The garden was a place outside of time.
It wasn't a physical space that could be found on any map of Lumine City. It was TatSuet’s private sanctuary, a temporal pocket dimension where the air was still and the sky was a swirling nebula of colours that had no name. A single, ancient-looking tree with silver leaves stood at the center, its branches laden with softly glowing fruit that pulsed in time with a slow, silent heartbeat. This was the true Citadel, a place of perfect tranquility.
But tonight, that tranquility was shattered.
"We have to go now!" Xiah paced frantically on the soft, mossy ground, her heavenly bow already shimmering in her hand, its golden form radiating impatient energy. "Every second we wait is another second that heretic tortures her! We know where they are!"
TatSuet, the Clairvoyant, sat perfectly cross-legged on a velvet cushion at the base of the silver tree. She was the picture of calm, but it was the terrifying calm of a brewing storm. Before her, floating in the air, a deck of tarot cards shuffled themselves with an audible, sharp flutter, the images on them a blur of motion.
"And rush into his trap?" she replied without looking up, her voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate in the very air. "Marcheal is a zealot, but he is not a fool. He expects a direct assault. He is counting on your rage."
"My rage is the only thing keeping me from tearing this sanctuary apart!" Xiah retorted, her voice cracking with desperation. "He's using our own magic against her, TatSuet! Heavenly punishment! It's blasphemy!"
"I am aware," TatSuet said, her voice dangerously quiet. She raised a hand, and the shuffling cards stopped, fanning out in a perfect arc before her. "Which is why we must be precise. Be patient. The lamb is not alone in the wolf's den."
Xiah stopped her pacing, a frustrated growl escaping her lips. It was always like this. For centuries, TatSuet had been the "brain," the grand strategist. Cynthia's mother, for all her power, had always relied on the Clairvoyant's plans during the great wars against the demon realms. And yet, Cynthia's mother had also been the first to disobey TatSuet's direct orders, her fiery heart sometimes overriding the cold logic of the plan. Xiah was cut from the same cloth; waiting felt like a betrayal.
"Walker? You're trusting her life to a boy?"
"I am trusting her life to the plan," TatSuet corrected, her eyes finally lifting to meet Xiah's. They were pools of ancient, starlit darkness. "And to the shepherd I placed to watch over the flock. He will not fail."
As she spoke, her hand drifted over the fanned-out cards. One by one, three cards detached from the arc and floated down, laying themselves side-by-side on the cushion before her. The Tower, showing a building struck by lightning. The Devil, depicting a chained, monstrous figure. And The Star, a symbol of hope and guidance.
TatSuet stared at the spread, her expression unreadable. She saw the crisis, the villain, and the hidden hope. But she also saw the threads of a much larger tapestry, a future she was carefully, secretly weaving. She had been quietly cultivating loyalists among the Neo-Humans for years, building a network of agents and soldiers right under the noses of her fellow elders. This crisis, as horrifying as it was, was also an opportunity—a chance to test her forces, to root out a cancer, and to move one of her most important pieces into position on the board.
She kept this to herself, of course. For now, all that mattered was the rescue.
With a final, decisive nod, TatSuet rose to her feet. With a casual wave of her hand, her grand, royal gown dissolved into shimmering particles of light, replaced in an instant by a practical, pristine white combat tunic and silver trousers, a stark contrast to Xiah’s own dark, functional uniform.
"It is time," she announced. The air around them warped and shimmered, the tranquil garden folding in on itself until, with the disorienting sensation of being pulled through a vacuum, they were standing back on the cold, stone plaza of the public-facing Citadel.
Alice was there, waiting for them, her face pale with worry. She rushed forward, her mouth open to speak, but TatSuet simply raised a hand, silencing her daughter before a word could be spoken. The Clairvoyant's gaze was fixed on the grand entrance hall, her senses already locked onto an immense, oppressive presence that had settled over her home. The air was thick with a dark, suffocating energy, a palpable aura of demonic power that seemed to want to swallow the entire Citadel in one gluttonous gulp.
"Aunt Yun has arrived?" TatSuet asked, her voice dangerously calm.
Alice could only nod, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe.
TatSuet did not move. She simply tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the empty archway of the grand hall. Her voice, when she spoke, was not loud, but it cut through the night with the sharp, cold authority of a queen.
"Yun. That is enough," she commanded. "This is my home. Rein in your aura before you frighten the children."
The effect was instantaneous and absolute. The suffocating, gluttonous pressure vanished as if it had never been there. The heavy, dark energy dissipated into the cold night air, leaving behind only the normal, crisp scent of the evening. The immense demonic presence was still there, somewhere within the hall, but it was now leashed, contained by the simple, undeniable power of TatSuet's command.
A set of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from the darkened hall, and a figure emerged into the moonlit plaza. It was a woman with brilliant, white-silver hair cut into a sharp bob with short bangs framing her forehead. A longer section of her bright hair fell across one side of her face, partially obscuring it. Her face was soft, almost cherubic, but this was offset by the sharp, dramatic mascara around her eyes and the bold, dark purple of her lips. She was slightly shorter than TatSuet, yet she carried herself with an aura of raw, impatient authority that made the Clairvoyant's composure seem almost passive in comparison.
She didn't ask what had happened or what the plan was. Her sharp eyes scanned TatSuet and Xiah, and she got straight to the point. "When do we leave?"
TatSuet met her gaze, her expression unreadable. "Your daughter informed you of the situation, I assume?"
The woman, Yun, let out a short, dismissive scoff. "If you already know the answer, why ask the question?" she shot back, her voice laced with an impatient, cutting edge. "Yuni told me what she saw. A 'relic' watching over the girl is a good move, I'll grant you that. But don't you forget, TatSuet... Walker's power was revoked the day he was restrained in your heavenly Hall of Punishment. He's powerless."
TatSuet’s expression didn't flicker, her calm unshaken. "He may be powerless if the world hadn't evolved into what it has become today," she countered, her voice dangerously level. "His specific abilities were sealed, not his nature. He may have lost his memory, but his muscles and his instincts are still there. Three thousand years of combat do not simply vanish."
Yun let out a derisive snort. "An ancient relic who forgot who he was doesn't qualify to protect our saviour's daughter," she stated flatly. Her sharp eyes narrowed, cutting through the pleasantries and straight to the horrifying heart of the matter. "Besides, we both know what that child's demon is capable of. If Cynthia truly meets her end tonight... the demon takes over. And that," she finished, her voice dropping to a grim, chilling whisper, "is the worst case scenario any of us could ever imagine."
The final, horrifying statement hung in the air, a truth that silenced even Xiah's burning rage. TatSuet’s gaze hardened, a flicker of ancient resentment surfacing.
"Then why don't you summon your brother and ask him what other solution we have in this poverty-stricken world his actions left us?" she asked, her voice dripping with cold, calculated venom.
The jab hit its mark. There had always been a bitter rivalry between the Queen of a timeless dimension and the former Princess of the Demon Realms. Yun had only been pardoned for the sins of her kingdom because of the sheer, undeniable power of her brother—Cynthia's father, Ric. Though Yun had never personally involved herself in the bloodshed of the old wars, they all still carried the guilt and the consequences of that catastrophic past, a shared sin that festered between them.
Just as Yun opened her mouth to deliver an equally venomous retort, Xiah stepped between them, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated anguish. Her heavenly bow flickered violently, mirroring the tremor in her hands.
"Enough!" she cried, her voice raw with desperation. "You can settle your ancient grudges after she is safe! While you two bicker about the past, that man is torturing her in the present! The clock is ticking!"
Xiah’s desperate plea cut through the centuries of bad blood like a knife. For a tense moment, TatSuet and Yun stood in silence, the weight of their shared responsibility finally eclipsing their personal pride. They both turned their faces slightly away from each other, a silent acknowledgment that Cynthia’s life was the only thing that mattered now.
TatSuet broke the silence with a soft, deliberate cough, a sound that was both an apology and a command. "She is right," she said, her voice devoid of its earlier venom. "Hold hands."
Xiah immediately offered a hand to each of them. After a moment's hesitation, Yun took one, and TatSuet took the other. The Clairvoyant closed her eyes and stamped her foot once on the stone plaza. The ground beneath them erupted in a circle of brilliant, golden light. A complex script of foreign, glowing writing spiraled outwards from their feet, a powerful enchantment forming a magical pass that would tear through space and time, delivering them to their destination in an instant.