**Pranit's Restaurant - London - Evening**
The dining room hummed with that particular energy of successful dinner service satisfied customers, clinking glasses, the soft murmur of conversations creating a pleasant background noise that made the space feel alive. The warm lighting cast everything in golden tones, making the food look even more appetizing, making the diners feel comfortable and welcome in a way that kept them coming back week after week.
But the entrance of the woman in the white hooded cloak had disrupted that comfortable atmosphere. Not violently, not dramatically, just by her sheer presence the way exceptional beauty sometimes does, commanding attention without demanding it, creating silence through simple existence.
The patrons who had noticed her which was most of them by now had begun whispering among themselves, their voices low but carrying in the suddenly quieter space.
"He took her inside his kitchen," one man said to his companion, his tone carrying that particular quality of gossip delivered as observation. He was middle-aged, wearing an expensive suit, probably a businessman from the City who came here regularly for the food and the atmosphere.
His companion another businessman, slightly younger, with thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses leaned forward conspiratorially. "It's maybe Pranit's girlfriend." The suggestion was delivered with that mixture of curiosity and approval, as if this explained everything and made it somehow more interesting.
At the next table over, a woman in her fifties with carefully styled hair and jewelry that suggested old money rather than new turned to her husband. "Maybe it's his fiancée? Or maybe she knows him from somewhere?" She paused, considering, her voice taking on a more analytical quality. "I mean, he isn't bad looking."
Her husband a distinguished-looking man with silver hair and the kind of bearing that suggested lifetime military service nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are not wrong. I mean, look at Pranit. He is actually handsome and good-looking, and he has a good reputation in London." His voice dropped slightly, taking on a more serious tone. "And I'm always scared of that cannibal, but when I'm in Pranit's restaurant, I don't feel anything. It feels safe here."
The mention of the cannibal the serial killer who had been terrorizing London for months, consuming victims completely, leaving no trace sent a ripple through the nearby conversations. Several diners shifted uncomfortably, reminded of the danger that existed outside these comfortable walls.
Another man at a different table, younger, maybe in his thirties with the casual clothes of someone in tech or creative industries, spoke up. "Yeah, that cannibal is scary. Both police and those robots couldn't find them." His voice carried frustration mixed with fear, the kind that came from knowing that all the technology and law enforcement in the world couldn't stop someone who was careful enough, determined enough, or powerful enough.
His companion a woman with bright purple hair and multiple piercings, similarly dressed in casual expensive clothes nodded agreement. "The fact that they can eat people completely, leave nothing behind... that's not normal human behavior. That's something else."
The first businessman, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly become too dark for pleasant dining, waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, forget it. Let's enjoy the food." His voice carried forced brightness, the social reflex to move away from uncomfortable topics and back to the reason they were here.
The conversations gradually resumed their previous pleasant murmur, the uncomfortable topic of the cannibal fading back into background concern as the excellent food and comfortable atmosphere reasserted their influence.
But while the dining room returned to normalcy, something very different was happening in the kitchen.
---
Pranit had led the woman through his kitchen with casual confidence, nodding to his staff
who barely glanced up from their work, focused on the dinner rush and toward a door at the back that most of them knew existed but rarely questioned. Storage, they assumed. Or perhaps his private office.
The door opened onto stairs leading down. Concrete steps, plain and functional, descending into darkness that the weak overhead bulb barely penetrated. The temperature dropped noticeably as they descended, the warmth of the kitchen giving way to the cool dampness of underground spaces.
At the bottom of the stairs was another door, this one heavy metal with a serious lock. Pranit opened it with a key he kept on a chain around his neck, hidden beneath his chef's whites.
Beyond was a basement that no health inspector had ever seen. No customer. No staff member except the two who helped him with very specific tasks and were paid extraordinary amounts to forget what they'd seen.
The space was larger than expected, stretching beyond the restaurant's footprint, probably extending under adjacent buildings through London's ancient underground network of tunnels and forgotten spaces. The concrete floor was clean spotlessly clean, scrubbed with industrial chemicals that left a faint smell of bleach in the air.
And along one wall, stacked with careful precision, were the corpses.
They weren't fresh Pranit was meticulous about disposal timing. These were bodies in various stages of preparation, preserved through methods that combined modern refrigeration with older, more arcane techniques. Some were whole. Others had been partially processed, specific organs or muscle groups removed with surgical precision.
The woman in the white cloak,though Pranit had called her that stood in the center of the basement, her mismatched eyes scanning the space with professional interest rather than horror. She'd seen worse. Had caused worse, probably.
"Well," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the concrete space, "I believe you know why I came?"
Pranit leaned against one of the metal preparation tables, his chef's whites looking strangely out of place in this space of death and preservation. His expression was serious now, the gentle warmth he showed customers completely absent, replaced by something colder, more calculating.
"Indeed, I know, Mei Rin."
She smiled slightly, acknowledging his use of her full name. "Well, you don't have to give me respect by saying my full name." Her tone was light, almost playful, suggesting their relationship whatever it was operated outside normal hierarchies.
"Whatever it is, tell me why you came here," Pranit said, his voice flat, wanting to get to the point.
Mei Rin's expression became more serious, her heterochromatic eyes focusing on him with renewed intensity. "Well, after all, I came to talk about Planet Aelora. And from there, I got this body."
The words hung in the air, loaded with implications. Planet Aelora a name that shouldn't mean anything to anyone on Earth, that belonged to somewhere else entirely, to a place that existed in cosmic distances that human minds struggled to comprehend.
Pranit's eyes narrowed, his mind processing this information, connecting it to things he knew, things he remembered or half-remembered through the fog of his own damaged memories. "What about the vessel? Is she still alive?"
"She is," Mei Rin confirmed, her tone taking on a note of something that might have been satisfaction or might have been amusement. "However, she won't disturb me that much. We have a contract."
Pranit's confusion was genuine and visible. His head tilted slightly, his expression shifting. "Contract?"
"Yeah, basically in this contract, she can't talk when I have meetings or experiments, et cetera, et cetera." Mei Rin gestured vaguely, as if the details were mundane and boring. "However, she can enjoy what a normal human does. Experience things, feel things, live her life when I don't need the body for specific purposes."
Pranit's response was immediate and sharp. "Kill her."
The suggestion no, the command was delivered without hesitation, without any apparent concern for the ethical implications. Just a practical solution to what he perceived as a potential problem.
Mei Rin's expression didn't change, but something in her posture shifted slightly, becoming more defensive. "Well, I can't do that. This is a contract, that's why. Plus, she is not annoying, though."
The refusal was gentle but absolute. Whatever agreement existed between Mei Rin's consciousness and the human host body she occupied, it apparently had terms that even she couldn't or wouldn't violate.
Pranit sighed, the sound carrying frustration but also acceptance. "Whatever it is. So what's the thing you know?"
Before Mei Rin could continue, before she could deliver whatever information had brought her here, something interrupted them.
A rat.
It emerged from a crack in the basement wall, moving with purpose rather than the random scurrying typical of its species. This rat moved directly toward them, its path straight and intentional, and when it reached a position roughly equidistant between Pranit and Mei Rin, it stopped.
And spoke.
The voice that emerged from the rat was human. Male. Calm and controlled, carrying authority and intelligence that should have been impossible coming from a rodent's throat. The sound itself was wrong the rat's mouth moved, but the acoustics didn't match, as if the voice was being projected through the creature rather than produced by it.
"This is a message from Aetherion."
Pranit's reaction was immediate and shocked. "A rat talking?!" His voice rose slightly, genuine surprise cutting through his usual careful control.
Mei Rin turned to him, her mismatched eyes showing something between amusement and concern. "I guess you forgot your memories after that battle, didn't you?"
The question carried weight, suggesting that Pranit's memory loss whatever had caused it
was more significant than he'd been letting on, that there were fundamental things about how the world worked that he'd forgotten or never fully understood.
Pranit's jaw tightened, his pride stung by the implication. "Well, of course not. I'm just busy trying to get my full Hollow Moon power."
The explanation came out defensive, and he knew it sounded weak even as he said it. The truth was more complicated his memories were fractured, incomplete, with gaps that appeared without warning and fundamental knowledge that should have been instinctive but required conscious effort to recall.
Mei Rin's smile widened, taking on a quality that was almost predatory. "Too bad. I already revived eighty percent of mine."
The comparison was delivered lightly, but the implications were devastating. She had recovered most of her original power, whatever that entailed, while he was still struggling to reclaim a fraction of what he'd once possessed.
"How?" Pranit demanded, his voice sharp with frustration and barely concealed envy.
"Well, let me hear this rat first," Mei Rin said, turning her attention back to the speaking rodent.
The rat's voice continued, delivering its message with that same calm, controlled tone. "He said that the shark is yours, didn't it? To distract them so that storm continues for a bit."
The words referenced events Mei Rin understood immediately the underwater attack on Astraea's ship, the impossible storm that had appeared and disappeared, the various pieces moving across the board in games within games.
Mei Rin's smile grew even wider, something genuine breaking through her usual careful control. She addressed the rat directly, speaking to the consciousness behind it, to Aetherion himself listening through this tiny proxy.
"Say to him: Yes, I know what you're thinking. However, I admire how much you're aware of everything."
The message was delivered with respect and something else appreciation, maybe, or recognition of skill. Whatever game Aetherion was playing, Mei Rin acknowledged his mastery of it.
The rat nodded once, a gesture that looked disturbingly human coming from a rodent, then turned and scurried back toward the crack in the wall, disappearing into the darkness beyond.
Pranit stood there, his mind churning through implications and connections. *Aetherion is listening to us from everywhere, isn't he?*
The thought was chilling. Not just surveillance through technology or human informants, but through animals through the rats and birds and insects that were literally everywhere, that humans had learned to ignore as background noise, that could witness everything without being noticed or questioned.
*How many creatures serve him? How extensive is this network? And how long has he been watching me?*
Before Pranit could voice these concerns, before he could ask the questions burning in his mind, a voice called from upstairs, cutting through the basement's artificial quiet.
"PRANIT!!"
The shout was loud, frustrated, carrying the particular quality of restaurant staff dealing with an overwhelming rush.
"Someone needs food!" The voice continued, slightly muffled by distance and the closed door at the top of the stairs.
Pranit sighed heavily, the sound carrying exhaustion and frustration in equal measure. His chef persona reasserting itself, the responsibilities of running a successful restaurant crashing back into his awareness. "We will continue later, Rin."
The shortened name came out naturally, suggesting familiarity and comfort despite the strange and dangerous topics they'd been discussing.
"Okay then, go and serve," Mei Rin replied, her tone light, understanding. Whatever urgency had brought her here, it could apparently wait for Pranit to maintain his cover.
Pranit headed toward the stairs, already mentally preparing for the controlled chaos of the kitchen, already shifting back into the gentle, professional chef that his customers and staff knew.
Behind him, Mei Rin stood alone among the corpses. Her mismatched eyes one yellow, one blue scanned the preserved bodies with clinical interest. Then she spoke to the empty room, her voice carrying something between amusement and contempt.
"He is dumb, isn't he?"
The observation was delivered lightly, but beneath it was genuine assessment. Pranit's memory problems, his struggle to reclaim his power, his apparent unawareness of how extensively Aetherion's surveillance network operated all of it suggested someone operating at a disadvantage, playing a game without understanding all the rules.
She moved closer to one of the corpses, her fingers trailing across preserved flesh with the kind of casual intimacy that suggested long familiarity with death. Whatever she'd come here to discuss, whatever information about Planet Aelora she'd intended to share, would have to wait.
But waiting didn't concern her. She had patience. She had time. And she had eighty percent of her original power back.
---
**London Streets - Simultaneous**
The rat scurried through London's hidden spaces, moving through cracks in walls, through the gaps in foundations, through the network of tunnels and sewers and forgotten passages that underlay the modern city. It moved with purpose, following some internal map toward whatever destination Aetherion had designated for its return.
Above, the evening city hummed with life. Cars moved through streets. People walked on sidewalks. The normal rhythm of urban existence continuing without awareness of the tiny messenger carrying vital information through the darkness below.
The rat emerged from a storm drain into a small park one of those pocket green spaces that London preserved between buildings, offering a brief respite from concrete and glass. Trees provided shadows. Bushes offered cover. The perfect space for small creatures to move unnoticed.
The rat paused at the edge of a path, its small body freezing as its limited senses detected something wrong. Movement above. Fast. Predatory.
A raven descended from the sky with tremendous speed, its black wings cutting through the air with mechanical precision. The attack was surgical talons extended, trajectory calculated, no wasted motion. The kind of hunting behavior that came from intelligence rather than just instinct.
The rat tried to flee, its legs scrambling for purchase, its body twisting to escape. But the raven was faster. The talons closed around the rat's body with crushing force, puncturing flesh, breaking bones, ending its function as a messenger and surveillance proxy.
The raven lifted off immediately, the rat clutched in its talons, ascending back toward the trees with powerful wing beats. It landed on a branch twenty meters up, its red eyes gleaming in the gathering darkness.
Then it spoke.
Not with a human voice like the rat had used, but with its own natural call the harsh, croaking sound that ravens made. But within that call was meaning, was communication, was intelligence that transcended simple animal behavior.
The raven adjusted its grip on the dead rat, then launched again, this time flying with clear purpose toward a specific destination. It moved through the London sky with confidence, navigating between buildings, using air currents with expert efficiency.
Other birds joined it along the way. More ravens, their black forms barely visible against the darkening sky. They flew in formation, all moving toward the same destination, all carrying the same sense of purpose.
---
**Mountain Range - Location Unknown - Evening**
The mountains stretched endlessly in all directions, peaks rising into clouds, valleys dropping into darkness. This place was remote far from cities, far from roads, far from any human presence beyond the occasional lost hiker or adventurous climber. The kind of location that appeared on maps as blank space, that existed more as geographic feature than actual place.
And here, surrounded by rock and wind and the vast emptiness that mountains created, Aetherion waited.
He stood on a flat outcropping, perfectly positioned to offer views in multiple directions. His immaculate suit looked somehow undisturbed by wind or weather, and his bearing suggested he'd been standing there for hours without discomfort, without any human need for shelter or warmth.
The raven approached from the east, its black form visible against the sunset-painted sky. It descended with precise control, its wings adjusting for wind currents, its trajectory bringing it directly to Aetherion's shoulder.
The dead rat was still clutched in its talons. The raven released it, letting it fall to the stone at Aetherion's feet a small, broken body that had served its purpose and was now just meat.
But the raven had brought other passengers.
Ants crawled across its body, dozens of them, tiny black forms that had been hidden in its feathers. They descended now, moving down to the stone surface, arranging themselves in a rough semicircle around Aetherion's feet.
These were the ants that had watched Astraea. The ones that had observed her surveillance of Carmilla's group. The ones that had witnessed her calling herself "the brightest star" and talking about her "little stars" Rens and Angela.
And among them was the ant that had carried the message from Leonhart Voss. The one that had witnessed the confrontation with Nityen and Hariharan, that had heard those two mysterious words KARA-ENKI that had been sufficient payment for removing all security from Valenora.
Aetherion looked down at the assembled creatures with an expression of mild interest. Then he spoke, his voice carrying clearly despite the wind.
"So, what did she say?"
The ants responded. Not with human voices exactly, but with something else a collective consciousness speaking through multiple bodies, creating sound through the vibration of tiny legs against stone, through the movements of antennae, through some mechanism that shouldn't have been possible but undeniably was.
The message came through in fragments, pieces of information delivered in overlapping whispers that somehow combined into coherent meaning:
*"Astraea watches the group."*
*"She calls them her little stars."*
*"She protects them from observation."*
*"She waits for them to finish eating."*
*"She feels pride when the boy sensed her."*
The information was delivered efficiently, without elaboration, just facts observed and reported.
Then the ant that had visited Leonhart Voss spoke separately, its report distinct from the others:
*"Leonhart accepts the deal."*
*"Security will be removed."*
*"Two words were sufficient: KARA-ENKI."*
*"He sends message: 'They also know.'"*
Aetherion's smile widened, genuine pleasure crossing his features. He spoke to himself, his voice carrying satisfaction and something deeper pride, maybe, or the particular pleasure that came from seeing plans unfold exactly as predicted.
"Interesting. How interesting this thing is."
He paused, his mind clearly processing multiple layers of information, connecting pieces across vast distances and complex timelines. When he continued speaking, his voice carried that same conviction.
"It's as my plan. And even if it doesn't work, it's enough to do what I want."
The statement suggested contingencies within contingencies, backup plans for scenarios that hadn't even occurred yet. The kind of thinking that operated on timescales and strategic depths that most minds couldn't comprehend.
Then his expression shifted slightly, taking on a note of new interest. "Those two—" He was clearly referencing Nityen and Hariharan. "—I think they know my plan. Interesting. Maybe they can hear through animals too."
The possibility was delivered with satisfaction rather than concern. If they knew his plan, if they had access to similar surveillance networks, that just made the game more interesting. Worthy opponents rather than ignorant pawns.
Aetherion looked at the raven on his shoulder, at the ants arranged at his feet, at the dead rat that had served its purpose. Then he spoke one word, quiet but carrying absolute authority.
"Enough."
The raven's head turned, its red eyes meeting Aetherion's gaze. Something passed between them understanding, maybe, or simply acknowledgment of what came next.
The raven killed the ants.
Its beak stabbed down with mechanical precision, crushing tiny bodies, destroying the surveillance proxies that had served their purpose. Each strike was efficient, surgical, no wasted motion. Within seconds, all the ants were dead, small broken forms scattered across the stone.
Then the raven launched itself from Aetherion's shoulder, its wings spreading wide, its body climbing rapidly into the sky. It flew higher and higher, ascending toward the clouds, toward altitudes where the air grew thin and cold.
And then it dove.
The descent was vertical, wings folded, body streamlined, accelerating toward terminal velocity. The raven fell like a stone, like a missile, like something that had decided that falling was the same as flying if you did it with enough commitment.
It struck the mountainside with tremendous force. The impact was instantaneous bones shattered, flesh burst, the raven's body destroyed completely by the collision with unyielding rock.
Aetherion watched this suicide with an expression of genuine appreciation. He spoke quietly, his voice carrying respect.
"That's what I like."
The statement was simple but loaded with meaning. Loyalty unto death. Service without question. The willingness to end existence when purpose had been fulfilled. These were qualities Aetherion valued, qualities he cultivated in his various servants and proxies.
The mountain wind continued blowing, cold and indifferent. The sun continued setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. And Aetherion stood alone among the peaks, surrounded by the corpses of creatures that had served him, his plans advancing exactly as he'd designed them.
---
**Netherlands-Nazi Border - Checkpoint Seven Ruins - Evening**
Ravina and Ignis crouched in their hiding place, a small depression between rocks about two hundred meters from what remained of Checkpoint Seven. They'd been here for hours, waiting for darkness, waiting for the patrols to thin out, waiting for any opportunity to move deeper into Nazi territory without immediately being killed.
But something had changed.
The security that should have been overwhelming helicopters, ground units, drones, the full weight of Nazi border enforcement descending on the area where they'd caused massive destruction had simply vanished.
Ravina's head emerged from their hiding place, her eyes scanning the area with confusion. The checkpoint ruins were still there, still smoking slightly, still showing evidence of the explosion they'd caused. But the response vehicles had withdrawn. The helicopters had departed. Even the automated turrets on the nearby watchtowers had powered down.
"Look like they are gone," she said, her voice loud despite the situation, carrying across the empty space with her usual complete disregard for stealth. "Maybe because they thought we're very powerful."
But internally, her thoughts ran in different directions. *Well, I guess someone ordered them not to. But why?*
The question nagged at her analytical mind, the part of her consciousness that operated separately from her chaotic public persona. This wasn't normal military procedure. You didn't retreat from a border breach of this magnitude. You didn't abandon pursuit of individuals who'd killed your soldiers and destroyed your infrastructure.
Unless someone very high up, someone with authority that superseded normal chain of command, had ordered the withdrawal. Unless this was part of some larger plan that required Ravina and Ignis to enter Nazi territory specifically, to reach Valenora unimpeded.
*Which means we're being allowed to proceed. Which means someone wants us there.*
The realization was unsettling. Being hunted was dangerous but comprehensible. Being deliberately allowed to reach your destination suggested manipulation on a scale that made straightforward violence seem preferable.
Ignis crawled up beside her, his smaller frame emerging from the depression with more caution than she'd shown. His dark eyes scanned the area with practiced wariness, looking for traps, for hidden threats, for any indication that this was a setup rather than genuine opportunity.
"Now we can breathe for a while," he said quietly, though his tone suggested he didn't entirely believe it.
Ravina nodded, some of her usual energy returning. "For sure!" She turned to him with that bright smile that somehow looked both genuine and completely insane. "So, Ignis, wanna eat something?"
The suggestion was so mundane, so completely at odds with their situation
surrounded by the evidence of their violent border crossing, possibly being manipulated by forces they didn't understand, heading toward unknown dangers that Ignis could only stare at her for several seconds.
Then he laughed. That same genuine laugh that had surprised them both before, that came from some place in him that hadn't been completely destroyed by years of trauma and survival. "Okay then."
They emerged from their hiding place fully, standing in the open, no longer bothering to conceal themselves. If security was truly gone, if they were being allowed to proceed, then hiding was pointless anyway.
Ravina stretched, her tall frame extending, her joints popping audibly after hours of cramped hiding. "I'm starving! That whole 'being used as a human shield' thing really builds up an appetite, you know?"
"You literally regenerated from being blown apart by a nuke," Ignis pointed out, falling into step beside her as they began walking toward the distant lights of a town visible on the horizon. "I don't think normal human metabolism applies to you."
"Maybe not, but I still want food!" Ravina's voice carried that same bright enthusiasm, as if they were just two normal people deciding where to eat rather than two dangerous Blessed individuals who'd just committed what amounted to an act of war against Nazi Germany.
At least, not yet.
The town lights grew closer, promising food and rest and brief respite from the chaos of their existence. Behind them, Checkpoint Seven's ruins smoldered in the gathering darkness. And ahead, somewhere beyond the visible horizon, Valenora waited.
Neither of them knew that their conversation had been observed. That small creatures had watched and listened, carrying information back to consciousnesses that existed elsewhere, that used their eyes and ears to witness everything that mattered.
The game continued. The pieces moved across the board. And in the mountains, in basements, in offices and ships and restaurants, players prepared their next moves in conflicts that spanned planets and powers that humans were never meant to wield.
But for now, in this moment, Ravina and Ignis were just two people walking toward dinner, their friendship forged in violence and sustained by the simple fact that neither wanted to be alone.
And above them, a bird flew just one bird, unremarkable, carrying the memory of their conversation back to the one who listened through all creatures, who watched through all eyes, who prepared the board for moves that none of the pieces could see coming.