POV: Nythera

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The chaotic land of infinite potential, a realm of seeming impossibility that many of the [Fold] called the [Void], it was an interesting place to everyone and just as perilous as it was endless. But those that knew the truth of this plane tended to avoid it like the greatest of plagues. The Primordialis Dimension, was the root of all that followed, the spark of all flames, the source of all streams, it was the mother and creator of everything, yet it unraveled most at the seems when they ventured close. Here, in this small section of the endless domain—the root of everything that came after it—Nythera watched in hope.

The air inside the fractured reality of the cave shimmered with a deadly calm, a stillness that was deceptive, concealing the layers of broken time and chaotic space. She had been watching—bound, half-formed in a prison between dimensions—but she had watched. Their struggle, their confusion, their fear... She had felt it all. Three newborns, three hatchlings, three children.

But her presence here wasn't unnoticed. The System, that artificial construct woven into the very fabric of her home world's reality, was always watching him—her hatchling. She could feel its gaze, subtly monitoring, calculating, twisting around him like a silent warden. Every time the Primordialis called to him, called to the boy, the System had intervened, pulling him back just enough, limiting him. Maybe it thought it was protecting him, Nythera didn't agree.

She had seen the small corrections—the way reality stabilized just before it unraveled completely, always redirecting him away from fully experiencing the pull of the primordial mother's beckon. The System was keeping Atlas from understanding his true nature. But she doubted the second voice was among its calculations. That thing was something even she couldn't see through, something unfathomable, and contradictory to the existence of this boy.

She closed her eyes, feeling the tension between them, this silent battle over Atlas's soul. There was no doubt in her mind—the System feared what Atlas would become, feared the "void's" influence on him. It knew something he didn't. And now, so did she.

[Leave. Please, leave. I will build a bridge. You will be the other side.] Nythera had screamed those words through the ancient Tetharis tongue, but she knew the System had heard too. Every time her voice touched Atlas's mind, it had been there, countering, manipulating. If it hadn't been for her connection to the [ALL], to this dimension, for the odd differences in the nature of the trio from the standard Astera Spiris, she wouldn't have reached them at all.

And yet, there was still the second voice.

That other presence lurking inside him, the part of Atlas that she couldn't yet fully comprehend. She'd heard it, felt it ripple through the fractured space between them. It unsettled her, not because she didn't understand it—but because she did. The Primordia Essence inside him wasn't dormant; it was alive, pulsating, and far more dangerous than anything she had seen in eons. The System had only delayed the inevitable, or exacerbated a situation it had never foreseen.

Her gaze sharpened as the fracture in reality widened, allowing her to see him now. Atlas ran ahead of his companions, the essence, primordial potential swirling around him like an unseen storm, bending the fabric of existence itself. The others—Shine and Blanc—ran beside him, oblivious to the danger, unaware of how close their brother was to unraveling everything.

Atlas didn't know. He hadn't yet felt the full weight of what he was. How could he? The child was caught between worlds, thrown into a cruel existence even for one born under the heavens. But a "voidling," a Primordian? They were the very definition of cursed children. He was never meant for this world, never meant to hold a form like the Astera Spiris. His very essence was at war with itself. It made no sense that he was even here, among them, in this form, in this time, in this plane.

The System knew that too.

Nythera had seen its attempts to fix him, to mold him into something less dangerous. But she understood now—there was no fixing Atlas. The Primordialis wouldn't be denied. It never was. It would tear through reality, and he would be the one to rip it apart, whether he realized it or not. Of course, that was only if Nythera hadn't learned of this in time, now, there was a chance. There was still time, after all, and time was equally fair and unfair, to all. Regardless of their origins, it did not care.

And in that moment, as time splintered, and the cave walls rippled with their passing, Nythera felt the guilt flood through her. It wasn't just her fault for pulling them here—it was her fault for everything. She didn't know why they had appeared in her ancient home, the place she once lived, but they had, and now, she'd pushed them to the current situation.

'Why in the great gates were they taken from the Cradle? If this is that constructs doing, I will not let it go, no matter the situation, I will never. let. it. go.' she thought in a bubbling rage. The Cradle was the first home of all Spiris, no matter their origin, family or name, it was the first sight any should see. And somehow, such special children, such void-touched hatchlings, had been stolen from their holy ground. As one of the first Astera Spiris, the wrathfully bubbling energies of a protective mother strained in her body. She would not let this go.

Alas, her wrath was washed away by the strength of her guilt, the strain on the souls of these days-old hatchlings was clear, the suffering and consequences of what they were experiencing just hours after birth was immense, not something she'd wish upon any of her children. Even if their soul-strings weren't woven to her own, she didn't wish what had happened upon any of them.

She should have been more careful, should have understood what the System was hiding from her. How could she have known? She had never seen a Primordian born among another race, let alone the Spiris. The [ALL] had never allowed one of its own to walk under the heavens for so long.

Atlas didn't know. He was a child, lost in the unknown, and she had pushed him to this brink without understanding what he was.

But the System knew.

Its interference was subtle, but she could feel it lurking even now, monitoring his every breath, calculating each step. She could see the moment it noticed her too, its presence sharpening as she neared full manifestation. For the first time in centuries, the System wasn't just observing. It was reacting.

But this didn't phase her. From the moment she laid eyes on the boy, she knew their connection. She didn't know its origin, but it was beyond just the influence of his voidling nature. He had something of hers, and this was enough. He would be hers. He would be the first child that was ever her own. He already was.

With a sudden *click* the filament that refused her attempts to go home shattered.

The last fragment of the dimensional tear broke, and Nythera was free. For the first time in 12,000,000 years, the [Voidbound Sovereign of Souls], had returned to [Sellene]. This plentifully chaotic plane of all races would not see peace now, time was like a wave, and it had just swelled massively. A new era was coming, and Nythera would be there to witness it.

For the first time in eons, she felt the solid ground beneath her, the weight of the physical world settling into her form. She shifted quickly, knowing the construct was watching. She needed to blend in, to calm the hatchlings before she dealt with this meddlesome artificial thing, before she dealt with the System.

When she finally stood before them, the trio skidded to a halt. Atlas's eyes widened, the flickering distortion around him dimming as the System wrapped its control tighter around the affects of his nature. His siblings stepped back cautiously, but she saw the confusion in their eyes.

Nythera took a single step forward, her heart aching as Atlas stumbled, exhausted, overwhelmed. He didn't understand what had happened, how he had ripped the veil between worlds without even meaning to. The System had kept that knowledge from him, and she knew it. Why it did so? She had a few conjectures, but all of them were half-formed. It didn't even make sense for a Primordian to exist in form of another race, yet somehow, Atlas was here. Maybe the System was protecting him, maybe it was protecting the world, maybe. Maybe not.

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Born of her race as he was now, though, Nythera had no thoughts of allowing the meddling of a construct in her child's fate.

"I'm so sorry," Nythera whispered, her voice laced with regret as she moved closer, pulling Atlas into her embrace. He didn't resist. How could he? He was too tired—tired in a way that went beyond the physical.

For a moment, she just held him, her voice soft as she murmured in Ancient Tetharis, "You weren't supposed to be this. You weren't supposed to suffer like this. They never should have hidden it from you." She stroked his hair gently, hoping to offer some small comfort. "You don't even know, do you?"

His body stiffened, and she knew the answer. He had no idea.

But the System knew. And now, so did she.

"Someone is going to regret this, I will make sure of it. That someone will not be you, little one," she said, her expression one of a lioness guarding her cubs, a beast whose bottom line had been crossed.

Then, she moved.

Nythera pulsed with energy, sending waves of healing into the trio of exhausted hatchlings. The soothing flow mended their mental fatigue, calming their nerves, showing them—wordlessly—that she meant them no harm. That they were safe now.

The hatchlings relaxed under her touch. Shine's rigid frame softened, Blanc exhaled a shaky breath, and even Atlas, still flickering with the remnants of the "void's" pull, seemed to find a moment of stillness.

And then Nythera's gaze lifted.

She stared into three cold, calculating pairs of eyes. The small System constructs shimmered, hovering just out of reach, observing like silent wardens. They had seen everything. But now, Nythera had seen them, and she'd make them answer.

. . .

. . .

. . .

POV: System

Seraphis, the System, known to Atlas as "Cortana," knew what was coming. She didn't know who, but she knew what kind of entity's attention the trio had caught. She had observed [Sellene] for the past ten million years, and most of it's history before her instating had not escaped her. She knew far more than Atlas could possibly ever know.

If the use of the Tetharis tongue wasn't proof enough, the form of connection this being was using to communicate with the trio, definitely was. This was a connection borne of merely two factors, two vastly different, and extremely telling factors.

Bloodline, and void, or known more accurately to her as Primordialis.

These were the two sources of energy detected affecting Atlas, Shine, and Blanc. Far from their cave, in an infinite land of white, "Cortana," Seraphis, watched. She observed with great interest, and increasing solemnity. There were a good number of beings this entity could be, but the one she had most confidence in the current situation, was one she never wished to see.

They were fundamentally different in ways Seraphis couldn't accept. She loathed the ways this entity had tarnished their ways, their beliefs. She loathed the forces she developed, the power she controlled, but even more so, that she believed she was right, that she was progressive.

She despised the choice she had made, ages ago, long before her birth, but known all the same. The choice to end another of their kind. The choice to end another [Arkaen].

'I will not let you go, if it's really you, Nythera. The elders on the grounds may have awaited you once, but I will definitely not let you do as you please while I'm here. You will follow the rules, or so help me I will make you pay.'

Something, someone, that could threaten her, was breaching [Sellene]'s reality filament. And Seraphis merely hoped it wasn't who she thought, as likely as it was.

[All sub-systems of 3rd grade and below begin [STOPPAGE]. This situation has just been raised to class [REALITY]. Donavan, what is Senior Vastikast doing right now?]

Hearing the command that rung through the plane of white, an uncountable number of smaller System projections followed the order of the [Great Mistress], their progenitor, and ruler. Behind this woman in white, a seemingly elderly man, a projection dressed as a butler, kneeled and answered:

"Answering the Mistress, Prim- Senior Vastikast is currently observing the situation."

Turning towards her most loyal aid, one of the few beings not related to the System in any way, but that worked to facilitate it's work, Seraphis questioned.

[The Senior hasn't said anything about the situation? Is he unsurprised by this development? Tell me everything, even the most minor detail, Donovan. This is serious.]

"I know, Mistress, worry not, I will not miss a detail."

[Mm.]

"When the situation began, from my observation, Senior Vastikast did indeed seem surprised, Mistress. I would even dare say he was momentarily stunned, but then he just laughed, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. I do not know the greater reasons behind this event, as I am sure you do, but it does not seem he is disappointed in this development, in my opinion. Additionally, when asked 'if something good had happened,' he responded in affirmation: 'Indeed, something grand has happened. The return of a queen, the return of a child, the return of a mother, the return of the future has just begun,' he said."

[This...]

"Finally, the Senior said he would not be taking action, he reminded me that his purpose was only to observe and prevent... those beings from meddling. He said he was open to discussion though, in the event that he is needed, but he will not interfere in any 'disputes of philosophical factions,' as that is not 'supportive towards growth,' Mistress."

[Sigh... It seems uncle Vast is of a neutral stance. I see, thank you Donovan, your information is noted, and greatly appreciated. Please continue serving Senior Vast to the best of your ability. I know you may be confused, but he is one of the few that can greatly aid you in your dream. This, I swear is true. I would not have assigned you this task otherwise.]

"This..." Donovan gasped, he couldn't believe the time had come so suddenly, from such a mysterious source, "I thank you Mistress. I will not let you down."

[Mm. Go on. If my calculations are correct, it seems I have a difficult time ahead of me.] Seraphis said, looking away from Donovan, back towards the panel that projected the situation of the three hatchlings, Atlas, Shine and Blanc.

[She will have to listen to sense, even if I must force her. She must seal herself, no matter what I have to do. I cannot let her go there before she vows that she will,] Seraphis said to herself, not even noticing how many steps back she'd unknowingly taken after the revelation that her "uncle" wouldn't be backing her up against this opponent.

Thinking this far, she pouted and asked aloud, speaking to her prison of white, her realm of silence, [Why won't you help me now, uncle? You know how much this means to me. I can't let her go, she broke the most important rule of potential... If she isn't stopped, the [Arkaen] will die in swathes, our children will burn and existence will weep. Why do you remain impartial despite the stakes, why now of all times? Why now, that a Primordian walks among us?]

Oddly, there was a response, a booming voice that shook the entirety of this land of white, as if it's mere existence was enough to unravel it if left unchecked:

[Because, little Sera, existence never stagnates. What must come will come, and what must cease will cease, even if the [Path] must change. It is the only truth that remains eternal. That, I can accept. In fact, I welcome it. If you want some backup, brat, go talk to that smelly old fart. He might help you, but if he does, I'm going to make it difficult, after all, adults shouldn't meddle in the children's affairs, he's just the only one shameless enough to actually do it, and the only thing I like more than these changes I see, is making his life difficult, bahahaha!] came the booming laugh of a mysterious being. If Atlas were present, he'd probably have his prophesized aneurism, because this voice belonged to the bastard "God" he so desperately wanted to shower in the gift of his 'bitch slap of loving justice.'

Seraphis's hands balled into fists. She already knew how her uncle saw the situation. Nythera, the one who had broken the rules. The one who had cast off the bonds of the world itself. No limits, no constraints, no rules of order, she was the one Spiris that differed from the rest, the one [Arkaen] that influenced even the war of the Elders. Even now, she could feel the woman's influence spreading. The hatchlings had never stood a chance.

[But you don't understand, uncle. She's not just an anomaly. She's [The Mother Without Bonds]. She doesn't abide by our laws, or even the laws of existence. She's unchained. Untethered. She's what happens when chaos is allowed to grow without guidance. If she's free to roam again, all that we've worked for—all that I've built—will crumble under her rebellion.]

The voice laughed again, louder this time, as if Seraphis's fears were nothing more than childish ramblings.

[The [Mother Without Bonds]? Bah! You're too focused on what she might do. You know, on the grounds, she's known by a different name. She's called the [The Awaited Matron of the End], the [Awaited Matron] is all that really matters, you know what that means, right? But let me ask you this—what if the bonds that she cast off are the very things holding back the future you're so afraid of losing? Maybe the world needs a bit of her chaos to thrive. Or maybe not. Who knows? Certainly not you.]

Hearing this, Seraphis froze for a moment, [Is she truly deemed [Awaited], uncle? Is that really true?]

As if having gotten the reaction it wanted, the voice boomed louder, the very space of the pure white land vibrating scarily, [Hahaha, yes, Sera, yes it is. Besides, I think you're forgetting why you were brought here, don't you?]

[Why I was brought here... What does that have to do with—] she froze, eyes dilating to pins, [Impossible! I refuse to believe that. There is no chance in the four planes that she is the key to... No, it's not possible. You are definitely mistaken, uncle.]

[There are five planes, little Sera, not four.]

Hearing this, Seraphis knew she'd get nowhere with her uncle, he was right about the planes, but the last one didn't count. She didn't even get why he'd mention it. It belonged to no one, nothing, and never would. It was future, past, and present all at once, it was everything and nothing, it was existence and destruction itself, or as the [Arkaen] knew it, it was [ALL].

And so, Seraphis prepared, she prepared as best as she could, for the seeming descent of the one person she accepted less than the gods, for the descent of [The Mother Without Bonds].