness that felt all too familiar - a dark void similar to the one that had lurked within the creature itself.

“Aunty!” Chronifer called out. “I'm too young to die!” Chronifer shouted his panic looming

“Ooh hush, dear.” Oniihino’s voice echoed out, “why go through the stress to kill you with a monster when I could have mushrooms growing within your lungs?”

Chronifer was quiet after that question but he was screaming within himself. I want my parents!

“No one told me that particular detail.” Chronifer Admitted. His heartbeat slowed down. “Where am I? Why not come get me yourself?”

Oniihino’s giggle sounded through the darkness. “This darling, is a pocket dimension where the Vizsius stores food.”

“Food?” Chronifer knew of the concept. But only in books, and he didn't like being in the position of food, that rang of death.

“Stupid boy. I told you I had control of the monster,” Oniihino said, her voice laced with playful reprimand. “I know you really want to see your beautiful aunt, but when a pseudo-God is searching for your food, you get creative with transport.”

“Wha... food? Me?” Chronifer asked, his earlier shock mingling with confusion and an undercurrent of fear. He couldn’t quite grasp the terror such a title should invoke. The fear seemed alien, out of reach—too foreign for him to fully understand. A pseudo-God, searching for me?

“Yes, darling,” Oniihino’s voice echoed from the darkness, as if it came from everywhere at once. “Your family certainly wants me old. Give me a darling boy, and then another with the same name comes along, looking to take him.”

Chronifer felt his brain spinning, wants her old? Same name? Oh… oh…

“The… pseudo-God Is from my family? The Montcroix-Wythe?” Chronifer tried his voice unsure.

“Well of course darling, didn't I say that?” Oniihino answered as if exasperated by his question being dumb.

Of course? Dante I think I spoke bad about you too quickly. Chronifer thought his left eye twitched. So my parents did want this person to get a hold of me.

“Who from my family if you don't mind me asking?”

“Fashina, dear boy.” Her voice came.

“Fashina?” Chronifer asked, feeling sheepish.

“Slora, that woman. You're grandmother.” Slora provided.

“Why…”

“Leave that be darling, you'll be arriving soon, you've been stressing enough.”

Chronifer wanted to know more about that, why didn't his parents want him to see his grandmother? But he didn't push, he supposed he'd learn about it in time.

“I've not been stressed.” Chronifer lied. How did she even know that?

Oniihions laughed a low sinister laugh that held no teasing or joy. “You want to try lying to me again within this monster? Do you darling?”

“I'm sorry I lied, I've even been losing sleep over it, Aunty Oniihino.” Chronifer said doing a full spin on his point. He wasn't particularly scared to admit his fear of the people around him, he was totally powerless against them, his only saving grace was being in their good graces.

“Yes, I know.” Oniihino declared. “We'll talk about it over tea in a bit.”

“Tea?” Chronifer asked, a bit reluctant.

“Don't you like good cosan tea, mixed with tenlen bee honey?” Oniihino asked, unsure.

“My best, but…” Chronifer was cut off

“Cipher… didn’t tell you?”

“My dad loves telling stories of his friends.” Chronifer offered to Oniihino’s flat toned question. “I would beg you to not poison my tea.”

“Don't listen to Cipher darling, he was mistaken, my flowers aren't all poison.” Chronifer nodded to her words, praying into the darkness that he doesn't get his father and his division experience of being poisoned before arriving at a battlefield.

“Sure thing.” Chronifer said smiling, the darkness didn't talk back. “Aunty.” he added

“Always a pleasure, dearling.” Oniihino said in a smooth flow.

“Brace yourself, dear.” Chronifer had less than a heartbeat to comply.

In an instant, he was shot out of the abyss inside the monster, hurled toward Oniihino, who sat calmly awaiting him. She raised a single finger, its red-painted nail gleaming like a command.

Chronifer’s body slammed to an abrupt stop, a crushing pressure coursing through him. Then, just as quickly, it vanished, and he plummeted straight down.

“You’re finally here. Come join me,” Oniihino said, not waiting for Chronifer to gather himself.

Chronifer glanced around, taking in their surroundings, as he gathered himself. The room was small, its walls made of thin wooden frames that held rice paper panels. The paper was painted with a series of dancing women, dressed in red, black, and gold. An unseen light source illuminated the room softly, casting a gentle glow on the artwork.

Behind him, the door he had shot through had vanished. In front of him stood a low red wooden table, with a soft mat laid out for him to kneel upon. On the other side sat Oniihino, elegantly dressed and smiling.

Her face was like polished marble, smooth and radiant, her deep black eyes gleaming with quiet intensity. Her raven-colored hair was intricately braided, held together with long golden spikes. Her lips were naturally pink, unadorned by lipstick.

She wore layers of white and red robes, patterned with meaning and symbolism. Kneeling with her legs tucked beneath her, she rested gracefully on her own mat.

He approached and took his place on the mat, legs tucked underneath him.

Finally! He thought, he felt a calm settle into his heart, from the darkness of the monster's inners to the news about his grandmother, a pseudo-God searching for him, his fear had been mounting but now he felt more settled and although, his father had told him nothing good about Oniihino making tea, he loved teas, his mother’s tea sessions had made him grow fond of their taste and the traditions surrounding them.

Oniihino Picked up the kettle set on the side of the table that seemed made of porcelain yet radiated a deep, hot red shine from the carvings.

She poured the light purple tea into his cup, filling it halfway with practiced ease. Setting the porcelain teapot down, she reached for a slender bamboo container, shaking it with an elegant rhythm that seemed to calm the air itself. “I see questions in your eyes,” Oniihino said, her voice soft but certain. She placed the container aside and offered him two incense sticks. “I also see the weight of your tiredness.”

Chronifer took the incense without a word, rubbing their tips to spark a flame. One after the other, he placed them in their holders, watching the thin trails of smoke curl upward as though they might carry his thoughts with them. “When you came to me last, you told me my days ahead would be chaos,” he said, his voice low. “That most would die.” He hesitated, then added, “I think I’ve slept better while Dante was waking me before dawn.”

“This one’s on me,” she admitted, though her tone carried neither regret nor apology. Instead, she studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp as a blade, her usual flirty tone gone. “You’re worried about the hurdles ahead?”

He nodded, lowering his head slightly. “I’m just six, Aunty,” he said quietly. “I already feel powerless in the peace I know. What will I be in a world of chaos?”

Oniihino’s hands stilled as she opened the bamboo canister, revealing the bronze-colored honey within. Its tantalizing aroma swept through the room, light but potent enough to taste on the tongue. Yet her focus remained on him. “Why do you fear?” she asked, her tone cutting through his doubt like a knife through fog.

Chronifer flinched at the question, his fingers tightening against the wooden table. “You called my future chaos and bedlam,” he said, breaking their gaze to stare at the incense. “You said most wouldn’t survive. How could I not fear?”

“I know what I said, dear boy.” Her faint smile returned as she picked up a spoon to stir the honey into the tea. “But your words ring hollow. I can hear it.”

Chronifer glanced up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She sighed softly, turning her attention to the swirling liquid in her cup. “You don’t fear the future. Not really.” Her voice dropped, taking on a gentler cadence. “You fear yourself. You fear being too small, too young, too unprepared to stand in a world that demands more than you believe you can give.”

Her words struck him harder than he expected. Chronifer stared at the red wood of the table, unable to meet her eyes. She had seen through him - exposed a fear he hadn’t even put into words.

“You’ve trained with Cipher and Dante, haven’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

“Yes,” he admitted. But the weight in his tone was unmistakable. “For only six months.”

“I understand.” Her tone carried a rare gentleness now, one he only knew in his mother, Slora. “But there are things you must hear, darling.”

Chronifer felt the same subtle force he’d encountered before - a pressure that lifted his chin without him realizing it, forcing him to look at her. His heart thudded, as if the moment carried more weight than he could yet grasp.

“You think you’re too small,” she said. “Too young. Undertrained. You believe the chaos will swallow you whole before you can grow into your strength.” Her eyes bored into his, unwavering. “But those fears are dressed in fine clothes of ignorance.”

Chronifer blinked, his confusion evident. “Ignorance?”

“Do you know the monster I used to bring you here?” she asked, her smile brightening with a hint of mischief.

“No.” He shook his head. “I know of the Vizmaus, but those are just beasts. They don’t have essence.”

She chuckled lightly. “The Vizmaus is the beast variation. What I used was a Vizsius - a Rank Two monster. Its strength and speed were diminished because of my interference, but you understand what that means, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly, his knowledge limited but clear on one thing: the gap between ranks was massive and he was without one yet.

“You feel unprepared,” she continued, her voice taking on a stern edge. “Yet you’ve been trained by Cipher and Dante - men who haunt the nightmares of even the most powerful. And here you sit, belittling yourself without ever testing your strength against the world.”

She leaned forward, and her words grew sharper, like a blade honed to perfection. “Do you intend to remain safe, shielded from life’s whims until you feel ready? Or will you take the reins of your life and forge yourself against the challenges it throws your way?”

Her words pierced through him, settling deep in his mind, his heart, his very spirit. They were more than words—they were a call to action, a force that seemed to patch the cracks of his doubt and fortify his resolve. He stared at the tea in his hands, its surface rippling faintly, as though reflecting the tumult within him.

Oniihino’s smile softened. “Fear will always follow you, dear boy. But it’s your choice whether to let it lead or to let it temper you. The world will remember those who rise against it - not those who wait for permission to stand.”

Chronifer felt the weight of her words settle in his chest, heavy yet steadying. He looked up, no longer avoiding her gaze. He would not shrink from the trials ahead. He would carve his name into the world, not out of fear, but out of the strength he would forge from it.

“I’ll take the reins,” he said softly but with growing certainty. “I’ll make the world remember me.”

Her smile widened, satisfied. “Good. That’s the spirit of a Montcroix-Wythe.” She nodded. "You'll need it to live past tomorrow"

End of Part 1 - Raised in Black