Kiaria held her hands.
Her fingers were small, soft, and faintly cold–as if the chill of earlier battles and terror still clung to her skin. Yet beneath that coolness, a gentle warmth pulsed quietly, steadily, like a secret flame refusing to die.
He looked at her face closely, forgetting for a brief moment that the Goddess–her newly acknowledged Aunt–stood only a few steps away.
"Dia," he said, his voice low and warm, "congratulations. Your mount has successfully adapted to both Heavenly and Abyssal spirit."
Diala's eyelashes trembled. Her beast companion, now White Jade in its new form, lay not far behind her in a resting state. Its breathing had finally calmed, but the magnitude of what had happened still clung to the air like a lingering echo.
"Both of you look like siblings," the Goddess of Nemesis commented with an amused lilt in her tone, "with how closely you stand and how your attires match."
