Iris hovered behind Lumina, who donned a bluish cloak over her array of jewellery. Iris leaned intimately close and blew a tender kiss at Lumina, who suffered an unexpected chill before a rush of relaxing warmth overtook her. Her rising magic power subsided along with her instinct.
A lovely tune calmed her heart. Its harmless melody enticed her to listen, to let go of her worries, to follow its suggestions. She frowned. Her emerald necklace and bracelets glowed. She took out a pair of cards and, as they shimmered, recited her divination spell.
The trembling cards flipped; the first card revealed a grass plain under the picturesque sunset while the second card depicted a witch dancing in starlight.
“Have I been too nervous?” she mumbled. “But my instinct has never been wrong . . .”
Iris embraced Lumina, who couldn’t feel her ghostly touch. “Dear, you shouldn’t overexert yourself.”
Lumina slowly exhaled. She was a Grandmaster-Tier Diviner, and her leader was infallible. She should trust the process. The day she captured the last of the Valerian Family drew ever so closer.
“Why don’t you show me your memories?” Iris said. “Recall what your goal is, and who . . . is trying to erase the Valerian Family.”
Lumina trod down a slithering hall where few cultists frequented. They stopped to greet her and resumed their tasks after receiving her gestures. Their names and duties bubbled in her mind, flowing into Iris.
Layers upon layers of magical arrays stacked periodically, masking the building in all-seeing fields. Their invisible presence eluded all but the most perceptive.
She arrived at the meeting room. Four other people had already seated themselves before the conference table. Their identities passed from her mind to elsewhere. Under Iris’s gentle whisper, the details of this Evil Cult became illuminated, vivid under her spiritual gaze.
While Lumina conversed with her colleagues, Iris studied their appearances, they were all Grandmasters, heads of various orders under the cult, and the only selected few to meet the leader of the cult.
Once twelve people gathered around the table, the door behind the main seat opened. Crimson light poured through, casting a long silhouette across the meeting room. A man whose expression hid beneath the blinding light walked to the seat. A few servants following him handed him a series of documents.
Despite the cult leader’s presence, Iris fixated instead on the source of light in the other room. A gigantic heart, suspended in the air by rusty chains, pulsated erratically. Blood continuously bled from its cracks but never dripped away from its fleshy surface.
It was breathing. Iris couldn’t help but smile. She wanted to examine it, dissect it, free it from its chains. Its full majesty would bring about a wondrous moment.
Something wasn’t right. Iris averted her eyes. An eerie sense of comfort receded. She returned to the cult leader, who finally gestured for the meeting to commence.
The master of the ceremony announced the formalities and the topics of discussion. All participants attentively listened, paying great attention to every little movement of their cult leader. He revealed nothing but a meditative air.
“Lumina, I’ve expected much from you,” the cult leader said.
Lumina lowered her head, her heart beating too fast. “The last of the Valerians have arrived at Donhalgen. I will soon bring her to you, my Lord.”
“Yours is a crucial mission, one of the oldest and longest.” The cult leader smiled. “The last struggle will be the most violent, most unpredictable.”
“I won’t disappoint you, my Lord. Your guidance has never been wrong.”
The cult leader’s eyes shifted from Lumina to above her, to Iris. “The power of dreams has always been elusive, existing outside of the world’s grasp.”
Iris stared back. “An Evil Cult that cares about the balance of the world?”
“I’ve given you enough information. It’s time for you to pay the price.”
The cult leader clenched his fist. Cracks spread from his body through space. Their all-devouring mouths aimed at Iris. Shattering noises echoed throughout the meeting room, accompanied by an earthquake that permitted no retaliation. The rest of the members shielded themselves while resisting the invisible pull of the void peeking from the fissures.
As Lumina set up her barrier, Iris flew into Lumina. She whispered delicate words into her ears, words that ignited her heart, words that seduced her soul. Lumina shuddered, trying to dispel these tempting thoughts, but she could only feel her fatigue gripping her mind. She wanted to sleep, and someone was singing her a lullaby.
“Who are you!” Lumina bit her tongue, feeling the agony snapping back. “You . . . used me to infiltrate us?”
An invisible force pushed Iris outside of Lumina. Lumina’s rings and bracelets shone briefly before fading like dead stars. She didn’t have the time to feel the headache while staring at the vague silhouette of a ghost who almost took her.
A series of cards slipped out of her sleeves. Light blue flames lit on their unreadable faces. They hovered around her, hissing at Iris.
Iris beamed at her target. Her spiritual body solidified until a long, leafy dress covered her silhouette, extending its tail throughout the room, sprouting colourful flowers for all to see. These flowers blocked the path of the devouring rifts, which rapidly closed themselves to seal the void from flooding the material plane.
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The earthquake subsided. The rest of the members locked onto Iris. She paid them little attention. Only Lumina and the cult leader were worthy.
“You . . . aren’t Elanor,” Lumina said. “Who are you?”
“An unpredictable element?” Iris chuckled. “Your goal is nobler than your method. I suspect . . . that your Evil Cult is only a façade.”
“How dare—” Lumina wanted to strike down the intruder, but the cult leader laughed.
He rose from his seat. The walls of the meeting room morphed into crystal-clear mirrors, whose shattered surfaces slowly spun around to reflect everything. Not even light could leave this prison.
“Indeed. A Fateless should know at least this much.” The cult leader gestured to his people to retract their powers. “And yet you still come here.”
“Without such a bet, how would I learn what I am not meant to? If I were to fail here, I would never succeed when my Destiny arrived.”
The cult leader nodded. “Then you must be the focus of the stage.”
Lumina and the rest couldn’t understand what their leader was talking about. They gave their all to the conversation, observing every hint of this ghostly lady, whom their leader regarded with such respect. She revealed no overwhelming prowess, though her presence escaped their perception.
Like Elanor, she wielded the power from another world.
“We are all pawns on this vast board, too feeble to shake the game, too weak to break the chains.” Iris’s voice vibrated. “But we are not powerless. Ripples may become a tide that will topple a mountain.”
“The world is unshakeable, the monuments eternal. Although I cannot grasp our master’s intention, your existence gives me a clue much needed.”
“Likewise.” Iris turned to Lumina and giggled. “I enjoyed your company, Lumina. Let us meet again.”
Lumina blushed. That clear, lovely voice infected her mind, soothed her anger, and blew a puff of ticklish air into her lungs. She regulated her breathing, trying to suppress the impossible urges. Despite knowing that her enemy had bewitched her, she couldn’t wipe away those feelings; she couldn’t bring herself to reject it.
“I won’t forgive you!” Her shaky voice inspired no confidence. “Your trickery won’t work the second time.”
Lumina swung her hand. A series of cards scattered out from her sleeves. They spewed out glowing fireflies that left trails behind their flights. Their trajectories formed an array of rotating, resonating symbols.
Bright pillars of light struck Iris. The meeting room trembled, dust raining from the ceiling and walls, but the structure remained intact. The spiritual damage hurt only the incorporeal entity.
Iris’s half-visible body lifted her right hand. Her fingers weaved a veil covering her expression. She hid within this blanket while the pillar seared her attire. Though her dress became torn, exposing her ghostly features, she was unharmed. Only the tips of her bluish hair, now gaining a snow-white tint, glimmered against the spiritual light.
Lumina was about to resume her attack when her eyes caught a glimpse of Iris’s right hand. It held a card depicting an intoxicated lady resting in the embrace of an angel, whose feathery wings spread throughout the frame, whose flowing hair danced throughout the sky.
The joy on the lady’s face was unmistakable, and the tenderness in the angel’s charm was irresistible. She only needed that lovely touch, all else was meaningless.
“What . . . did you do?” Lumina said.
Iris did not answer. She swept her gaze across the room, smiling at each member of the meeting. They dared not attack her.
The cult leader clapped his hands. The shattered walls and ceiling quivered. The ghostly spectre of the world compressed unto Iris. The fragmentary mirrors reflected her every angle, leaving only her veiled eyes hidden from the world.
Iris tossed the tarot card at Lumina, who caught it and, despite her instinct, kept the card. While Iris closed her eyes and brushed her hands over herself, her reflections did not follow her. They gestured differently, chanted differently, and thought differently.
Their random actions achieved various effects, but their other selves did the opposite. The myriad Irises overlapped, nullifying their intended results. The real Iris no longer dissipated out of reality. She could only watch the room compacting onto her.
“Domain of Reflection?” she said. “The power of a True Master is overwhelming indeed.”
Iris’s hair stirred. Her intangible form materialised, shifting into reality vividly. Her appearance, now gaining an air of mystery, became cloaked in a long laced black dress. Her hair turned dark, and her sleeves loosened until they covered her fingers. She flicked her wrist, stirring the shadow beneath her feet.
Her black eyes extinguished all light within her vision, and her black hair obscured her figure from the mirrors. An insignia of a withered black rose manifested behind her, and the world forgot her presence.
She stared at the cult leader, who too met her abyssal gaze.
As she drifted away, she beamed at Lumina, giving her a subtle chill. Lumina couldn’t sense her enemy, yet she could feel her warm gaze. It was a terrible feeling, like being held in a pair of cold yet soft arms.
…
“Is this the stance of the Church of Seven Virtues?”
“I lost the bet. And I must honour the agreement.” Arianne said. “The Lady is watching over her. I cannot allow you to interfere.”
Arianne’s voice was without malice, though forceful enough to express her determination. She held a golden staff while donning her official Saintess robe, a golden-rimmed white cloak decorating her fair appearance. A halo emanated from her silhouette, illuminating this dreary room.
Opposite her seated a man in a black tuxedo, holding a grey orb in his right hand. His blue eyes endured the Saintess’s radiance with its cool, deep aura. He maintained a calm smile throughout the silence.
“Her ignorance will be her downfall,” he said. “You cannot cover her forever.”
“You’re underestimating her, Drowning Nobleman.” Arianne giggled. Faint outlines of wings sprouted from her back and fluttered. “She’s already gotten what she needed. There won’t be another chance.”
Drowning Nobleman frowned, his fingers clutching his orb. “You allowed her to take advantage of your promise? I . . . may have underestimated her fierceness.”
“She’s my Lady’s favourite, after all. And it seems she’s your Lady’s favourite, too.”
“Any disrespect toward our Lady will not be tolerated.”
“I dare not presume The Divine’s goal, only a humble observation. I believe Lady Celestial Serenity agrees with me.”
“Her thoughts have always been elusive. We merely follow her oracle.”
“May I ask about her divination regarding our Iris?”
The Drowning Nobleman rose to his feet. Subtle noises of water dripping and flowing reverberated in this dreary room. The moss and weeds on the cracks of the rotten woods and fractured concretes shivered. He now stood before the Saintess of Pure Mind.
“She cannot escape our Lady’s grasp. We will bring her to the peak of the world, where she will face her Destiny.”
Arianne gave her most confident smile. Her illusory wings enveloped her body, and her figure flickered in and out of existence, growing blurrier and blurrier. “Throughout history, there were only a few moments where The Guiding Hand failed.”
“The Five Catastrophes and their minions are no more. The remaining Old Ones cannot disturb our plan.”
“The Lantern still exists . . . and Iris . . . still exists.”
Only Arianne’s haunting tone lingered. Her presence vanished. Her words—a foretelling—soaked the wet atmosphere with a heaviness that bore down upon the Drowning Nobleman. He couldn’t refute her words.
Although Iris was still so fragile, she remained the centre of all attention, the seed of all calamities.