The Permanence Of Power...

[Sophia Van Gongorei]

The air in the jungle hung thick and heavy, a stagnant blanket woven with the scent of damp earth and unknown blossoms too pale to catch the meager starlight filtering through the suffocating canopy. Silence reigned, a weighty, profound silence that pressed on the ears, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth or the drip, drip, drip of condensation falling from unseen heights. This was a place where darkness was not just the absence of light but a palpable entity, calm and enveloping, clinging to everything. The trees, colossal and ancient, were the jungle's spine. Their trunks, stripped of bark and polished by time and humidity, gleamed with an eerie, phosphorescent white in the gloom, like rows of skeletal pillars holding up the night sky. Above the canopy was a tangled roof, obscuring the stars, leaving the forest floor perpetually twilight. Thick vines, some as wide as a man’s torso, snaked down from the unseen heights, connecting the ethereal white trees like the rigging of ghost ships. Every step was a gamble. Predator and prey alike moved with a hushed grace, their forms indistinct shadows in the perpetual dusk, danger lurking in every rustle and shadow.

Deep beneath this unsettling beauty, where the roots of these colossal trees burrowed into the earth, a different kind of darkness pulsed. Here, within the embrace of a cavern hollowed out and reshaped by unseen hands, Sophia had made her domain. It was a temple of her own making, though profane in its very conception, carved with runes that pulsed with a sickly green light. Altar stones stained a disturbing crimson and stood as a testament to recent, gruesome acts. The air here was heavy with power, the residual energy of a ritual completed, a bargain made.

Sophia stood at the center of the temple, the ambient green light reflecting in eyes that burned with an unnerving intensity. She was no longer the woman who had sought refuge in this remote jungle. The ritual had changed her, remade her. Power radiated from her, a palpable force that made the air crackle. She had sacrificed them - seven hundred and seventy-seven souls, a number that resonated with a dark, ancient significance – and in doing so, she had torn a temporary rift into the fabric of reality. A sliver of Lo’ Kaleer, the Nether, had been dragged into the mortal plane, its corrupting influence fueling her rebirth.

The black knight stirred within her, a presence she recognized as intrinsically linked to her being. It was a cold voice, a shard of obsidian ice whispering in the recesses of her mind, laced with ancient malice and insatiable hunger. “You have tasted power, Sophia,” it hissed, the words echoing in the hollow chambers of her skull. “But this is merely a flicker, a pale imitation of what you can wield. Your ambition – destruction, domination – it is a voracious beast. To truly satiate it, you require a more potent source.”

Sophia’s hand, long and slender but now imbued with unsettling strength, clenched into a fist. "I know. The ritual was… costly. And temporary. The connection to Lo’ Kaleer weakens even as we speak." She could feel the subtle draining of the nether energy like sand slipping through her fingers. "I need something… permanent.”

The black knight’s voice deepened, a resonating rumble that seemed to vibrate the very stones of the temple. “Then perhaps you should pursue...the Astral veins. They are rivers of raw spiritual energy, flowing beneath the surface of Vescrutia, pulsing with power beyond mortal comprehension. Power that rivals even the gods themselves. Absorb their essence, and your transformation will be complete. You will be… unstoppable.”

Sophia’s eyes widened, a flicker of avarice igniting in their depths. Astral veins. Legends whispered of them in hushed tones amongst the ancient orders, dismissed as myth by the ignorant masses. But Sophia had speculated their existence. She had always sensed a deeper current running beneath the apparent reality, a power source just beyond the veil. And now, the black knight confirmed its existence, revealing its potential.

“Where?” she breathed, her voice husky with anticipation. “Where can I find these veins?”

“Across Vescrrutia, they are scattered, points of immense spiritual significance,” the black knight responded, its voice laced with a predatory satisfaction. “But there is one… closer on the continent of Edo. A place steeped in ancient power, already attuned to the currents of the astral realm. Begin there, Sophia. Claim its essence. And you will take the next step towards your destiny.”

Edo. The name resonated with a distant whisper of temples, forgotten gods, disciplined warriors, and serene landscapes, all wrapped within lawless, seemingly eternal conflict—a stark contrast to the dark, chaotic jungle that was now her sanctuary. The Crucible, where some of the most palpable legends have met their end. Naturally, it would be saturated with vast spiritual power. The black knight’s words had ignited a fire within her, a burning hunger for power that eclipsed all else. The souls of Erosia were merely the beginning, a down payment on the limitless potential she now craved.

Sophia straightened, her gaze hardening with resolve. The dim green light of the runes seemed to brighten in response to her burgeoning ambition. "To me..." she commanded, her voice echoing in the temple, no longer pleading or uncertain but ringing with a newfound authority, the authority of a woman on the cusp of godhood, guided by a demon’s whispered promises of destruction. "My Reapers..."

The silence of the jungle outside seemed to deepen as if holding its breath, sensing the coming storm. In the heart of the darkness, Sophia, fueled by profane magic and demonic ambition, began to plot her journey. The first tendrils of her destructive hunger reached out towards the unsuspecting continent of Edo, towards the power of an Astral vein waiting to be claimed. The jungle seemed to hold its breath, for even in this land of shadows and silence, something terrible was about to awaken.

[Sophia Van Gongorei]

The chamber exhaled the scent of burnt herbs and ozone, a ghostly residue of the ritual that had clawed Lo’Kaleer into their realm. Sophia was enthroned on obsidian shards and sculpted from shadow and malevolence. Her skin was alabaster, stretched taut over sharp bone structure, and her eyes, those twin pools of emerald, flickered with an inner fire, embers of Deadflame glowing in the dark. Around her, the air vibrated, a low hum resonating deep within the bones, a testament to the profane power still swirling in the wake of her sacrifice. Power, now itching to be unleashed.

Before her, the Reapers knelt, not in supplication, but in disciplined obedience. Vivika, in the center, was the strategist, her gaze sharp and calculating, each movement precise. Her crimson locs bearing the heads of serpents.Illia, lean and agile, was the whisper in the shadows. And Faelyn, a wall of backend armor and simmering aggression, was the shield and the blade, the brute force made elegant by Sophia’s dark artistry. They were each marked, not by brands, but by an intangible shift in their essence. Their eyes held a sliver of the Nether’s darkness, a chilling echo of Sophia herself. Ikki, however, was not amongst them; she had not called her for a separate reason. She had a different agenda for her daughter.

“Edo,” she rasped, her voice a low, sibilant growl that bore little resemblance to the melodic tones she once possessed. “The continent of Edo. Possess a conduit of spiritual power, ripe for the taking.”

Her gaze swept over her Reapers. They were beautiful and deadly, each a testament to her ambitions. Women broken, abused, and forgotten, she had found them in the dregs of society, offering them power and purpose in exchange for their unwavering loyalty. She'd bathed them in the black ichor of Lo' Kaleer, weaving it into their very being, making them extensions of her will.

“The Astral Vein. A source of unimaginable power. Our..patron has spoken of it, and I desire it.”

Faelyn, the first Reaper she had crafted, stepped forward. “Goddess, Edo is a land steeped in tradition and guarded by powerful natives deeming themselves guardians of their lands.”

Sophia smiled, a cruel, chilling expression that made the air colder. “Traditions can be broken. Guardians can be… persuaded. That is why I have chosen you, Faelyn. You and your sisters.” She spread her hands, gesturing to the other Reapers. “You are my shadows, my instruments. You will infiltrate Edo, gather information, and identify the location of this Astral Vein. Do not underestimate the natives, but do not hesitate to use any means necessary to achieve your goal.”

The trio nodded. They were weapons, honed and sharpened by her will. But Sophia knew she needed more than brute force.

“Vivika,” she called, her voice softening slightly. Vivika was different. She possessed a cunning intellect, a gift for manipulation that, as perfidious as the serpent blood coursing through her veins, Sophia dared to presume rivaled even her own. “You will be our spymaster. Infiltrate the courts, the temples, the taverns. Learn the customs, the secrets, and the weaknesses of Edo. Knowledge is power, Viv, and in Edo, power is everything.”

Vivika bowed her head. “Consssider it done.”

Sophia turned her attention to the youngest Reaper, Illia. “Illia, your gift is… unique. You can perceive the threads of mystic affluence, the ripples in the spiritual current. Use this gift to locate the Astral Vein. But be warned, the power of the vein is immense. Approach it with caution.”

Concern flickered in Illia's eyes, but she nodded resolutely.

"Faelyn, find the most notable names, spread the Word of our...Guild. The Moonshadow, we will be called. Fight in the tournaments and underground fight clubs, become a blade for higher attends to our renown."

Faelyn's warrior spirit burned brightly as a smile etched across her face. She'd get to do what she did best: crush and gain glory.

“Go then,” Sophia commanded, her voice booming through the chamber. "Take your pick of the other members of the guild and spread across Edo like a plague. Find the Astral Vein. And when you do find me in the darkest corner of the realm....”

One by one, the Reapers vanished into the shadows, their forms dissolving into the darkness. Sophia was left alone with the fragment of Lo' Kaleer, its pale green glow intensifying as if in anticipation. Sophia closed her eyes, a predatory smile creeping across her lips. She could taste the power already, the raw, untamed energy of the Astral Vein, waiting to be absorbed. The dance of destruction and ascenion had begun.

[Sophia Van Gongorei]

After they departed, scattered like the fading embers of a fire sputtering its last against the encroaching darkness, Sophia’s lips curved into a smile. It wasn't a joyful smile, but one laced with a calculating, almost predatory amusement. It had begun. Her campaign of black, a creeping shadow she would cast across the tapestry of nations, unseen yet undeniably felt, would slowly, meticulously, take root beneath their oblivious noses. And when the time was ripe, when the fruits of her insidious labors swelled, dark and succulent, she and her daughters would reap a harvest beyond mortal comprehension.

The Astral veins, the whispered promises of mystic affluence, they were but stepping stones, as they confessed, to something far grander, deeper. A mere affirmation of the power that already resided within her, a potential yearning to be unleashed. When her grand ambition reached its zenith, when she stood triumphant amidst the ruins, what truly would be left of this world, soon to be reduced to cinders? And what, she mused, would become of the ashes? What new forms would they take, molded by the very fires that consumed them? What form… would she give them?

Before she could become too enmeshed in the intoxicating visions of post-conquest dominion, a colder, more pragmatic thought surfaced. Her campaign wasn't confined to the realms seen, to the kingdoms of flesh and blood. No, true power, lasting power, resided also in the unseen ocean, the swirling planes uncharted, unmapped by mortal senses. And she, uniquely, held a key, inconceivably yoked to one such realm, apart from herself.

Her daughter… Morgiana.

Through a profane rite, a delving into forbidden lore that had left even her own seasoned senses reeling, Sophia had finally peeled back the veil obscuring her adopted child's lineage. She had immersed herself in the musty depths of her own forbidden archives, tracing fragmented constellations of information, whispers of a power that felt both ancient and alien. The Czar, they called themselves, this spectral weavers of constellation, a being capable of creating and destroying celestial alignments on a whim, as if such a feat was mere casual pastime. Morgiana, the waif given to her by a dying woman in a war-torn village, had proven to be the very key she needed to walk in the realm of the Unseen once more.

A place Sophia herself loathed to set foot in, not right now, not yet. Loath though she was to admit it, even to herself, she still carried scars. Scars not of flesh, but of the soul, echoing from her imprisonment in the Nether. And though the Deadflame had returned to her, burning brighter than ever, she wasn't certain, not yet, of her ability to evade the Guardian should she return to the unseen without proper… preparation.

But Ikki… ah, Ikki, a girl capable of slipping between the very realms of consciousness. This Phantasus, should she claim dominion over it, should its ethereal essence bend to her will, Sophia’s reach into the unseen could be extended, amplified, uncontested. The worlds over, seen and unseen, would shutter in fear at the mere whisper of her name. Fear of her by day, fear of her daggers glinting in the dark corners of their waking world, frightful of her strangling tendrils coiling around their minds in the vulnerable realm of dreams.

Her eyes flickered with a dark emerald gleam, a nascent flame of excitement sparking in their depths. She had always suspected Morgiana was powerful, her mental acuity was staggering, a gift bestowed by a magical lineage as ancient, perhaps even more ancient, than Sophia's own. But she hadn't known, couldn't have fathomed, that the girl would prove to be this useful. Morgiana had exceeded her wildest expectations, exceedingly so. Now, it was time for the dark mother to observe her child leaving the nest, to test the strength of wings she herself had inadvertently helped to grow.

But before this grand departure, a test. A small, private demonstration, just between mother and daughter, to clarify the parameters, to ensure absolute and unwavering obedience in the trials to come. Sophia leaned back into the shadows, her voice, a silken whisper that nonetheless carried the weight of unspoken command, unfurling into the stillness.

"You can come out now....my girl."

[Morgiana Icolo]

After the others left Ikki let out a solemn exhale. It was then, and only then that her presence became knowable. A being like no other able to appear as invisible as the wind even standing right in front of someone. She had taken time to...regather herself after the transference ritual. Her, awakening followed by the pseudo banishment of the Czar, architects of the stars, from her psyche. It was all a lot to shoulder back to back and so Sophia advised her to take time to recuperate. During this time she dreamed of many things, if it could even be called dreaming. It felt more like waging ethereal wars in the realm of the unconsciousness.

The Czar were stubborn and prideful and were not handling her...rebellion well and had been attacking her in her dream almost relentlessly. However, Sophia's wards and presence strengthened the young reaper enough to thwart their efforts and allow herself to recharge. No here she was once again in prime pristine curious as to why her Queen mother would send the reapers out on a mission and neglect to send her as well. Did she still doubt Morgiana's abilities? Out of everyone within the guild, Morgiana was the most adept in the art of stealth, reconnaissance and combat outside of perhaps Faelyn the first among them.

"...."

Her mind was a storm of process, scouring through a myriad of reasons but none of them, however feasible they may have seemed were inadequate in her mind. She would have to lay them to rest with the truth. Fortunately she would not have to wait for long. Before her mind could trouble her further with speculation her mother had called to her. From the cover of the shadows she appeared. Her piercing amber gaze resting on Sophia. How she oozed presence, a beacon of power.

"I'm here..."

[Sophia Van Gongorei]

Ikki remained still as stone, a ripple in the twilight air the only indication of her prior presence. Her amber eyes, mirroring her mother’s, locked onto Sophia, who materialized fully from the deepening shadows of the chamber. Sophia’s gaze was indeed piercing, a sharp amber that seemed to cut through pretense and see straight to the core of one’s being. It was a gaze Ikki knew well, a gaze that could be both warm and terrifying in equal measure, depending on the situation, and the mood of the Queen Mother.

“Need I ask the question?” Sophia’s voice was a low, resonant hum, like the striking of a deep chime, yet carrying the sharpness of honed steel. There was no annoyance, no impatience, only an expectation of understanding, a given that Ikki’s disquiet was as plain to her as if spelled out in shimmering runes. Sophia hand glimmered with the subtle shake of shadows as a glass of wine materialized. Leopards hymn, a delicious blend aged to perfection. tendril would snake around it digging into the cork tossing it aside.

*pop*

Sophia eyes burst open, jokingly as she snickered lightly mimicking the sound of the cork now lost to the darkness. She casually poured herself a glass whisking it under her nose inhaling a satisficed whiff.

[Morgiana Icolo]

The scent of the wine was strong, carrying upon the wind the lingering scent of berries and the slight metallic tang of something...sinister. Blood? Perhaps, though she couldn't be sure. Sophia did not need the blood of the living to sustain herself but it was something, some reagent dangerously close to it's likeness. Perhaps she merely enjoyed the thought of it? Regardless she was spoken to. She bowed, a notion of well deserved respect, one she would never forget to enact despite her current frustrations.

Ikki tilted her head slightly, a flicker of that inherent reaper stillness in her posture. “If you already know the answer, why ask?” she countered, her voice a mere whisper, yet carrying a quiet strength. It wasn't defiance, not exactly, more like... testing the waters. She knew her mother valued directness, but also the subtle dance of intellect. She knew one such as herself could never truly grasp at what was brewing behind her mothers stoic gaze. And yet, she wished to presume that there was something for her, something more than this idle wasting of time.

[Sophia Van Gongorei]

A ghost of a smile, barely there, touched Sophia's lips. “Perhaps to hear it from your own lips, child. To witness your own understanding.” She moved closer, each step measured, deliberate, her presence radiating like heat from a dying sun. “The others are on a mission, yes. And you are here.”
Her feet seemed to barely touch the ground, barren of the usual clacking of her heels. Instead, she moved with the grace of an apparition, as if she wasn't truly there.

Ikki took a breath. “And you deemed me… unfit?” The word hung in the air, heavier than intended. It wasn’t truly what she believed, but the insecurity gnawed. Despite her recent strengthening, the echoes of the Czar’s doubt still lingered, whispering insidious nothings in the quiet corners of her mind.

Sophia stopped before her, the amber gaze unwavering. “Unfit? Morgiana, you are amongst the most capable I have. Your skills are… unparalleled in many respects. No, child, it is not a question of fitness.” Her hand, cool and smooth, rested on Ikki's shoulder. The touch was reassuring, yet also carried the weight of command.

Sophia’s gaze softened, just a fraction, but enough for Ikki to register. “Patience, Morgiana, is a weapon as sharp as any blade. You have been through much. The ritual, the… clearing of your mindscape. It is a process that leaves its mark. You needed time, true recuperation, beyond the ethereal skirmishes you endured.”

And just then, her gaze sharpened once more, napping back to slatted piecing arrowheads. "But that time. Has ended. For the task I have for you differs from the others. Where as they will usurp the waking world, you will undertake the unseen one."

[Morgiana Icolo]

It was true, her words at this moment at least. Her mind had been a roaring war scape of astral defiance. The Czar hounded her at every restless moment of her dreams, trying to pilfer her independence, so that they may sculpt her to their whims, their outlines.

But part of what Morgiana strived for was a world free of Tyrants. Those who use their station and class to press down upon those deemed lesser. The yearning for equity was what fueled her rebellion against the Star Shifters. She had managed to stand against them thus far and finally earned a renewed sense of strength and vigor. The seams of the world pulsed beneath her fingertips. She could sense things, feelings, and curls of magic and other mystic phenomena wafting through the winds. Her mind was aware of so much, and yet still retained the eagerness of curiosity.

But also, a fierce determination to prove to her mother not only her worth

But her devotion

Not only their causes, but also to the only being who she felt truly wished to see her live and decide for herself who and what she should be.

That ability to choose, to grow, learn, and shift was the very essence of evolution, of witnessing.

And Ikki would no longer allow herself to move blindly through the fog of amigutity, hesitation born from the concern of the answers to that which she did not yet understand. For her to remain stagnant upon her path, if she tread upon the precipice of motion, she would never see her, nor her mother's goal, realized

That was the guiding force that drove her resistance to her destiny, to not be a bauble of those powerful enough to dictate the fate of others.

Sher instead would become a weaver in her own right. And as she came to this realization, part of her could already theorize just what The Black Hand was about to ask of her.

"The City Of Dreams...."

His escaped from her lips as if the words themselves fostered a will and demanded to be spoken. Its mere utterance sent a fleeting semblance of familiarity through Morgiana. As if the recalling of a lost friend, a dear one departed just within arm's reach of return.

"Not just that...the one they spoke of, The...Slubering King was it?"

Her chest tightened, as if her body remembered and eons' worth of old wounds reopened again. Heart humming within chest, blood fighting for warmth amid a frigid blizzard. These flashes, the slight delirium....fear?

Impossible, perhaps she was not as fully rested as she believed.

Regardless, they were fleeting feelings, scalding sensations that trickled into nothing. Regaining herself, her eyes stared at Sophia.

"My Lady...before that, tell me. What do you know of the Czar?"

Sophia was a magus of some of the eldest prigins. Within her was a nigh boundless archive of wisdom and knowledge from a world that has changed its form many times over. Yet despite this, she remained a wellspring of information. Surely she would know of the entities making these claims about Ikki.

[Sophia Van Gongorei]

Sophia’s malachite gaze scoured over her daughter's form like a deluge of jade. She saw not the young woman before her, but the honed edge of a blade forged over nineteen years. Every twitch in Ikki’s brow, every shift of her posture as she watched Ikki—no, Morgiana—regain her resolve after their rigorous training. The desire to know, the wish to press forward, to look beyond the veil unafraid of the horrors that could lie beneath it. It was a hunger Sophia had cultivated meticulously.

Most on Vescrutia saw the void between stars as empty. Only Ikki was destined to do more than merely gaze. It was this very blackness Ikki was irrevocably tethered to. Her power was not in pyromancy or chronomancy, but in the subtle terror that crept in at the edge of sleep. She could reach out and touch the incorporeal, bound to a realm that filtered the very essence of rest and slumber. With her hands, Ikki could mold the bleakness of the void—the very notion of fear itself—as if it were clay. A psion of otherworldly nature, resting comfortably in the palm of Sophia's hands. A weapon for which none, not even the vaunted Star Shifters, would be prepared.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were reading my mind, daughter," the Dark Mother mused, a satisfied smirk creeping upon her face. She knew otherwise; her mind was a labyrinth of ancient pacts and forgotten sins, the last place Ikki would want to get caught inside. No, Ikki’s responses were simply her understanding of Sophia’s ambitions and her own sharp perceptions. She had anticipated the next step in her own dark tutelage.

When asked about the Czar, Sophia’s eyes would aglow softly with a lustrous malachite flare. A theatrical flourish she couldn't resist. The air in the Orrery stirred, and the silent winds whispered around her as if she were calling upon the wisdom and knowledge of epochs past, summoning secrets from the very firmament. Ikki stood her ground, unimpressed by the display. She had seen it a thousand times.

“Just kidding…”

The winds came to an immediate halt. Sophia coyly raised a hand in front of her mouth, her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“I actually know just about as much as you, fufufu.” She couldn’t keep herself from laughing, a sound like chimes in a graveyard. If wishes were poppy, they would have all their whims met right here and now. Yes, Sophia’s knowledge of many things, especially those about the arcane, was vast, but not omniscient. Besides, this was the crux of it all. Part of Sophia's test was to see how deep Ikki’s drive for truth ran. To what depths would she swim, what heights would she claw to reach what she yearned for?

“Nobody knows anything about the Czar; they have been a name that didn’t even exist in many dialects until now,” Sophia said, her amusement fading into a focused intensity as she casually folded her arms beneath her bosom. “A ghost, a whisper. A power that has tilted the balance without ever showing its face.”

Her eyes narrowed, locking onto Ikki’s. “But you do not need words… for you have a connection to them steeped in blood and bone.” She took a step closer, her voice dropping. “In spirit and… in mind.”

That coy smirk returned, sharper this time. “As for the Slumbering King…”

A crown of burning green energy wove itself into existence within the palm of her hand, casting flickering, emerald light across her ancient, beautiful face. The energy crackled, smelling of ozone and old magic. “If you two truly are connected, then there is only one place that holds all the answers you seek.”

She crushed the crown. The construct shattered not into dust, but into fluttering specks of emerald light that swirled and coalesced in the air between them. The motes arranged themselves into a soft diagram of a city, its spires impossibly tall, its architecture alien and severe.