Kiva's neck craned, his gaze straining to pierce the maelstrom of magic above. Five silhouettes, each pulsing with unimaginable power, danced across the fractured sky. Legends, all of them. Even at this distance, their clash with the colossal avian Calamity, Ziz, sent shockwaves rippling through the air, warping the very fabric of reality itself.
The sky bled, raining a tempest of fire and ice as the Domains of the Legends contorted reality to their whim, forging fierce storms of elemental energy. And joining them, were ten of the archipelago’s Icons.
The battle itself was a grand spectacle of raw, unrestrained power, each punch or sword slash causing earth-shattering tremors that rattled the very foundations of the world and the ground beneath them trembled as the impacts echoed through the land, nearly ripping the city’s gates from its foundations.
Only a day ago, Kiva would have been in awe and filled with a desire for the immense power displayed before him. Now, however, his stomach twisted with fear and a growing sense of helplessness as he witnessed the combined might of the Legends and Icons barely make a dent in the monstrous bird's skin. Although it seemed entirely unfazed by their attacks, the creature did alter its course, finally turning away from An Layan. As it flew towards the setting sun, its massive silhouette outlined against the vibrant sky, its destination was clear: the mainlands.
Relief, a fleeting and fragile emotion, washed over Kiva. Good, he thought. Let it go there. And if we’re lucky it’ll stay there for however long it’ll take to sort things out. Not like there’s anyone living there to worry about.
But he did not stay relieved for long. Sure the Ziz was gone for now, but the threat remained. What about the other two Calamities? What hope could they possibly have when even the combined might of the Legends could only offer a temporary reprieve against just one?
The storm began to dissipate, revealing the devastation in its wake. The once bustling city outskirts lay in ruins. Groans of the wounded and the acrid scent of burnt metal hung heavy in the air. Kiva's gaze fell upon the scattered figures of cultivators from different Houses, a stark contrast to the animosity and rivalry that had defined their recent history. Now, a shared weariness enveloped them, a grim realisation settling upon their faces. The truth had been unveiled with brutal clarity: their individual strengths were meaningless against such threats. This battle, this war, could only be won, if at all, through unity.
A deep breath escaped Kiva's lips, laced with the metallic tang of ash and despair.
The impending storm weighed heavily on his mind, even more so than the physical exhaustion that gripped his body. They had a difficult and arduous journey ahead of them, and the first step, he realised with a newfound resolve, was to set aside past differences and stand together, as one.
He gazed up at the Legends and Icons hovering above, watching the Calamity disappear into the distance, and hoped with all his might that they were not too late in their efforts.
***
Ayo sat beneath a cascading bougainvillaea tree, watching the vibrant pink petals dance on the gentle breeze. The battle that had just transpired, the clash between the Legends and Icons against the monstrous Ziz, felt like a distant nightmare. She hadn't participated, the sheer magnitude of the day’s events overwhelming her. Mairo and Wole had been quick to reassure her though, promising that her absence would not be missed. It was okay, they had said, everyone needed a break.
Still though, a subtle smell of scorched stone and burning wood lingered in the air. Her gaze drifted towards the distant mountains, where the setting sun cast long shadows, carrying the retreating Calamity away and for a moment she felt what could almost be considered relief.
Suddenly, a familiar presence stirred within her Domain - the sharp, crystal-like essence of Luan. Even unreleased, an Icon’s Domain remained a canvas of her will, a sphere of influence within which she held complete control. She marvelled at the sensation, at the knowledge that she could remove him from this space if desired. She did not, of course.
Luan emerged from behind the tree, his normally bright eyes clouded with concern. He knelt beside her, his presence offering a comforting warmth and for a brief moment, said nothing at all.
"So," he began softly, "you know."
Ayo tilted her head slightly. "Know what?"
"About the real cause of the War. About the true, dark past of House Whiterose." Luan let out a small, humourless laugh. "There was actually a bit of an argument about who'd come talk to you."
Ayo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of annoyance sparking in her eyes. "About what?"
"Well," Luan continued, scratching the back of his neck, "Narai wanted to draw straws for it. Elder Yasmin and Amha were all for a group meeting. Eventually, they settled on Elder Oneshi's idea – to send the one Whiterose member you were both close to and… well, distant enough from the crime not to completely obliterate me on the spot."
Ayo's brow furrowed further. "So they sent you?"
"Seems that way," Luan admitted with a sheepish grin. "After all, while I did my fair share of… questionable things for House Whiterose, my talents have always leaned towards building things, not breaking them. Plus, it's not like we were ever best friends, you and I. Which is totally fine, by the way."
Ayo stared at him, a mix of annoyance and confusion swirling within her. "Why all the fuss, then?" she finally asked. "What are they so worried about?"
Luan's smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He met her gaze, and Ayo felt a shiver run down her spine at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. "Ayo," he began softly, "you really don't know, do you?"
A heavy silence descended between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Luan spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "They're scared. Scared of you."
Ayo stared. "Scared of me? Why?"
Luan sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Because they know they messed up, Ayo. Big time. We were… We were shitty people. Terrible even. No one's denying it. And if the war hadn't happened, we probably would have kept on being shitty people." He paused, letting his words sink in. "They're scared you'll hate them. Hate House Whiterose for everything we've done."
Ayo stared at Luan, her mouth agape. The revelation hung heavy in the air, a truth she hadn't dared to contemplate. "Why?" she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper. "Is it because I'm Starborn, or..."
"Yes… and no," Luan cut in, his voice filled with regret. "The Starborn part was definitely a factor. We'd have cared about keeping you on our side for that reason alone. But is it so hard to believe that we have come to respect and love you enough that your opinion of us matters so greatly?" He trailed off, searching her eyes. “Is it so hard to believe that we could have had a change of heart in the past three hundred years?”
"Three hundred years?" Ayo echoed, a new wave of confusion washing over her.
"Before the essence surge that brought you to Vestige," Luan explained, "when First Isle was still an essence desert and we… slept. It wasn’t true unconsciousness. We couldn't speak or move, but we were aware. We could think. And let me tell you, being stuck in your own head for centuries puts things in perspective. House Redwood and the Red Queen had every right to be angry. We deserved their wrath."
A flicker of understanding dawned on Ayo's face. House Whiterose had spent centuries on First Isle, the lack of essence preserving them, never changing and forced to confront their actions and the pain they'd inflicted. It must have been a form of imprisonment far worse than any physical cage.
"It took me a long time to accept it," Luan continued, his voice low, "and I know it's the same for everyone else. We weren't proud of what we'd done, even before the War. But being trapped like that… it forced us to confront the people we were."
Luan let out a sigh. “We’re not asking you to forget what you heard Ayo. I don’t think anyone would expect that of you. But we are asking you to forgive, if you can.”
Ayo watched him, hunched over and vulnerable and felt a familiar sensation within her – the Law of Justice, that core principle that now guided her actions–stirring to life. It told her that Luan and the others were waiting, their fates hanging on her judgment.
After a long, heavy silence, Ayo spoke, her voice firm but laced with a hint of sadness. "I don't hate you," she admitted. "I can't. Maybe it's because you guys are the first real family I’ve had in a very long time. It’s a biased perspective, I know, but I can’t help it."
She took a deep breath. "But what you did… what House Whiterose did, causing the war, the things you did in the years before… it was abominable."
"We know," Luan said, his head bowed.
"So, in all fairness," Ayo continued, her voice steady, "I don't know if I have the right to forgive House Whiterose for the sins it's committed against others. It's not my place. But… lying to me, hiding things from me… that I can forgive."
As she spoke the last words, a surge of power blazed through her, her Law resonating with her decision. Instinctively, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Luan in a hug. He tensed for a moment, surprised by the sudden gesture, but then relaxed into her embrace.
Despite Luan's larger stature and imposing physique, Ayo couldn't help but marvel at the raw strength thrumming within her. In this state, fueled by the power of her Law and the weight of her decision, she knew she could easily shatter the very Sigil anchoring his form.
But she wouldn’t. Even if Luan had been a complete stranger, someone she felt little attachment to, she would not be the sort of Icon that went around testing their strength on Sigils that annoyed them. It wasn’t the sort of thing her Law would agree with and neither did she.
They held each other for a long moment, a silent exchange passing between them. It was a small gesture, but it marked a turning point. The path to true reconciliation would be long and arduous, but for now, a seed of hope had been planted.
Ayo stepped back, her arms falling back to her sides as the surge of power subsided. Luan watched her closely, his expression unreadable.
"Thank you," he said at last, the weight of those two small words speaking volumes. "I know it won't make up for the past, but your forgiveness...it means more than you could possibly understand."
Ayo inclined her head, then exhaled slowly, feeling the burdens on her lighten, if only fractionally. "I'll speak to the others, one by one if needed. Clear the air, reaffirm where we all stand going forward into...whatever lays ahead for us."
Luan nodded solemnly. "We'll be ready whenever you are." With a final look that spoke of gratitude and faint hope, he turned and strode away, leaving Ayo alone with the dappled sunlight and her own tumultuous thoughts.
Her gaze drifted elsewhere, towards the open meadow and it reminded her strongly of the Solidan spaces where her morning training sessions had so often taken place. A small, wistful smile played across her lips as memories surfaced - afternoons of sparring and breathless laughter with Wole and Mairo, chasing moments of fleeting joy amidst their world's slow spiral into chaos. God. Had it really only been two years since she fell into this world? It felt so much longer.
She stood with a sudden flourish, frightening the flock of pigeons that had been roosting nearby. It was time to find the boys, to draw strength from their bond as the final push towards Legend rank began. They were the unbreakable core around which this tattered, traumatised family could heal and unify.
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Ayo's strides lengthened with determination. The path ahead would be arduous, the sacrifices demanded by the coming oblivion war immeasurable. But at least she would not have to walk it alone.
***
Ayo appeared suddenly in their living quarters on An Layan, a bright flash of light announcing her arrival. As she materialised, she saw Mairo and Wole sitting at the table, deep in thought. The room was a peaceful oasis compared to the bustling chaos outside. When they noticed Ayo, their faces broke into matching smiles, erasing any signs of weariness or stress.
"I was starting to think you'd gotten lost," Wole teased, the familiar spark of playful snark dancing in his eyes.
Mairo simply held her gaze for a lingering beat, letting the depths of his affection bleed through effortlessly. "We were beginning to get worried, Starling."
Starling? That was new. But she couldn’t say she didn’t like it. Ayo regarded them both, a warmth filling her heart near to bursting. Just seeing them, feeding off their resilient light in the face of the looming apocalypse, was a rejuvenating tonic to her soul.
Ayo sank into the chair opposite them, the tension from the day finally starting to seep into her muscles. The familiarity of the room felt oddly soothing.
"So," Wole began, the playful glint momentarily absent from his eyes. "We have a lot to talk about."
“Yes. Yes, we do.”
Taking a deep breath, she plunged straight into the heart of the matter. "Let’s begin with the bond… the soulmate bond," Ayo started, her voice gaining strength. "What does it mean for us?"
Mairo leaned forward, his gaze filled with genuine concern. "Ayo, listen to me very carefully. There are no obligations here. This bond doesn't dictate your feelings. It's a connection, yes, a thread of deep understanding. But it doesn't have to be romantic or sexual or anything at all."
Ayo considered this for a moment. "So, you're saying…"
"We're saying," Wole interjected, his voice husky, "that the most important thing is what you feel comfortable with." He paused, then looked at Mairo, a silent communication passing between them.
Mairo took over, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "Ayo, we love each other. We have for a long time. It’s actually so obvious its kind of stupid that it took a tribulation to get us to admit to it.”
Ayo blinked, a wave of surprise washing over her. This revelation, on top of everything else, was overwhelming.
"And we love you," Mairo continued, his gaze unwavering. "You're our family, our soulmate, no matter what you decide."
The weight of their words settled over Ayo. Hesitantly, she asked the question that had been swirling in her mind.
"So what now? Do I… do I have to love you back the same way?"
Wole reached out, his hand hovering gently over hers. "No pressure, Ayo. Take your time. This is all new."
She squeezed his hand back, a fragile sense of connection blooming between them. "Before all this," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper, "before the Trials, the pain… the answer would have been yes, it would have been an easy yes. But now… I don't know if I have the capacity to love anyone that way."
A gentle smile touched her lips. "That said, I do know that I care about you two a lot. More than anyone. So… I’m willing to try. If you’ll have me."
Mairo and Wole stared at her, silent, for a long moment before a tentative smile blossomed across their faces. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, a mixture of fear, hope, and the dawning of a new possibility.
Wole’s first kiss was hesitant, a brush of lips against hers, filled with a strange mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Then came another, from Mairo, this one lingering a moment longer. The contact was awkward, unsure, yet strangely exhilarating. They kissed each other too, a silent exploration of this new connection and Mairo’s little sigh as he melted into the kiss sent a rush of heat straight to her belly.
Ayo closed her eyes when they turned back to her, surrendering to the moment. It wasn't perfect, far from it. There was a rawness to it all, a vulnerability that both scared and excited her. But as they pulled her to her feet, leading her towards one of their rooms, a calm acceptance washed over her.
This wasn't love, not yet. But it was a start, a tentative step towards something new. And as they consumed her in a tangle of limbs and whispered reassurances, Ayo allowed herself to be swept away by the tide of sensation.
***
Folarin sprinted through the unruly streets, dodging frantic civilians and the hulking war machines of House Inkspire alike and felt nothing but fear. The once powerful city, a bastion of power and order was gone, reduced to a scene of complete chaos and disorder.
The Trials had been an unmitigated disaster, a devastating loss that left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was made worse by the fact that the only thing currently preventing her House’s complete annihilation was the distraction provided in the form of the imminent arrival of more Calamities – but even that felt like a temporary reprieve.
Rage and despair warred within her. Ayo. That blasted girl. Everything had been going according to plan, their hold on Vestige tightening with each passing day. And then she arrived. A wild card, a Starborn-shaped wrecking ball that had catapulted House Whiterose back into the spotlight. If only Ayo hadn't been there… if only…
A sharp pang of pain tore through her, momentarily buckling her knees. The deep crack in her soulspace, a nasty souvenir from her botched tribulation, flared up, sending her essence haywire for a brief, agonizing moment. Failure. That's all she was now. The Adjudicator's pitiless eyes judging her inability to merge with a Law flashed in her memory.
In her haste to maintain her position within the House, she'd rushed into the tribulation unprepared, fueled by fear more than power. Now, she was a liability. And House Redwood didn't keep liabilities around for long. Iman and Diallo were a stark reminder of that. Gone. Vanished just a few hours ago, the official story a flimsy cover for their permanent removal. Folarin knew better. She knew she was next.
Panic clawed at her throat, constricting her breaths. The city was no longer safe. They would come for her, and the Calamity wouldn't offer her eternal protection. She had to escape, find somewhere to hide, somewhere to heal. But where? The thought of seeking refuge with House Eboncrest was laughable. Those one's days were numbered even more than hers. And none of the more powerful Houses would willingly accept a damaged Sigil with a bounty on her head. No, she needed somewhere far away, somewhere Ayo and her tag-alongs wouldn't think to look.
Her vision swam as a fresh wave of pain hit. The crack in her soulspace was worsening, a constant drain on her already dwindling reserves. But the thought of facing her executioners spurred her onward. She stumbled out of the city, into the desolate wasteland that stretched beyond its crumbling walls.
The ground was pitted and scarred from the battle between Ziz and the Legends. Wrecked trees, broken earth, and pools of concentrated essence littered the landscape. So potent were these pools that Folarin could feel her skin bubbling from just a few meters away. They were valuable cultivation resources, for those willing and able to use them, but there was no time for such considerations. She had to flee.
Venturing deeper into the forest, away from the city and towards the untouched areas that survived the afternoon’s cataclysm, Folarin considered her next move. Suddenly, a thick mist began to weave its way through the trees, seemingly defying all logic. It sent shivers down her spine as an instinctive warning pulsed through her body. Hastening her steps, she eventually stumbled to a halt, feeling a rush of fear course through her veins.
Perched on a nearby branch, outlined by the encroaching fog, was Wole. His eyes, usually warm and kind, held a hard glint in them. He greeted her with a simple "Hello, Folarin," his voice devoid of any emotion.
Folarin's scream died in her throat as the tendrils of mist solidified into water whips, binding her tight. Panic surged through her as she tried to summon her dragon, her soulblade, anything to fight back. But a quiet "No" from Wole and a subtle flex of his Domain rendered her attempts futile.
He leapt down from the branch and approached her slowly, his movements deliberate and measured. For a long, agonising moment, he simply watched her, his gaze a heavy weight pressing down on her.
"Hello, Folarin," he repeated and at that moment, she felt all hope sink and die.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded. “Haven’t you done enough?”
Wole tilted his head slightly, a flicker of something akin to rage crossing his features for a brief moment. "Enough? Not really, Folarin. You've caused a great deal of pain. Don't you think a little payback is in order?"
"Payback?" Folarin scoffed, a humourless sound escaping her lips. "Is that why you're here? Because of a bruised ego or something? I was following orders!"
"You know, people keep telling me that. As if it means anything. As if some orders aren’t worth questioning," Wole countered, his voice firm. "But no, actually. I don't particularly care about most of the people you… inconvenienced."
Folarin's eyes narrowed. "Then what is this about?"
Wole sighed. "Unfortunately for you, you hurt someone important to me."
"What are you talking about?" Folarin demanded, a flicker of fear igniting in her gut. "Is this about those defectors? Because if so, you should be thanking me! They were traitors, Wole. They would have turned on House Whiterose eventually. I did you a favour."
"Perhaps," Wole conceded, his voice devoid of emotion. "But you also hurt Ayo in the process."
Surprise flickered across Folarin's face. "Ayo? You… you care about those… deserters?"
"They weren't deserters," Wole corrected sharply. "And yes, Ayo cared about them. They were her friends. And you… you murdered them."
Folarin lunged forward, a feral snarl twisting her face. She snapped at the water whips, her teeth scraping uselessly against their unyielding surface. Tears of frustration and fear welled in her eyes.
"You can't do this!" she screamed, her voice hoarse.
Wole's expression remained impassive. "I think you’ll find that I can. But in all your ramblings you have been right about one thing. Those who betray House Whiterose will pay the price."
A flicker of suspicion crossed Folarin's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Iman and Diallo," Wole said, his voice flat. "Their disappearance. Haven’t you wondered what happened to them?"
Folarin's breath hitched. The official story was that they'd vanished, presumed defectors. And it wasn’t even too farfetched; a lot of cultivators had fled the city the moment the Ziz was driven away. But a cold dread began to bloom in her stomach.
"What did you do to them?" she whispered, the words thick with dawning realization.
Wole's gaze turned distant for a moment. “Well… I killed them obviously. They were fairly useless without your guiding hand but I couldn’t chance one or both of them suddenly getting ambitious and coming for revenge or something.”
Folarin slumped against the tree trunk, the fight draining out of her.
"You can’t do this," she rasped again, her voice barely a whisper. "Iman and Diallo…"
"They were collateral damage," Wole admitted. "A necessary evil to ensure all of this ended today."
Folarin squeezed her eyes shut, a strangled sob escaping her lips. The world was tilted on its axis. The order she'd dedicated her life to, the power she'd craved – it was all going up in smoke.
"Listen, Folarin," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for the situation. "It may not seem like it now but I'm actually offering you a chance at redemption. You failed to become an Icon, and while Mairo and Ayo might be content to leave you alone for now, I know you. You'll come after them again, and I won't let you hurt anyone else I care about."
Tears welled up in Folarin's eyes, blurring her vision. A desperate plea formed on her lips.
“Goodbye, Folarin,” said Wole. “And may your next life be a little kinder.”
Folarin lunged forward, biting, screaming, but the whips were unbendable and all she saw were Wole’s cold, cold eyes.
"Domain Release,” he said. “Everlasting Storm."
The world around Folarin collapsed into a swirling vortex of water and wind and a delicious sort of pain lanced through her, stealing her breath and her consciousness. And as darkness claimed her, a single thought flickered in her fading mind: I never got to name my dragon.
Her screams dissipated into the swirling vortex and a heavy silence descended upon the scarred landscape, broken only by the mournful sigh of the wind.
***
In the heart of their opulent quarters, ensconced on a luxurious bed, a jumble of limbs rustled. Ayo stirred slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. Beside her, Mairo groaned softly and burrowed deeper into the warmth of her neck.
A creak at the entrance drew Ayo's full attention and she blinked sleepily as Wole stepped into the dimly lit haven, his cloak damp with mist. Relief washed over her as she saw him, followed by a pang of concern.
“Where were you?" she croaked, her voice rough with sleep.
Wole shrugged out of his coat, his movements stiff. "Just settling some unfinished business," he replied, his voice low and strained.
Ayo's gaze narrowed as she studied him. "Unfinished business?"
He hesitated, his jaw clenching for a moment. "Just... offering a chance at redemption to someone who needed it."
Mairo groaned again, his eyes fluttering open. He glanced at Wole, then at Ayo, a knowing flicker passing through his gaze. He mouthed something to Wole that Ayo couldn't quite discern.
Wole sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. "We can talk about it in the morning, alright?" he said, his voice carrying an unfamiliar weariness.
Ayo frowned, a pout forming on her lips. "Keeping secrets again, Wole?"
Wole and Mairo exchanged nervous glances. Then, Mairo shot Wole a playful glare before turning to Ayo with a grin.
"Just a little," he admitted with a stifled laugh. "But we promise to tell you everything tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Ayo grumbled, only a little bit annoyed. "Always tomorrow!"
Despite the tension, a playful energy crackled between them. They launched into a familiar routine of tickles and playful shoves, Ayo's initial protests dissolving into joyful squeals. Wole joined in, his smile strained at first, but genuine warmth gradually returned to his eyes.
"Alright, alright!" Ayo gasped between giggles. "I give in! Just... stop tickling me!"
They settled back down, the tension dissipating as Ayo snuggled between them. Wole wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and Ayo sighed contentedly, her eyelids drooping.
"Goodnight, Wole," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
"Goodnight, Ayo," he whispers back, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. "Goodnight, love."
Sleep claimed them one by one, a fragile sense of peace settling upon the small quarters. But beneath the surface, a darkness gnawed at Wole's heart. The price of their safety had been paid, a dark burden he would carry alone, for Ayo's sake.
He knew she might not understand. Maybe not even forgive. The Ayo he once knew, the one with eyes full of hope and a smile that could light up a room, would recoil from the darkness that still existed within him.
But then, there was a change in Ayo too. A hardening in her gaze, a steely resolve that hadn't been there before. He hated that it had come to this, that a part of her innocence had been sacrificed for their survival.
Yet, a chilling logic settled over him. This darkness, this cold pragmatism blooming within Ayo – it might just be their salvation. In the days to come, naiveté was a luxury they couldn't afford. Maybe, just maybe, this new, hardened Ayo was exactly what they needed to survive the brutal days ahead.
Wole squeezed his eyes shut, the image of Ayo's innocent smile flashing behind his eyelids. He pushed it away, clinging to the cold comfort of his decision. He would be the monster, so she wouldn't have to be. So long as they all survived, the cost didn’t matter.