Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

"We're in Letharis," Veynessa said, turning her head toward Sylphia. "We'll stay only for the evening. We spent far too long in Kiran Vity."

Before Sylphia could reply, someone knocked on the door.

Veynessa raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the door with a faint smile, as if she already knew who was standing behind it.

Before the knock came again, she was already opening it.

In the doorway stood a man of average appearance, dressed in a simple, dark cloak. As soon as their eyes met, his expression softened, as if reassured he had found exactly the place he was seeking. He nodded slightly. Veynessa stepped aside and opened the door wider. The man entered silently and then knelt down, bowing his head in respect.

"Your Highness," he said respectfully.

Veynessa nodded and handed him a sealed letter.

"Deliver this to the castle. As fast as possible."

"Of course, my lady."

He glanced briefly at the letter but didn't ask any questions about it.

"Do you require anything else, my lady?"

Veynessa narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. Tell me about anything strange that's happened in Letharis recently. Or in nearby towns. Anything even slightly out of the ordinary."

The man scratched the back of his neck.

"Well... A few odd things. Someone left a locked chest full of dead rabbits in the merchant district, but the seal wasn't broken. One of the sacred lamps disappeared from the Temple of the Star Children, but they found it later on the roof. And... three old men swore they saw human-shaped monsters in the mist. But no one else did, so it's probably just drunken rambling."

"Nothing else?"

Veynessa fell silent for a moment before raising her gaze.

"What about abductions? Children, adults. Bloody rituals? Anything that might be more than just local stupidity?"

The man furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. Finally, he shook his head.

"We have no reports of anything like that. Not here or in the surrounding cities."

Veynessa frowned and nodded.

"Tell your people to be more vigilant about disappearances. Pay attention to every missing person, even if it seems trivial."

"Yes, my lady."

Veynessa gave him a nod of dismissal. The man rose and left the room.

Sylphia sat silently on the edge of the bed, observing everything closely. She hadn't spoken a word, even when her fingers trembled lightly on her knee. She knew this wasn't a conversation she had any right to interfere in.

***

The meadow stretched wide, bathed in the light of the late afternoon. Flowers trembled softly in the wind, their petals shimmering like scattered light. The grass beneath the feet of the two women bent gently, and with each step, their figures moved in harmony with the rhythm of nature. They walked without a word, as if the silence around them mattered more than any conversation. When they reached the center of the clearing, they stopped simultaneously, as if guided by an invisible force.

Both raised their hands.

"Gates, answer our call..." whispered the first woman.

"Open the passage between worlds," added the second—one with nine fox tails trailing behind her.

The space before them quivered, as if the air itself trembled in response. A deep crack echoed, like glass shattering behind a veil, and from nothingness, a door began to emerge. Old and dark as night, covered in moss and lichen, its rusted metal bindings groaned under age. Burned-in symbols covered its surface—meanings long forgotten, yet still pulsing with an ominous glow. It stood alone in the grass, with no frame or wall, and yet radiated the power of a true gateway to another world.

The fox woman placed her hand on the cold, mossy handle. The metal creaked softly as she pressed it. The door opened effortlessly, as if recognizing her touch. Instead of darkness, light awaited on the other side—gentle, warm, flowing from a place beyond dimensions. As the doors opened wider, specks of energy shimmered between them, forming a translucent, rippling veil.

The women exchanged a glance and stepped through without a word. Their figures vanished into the glowing threshold, and as the last foot lifted from the grass, the door shuddered, as if exhaling. It slowly creaked shut, like old wood swaying in the wind. When it closed completely, the outline blurred. In the blink of an eye, the door was simply gone—dissolved into silence, as if it had never existed.

Crossing the threshold, the women felt a sudden shift in pressure, like diving underwater. But instead of dampness, they were greeted by warmth, a light breeze, and the scent of blooming herbs. Their feet touched polished wooden planks of a floating terrace just above a crystal-clear lake. White flowers floated on the water's surface, their petals shivering at every breath of wind.

On the terrace sat three figures.

A masked man with a still presence.

A broad-shouldered, stocky man—like a blacksmith, his powerful torso evidence of years of labor. A mechanical silver prosthetic gleamed on his left arm, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with every movement. His fingers moved soundlessly, as if counting seconds—or measuring a darker rhythm.

And the third—tall and slender, with a dangerous elegance that made even weapons seem secondary. His face was unnaturally symmetrical, a sculpted beauty beyond human norms. His pale skin glowed faintly, as if something other than blood flowed beneath it. His dark green eyes gleamed with a predator's gaze. Long black hair fell in waves over his shoulders, stark against those piercing eyes.

All three watched the sky, where streaks of energy danced in a chaotic battle. Flashes of power lit their eyes like mirrors, and the tension in the air spread like the echo of a coming storm.

Three beings were fighting above the lake—humanoid, but with unmistakably inhuman traits.

One moved with fluid grace, crouched in a defensive stance. Though shaped like a man, his skin was too tough, glinting faintly with a metallic sheen, his nails short and claw-like. Qi shone beneath his skin in glowing veins like a living energy map.

The second was larger, covered in an insectoid, shell-like armor. Curved protrusions jutted from his back, shifting subtly with each motion, sensing the battlefield. His eyes were pure black, and each strike distorted the air.

Their opponent was a girl who looked no older than a child. Her size deceived, but her wild eyes told another story. Dragon scales shimmered on her arms, neck, and legs, and a budding horn glowed on her forehead. Her laughter rang out—light, almost childish—but each note cut the air like a blade.

"Is that all?" she shouted, spinning through the air. "Is that really your best?"

The masked man noticed the arriving women and nodded.

"Welcome back, Miera. Lilianne."

The fox and her companion nodded and walked across the terrace, sitting by a low table on silk cushions. Both looked up with amused smiles, as if this fight was nothing new. There was sympathy in their eyes—but also amusement.

"They provoked her again," Lilianne muttered, stroking one of her tails with a raised brow. "Poor bastards."

Miera just chuckled softly.

The masked man's lips curled slightly as his gaze returned to the sky.

"How did it go?" he asked calmly, eyes never leaving the fight.

"Partial failure," Lilianne replied, lifting a porcelain cup. "The ritual was interrupted, most traces destroyed. Someone moved faster than we anticipated."

She recounted the events in detail, but the masked man said nothing, only nodding as he continued to observe the battle.

Lilianne sighed in relief, grateful that no reprimands followed.

"At least we tested the bombs, Garro," Miera added, glancing at the blacksmith with the mechanical arm. "Used correctly, they can harm even a Seventh Stage cultivator."

The man looked up, eyes gleaming.

"Oooh..." he murmured with satisfaction. "Was the explosion beautiful?"

"Both of them: yes," they replied in unison, knowing well what truly mattered to him.

"Next time..." he mused, tapping his fingers on the table. "I'll add a new color to the detonation. Emerald, maybe. Or something that shimmers during the blast."

The man with the hypnotic green eyes turned his gaze from the sky to the fox woman. His voice was calm, curious.

"How's the adaptation post-transformation?"

The fox woman answered with a nod, gently petting one of her tails.

"Getting used to it... slowly."

Rahn smiled faintly, watching how the light played on her fur. He said nothing more, but his gaze held quiet admiration.

Far behind the pavilion, the earth trembled. Two figures crashed down from the sky, slamming into the clearing with thunderous force. Grass burst into the air, and a shockwave rippled outward, leaving a shallow crater.

Seconds later, a flash of energy sparked on the terrace. From nowhere, the dragon child reappeared. She lifted her head and scoffed.

"They lost again. Too weak for a proper fight," she muttered, disappointed.

Her eyes scanned the gathering and brightened when they landed on the fox woman.

"Auntie Lilianne!" she squealed, leaping into her arms.

Lilianne laughed, embracing her warmly.

"Missed me?"

The dragon girl nodded eagerly, then clambered onto her lap and lovingly stroked one of her tails.

"Be honest, Lumea," Lilianne teased with a wink. "Did you miss me—or the tails?"

"Both!" Lumea shouted without hesitation, snuggling deeper into her arms.