Xiah didn't run. She didn't need to. Her movements were a blur of purpose, a dark jacket cutting through the vibrant chaos of the night market. The glowing crystals and crackling wands of the street vendors were nothing but peripheral smears of light. Her mind was a fortress, her thoughts a singular, sharp point of focus: Cynthia. And behind that, a simmering, two-decades-old anger at the man named Ric.
The narrow, lived-in streets of the low-cost housing area gave way to the grand, open boulevards that ringed the Citadel. Here, the air was different—cleaner, quieter, and heavy with an authority that muted the city's hum. The Citadel itself was less a building and more a force of nature. Its white-gold walls seemed to drink the moonlight, leaving the surrounding plaza in a soft, ethereal twilight.
At the base of the spire was the main gate, a colossal archway of polished obsidian that seemed to absorb all sound. It was sealed not by a physical door, but by a shimmering, silver curtain of energy that rippled like disturbed water.
Flanking the entrance stood two guards. They were Neo-Humans, their lineage betrayed by the subtle inhumanities that marked them. The one on the left had skin with the faint, iridescent sheen of mother-of-pearl, and his eyes, a solid, glowing gold, scanned the plaza with unnerving intensity. The guard on the right was taller, broader, and his exposed forearms were covered in fine, interlocking scales of a gunmetal grey. They stood perfectly still, monuments to the city's new order.
As Xiah approached, the guard with the golden eyes took a single, deliberate step forward, his movements perfectly economical.
"Halt. The Citadel is closed to visitors for the night." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
Xiah stopped a respectful distance away; her hands held loosely at her sides. "My name is Xiah. I must see the Clairvoyant. It is a matter of the utmost urgency."
The guard's expression didn't change. "The Clairvoyant does not hold unscheduled audiences. You may submit a request for a hearing at dawn."
"There isn't time for that," Xiah insisted, her own voice hardening, the casual veneer of a homemaker stripping away to reveal the steel beneath. "It concerns a protected ward of the First Treaty."
The mention of the treaty caused the second guard to shift his weight, the scales on his arms rasping softly. But the first remained unmoved. "All wards are accounted for. State your business or leave the premises."
Xiah clenched her jaw. She could feel the power thrumming beneath her skin, the temptation to simply brush them aside like insects. But that would solve nothing and create a diplomatic incident. There was only one option left. Out of respect, and with a heavy heart for what it might unleash, she placed a bet on a secret she had hoped never to use.
She looked the golden-eyed guard directly in his unwavering gaze. Her voice dropped, becoming quiet, clear, and carrying a weight that made the very air seem to grow still.
"Tell the Seer,” She said, "that the Unwritten Page has been turned."
The golden-eyed guard stared back, his expression a blank wall. The code, the desperate, last-ditch key to the highest authority in the city, meant nothing to him. He was a soldier, not a scholar of secrets.
"That is meaningless," the guard stated, his voice dropping an octave, taking on a dangerous edge. "This is your final warning. Leave now, or you will be removed by force."
Xiah’s shoulders slumped in a sigh that was not one of defeat, but of profound disappointment.
"So be it!"
Her stance shifted, her body dropping into a low, coiled crouch. In the space between heartbeats, her right hand swept through the air, and where there was nothing, there was now something. A large, elegant bow materialized in her grip, summoned from thin air. Its body was pure, polished gold, shimmering as if lit from within, and the handle was wrapped in a grip that swirled with the soft colours of a rainbow. It wasn't merely a weapon; it was a relic, and it pulsed with the pure, untamed fire of the heavenly realm, bathing the dark plaza in a warm, divine light.
Detecting the sudden surge of power, the scaly guard lunged forward, his hands hardening into metallic claws.
But he was too slow. In a single, impossibly fluid motion, Xiah threw herself backward, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground as she created distance. She landed, drew the golden bowstring to her cheek, and aimed. There was no arrow. There was nothing but the air itself, which began to twist and scream, concentrating into a point of invisible, crushing force in front of the string. A violent gust of wind erupted from the bow, the mere resemblance of an arrow, ready to be unleashed.
The invisible bolt was loosed with a sound like a thunderclap. It was a projectile of pure, focused force, powerful enough to pulverize the obsidian gate behind the guards, let alone the guard himself. There would be no surviving it.
Yet, just as the bolt was inches from the guard's face, a flicker of movement appeared in the air before him. A single, small, barely visible card, no bigger than a playing card, materialized from nothing. It hovered there, weightless and insignificant. The crushing force of the wind arrow slammed into it, and instead of tearing it to shreds, the arrow simply... dissolved. The gale-force wind dissipated into a harmless breeze, rustling the guard's hair. The card, its surface completely unmarked, fluttered once and vanished.
The guards froze, their training giving them no protocol for such an event. But Xiah’s eyes narrowed. There was no surprise in her expression, only a grim recognition. She knew that magic.
Without a word, she drew the bowstring again, but this time she pulled it back further, the golden limbs of the bow groaning under the strain. The air didn't just twist; it shrieked. Three distinct points of concentrated wind formed, each one swirling with a force three times more powerful than the first. The sound alone was a weapon, an oppressive, high-pitched whine that sent cracks spiderwebbing across the flagstones and forced the guards to their knees, clutching their heads in agony.
Xiah released the string. Three bolts of invisible death screamed across the plaza.
And in the air before the guards, three more cards appeared, dropping into place like silent sentinels. Each arrow met its target, and each one was neutralized, the apocalyptic wind once again dissolving into nothing more than a whisper, leaving only a profound and terrifying silence in its wake.
The golden bow vanished from Xiah's hand as she lowered her arms. She stared past the bewildered guards; her gaze fixed on the shimmering energy curtain of the gate. Her voice, no longer strained but filled with an exasperated fury, echoed across the now-silent plaza.
"TatSuet, I don't have time to play your childish games!"
A moment of silence hung in the air before a voice replied, but it was not the one she expected. It was soft and melodic, the sound of a young girl, tinged with a polite and formal respect.
"My sincerest apologies for the disturbance, Aunt Xiah. My mother is… indisposed. She meant no disrespect."
The shimmering energy curtain of the gate rippled and parted, not with a grand display of power, but with the gentle quiet of a curtain being drawn aside. From the perfect darkness within, a slender figure emerged. It was a young woman of sixteen, dressed in a pristine white gown adorned with intricate silver embroidery and shimmering jewels that caught the moonlight. A delicate silver circlet rested on her head, and in one hand she held a beautifully crafted violin, while the other clutched a worn deck of tarot cards. She looked every bit the royal heir.
Xiah’s sharp eyes took in the sight, her anger momentarily replaced by surprise and a dawning recognition.
"Alice?" she asked, her voice softer now, laced with disbelief.
Alice offered a small, polite nod of her head.
"Please, forgive the guards. They were only following their duty." She turned her serene gaze upon the two Neo-Humans, who were slowly getting back to their feet. "Stand down. Aunt Xiah is a guest of the highest honour."
The two guards shared a look of confusion, but the authority in the young woman's voice was absolute. They immediately straightened up, moving back to their posts with a new, respectful deference. No one, not even the most hardened Neo-Human soldier, disobeyed a direct command from the Clairvoyant's line.
The moment the guards were clear, Xiah didn't wait for another word. She burst forward, a blur of motion that shot past Alice and straight toward the open gateway. The silver curtain of energy parted for her, and she plunged through without hesitation.
She did not emerge into the grand, vaulted hall the guards expected to see. Instead, she found her feet landing on a path of soft, mossy stones in what appeared to be an endless, starlit garden. Strange, glowing flora pulsed with gentle light, and the air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and damp earth.
Xiah didn't even break stride. This was no surprise to her. Without a backward glance, she continued her desperate run down the glowing path, leaving Alice standing alone in the moonlit plaza.
The two guards stared into the impossible garden, their stoic expressions finally cracking with utter bewilderment. Their entire world had just been upended, the familiar hall they guarded replaced by a place that should not, could not, exist.
Xiah’s pace never slowed as she moved through the impossible twilight of the garden. The mossy path wound through groves of silver-leafed trees and past pools of water that reflected a thousand unknown constellations. Her boots made no sound on the stones, her entire being focused on the singular structure that was now becoming visible at the heart of the garden—another hall, this one smaller, more intimate, crafted from what looked like living wood and starlight.
"TatSuet! Enough of this! I know you can hear me!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the unnaturally still air. "It's about the girl!"
As she neared the entrance to the second hall, her patience finally snapped. She was about to shout again when a new voice cut through the air, silencing her. It was not a shout, but a low, resonant growl that seemed to emanate from the very earth beneath her feet, a sound layered with ancient power and profound impatience.
"I am aware," the voice rumbled, each word a tremor. "I have been waiting for you to finish your theatrics at the gate. Now hurry."
Xiah burst into the second hall, her momentum carrying her to the centre of the room before she stopped. The space was vast and circular; the walls lined with shelves holding ancient scrolls and celestial maps. In the centre of the room, a woman sat cross-legged on a simple cushion, her back to the entrance.
Without turning, TatSuet spoke, her voice the rumble of distant thunder. "Rin told you. She was talking to herself on the roof."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Xiah said, her voice tight with a fear she rarely showed. "The one thing my magic couldn't see. The one thing we prayed would never happen. It's begun, hasn't it?"
The Clairvoyant was silent for a long moment, the only sound in the room the faint chime of hanging crystals. Everything Xiah had worried about, every nightmare that had plagued her since the girl turned sixteen, was now a terrifying reality. It had started on that night two years ago when Cynthia had finally awakened her other half—the raw, untamed power sealed within her very soul. It was the inheritance from her father, Ric, an undefeatable beast of a man whose essence was chaos itself. That power, a greedy and conscious entity, was slowly consuming Cynthia from the inside out. For two years, it had been a whisper. Now, it was a voice. Soon, it would be a roar.
A terrible, delicate balance was being struck inside the girl, a war between her own immense power and the insatiable greed of her father's legacy. If that balance shattered, it wouldn't just mean chaos. It would mean Cynthia's life.
Finally, the Clairvoyant let out a slow, heavy breath that seemed to stir the very stars on the maps around them. She turned her head slightly, her shadowed face unreadable.
"She's indeed in trouble now."