The strange hues of the aether-streaked night sky shone down upon the third tier of the enclave like scattered jewels thrown across velvet. The fourth tier had already been mesmerizing with its intricate designs and air so thick with ambient aether that cultivation breakthroughs seemed almost effortless, but compared to the third tier, it wasn't worth bragging about.
There was always a noticeable difference when ascending each tier. They felt more expensive, safer, better. But the gap between the third and fourth tier existed on an entirely different level.
The air here was so pure, so enriched with aether, that if a fight broke out, you could draw from the atmosphere itself long after exhausting your own reserves. It was obvious that simply dwelling here would lengthen the average mortal lifespan without any cultivation at all. The buildings rose tall and strong, their surfaces covered in insignia and intricate designs that spoke of generations of craftsmanship. The ornamental metalwork and structural materials weren't ordinary. They were made with rare, expensive materials that had their own rankings, like beast cores given form and purpose.
An estate stood proud among the tier, grand like any other. This belonged to the Divian family. The dome where Penelope ruled was large, its great expanse something even Kaelen couldn't fully cover in a day's walk. Compared to the estate, it was a drop of water in a filled bucket. The Divian estate wasn't just grand. It was enormous, its expanse so wide the eye couldn't hope to cover it. It was as large as an average city would be.
On the estate grounds stood one of its many manors. This manor wasn't just large. It was magnificent. Penelope's manor at the dome dwarfed to nothing in comparison. The ornamental cherubs stood proud along the roofline, frozen in marble poses like angels descending upon mortals. The iron moorings displayed intricate, complex designs so detailed they might have been carved by a grand blacksmith working entirely by hand. On the roof, dominating the skyline, stood an insignia: a spear with its tip upward and a halo suspended above it.
Two giant statues guarded the manor with eternal vigilance. In one stone hand, a golden spear pointed skyward while a shield rested against its knee. Its pose was that of a soldier standing guard, ready for an enemy that might never come. The other statue clasped its hands together as if in prayer, a chain running down its fingers to pool at its feet. Unlike the first, it carried no weapons. Instead, a massive pair of wing covered its face in a gesture of either humility or mystery.
The main door stood exactly twenty meters tall and wide enough to admit a hundred people at once. The same insignia was embedded in its surface, a spear with its tip up and a halo suspended above it.
The Divian's insignia.
Inside, the grand rooms stretched and soared, their architecture dominated by sculpted halos and statues that signified divinity in every line and curve. Light from aether bulbs bathed everything in a warm, golden glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
The presence of five people filled one of those grand rooms. Not just anyone. People whose very presence screamed divine energy. Just sitting with them, one could almost guess how special and separate they were. The energy that filled the room alone felt like light from a celestial body, giving warmth while simultaneously striking fear. The air was reassuring yet disturbing, comfortable yet wrong.
Two sat while the other three stood before them.
"This development... is unforseen." The voice was gentle, smooth and warm as honeyed wine. It belonged to a woman whose build was elegant, neither thin nor heavy. Simply elegant.
Isolde.
Her curves and figure weren't just proportioned correctly. They formed a figure that would fit perfectly in any clothing, any setting, any era. Her face was heart-shaped with high cheekbones and a soft jawline that somehow managed to be both delicate and strong. Deep black hair fell in loose waves just above her waist, reflecting the golden light the room shone with its own subtle luster. Warm hazel eyes crinkled genuinely when she smiled, though the genuineness was itself a carefully cultivated tool. She appeared to be in her thirties, but with how cultivation worked in this world, appearances meant nothing.
She wore an elegant dress befitting her figure, a darker copper threaded with patterned gold that fell just below her knees. Her lips curled into amusement as she stared off into an empty space, looking at nothing in particular.
"Unforseen indeed." Another voice carried through the room, gentle and calm. It belonged to a man with a lean build and long fingers that seemed too delicate for someone his age.
Brennan.
He appeared to be in his forties, but who could truly tell? Pale gray eyes darted between the three people standing before him, but there was something strange about his gaze. Rather than looking at them, it was as if he were looking through them, past their flesh and into something beneath. Dark hair streaked heavily with gray was pulled back in a loose ponytail, with strands gently dancing along his cheekbones as he moved. His complexion was darker than the rest of his family, a warm brown that stood out among the Divian's characteristic fairness.
"Aahh." The sound carried restlessness, almost boredom. A young man who looked to be in his twenties shifted his weight from foot to foot. His build was athletic, lean and quick rather than bulky, optimized for speed and agility.
Dorian.
His jaw angled sharply, his nose straight, his high cheekbones catching the light theatrically. Hair the color of dark honey was cut fashionably short on the sides and longer on top, each strand perfectly placed. Amber-orange eyes sparkled with mischief and something colder lurking underneath, something that watched and waited.
He wore a white shirt unbuttoned one too many times, revealing a thin silver chain visible at his collar. The chain tucked beneath his shirt peeked slightly when he moved. His long pants alone could have bought an entire lower-tier district.
"I should have handled this myself, rather than entrust it to this... blundering fool," He spat, gesturing vaguely toward the young man on his left without looking at him.
That young man held his head with not much word to offer. He seemed close to his twenties, with a slender build that was almost delicate, narrow shoulders and long limbs that made him look like he might break in a strong wind.
Aldric.
Large hazel eyes seemed to hold more than he ever expressed, depths that suggested thoughts he never spoke aloud. Unruly dark brown curls fell across his forehead no matter how often he pushed them back. His pale complexion flushed easily when embarrassed or emotional, which made him easy to read whether he wanted to be or not.
He was dressed in comfortable, slightly oversized clothing that hung on his slender frame like he'd borrowed it from someone else. His expression was dull. Bored, to be precise. Bored of the gathering, bored of the conversation, bored like someone forced to be somewhere they had no interest in being.
"Give him some leniency, Dorian." The voice was soothing, gentle but firm. A tall woman who also appeared to be in her early twenties spoke with the kind of posture that suggested years of training, both dance and combat combined. Her stance was perfect, her spine straight, her chin lifted just enough to convey authority without arrogance.
Reva.
Her face featured a strong jaw, a straight nose, and arched brows that gave her a permanently evaluating expression, as if she were constantly assessing everyone and everything around her as assets to be managed. Hair the color of pale gold, almost white-blonde in sunlight, was pulled back in severe, elegant styles that not a single strand escaped. Cool ember eyes assessed everything with a manager's precision.
She was dressed in an elegant gown that reached just above her knees, a combination of silver, pale blue, and white. The garment tried its best to hide her curves, but it couldn't beat nature's blessings. A bracelet on her right arm danced with her gentle motions.
"You would have flipped the entire scheme in your recklessness." She added, her voice carrying that same evaluating tone.
"Tsk. Cease that prattling tongue of yours" Dorian's voice filled with disdain. "If you'd listened to my advice about using an AA-rank beast, Mel wouldn't have been able to kill it."
"Your arrogance remains as boundless and witless as ever," Reva's red lips curled into irritation.
"You—"
"Ignorant fool." Reva cut him off sharply.
Twin golden light spears materialized in Dorian's hands, one in each. His aether began to rise, an intense pressure building that would crush anyone of lower rank into the floor. The air around him shimmered with heat and power.
Light chains manifested around Reva's arms, curling like snakes ready to strike. Her aether rose to meet his, the pressure in the room doubling, tripling, until the aether bulbs flickered and the windows groaned.
"ENOUGH."
Brennan's voice carried an absolute authority that made both their aether falter. The pressure behind that single word was so intense that aether bulbs exploded in showers of golden sparks, and light cracks appeared along the window panes like spiderwebs spreading across glass.
Both young nobles aether began to calm. Their manifested constructs dissipated into nothing, golden light scattering like dust in wind.
"Did you not assure us the beast could raze the dome under those parameters?" Brennan spoke, his voice calm now but with a line of wrath running beneath it like a hidden current. His pale gray eyes fixed on Aldric.
"It should have." Aldric answered, his voice laced with boredom. "The conditions were set for utter devastation. Yet a variable intervened."
"I urged you to let me handle it." Isolde's voice remained gentle and calm, but something sharper hid beneath the surface. "Entrusting children with such matters has imperiled us all. An A-rank beast can not slay that wretched assassin alone."
"I would have succeeded admirably, Aunt Isolde, had you granted me control instead of this inept whelp," Dorian's voice dripped with pride and disdain in equal measure.
"Enough, Dorian." Reva's voice went cold.
"Why are do you defend him, Reva?"
"I am not defending him." Reva's expression hardened. "Your constant attacks accomplish nothing."
"Am I the only one who deems his inclusion a grave error?" Dorian's silver chain danced with his motion as he gestured. "Aldric is emotional. Too sentimental. He can't be trusted with matters that require cold calculation."
Isolde suddenly burst into laughter, taking the others off guard. Her laughter filled the room, bright and unexpected. Then her lips curled into a wicked smile that transformed her gentle features into something almost predatory.
"It's true that Aldric is emotional." She paused, letting the words hang. "But do you really think he hesitated because of Penelope?"
"Well—"
"You're blind if you can't see Aldric for his true nature." Isolde's smile remained plastered on her lips, but her eyes had gone sharp.
Reva snorted, a quiet chuckle escaping despite herself.
"This bitch is really getting on my nerves." Dorian thought, staring at the chuckling Reva with barely concealed hatred.
"The beast simply lacked potenc—"
"It did, Aunt Isolde." Aldric interrupted with his lazy, bored voice. "Under proper conditions, even the assassin Mel would lie dead. It was engineered to evolve mid-battle."
"Why didn't it?" Brennan's elbow rested on the armrest of his seat, his chin propped on his fist. His pale gray eyes studied Aldric with an intensity that would have made most people squirm.
"A variable." Aldric shrugged slightly. "I received a contact from one of the old guards. He said Penelope hired some F-ranks a day prior the beast struck. They were the variables."
"And how did mere F-ranks sway the tide of an A-rank beast?" Isolde's curiosity sharpened her words.
"I can't say precisely." Aldric's expression didn't change. "The report was unclear."
Silence settled over the room like dust.
Then Reva broke it.
"Permit us to pay a visit to the dome." She offered, her voice measured and careful.
"And?" Brennan asked with a dismissive expression, his pale gray eyes reflecting the remaining aether bulbs' light.
"We could observe the variable directly." Reva said. "Assess the situation ourselves rather than relying on secondhand reports."
"Why waste efforts on F-ranks—"
"Let them." Isolde cut Brennan off before he could finish. Her deceptive smile returned, spreading slowly across her features. "Pay her a visit." She emphasized the last words just enough to make her meaning clear. Not just the dome. Not just the variable.
Penelope.
...
In another part of the Divian estate, a different manor stood proud and high. But this manor was far grander than the one where the five had gathered. Its ornaments and iron moorings displayed intricate designs so detailed they might have been carved by divine beings rather than human hands. The statues here were much larger, four in total instead of two. One of the extras held a sword pointed toward the heavens, while the other cradled a harp in frozen marble arms. It didn't just look beautiful. It looked divine, as if the gods themselves had descended and built it with their own hands.
In one of the rooms inside, a space so grand that its expanse felt like something made with magic, the patriarch sat alone. The room appeared small from the outside, but the interior was so vast it seemed to have its own spatial rules, a pocket dimension carved into reality.
Evander Divian sat in perfect stillness.
From his posture alone, you could tell he was well over six feet tall. His build suggested power maintained through decades of discipline rather than recent effort. Broad shoulders tapered to a lean waist. Even in stillness, there was something coiled about him, like a serpent at rest, ready to strike in an instant.
His hair was gold-white, not from age alone but from the particular mark of the Divian bloodline manifesting at its strongest. It swept back from his forehead in clean lines, maintained with the kind of precision that suggested he had people for such things. But the style itself was simple.
His face was all sharp angles. High cheekbones. A jaw that could cut glass. His nose was straight, aristocratic. His mouth rarely moved into expressions that could be read as warm. When he smiled, it was a calculated thing, deployed like a weapon rather than offered as kindness.
But it was his eyes that stayed with you.
They were dull gold, almost luminous in certain light, and they held the particular stillness of someone who had spent decades looking at people as pieces on a board.
His dress was dark, favoring deep grays and blacks with subtle silver threading that caught light without demanding attention. A deliberate contrast to his light-based ability. A statement, perhaps. Or simply preference.
"She managed to slay the beast?" Evander asked no one in particular. His voice was calm but carried an authority that could shut down nations.
"Not Lady Penelope, particularly." The voice that answered had learned to exercise patience when speaking to this man. It carried no specific tone that could determine whether it belonged to male or female. And there was no visible being in the room with him.
"The assassin?" Evander closed his eyes as he drew aether from the air around him, the energy flowing into him like water into a vessel.
"Not Lady Mel, either." The voice paused. "An F-rank dealt the ending blow. With her help."
"The same F-ranks that accepted her quest?" Evander asked calmly. But the aether around him grew heavy, pressurized. Little cracks appeared around the room's floor, spiderwebbing across the polished stone.
"Indeed, sire. A boy but the name, Kaelen."
"Kaelen?" Evander's eyes opened slowly. "The same youth involved in the academy incident?"
"Yes, sire."
Evander stroked his gold-white beard thoughtfully, his fingers moving with deliberate slowness. "This is intriguing." He was silent for a long moment. "Has words surrounding the incident gone around?"
"No, sire. Not only is the academy keeping it contained, but Lord Cassian is keeping the incident wrapped from the media as well. No reports have leaked."
"And the serpent, Aris Vale?"
"She's not taken any drastic action currently." The voice replied. "She appears to be watching and waiting."
"Kaelen." Evander spoke the name again, tasting it. "Find more information about him. Everything. His background, his family, his abilities, his associations. Leave nothing uncovered."
"Yes, Lord Evander."
The voice faded, and Evander was alone again with his thoughts and the slowly spreading cracks in his floor.
"This will be interesting," he murmured to the empty room.
...
The night sky dazzled above the seventh tier, its otherworldly aether-streaked colors giving multiple hues that shifted and swirled like a living painting. The tier was calm now. Most had retreated into their homes, and the multiple districts had gone quiet, their residents settling in for the night.
In a specific district stood a humble home. Not too shabby to draw attention, but not the best in the neighborhood either.
Inside, a woman paced back and forth, her restless steps wearing a path into the floor she'd walked a thousand times before. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, danced gently with each movement. Her gentle red eyes kept darting to the clock on the wall, then away, then back again. Stress and worry made her gaze unstable, her movements jerky.
"Kaelen." She spoke his name softly, barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might break something.
She had been cooking earlier. Had left the kitchen a while ago when the waiting became unbearable. Now she made her decision. She wasn't going to wait any longer. She would call him along the way, meet him halfway, do something instead of standing here driving herself mad with worry.
She reached the door, her hand extending toward the lock.
Click.
She heard it. The sound of the lock turning from the outside.
She pulled the door open quickly, not caring about her own safety, caring only about one thing. About one person.
The faces she met were Jay's, grinning as always. Lira's, warm with relief. And two unfamiliar women standing behind them.
One stood at approximately Kaelen's height, her lush green hair dancing gently in the night wind. The light from inside the house reflected off her cool green eyes, giving them an almost divine glow. Her expression was filled with curiosity as she took in the modest home, the worried woman at the door, the entire scene.
The other stood exactly six feet tall, her beige hair fluttering gently against the blindfold covering her eyes. The wind caught the strands and lifted them, revealing glimpses of the cloth beneath. Her features were completely void of expression, a blank slate that revealed nothing.
"Good evening, Mrs. Burn." Lira's voice carried out loud and clear, filled with joy at seeing her.
Seren didn't answer. Her eyes darted between the girls, searching desperately for one person in particular.
Her son.
And there he was. Behind them all, standing slightly apart, his torn hoodie fluttering gently in the night wind. His features were caked with dirt, his dark hair already turned a dull brown from dust. He looked exhausted.
Seren walked past Lira, past Jay, past the two strangers she'd never met, and approached her son. She pulled him into a tight hug, not minding his dirt-covered features, not caring about anything except the solid warmth of him against her.
"Welcome home." She locked him in her arms, holding tight, fearing she might lose him if she let go even for a moment.
Kaelen stood still for a heartbeat, surprised by the intensity of her embrace. Then slowly, gently, his arms came up and wrapped around her in return.
"I'm home, Mom." His voice was tired but steady. "I'm home."
Behind them, Jay nudged Lira with her elbow and whispered something that made Lira elbow her back. Penelope watched the reunion with an expression that was difficult to read, something soft and something sad mixing together in her green eyes. Mel stood motionless, her blindfolded face tilted slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear.
The night continued around them, quiet and calm, as a mother held her son and pretended she couldn't feel how close he'd come to never coming home at all.