Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

The Ritual Hall, despite its majesty, remained silent. Yareen stood alone at its center, while above her, icy spheres infused with spiritual light slowly rotated, casting snowflake-like patterns across the marble floor.

After a long pause, Mistress Kaelis emerged from the shadows. Clad in a simple yet elegant robe without embellishment, she radiated a calm that could be mistaken for silence—but only by those unfamiliar with her power.

She halted in front of Yareen without a word.

The girl bowed deeply, not daring to question why she had been summoned.

Kaelis stepped closer. Her gaze was unreadable, but her voice was soft, like snow settling on marble.

"Within the coming days, the Snow Mirror Fruit will ripen.

You are to be assigned to a mission beyond the Sect's territory. Four of your sisters will accompany you. This fruit appears only once every ten years. It grows in the Valley of Still Winds, on the Tree of Silence—a place where even Qi holds its breath. Its properties... are well known to those who must maintain inner harmony.

I cannot reveal the details, but our Sect harvests it every decade. Your task, together with the others, is to locate and secure it. Time is crucial. Its power lasts only a few hours after being picked. The place you are heading to lies in a region where cold is no longer natural. There, the frost seeps into the bones and soul."

Kaelis pulled a small item wrapped in white cloth from her sleeve and handed it to Yareen.

"Go to Alchemist Siarnei in the master district. Show her this. She will prepare a protective elixir so you can survive in that region. Then, this afternoon, head to the gathering point at the courtyard on the Sect's northern edge."

Yareen accepted the bundle carefully and nodded.

"That is all."

No further explanations followed. Mistress Kaelis gave her a faint, almost imperceptible smile, turned, and left through a side exit without another word.

***

The path to the alchemical district led over suspension bridges stretched across canyons and through frost-touched cloisters lit by morning light. Yareen walked slowly, eyes scanning her surroundings, though her mind drifted far from the aromas and sights around her.

Why her? The Sect had many more experienced sisters, cultivators with stronger Qi. Yet Kaelis had chosen her. She searched for logic—was it chance, a hidden test, a punishment, or a reward for something she didn't understand?

None of the answers felt true.

She tightened her grip on the white cloth hidden in her pocket.

With a sigh, she picked up her pace.

Here, everything smelled of sharp bile, spiritual tree bark, and burnt ice chamomile. Alchemists moved between workshops, some with puffy eyes from sleepless nights, others laughing as they recounted strange reactions.

The alchemical district was unique in the entire Sect—encased in a massive spiritual dome that maintained a warm, humid atmosphere. It was the only place among the snow and ice where winter did not reign. Thanks to this protection, hundreds of spiritual herbs, mosses, and rare roots could thrive, forming a space teeming with life, color, and scent.

Yareen stopped before a door marked with the symbol of an icy spiral and knocked.

The door opened on its own, revealing a cluttered room packed with vials, scrolls, and bowls filled with steaming spiritual sap. At the center stood Siarnei—a woman with dark hair tied in a high bun, glasses slipping off her nose.

Yareen knelt just inside the threshold and bowed deeply in respect.

The alchemist didn't even glance at her, simply nodded and asked coldly:

"Why are you here?"

Yareen said nothing. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the wrapped item, and handed it over.

Siarnei raised an eyebrow, examined the cloth, then turned to one of the shelves. For several long seconds, she rummaged through stacks of scrolls, knocked over vials with loud crashes, and grumbled under her breath.

"Where did I put that damn thing..."

The rustle of parchment mixed with the hiss of a corrosive elixir now forming a small hole in the floor. Finally, after a third curse and a shattered jar, she let out a triumphant hum and pulled out a dark-glass vial.

Without a word, she handed it to Yareen.

"Drink it before entering the dead air zone. You have forty-eight hours. After that, it'll be like walking naked into fire. Understand?"

Yareen nodded.

"Thank you, Mistress."

She bowed again.

Siarnei waved her hand dismissively.

"That's all. Out of my sight, I'm busy."

Yareen was just about to leave when the sound of shattering glass rang out behind her.

"NO! NO! NO!" Siarnei screamed, staring in horror at a broken vial oozing a hissing, sticky liquid.

Yareen didn't even turn around. She picked up her pace with graceful calm, silently hoping the alchemist wouldn't remember her face.

***

Halfway back to her wing, Yareen heard a familiar laugh—light, a bit mischievous, the kind that could banish stormy thoughts.

"Hey, Yareen!"

She turned. Sitting under a spiritual lantern was Thalia—her closest friend and the first to reach out to her when she was new and lost within the Sect's walls. A year older, always with a smile in her eyes and raised eyebrows, as if expecting absurdity around every corner.

Thalia rose with a grace matched only by her natural audacity. Her long, red hair was tied in a messy braid, and her hands were tucked into the sleeves of an oversized ceremonial robe she always found too stiff.

"So?" she asked, raising a brow. "You look like you just came from the Ritual Hall... or a Mistress's funeral."

Yareen smiled faintly and quickened her steps. Thalia wasn't one to allow prolonged silence.

"I was with Mistress Kaelis," she admitted. "I'm going on a mission."

Thalia paused for just a heartbeat. Then her expression softened, as if she understood more than Yareen had said.

"So it's begun, hmm?" she murmured, tilting her head. "Don't worry. It's no conspiracy or trial. Just another of the Sect's rituals—a way to see if you can act outside the courtyard, where the world doesn't play by meditation rules."

Yareen sighed.

"I'm not sure why they picked me. I thought there were better candidates."

Thalia snorted and waved a hand.

"Nonsense. If they only picked the 'better' ones, the Sect would've collapsed ages ago."

Yareen opened her mouth to respond, but Thalia cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Besides, I'm still going to be Mistress Elvaria Frostveil's lead disciple someday, remember?" she winked. "Someday. Once they stop thinking these..."

She pointed at her chest, which strained her robe.

"...are distracting me from spiritual cultivation."

Yareen chuckled despite herself.

"No one's ever dared say that out loud."

"Because they fear I'll smother them by sitting on their face," Thalia declared with theatrical flair. Then she added more softly, "But seriously... come back in one piece. I know you're stronger than you think. I knew it from the moment you held my hand in the Temple of Silence, trembling like a leaf."

Something tightened in Yareen's throat. She looked into her friend's eyes and smiled—truly, for the first time in days.

"Then I'll have a reason to return."

Thalia nodded and turned, walking toward a side corridor. Then, as if in passing, she called over her shoulder:

"And when you get back, I'm making you drink that tea we both hate. Just so you know how much I missed you."

Yareen paused and looked at her friend.

"And don't fret about your complex," she said softly but firmly. "Maybe the Sect doesn't talk about it, but out in the world, a lot of people find... that... very attractive."

Thalia blinked, then burst out laughing.

"Oh no, Yareen, you've stepped onto the path of aesthetic heresy! The Elders would ban you from the library!"

They both burst into laughter at the same time.

Yareen walked on, her steps lighter. Behind her, Thalia's laughter echoed like a memory from a better time.

***

The courtyard where they were to meet lay at the Sect's northern edge. The stone beneath their feet was cold and frosted, and spiritual lanterns floated lazily above the icy ground, casting pale blue light.

Yareen arrived third. Two other girls already stood waiting in silence. One had dark hair cut to her jaw and eyes so sharp they seemed to analyze every snowflake beneath her feet. The other, fair-haired, with a bundle of sashes at her hip, stared ahead with indifference—not out of disdain, but cold detachment.

Yareen offered a quiet nod in greeting. Neither replied, but there was no malice—just the natural distance between unfamiliar souls.

A moment later, the fourth arrived. Her green hair was tied in a high ponytail, and irritation danced across her features.

"Seriously? A gathering spot at the Sect's edge where there's nothing but snow and dead silence? All that's missing is an ice choir and moonlit kneeling," she muttered.

The others looked at her without comment. She shrugged.

"Come on, it's just a gathering. Soon enough, each of us will be getting our asses kicked anyway," she grumbled, folding her arms with a mix of boredom and tension.

"Not all of us," came a calm, melodic voice.

The final girl stepped into the courtyard. From the moment she appeared, it was clear she was different. She moved with innate grace, her long silver hair flowing like silk. Her eyes were light, nearly transparent, carrying a silence that demanded quiet.

She wore a deep blue robe embroidered with silver runes. Her presence was like a breeze of cold wind—not threatening, but impossible to ignore.

As she entered the courtyard, all four girls knelt and bowed their heads in respect. The silence hung like ice—heavy, but not oppressive.

Naleira stopped before them, her gaze sweeping across their faces. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

"Rise. This isn't an initiation, just the start of a mission. And since we'll be together for the next few days... it would be good to at least know each other's names."

The girls stood, tension lingering in their posture. Each tried to hide the mild awkwardness of the moment.

Silence lasted only a few breaths before the fair-haired girl with the detached gaze spoke first:

"Imara."

The one with sharp eyes and short hair added:

"Saeri."

The green-haired girl shrugged.

"Caireen."

Yareen bowed slightly.

"Yareen."

Naleira accepted their names without comment.

"Then, now that introductions are done... we may go."