They spent the next half hour goofing off in the tub. Cannonball diving off the fountain and hosting competitions of who can hold their breath longer. Losing repeatedly makes her shove an arm full of rose petal water at Cyan. Only to have him playfully retaliate by lashing a bigger back wave at her. It starts another game of splash fight, until Cyan decides to cheat by using his Magia. Blasting an indoor tsunami, so tall, it spills over the windows to the outside. Hearing the complains of some poor passing adventurer in the gardens beneath makes them immediately bolt behind the fountain as if that’ll stop them from getting into trouble. Staring in silence at each other for a moment before they realize nothing’s going to happen and bursting out in laughter again.

Just as she’s about to suggest a swimming race next, the double wooden doors rattle with impatient knocks. It snaps their attention to the scimitar guy hollering at them from the other side. He’s rushing them to hurry up and questioning what’s taking so long.

How long has he even been here? What a joy killer. At the lack of response, the bronze handles begin turning and Cyan immediately shouts,

“Don’t come in, you fucking pedophile.”

Scimitar guy sounds offended,

“As if I’m interested in some pubescent brats!” but judging from the sudden halt in motion. She can tell he’s obeyed. That makes her snicker,

“See, told you he’s a masochist.” and earning her an angrier,

“I heard that!” through the door and a begrudging, “kids these days have no respect for adults.” before he gives three rattling knocks again,

“Just hurry up! Besides, aren’t you two too old to be bathing together?”

She’s midway replying,

“Shitty rules are for shitty adults-” before the sounds of trudging water snaps her to watch Cyan dash for the only dry tower hanging on divider by their clothes. Everything else is entirely drenched from earlier. It makes her instead exclaim,

“That’s so sly!” and immediately chase after. He turns over his shoulders, sticking his tongue out at her,

“Idiots like you won’t catch colds, so I’m more deserving of it.” reaching for the towel, but she catches up, snatching the other end,

“No way! Have you seen the length of my hair? I definitely need it more than you do!” he isn’t relenting,

“That’s a you problem!” instead, he’s tugging harder, so she clenches her grip tighter too,

“Just let me have it!” pulling the opposite direction.

He’s resisting, wrapping the other arm around the supporting pillar so she doesn’t drag him forward,

“No, you let go!” ignoring the confused questioning of scimitar guy about what’s going on. Can’t he figure? They're dealing with a serious matter here. Then, it’s the sounds of cloth tearing that makes her say,

“It’s going to rip!” hastily suggesting, “we’ll settle it with rock paper scissors. Loser lets the winner have it.”

Cyan readies his hand and shotguns,

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” quickly as though it’ll catch her off guard with paper. But she’s reacted in time with scissors, smirking triumphantly,

“Hah! Nice try!”

At that, he relinquishes his grasp to fold them before his chest,

“Fine, whatever. You can have it.” the backlash of him letting go almost flings her backwards, as though she’s pulling a carrot out of the soil. But she’s managed to catch herself with a hand slapped against the wall. Then she takes a moment to study him. His ears are flopped downwards.

That’s so unfair. She can tell he’s sulking, so now it makes her feel bad about winning.

Looking at the towel briefly, she measures the length of it. Before gripping the incision at the middle, severing it into two clean halves. She tosses a piece to him. Reluctantly muttering with puffed cheeks,

“We can share.”

It lands on his head, snapping his attention towards her with two blinks like he isn’t anticipating this. Then he raises a hand to pull it off, smiling cutely with a side of his fangs,

“Who are you, and what have you done to Lilith?” does he truly think she’s that selfish?

She instead, just makes a face to convey that while toweling her hair.

Retrieving her clothes, she runs in front of the standing mirror off to the side, wiping away steam and casually discarding the towel onto the ground to get dressed.

She’s picked out something incredibly flashy considering they’re going to a festival later. It’s a sheer white gown with gold embellishments. Two long slits down each thigh splitting the skirt into three segments. Untangling the chains crisscrossing her hips, she slips into the connecting gold cuffs and pushes them to her upper arms. Securing it there. Then, she ties the matching bandana top around her neck, making sure the cascading tassels drapes over her midriff. It also comes with a sheer veil, but her hair’s still damp, so she tucks it beneath her waistband for the moment and puts on the final ankle bracelets. Strapping her axe back on, she spins to throw both arms in the air,

“Tada! What do you think?” towards Cyan.

But he isn’t looking at her, he’s busy furling and unfurling the clothes she’s picked out for him in his hands as though he’s deciphering an ancient scripture. Trying to figure it out. The only thing he’s gotten right is the pants, cuffed at the ankles with embellished gold. She’s chose a similar design to hers, in black, so they too, have slits and delicate gold chains draping off the sides, exposing his hips in the shape of a U. Flowing along with the fabric.

Then he lifts his eyes to ask,

“How the heck am I supposed to wear this? There are so many holes everywhere. Where do my arms even go?” he’s genuinely baffled.

She laughs,

“Here! I’ll help you!” approaching him and unhands the fabric. Straightening it, before guiding his hands through the right ones. Pulling it over his head. It’s a little tight so she has to fineness it over his chest. Smoothing the wrinkles out until the fabrics cuts off above the navel. He’s surprisingly going along with it rather obediently. Probably because he can’t see how he looks yet.

She understands why he got confused because there are two additional cut outs exposing the shoulders. Although, the delicate gold trims around them should have already hinted that. Besides, the sleeves are actually cuffed with more bracers linking to the necklace with elegant chains. It’s an intricate golden thing with a red ruby in the middle. Sparkly like his eyes. She reaches around his neck to clasp everything in. Before clipping on a matching dangling piercing onto one of his ears.

Taking a step back, she examines the final product.

It’s like she thought. It suits him really well, almost like a fairy tale prince in the books she’s read as a child. Actually no, he’s more like the seductive concubine in the prince’s harem. A vixen that’s able to make anyone fall to their knees with one glance. That’s how the story’s described it. It even makes her heart flutter, and when he asks,

“Why are you staring at me like that.” with a raised brow, she can’t help but to instantly blurt,

“Cyan’s really pretty...”

It startles him back,

“What the heck?” scurrying in front of the mirror to examine himself.

Immediately, he snaps over his shoulders and admonishes,

“Idiot. I look like a stripper!” it makes her curious,

“Wait, is that how strippers dress like?” grounding herself in reality again. She’d say his usual rude demeanors will detract anyone from thinking that,

“How would you even know.” she challenges. But, before he’s able to reply, the front doors swing open with a loud bang, magnetizing both their attentions towards it. Witnessing a very annoyed scimitar guy with his arms flung out by his side. He approaches,

“Look, if I wait for you two brats to play dress up any longer, I’m going to get demoted again.” seizing each one of them by the back of the collar and forcefully drags them out of the bath. Through the clothing room and down the spiraling stairwell.

Cyan struggles against him,

“Like I said. What do you even need us for, let go!” grabbing his wrists and craning his neck to protest, “you fucking pervert!”

Scimitar guy picks up his pace, not turning his head to address them,

“I actually only need the girl.” he’s focuses forward,

“But since both of you are closely affiliated, I’m told to bring you in too.” striding onwards and pulling them along to the second floor, down a long corridor. Passing some other adventurers who’s giving them an estranged look, and she can’t help but to wonder,

“What do you need me for?” out loud. Unlike Cyan, she isn’t putting up a fight. So, she’s just slumping her weight on her heels, letting him tug her as though a rice sack. But it seems the contrast just makes scimitar guy more off balanced,

“We want to ask some questions. Nothing serious.” he stops in front of a set of closed doors. Finally, unhanding them to push it open, revealing a huge library behind.

The moment he does, Cyan immediately survey his surroundings. Tossing his head in all directions. Observing him makes her realize, he looks extremely skeptical, as though he’s searching for an escape route should things turn south. He’s pinpointed his eyes behind them, past the window arches to the surrounding palace walls, measuring its height. Then she straightens to scimitar guy in front of them that gives them a little head tilt, beckoning,

“Come on, I’m not going to eat you up or anything.” he laughs.

Cyan retorts immediately, straightening his gaze,

“That sounds exactly like what someone with ill intent would say.”

Regardless, they follow him inside. The atmosphere significantly dims when the doors close behind them. She glances upwards, the décor is vastly different from anything she’s seen in Kusma. Infact, they’re meandering around a massive elk tree sprouting in the middle through the floors to the tall ceilings. It’s way darker here, entirely illuminated by crystals that emits a soft orange glow, hanging off the tree branches. Going past numerous bookshelves, lining every wall between stained glass windows that are spaced far and few. The lust forest beyond it tells her, this room is linked to another guild’s territory by Magia. They aren’t in Kusma anymore. That and the green guild banners of a stag hanging off stairs' railings above them gives it away.

Scimitar guy doesn’t reply, instead, he comes to a stop beneath the wooden frames of another section, greeting with a casual,

“Yo.” it draws her attention past him to observe who he’s speaking to.

There’s a person in the center of the room. A black hood pulled over his head. Tilting downwards, eyes closed in deep concentration, so she’s unable to see his face. But she’s gotten a good look at the royal purple swirls stitched to a side of the fabric, right above the goat skull perched on one shoulder. It looks big compared to his small stature. His palms are flared out on a giant crystal ball, perched atop a marble podium right before his torso. She notices, he has an adventurer’s ring too, like the banners, it’s carved with a stag.

The orb itself is spiraling with golden, green Magia above the smooth radius. Lighting it as though fairy dust specks, and within it. There’re rapidly flickering scenes of other people, places, like a television channel. Too fast for her to get a good look at what’s actually going on. A couple of old leather covered grimoires hover around him. Quills flicking rapidly onto the pages as though it’s recording what he sees. And right behind, more floating chalk are scribbling messy letters onto the blackboard.

Scimitar guy adds, gesturing to them with a thumb,

“I brought them like you asked.” to draw his attention.

At that, the floating grimoires falls to the circular carpet beneath with heavy thuds. Upheaving clouds of dust, glistering in the light, seeping in from the stained window beside. The Magia swirls stop too, abrupt, like an outpower outage clearing into glass to reveal the rest of the goat skull adventurer standing behind. His hood looks too big for him so it drapes, like a curtain to the ground beneath. Opened at the front, atop a baggy purple undershirt with rows of necklaces and vials hanging from his neck. It’s tucked into a pair of black ripped jeans and combat boots. Held up by belts that hold more vials of various glowing liquids.

Then he raises his chin, opening his eyes slowly. Half lid, unveiling his silver pupils that gradually darkens to grey, behind streaks of lank black fringe that falls over them. It makes her realize; he isn’t much older than them. Possibly just two or three years. He gives a soft,

“Oh.” straightening a little more, as acknowledgement,

“Thanks.” now she’s able to see the black ram horns peeking through at each side of his head. He’s a mythical, Aries subclass.

Very calmly, he says with a sleepy voice, as though he’s just woken up,

“I’ve been expecting you, Lilith Renarvas.” then he flicks his gaze towards Cyan, with a small nodding greeting,

“Fancy seeing you here too, Cyan Blight. Third son of Odion Blight.”

It makes Lilith raise a brow,

“You know him?” turning towards Cyan,

“How come you never told me?” but Cyan just returns her a confused look and a little shrug,

“I don’t know him.” he ponders for a bit, swishing his tails in deep thought, “although, I do know his guild, but there’re too many faces to remember when father invites people over so I never really paid attention.” then he concludes,

“But I don’t recall seeing a kid like this.”

Scimitar guy gives a laugh,

“Kid?” it draws her attention towards him to watch him lean against the bookshelves with his arms crossed,

“This kid’s a thousand-year-old geezer. Don’t get deceived by his looks.” at that, goat skull adventurer returns a small smile, but his words are anything but benign,

“Mereekh Soter,” addressing simitar guy, despite is voice is kind,

“Shall I perhaps inform your superiors that you are deserving of another demotion?”

So that’s where Mereekh gets his complex from, considering he’s bowing before goat skull adventurer even finishes the statement,

“Please cut me some slack.” he sounds a little whiney when he adds,

“Ever since I took this mission, I’m already demoted three times because of you. I still have younger siblings to feed.”

She’s able to conclude that goat skull adventurer’s the one that’s superior.

He simply acknowledges his apology with another nod.

Straightening his gaze, he introduces with a hand over his chest,

“I’m Feno Ozris, forth admiral and book keeper of the Darkdawn guild.” it finally rings a bell. Darkdawn is one of the newer guilds that joined the elite ten after winning the guild wars eight years ago. Replacing River Rain and now all of the southern territories are in the process of transference.

It strikes her,

“Aren’t you like, a big shot then?” Killian’s told her; every guild’s tiered by ranks. The top most, is the guild leader, followed by the vice guild leader, four admiral positions, ten division captain positions, and finally the lieutenants which acts as the captain’s right-hand men,

“Since you’re an admiral, you must be pretty strong right?”

Feno acknowledges with a tired,

“Ah...” blinking sluggishly, as though it’s passed his nap time,

“Does my combat strength intrigue you, young miss?” he gives a little smile,

“How about this? If you answer my questions. We can have a spar at the training houses later.” raising a palm to flex his fingers,

“It’s been a while since I’ve been called to field tests, so I’ll probably be a little rusty.” cracking each bone deliberately, before matching her gaze again with a generous offer,

“If you win, I’ll let you pass the adventurer’s exams right away, on account of the Darkdawn.”

It makes her excited,

“For real?”

Cyan immediately points out,

“Idiot,” uncrossing his arms,

“That’ll just be a waste of effort when we got our asses handed to us by Wyersa’s goons.” he points to Mereekh,

“Forget admirals, we won’t even beat this pervert.”

She protests over Mereekh’s offended, ‘hey!’,

“But, but! It’s not every day we’ll get to spar with one of the Elite ten’s higher ups.”

“You felt how strong Rufus and Satys are didn’t you? Those are division captains. This guy’s an admiral, in other words, he’s stronger than even them. You don’t stand a chance, idiot.” Cyan shrugs,

“The only reason why he’s cocky enough to say that he’ll let you pass, is because he knows you’ll never win.”

Hearing that makes her puff her cheeks,

“But,” and cuts her statement there realizing that he’s right, so instead, she whines,

“That sucks.” kicking a leg into the carpet beneath her. Brushing past the fuzzy surface repeatedly to make more dust fly.

Feno draws her attention again when he comments,

“That’s well and all, however, I will still need you to answer some questions.”

Cyan pries,

“And what of it? What will you do with her answers?”

Feno shrugs,

“If she’s innocent, nothing really.”

It makes her tilt her head, confused,

“What am I guilty for? What did I do?”

At that, he places his hands on the crystal in front of him again. Magia, spiraling around to color the orb green and gold with glitters, emitting outwards that brightens the room as though a lantern. The middle, slowly turns a reddish hue, gradually forming a silhouette of a person.

No, it looks more like a mythical. She can’t recognize the subclass. In fact, other than the humanoid figure, nothing else of it even remotely resembles anything she’s seen.

There’s no sound, but she can tell from the gestures that the mythical is throwing his face back in a roar. The goat horns atop his head almost seem to spear into the blood moon behind him. Fanning all four leathery wings, he soars downwards, from the piles of carcasses to rip into the army of Magia-users beneath. Spilling blood, like a red mist that puddles the war-torn field as if scarlet rivers.

That’s when the observer of the scene that they’re witnessing the perspective of, begins running. Turning the opposite direction and bumping shoulders with others, hastily shoving them out of the way like he’s lost his will to fight. But the creature lands in front. Tearing into the Magia-users before him in clean halves with his razor-sharp claws and talons. Spraying intestines, like party strings, out of the mutilated bodies.

Spells of their comrades immediately come crashing in, flashing rainbows of explosions. Yet it only bounces off the creature’s armor-plated skin in vain. Hardly even scratching it. The observer stumbles backwards, as though a doe caught in head lights, seemingly too terrified to do anything as the beast approaches him, quaking the ground beneath him step, by step that the scenery shakes. Reaching an iron taloned claw out, he grips him by the neck to seize him up.

That’s where she gets a closer look at the creature’s face. It’s like a helmet, except ingrained into him, revealing just a sliver of red eyes and slit gold pupils beneath. The mouth unhinges open, bearing arrays of razor fangs. Split tongue flickering out, then the observer is been brought closer, that she’s able to see the back of his throat. Its cavernous size tells her this thing is at least three meters tall. Teeth begins closing in on both ends of the orb. Crush. The imagery splatters away into the gold green swirl again.

Feno explains,

“That’s Dal’Gore the world destroyer. An ancient god-tier mythical.” she’s only heard of the name in rumors.

A monstrous thing, with Magia so immense, he’s able to destroy mountains, wipe out continents with a single swipe of his claw. And every Magia user he eats, he absorbs into himself, that’s what makes him so terrifying. It’s a creature that’s only able to get stronger and stronger, the more foes fall beneath him, so they can’t even send fodders to tire him out.

But she’s always thought it was just a folklore to scare children from going out at night. Even Killian tells her Dal’Gore is nothing to worry about.

Cyan points out,

“Isn’t Dal’Gore dead for millenniums now? God-tier Mythicals no longer exists.” he shrugs,

“The first adventurer defeated him. That’s why guilds were formed.”

Feno replies softly,

“That’s right. Then I suppose, you’re also familiar with them.” directing their gaze downwards with a flick of his eyes.

The crystal spirals again, into another hideous monster with three heads, a horse on the left, a sheep on the right, and a person in the center that connects to a torso. His snake hair, cascading off his face in grimace as his unruly tentacle lower body, half submerged in the ocean, gets bombarded with spells from the adventurers on the shorelines. In the middle, where his pelvis bones connect, forms a dragon’s neck and head. Opening its gaping mouth, the dragon gathers a huge Magia ball before whipping forward like a bow string upon release, blasting the combatants in the blue light,

“The Archfiend of lust, Asmodeus the seventh.” Feno introduces, before the crystal clears out in bubbles to form something else.

This time, it’s of a woman. Black exoskeletal plates armoring every limb. She has sixteen, eight attached to her torso, eight more in the spider lower half. In each hand, she’s grasping helpless adventurers, bringing them above her, as though grapes, to drop them in the fissure of a mouth she has that opens down to her neck. Then she turns her head in a twisted smile, webs begin crawling past the screen, turning everything to white,

“The gluttonous mother, Belphegor the sixth.” the image disappears again, clearing up to another.

Forming what looks like a mountain of gold. The scene pans upwards, hiking through the tumbling coins to reveal a wyvern slumbering atop of it. Except, there are what looks like to be people, in a line by its spiney sides. Half of them is being consumed by the Wyvern’s leathery skin. There’s a blankness in all their faces, some of them, in various states of decomposition. But despite so, they’re still grasping desperately for the coins, holding as many they can before their chest. Then, the gold hill begins sinking inwards, like it’s being vacuumed towards the Wyvern, including the observer. Getting closer and closer to the carcasses that begins stretching their arms out to grab at the screen, until a hand slaps atop, entirely covering it and fading to black,

“The Wyvern of greed, Mammon the fifth.”

Next, it shows a wasteland. Its lands cracked and trees barren. Piles of animal carcasses rotting by the sides. In the grey skies, a vulture has just fallen, crashing to the ground right as the silhouette of something emerges from the thick white fog. Beside the observer, adventurers begin collapsing as the shape gets closer, and bigger. The first thing she notices is the horse head, except, it’s devoid of flesh on a side, exposing the white bones. Atop of it, a black shroud of what looks like a man sits, the ends of it, smoking outwards like mist. She can’t see his face, but he’s holding something until he’s close enough for her realize it’s a cage. Emitting more fog thickly, the observer is blinking. Each gap getting longer, and slower, as though it’s making him sleepy. He’s fighting against it. But the fog quickly overwhelms him and he collapses, fading the screen grey,

“The horseman of sloth, Abaddon the fourth.”

The mist clears up to fire. It’s smoke, furling to the heavens above. Tainting in the same hues, it makes her realize, this time, the scene is in the middle of the volcano. There looks to be a demon, emerging from the lava. Except, in the place where it’s head should be, there’s half a torso of a man. White hair, draping off the sides of his face like curtains. A smug smirk on his face as he swipes an arm, controlling the demon lower half that’s rattling with chains, swinging a massive plasma ball forward, crashing into screen with molten lava, melting downwards,

“The abyssal wrath, Sathanas the third.”

Next, it reveals a room full of mirrors. This time, she’s able to see the confused adventurer that’s observing from the infinitely repeating reflections. A handsome young fella in golden armor, running through the maze. He has a panicked expression on his face, wielding a sword before his chest, and swinging at a buzzing black silhouette moving too quickly for her to see. He dodges something that looks like the point of a bee’s stinger. It instead, stabs through the mirror behind him. Shattering it to the next room, filled with more mirrors. The following strike, eventually gets him. Piercing him like a skewer through the stomach, that’s when the creature becomes visible. It’s a grotesque bee, with the head of a fly. Then it’s abdomen pulses. The adventurer hollows out, shrinking like a prune until even his luscious blond hair, turns white. The bee disperses into thousands of tinier insects, rampantly buzzing about the room like locusts. Dropping the adventurer to the ground. He’s staring upwards, watching the insects collect into a black fuzz. Scurrying to position that it even makes her skin crawl just witnessing it secondhandedly. Each bug morphs into each other. Forming something that looks like naked human feet, building upwards, to legs, torso, neck, and finally the face. She realizes, it’s the same as the dying adventurer on the ground. Tilting his head down, the impersonator smiles coldly, raising a foot. Crush. The screen abruptly blackens,

“Envious lord of the flies, Beelzebub the second.”

The last is in the midst of a battlefield, the recognizable airships overhead give her a sense of time that this happened in more recent years. Dropping huge Magia bombs atop a towering figure in the horizon. The sunset, radiating orange beams through its skeletal ribs, almost overshadowing the bright red circular hat atop its skull. Except, the top half seems to be gone, so the hat instead, sits above the cheekbones. The skeleton grabs her huge hoop skirt with bone hands. As though a dance, she flits the red fabric in a twirl. Rattling smaller human remains, as though ornaments hanging around the tiered perimeters, and controlling the circle of massive skulls spinning around her to drop their jaws. Each of them, gathering balls of red Magia within their mouths, before it becomes potent enough with crimson light, jetting out like a laser light show through the skies. Piercing the airships and crashing them down as though hunted birds. A skull to the side focuses forward instead, pouring a geyser of red beam in zigzags through the army of adventurers confronting her. Obliterating them in its light and leaving a path of scarlet spider lilies behind. Growing into carnivorous plants. Swallowing the rest that she’s missed, before spitting out the bones. But even the bones begin shaking, attracting to each other as though magnets, to form armies of skeletons. Charging forward, like a tidal wave, until eventually, the observer gets stampeded by them, buried under the pile and the screen fades black.

Feno concludes,

“The crimson witch of pride, Lucifer the first. Also known as, Luci.” removing his hands to hang by his side,

“What you just witnessed is memories of past adventurers confronting the seven children of Dal’gore.” the crystal clears up again. She watches the long sleeves furls over the tip of his fingers, covering them. His laborious sigh brings her gaze up to his face, he’s saying with a forlorn look,

“However, as you can see, they have unfortunately perished in the strife.” then he turns his head to explain tepidly,

“We think, you may have some connections to the crimson witch.” which immediately makes her raise a brow, anticipating his accusation that swiftly follows,

“In fact, we suspect, you are her.” but before she’s able to commentate, Cyan scoffs,

“There’s absolutely no way. Didn’t all of them eventually get hunted down in the millenniums after Dal’gore’s death. Even the last one, Luci, is defeated two centuries ago.”

Feno contradicts,

“That is what seems to be the outcome of our many years of struggles. But, as a descendent of Demigods. Cyan Blight, you should know best about the regenerative powers you possess.” that statement makes Cyan retreat a defensive step, but Feno continues regardless,

“The only reason why you are unable to resurrect, is because the powers are already diluted by generations of cross breeding with the Sapiens, until eventually, everything disappears.” he gestures to his horns,

“Retaining only small physical traits as a reminder of our ancestors.” then lowering his hands back down to rest upon the crystal,

“However, these God-tier Mythicals are different. Even if a single blood cell of theirs remain, they are able to fully revive. And, that is no exceptions to the sevenths.” he clicks his fingers atop of it,

“In the past years, we have been receiving reports of many strange activities. It won’t be that unlikely, one or a few of them, did survive. Although, in a state, far too weak to surface.” his words grow colder in a warning,

“But knowing the utter destructions they are able to cause, we simply cannot let it slip. If it is true that even one of them survived. All seven children and even Dal’gore himself, may be resurrected.”

Cyan deadpans, folding his arms behind his head,

“You already said, they are God-tier Mythicals, didn’t you?” he’s unconvinced, “Lilith is a full-fledged Sapien. There’s no way.”

“According to Satys Neith, she also possesses an aura remarkably similar to that of Luci’s.” Feno balks,

“Appearances, can frequently be deceiving, Cyan Blight, but Vita never lies.”

She’s hesitant when she finally brings herself to ask,

“Luci. Does she have another form?” drawing curious glances towards her. She wavers for a moment, before the tension gets a little too awkward from the lack of responses so she’s forced to clarify,

“She looks like someone I see in my mind a lot.” it makes Cyan lean forward,

“Idiot, what are you saying?”

She shakes her head,

“No. But it’s not like this, you see...” searching her recollections to explain,

“I don’t really remember much of my parents, but I can clearly see who’s killed them. She looks a lot like her, the woman in the crystal.”

The amused,

“Oh?” of Mereekh attracts her glance towards him for a moment. He’s straightened from the bookshelves, a hand reaching backwards to rest upon his scimitar. Then she turns to address Feno when he says,

“If that’s the case, will you show me your memories?” it immediately makes Cyan inject himself between them, instigating,

“And, what if, she is somehow related to Luci? What will happen then?”

There’s a silence in the air for a moment. A tension brewing quietly. Feno lids his eyes, before he opens them again,

“Then I’m afraid...” aura seeping out, blanketing the air above them. It getting heavier and heavier. As though piling snow, threatening to bury them alive. She can feel it on her shoulders, so crushingly, it’s becoming hard to breathe. It turns his words ice cold when he says,

“She’ll have to die right here.”

At that, Cyan immediately grabs her wrist, bolting for the doorway. His bloodlust, feels almost as though trudging through a blizzard. But Mereekh’s already there, blocking their exit with weapons drawn. Wielding the sharp end to the tip of Cyan’s nose. He nonchalantly shrugs,

“What’s the hurry. It’s just a little memory test.”

Cyan argues,

“Lilith is Lilith. You paranoid freaks are out of you minds-” but he’s unable to finish the statement when Mereekh threatens forward with a jab. Forcing Cyan to flinch backwards and she immediately strides to swat his weapon aside with a forearm. She glances over her shoulders, witnessing ice flakes begin trickling in, slowly forming hovering blades in the air around Feno. Unfurling like crystal wings.

They don’t intend to let them go.

Cyan seems to realize too, hunching forward, gathering Magia within his palms. He pinpoints towards Mereekh. Through the gaps where he doesn’t cover, like he’s about to make a break for it, but before he’s able to strike. Lilith stops him with a hand over the shoulders.

She’s felt Feno’s Magia, both of them know, they won’t win this fight. He’s able to kill them in less than a heartbeat.

So, she tries to calm,

“It’s alright. Cyan. I’m sure things will be fine!” he argues,

“Idiot, your life is in danger here!”

She forces a reassuring smile,

“I’m sure I’m not her.” the most convincing one she’s able to muster,

“After all, I’m the one that’s watching her!” and withdraws her hand before Cyan can feel she’s trembling from the instinctual fear crawling into her heart.

Turning around, she stabilizes her wavering voice,

“I’ll take the memory test.”

At that, the imposing aura dissipates, together with the ice blades, flaking to speckly dust. It almost feels like a heavy bag has lifted from her shoulders and she’s finally able to breathe again. So, she inhales sharply before she says,

“Just tell me what to do.” behind them, Mereekh's sheathing his scimitars with sharp shings.

Cyan tries again,

“Lilith!-” to which she only interrupts, staring forward,

“It’s okay, Cyan.” she’s hoping, with enough resolution he’ll believe it too,

“I’ll be okay.”

Feno gestures with an open palm, smiling softly,

“That’s the wiser decision.” and invites her to the crystal,

“Just focus your aura on it.” she draws closer, asking,

“How do I do that?”

He explains calmly,

“Aura is basically just your Vita signature. So do it the same way you channel Vita about in your body, but pile everything you have onto the tip of your fingers.”

Following his instructions. She swallows dryly, raising her arms. They suddenly feel boneless, but she shakes the strength back into them. Finally, she takes another deep breath before placing both palms atop the cold glass orb and closes her eyes.