The clearing, once filled with chanting, screaming, and the roar of divine power, was now plunged into a heavy, tomb-like silence. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fire-orbs and the collected, unconscious breathing of the dozens of cultists slumped on the forest floor.
Yun, the former demon princess, was the first to break the stillness. She let out a sound of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"So, he finally shows his face... or his cloak, at least," she scoffed, her arms crossed as she stared at the space where the mysterious figure had vanished. She kept his identity a secret, but her voice was laced with a cold, personal venom that went beyond simple disapproval. "Always the dramatist. Arrives late, steals the kill, and vanishes without a word. Pathetic."
"He saved her," Xiah's voice was a raw, trembling whisper. She hadn't moved. She was still on the stage, kneeling over Cynthia, her golden aura gone, leaving her looking suddenly small and tired. She gently brushed a lock of blood-matted pink hair from Cynthia’s bruised face. Her daughter’s skin was a deathly, waxy pale, and her breathing was dangerously shallow.
The politics, the ancient grudges, the identity of the executioner—none of it mattered.
"TatSuet," Xiah pleaded, her voice breaking as she looked up at the Clairvoyant. "We have to get her back. Now. Back to your fortress. You... you can fix this, can't you? Your magic can undo this."
TatSuet’s gaze moved from the spot where the executioner had been to the broken girl in Xiah’s arms. Her expression was grim. "His methods are... crude. But the immediate threat is over."
She turned, her starlit eyes scanning the clearing until they found him. "Walker."
Walker was still on his knees by the generator, his body rigid. He was trying to get his own breathing under control, fighting the agonizing strain of using a forbidden art. He looked up, his face pale, a line of dried blood still under his nose.
"Get over here," TatSuet commanded. It wasn't a request. "You will carry her."
Walker pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking from the effort, but he obeyed. He walked onto the stage, his expression a pained mask of exhaustion. He stopped, his amber eyes lingering on Cynthia's ravaged form. For a fleeting second, his cold mask cracked, replaced by a flicker of... something. Regret?
"Gently," Xiah ordered, her voice sharp as she reluctantly allowed him to slide his arms under Cynthia's body. Walker lifted her, his movements surprisingly careful, cradling her against his chest.
TatSuet stepped forward, her hands moving in a complex, precise series of gestures. "I am placing her in temporal stasis," she explained, her voice low and clinical. "It will not heal her, but it will stop the internal damage from worsening until we can get her to the sanctum."
A shimmering, silver light enveloped Cynthia's body, and the faint, ragged rise and fall of her chest ceased. She was frozen in time, a sleeping, broken doll.
The moment the silver stasis light solidified, the iron tension holding Xiah upright finally snapped. A ragged, choked sob escaped her, a sound of pure, agonizing relief. The adrenaline fled, leaving her so weak she nearly collapsed over Cynthia's frozen form.
A sharp, dismissive scoff cut the air. Yun had already turned her back to the scene. "The threat is neutralized. I'm leaving. My own daughter is waiting for me."
"You will stay," TatSuet's voice cut through the clearing, stopping Yun in her tracks.
Yun turned back slowly, her ruby-red eyes narrowing. "I take my orders from no one, Clairvoyant."
"You will stay," TatSuet repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerous, non-negotiable level. Her gaze included Xiah and Yun. "This debrief is not optional."
Her command, "All of you," hung in the air, but her gaze was fixed on Walker. "Except for you."
Walker, still cradling Cynthia's frozen, silver-glowing form, flinched almost imperceptibly. He looked from TatSuet to the two other powerful women, his amber eyes revealing nothing.
"Take her to my sanctum," TatSuet ordered, her voice all business. "Alice will meet you at the gateway. She will know what to do. Wait there. Do not leave, do not speak to anyone, and do not, under any circumstances, lower the stasis field."
It was a clear dismissal. He had performed his duty, and now he was being sent away while the true powers convened. Without a word, Walker gave a short, stiff nod of obedience. He turned, carrying Cynthia as if she weighed nothing, and vanished into the shimmering, invisible portal that led back to the public-facing Citadel, leaving the three Elders alone in the clearing.
The moment he was gone, the iron composure TatSuet had maintained finally cracked. She let out a long, heavy breath, a sound of such profound exhaustion that it seemed to make the very air tremble. She ran a hand over her face, the starlight in her eyes dimming for a moment, revealing the immense strain she had been under.
Xiah, her own face a mask of dried tears and raw grief, stepped forward. "TatSuet, what was that? Who was that being ? And what did that fool tell you?"
"He told me everything," TatSuet said, her voice grim. She turned her gaze to Yun, who was still standing with her arms crossed, her expression a mask of cold fury. "And he confirmed our worst fears. The 'god' Marcheal was praying to... the one who gave him that heavenly generator... was not a god."
"It was a demon," Yun stated, her voice flat. "Obsidian skin, cold fire. It's him, isn't it? My brother."
"No," TatSuet said, and the word was so sharp it made both Xiah and Yun freeze. "It's not Ric. Marcheal was a pawn, but he was a smart pawn. He described his master in detail. The 'god' had a 'face of fractured obsidian' and 'hands of cold, blue fire.' A perfect description of a high-ranking demon, yes. But not Ric."
Xiah looked completely lost. "Then who? What other demon is powerful enough to do this? To hide from you for sixty years?"
TatSuet looked at Xiah, then at Yun, and her expression was one of ancient, soul-deep weariness. She finally spoke the truth that had been gnawing at her since the interrogation, a truth she had been too terrified to even form in her own mind.
"It's not just Ric," she said, her voice a low, horrified whisper. "We all assumed he was the only one. The only high-level demon to survive the Catastrophe and make it to this world. We were wrong."
She let the implication hang in the dead, silent clearing. Xiah's face went pale.
"TatSuet... what are you saying?"
"I am saying," the Clairvoyant replied, her voice hardening as she pieced the fragments together, "that sixty years ago, when the realms collapsed, and the gates were sealed... your husband, Xiah... my oldest friend, Yun... he wasn't the only one who escaped.
"Ric's elder brother... he got through, too."
Xiah’s breath hitched, her mind unable to even process the implication. "Ric... has a brother?"
Yun, however, couldn't care less about the dramatic reveal. She was the last to escape the demon realm, alongside her own husband. She knew the lineages, the alliances, the betrayals. This was not an "info dump" to her; it was a tactical clarification.
"Which brother?" she demanded, her voice a cold, deadpan tone.
TatSuet met her gaze, and her voice was grim. "The Thirteenth."
A strangled gasp escaped Xiah. "The... Thirteenth Prince? But that's impossible! He was sealed! He was..."
Yun's ruby-red eyes narrowed, a look of cold, sickening realization dawning on her face. So that's what it was. For years, she had suspected her younger brother, Ric, was hiding something from her, a secret that went beyond his love for a human or the birth of his child. Now she knew.
"TatSuet," Yun said, her voice dangerously quiet. "Are you implying Ric knew ?"
"I am implying he encountered him," TatSuet corrected, her mind finally piecing the last fragments of the puzzle together. "All those years ago... when he was searching for Cindy at the northern pole. We all thought that expedition was just about him finding her, about two foolish, arrogant children finally giving up their egos and swearing to be together."
She shook her head, a grim light in her starlit eyes. "No one ever knew what really happened out there in that wasteland. What they found. But now it all makes sense. It's the only thing that explains how a mere Neo-Human heretic like Marcheal could understand the function of a divine, heavenly artifact. He didn't find it. It was given to him. By the Thirteenth Prince."
"We shouldn't forget," TatSuet added, her voice hardening further as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place, "the Catastrophe wasn't just a demonic invasion. The divine realm was thrown into chaos. Rebellions, civil wars... It's entirely possible that in the confusion, a weapon like that 'generator' was stolen by the Thirteenth Prince. Slipped right out from under their noses."
Yun just scoffed, clearly having no faith in the organizational skills of the heavenly hosts.
But this speculation, this talk of ancient princes and stolen artifacts, was too much for Xiah. The immediate, physical threat to Cynthia was over, and now the cold, agonizing reality of their situation was crashing down on her. The revelation of a new, god-level enemy didn't bring her clarity; it only sharpened the edges of her grief.
"So what?" she suddenly snapped, her voice cracking, tears welling in her golden eyes. "What does any of this matter? Another prince, another ghost from the past... it doesn't change anything!"
She rounded on TatSuet, her fists clenched, all the pain and confusion of the last eighteen years erupting to the surface. "You've known this. You've suspected this all along, haven't you? And you kept it from me!"
"Xiah, that is not—" TatSuet began, her calm voice finally wavering.
"Don't!" Xiah's voice was a raw cry of pain. "I have followed your plans. I have trusted your vision. I brought my daughter here, I lived in that hovel, I pretended to be a normal human, all for the plan ! But you've always held one thing back."
She stepped right up to the Clairvoyant, her gaze fixed, demanding. "What did Cindy tell you? At the end. Before she… before she became... that ."
The question hung in the air, more powerful and more terrifying than any magic.
"She was my sister, TatSuet," Xiah whispered, her voice breaking. "But she chose you for her final words. She told you a secret. A secret about Cynthia. A secret you have kept from me, her own aunt, for her entire life. I have respected your silence. But tonight... after this ... I demand an answer. What was the fate Cindy told you about? What is the one thing you are so terrified of that you've been hiding from us all?"