Habondia entered a chamber with a circular floor, its white marble surface gleaming beneath the grandiose Gothic windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The architectural design spoke of both majesty and ancient craftsmanship.

The thirty-four-year-old woman sat on a black marble throne, adorning the room with her presence. Oval eyeglasses framed her thoughtful green eyes, her wavy brown-blond hair gathered in an elegant braided chignon. A golden ring, set with rubies, adorned her left ring finger, a flash of regal beauty. Her attire was a white and green shirtwaist dress, the embodiment of grace.

Her eyes were fixed on a floating marble chessboard. Lost in the intricacies of the game, she absently stroked a crucifix that nestled in her neckline.

As the chess pieces moved with an intelligence of their own, she observed the battle unfolding before her. Red and purple pieces clashed in the timeless struggle. The purples had claimed a spear-wielding knight mounted on a horse, a siege tower bristling with archers, and a humble foot soldier armed with a sword. The red forces, in turn, had seized a pawn and a queen regally attired in a long dress and crown.

Habondia adjusted her eyeglasses with a gentle push of her slender fingers. Her silver crucifix pendant seemed to hold some kind of significance beyond its religious symbolism. She stroked it with nervousness, as her finger fidgeted while staring at the game.

“Sam and Beelz... their game is interesting. Don't you think, Bondy?” A voice, as melodious as the finest symphony, hummed into her thoughts.

A woman in her forties with a complexion like rich milk chocolate entered the scene. Her lips were painted a shade of white, and her hair cascaded in curly black waves highlighted with bluish hues. A small black butterfly brooch held back a few locks of hair revealing her left pink eye. She sat gracefully on Habondia’s throne armrest, adjusting her long golden skirt. She wore elbow-length black gloves, and as she moved barefoot, her toenails shone white.

“They deserve some respect, Naamaah,” Habondia mumbled.

Ever the provocateur, Naamaah flashed a teasing smile. “Alright then, what do you think, The Eternal Instigator and The Master of Misery?” Naamaah opened a hand fan which was an artful display of skulls, pink roses, and a massive vertical eye of fire, and concealed her mischievous amusement. The eye on the fan blinked, inspecting everything around as a silent observer. “Relax, Bondy, you're too nervous.”

“The Beldame of Misfortune. Thy day shalt be lively, thee fainéant fan-dangle!” The voice of a barefoot girl, who appeared to be around ten years old, echoed in the chamber.

This girl possessed a complexion paler than the moon's glow and hair as white as freshly fallen snow, cascading down to her thighs, her eyes didn’t have any apparent pupils and looked like those of someone with glaucoma. Her attire was a white silk dress.

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“Abeona,” Habondia turned her head in surprise. “You’re earlier than expected.”

Abeona nodded.

“Every time I see you, your skin tone is paler. You're getting old, honey,” Naamaah chuckled.

Abeona's stared at Naamaah expressionless. “Contumely of thee,” Abeona sighed. “By mine fay! At which hour shalt thee learn to respect this one?”

“I see you never take jokes. Jokes are meant to make you laugh, honey... don't get angry!” Naamaah teased, her laughter trailing her words.

Abeona, the physically youngest but the chronologically eldest reclined regally on another marble throne. Her attention shifted between the chessboard, where a purple bishop moved, and the unfolding exchange between Naamaah and Abeona.

Abeona finally turned to address Habondia. “How long shall it taketh?”

“I have the queen; I only need to dismantle her entourage,” she replied.

“This one hast hath heard thee possesseth two big stars as lackeys,” Abeona said.

“What did you say?” She frowned.

“English, please!” Naamaah chuckled.

Abeona sighed.

“What do you mean by two stars?” Naamaah inquired, her fingers lightly caressing her cheeks.

“The Arlo of Words,” Abeona confirmed.

“Ilmarinen?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Looking at your reaction, Habondia... It seems it's true, and not merely the ramblings of this blatherskite!” Naamaah chortled.

“Another curious observation yond this one has made, this tyme with this one's own eyes. Tis thy most precious and recent acquisition. An Eternal Beldame, A Creature of the Trinity!” Abeona's whisper held an undercurrent of intrigue as she surveyed the room, her demeanor serene, yet her gradually ascending pitch betraying her interest.

“A Beldame? You mean a Jana, right?” Naamaah sought clarification, her curiosity piqued. Abeona nodded.

“That's a relic of a word!” Naamaah chuckled. “Which of the three Creatures?”

“It’s The Entity of Creation,” She disclosed, her fingers clutching her crucifix ever more tightly.

“Well, enow. This one believes this one might do naught but congratulate thee for yond revelation!” Abeona went on her feet and curtsied. “Thou anon possess the Entity of Creation. The Entity of Conservation knoweth of its own existence, so capture shall prove impossible.”

"The Entity of Devastation hasn’t appeared yet," Naamah continued, her smile fading like the last light of day. "This is the hardest to control. When it manifests... we must make it ours before it knows its power, or we lose."

Habondia nodded, the weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders. "Do not worry. With the power of the Seven, everything is on our side. There’s still some time left."

"The city is in chaos! That's something wonderful for us," Naamaah said.

"This game of hide-and-seek, created by Völundr’s lackeys, has served us well as the perfect distraction, so this one bethinks," Abeona chimed in, her voice a curious blend of archaic elegance and haunting prophecy.

"But, this young guy... Zak! He disappeared, merely attending our party and then leaving without a trace. His threats of destruction were empty, it seems. What are your thoughts on this, Habondia? Abeona?" Naamaah asked, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“This one wishes to know as well,” Abeona nodded.

Habondia furrowed her brows, contemplating the swirling chaos of events. She had no immediate answer. Zak's messy outburst had, in an unexpected twist, created a window of opportunity for her. Everything seemed almost too conveniently aligned, but she dared not question the fates at this time. Her focus was unwavering as she prepared for the next phase of her plan.