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Chapter Text

The clock on the school wall had barely ticked past 2:20 PM when Celestine slung her backpack over one shoulder and stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. Her brown hair, falling just to her back, swayed gently in the breeze as she squinted at the sun cutting low across the parking lot.

“Finally,” she muttered, smirking. “Two more hours of sanity… until homework ruins it all.”

Her steps were brisk, glancing at her phone to check messages she wasn’t expecting. She walked toward her car, already imagining the leftover snacks waiting in the fridge and a solo marathon of her favorite show.

Then—

A screech of tires.
A smash of metal.

Celestine froze mid-step, her bag swinging dangerously, as a car veered wildly toward her.

Time slowed.

Her first thought:

“Oh, nope. Nope. Definitely not my day.”

Everything went white.

When she opened her eyes again, the parking lot had vanished. The mountains, asphalt, and even the faint hum of traffic were gone. Instead, a surreal sky swirled overhead, violet clouds interlaced with glowing sigils stretching infinitely in all directions.

Celestine’s second thought:

“Well… I guess we’re skipping straight to the weird part.”

Electric energy hummed beneath her fingers. A sleek, dark book with flickering purple-red lightning appeared before her, floating as if expecting her.

Her third thought, with a shrug and a smirk:

“Homework 2.0. Great. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

But Celestine blinked against the violet glow, brushing her hands through the air as if it might solidify and make sense. The surreal sky stretched endlessly, punctuated by faint, pulsing sigils that made the world feel alive.

Then she saw it—a reflective surface hovering in the distance. Drawn to it, she walked closer and froze.

Her reflection stared back. Lavender hair to her waist, butterfly bangs framing her face. Violet eyes flecked with yellow, orange, and red, and sharp cross-shaped pupils.

Celestine’s lips curled into a smirk.
“Well… okay. Extra dramatic, but cute. Not complaining,” she muttered, brushing a hand through her new hair.

The world around her hummed faintly, almost as if holding its breath. Somewhere ahead, floating a few feet off the ground, was the dark tome—Eclipse of Memory. Purple-red lightning flickered across its cover, faint sparks arcing like restless little sprites.

Celestine tilted her head.
“Alright… magic book, here we go. Either I touch this and turn into some epic disaster, or I don’t and float forever. Choices, choices.”

She began walking toward it, each step deliberate, the weightless ground shifting softly beneath her. Her heart thumped with excitement and curiosity. For the first time since the crash, a small grin tugged at her lips.

“This… is actually kind of cool,” she whispered. “I mean, terrifying, but also… really cool.”

Celestine just stepped towards the book of “eclipse of memory” when is suddenly vanished infront of her.

“What…?” she muttered, stepping back instinctively.

Before she could process it, the world seemed to shift beneath her feet. She lost her balance, arms flailing, and suddenly she was falling.

With a loud thud, Celestine landed squarely on her butt in front of a grand hotel, the pavement cold and solid beneath her. She groaned and sat up, brushing off her uniform and adjusting her waist-length lavender hair.

The sky above was still tinged with violet, faint glowing sigils lingering in the air, but the hotel loomed large and surprisingly normal.

“Well,” she muttered, wincing slightly from the impact, “guess the universe has a weird sense of humor. Magical book vanishes, I faceplant, and now… hotel check-in? Yeah, totally normal day.”

She pushed herself to her feet and dusted off the last vestiges of the fall. Her violet-yellow eyes scanned the hotel doors and the slightly surreal surroundings. Somehow, she had to figure out where she was—and why

Celestine’s breath caught as she stepped cautiously through the hotel doors. The faint violet glow from the sky above lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of polished stone and distant warmth from inside.

Her eyes fell on a window along the corridor, and she froze.

There she was—fully herself. Her waist-length lavender hair shimmered softly, the butterfly bangs perfectly framing her face. Her violet eyes flecked with yellow, orange, and red, pupils sharp and cross-shaped, stared back with an intensity that made her pause. Even the subtle glow of the sigils on her skirt and the flutter of her charm bracelet seemed alive.

Celestine slowly ran a hand through her hair.
“Okay… this is… really me. Extra dramatic, but, wow… kind of impressive,” she muttered under her breath, awe and a trace of humor mingling in her voice.

She turned, and her pulse quickened. Down the hallway, two figures walked side by side. One moved with an ethereal, elegant grace, her presence almost hypnotic—Black Swan. Every motion seemed deliberate, measured, yet her gaze hinted at curiosity and hidden motives. The other, tall and reserved, radiated a quiet, mysterious power—Acheron. Her steps were precise, yet her posture carried a subtle air of melancholy, as if she carried the weight of countless lost memories.

Celestine’s mind raced. Black Swan… Acheron… I know them.

Without thinking, she hurried after them, keeping to the shadows and glancing back at her reflection when she could. She absorbed every detail: the soft shimmer of her hair, the faint sparks of her sigils, the way her new eyes caught the dim light.

As she moved, she noticed Black Swan’s attention subtly flick toward her direction, though the Memokeeper didn’t speak, her curiosity sharp but patient, calculating. Acheron remained silent, steps measured, eyes distant yet somehow aware of the new presence.

Celestine’s hands fidgeted with her charm bracelet. Heart pounding, she whispered, almost too quietly to be heard:
“Um… excuse me… I… I think I need your help?”

Her voice trembled slightly, shy but earnest. She took a careful step forward, hoping they wouldn’t dismiss her outright.

Black Swan’s gaze lingered a moment longer, inscrutable, as if assessing whether Celestine’s memories—or perhaps her potential—were worth observing. Acheron’s eyes softened just a fraction, her cold exterior hinting at the faintest trace of concern or recognition.

Celestine swallowed and muttered under her breath, a wry, nervous grin forming:
“Well… okay. This is happening. Definitely happening.”

Celestine stood a few steps behind, fidgeting with her charm bracelet, heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes flicked between the two figures ahead—Black Swan’s graceful, calculating movements and Acheron’s distant, aloof presence.

Black Swan’s gaze finally settled on her. It wasn’t immediate recognition, but a measured curiosity, as if she were reading through Celestine’s very essence for memories, intentions, and hidden potential.

“You’re… new,” Black Swan said softly, her voice melodic yet precise, each word deliberate. “Unusual. But… intriguing.”

Acheron remained silent, her piercing violet eyes scanning Celestine for a moment before settling back on the path ahead. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of calm, but the subtle shift in her posture suggested a quiet willingness to observe rather than dismiss.

Celestine swallowed, cheeks warming. “Uh… I… I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said softly, voice shaking just slightly. “I… I think I need help. I… I don’t know what’s happening.”

Black Swan’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Help… or guidance,” she corrected gently. “That depends on what you seek—and what you can offer.” Her eyes flicked toward Acheron, almost as if consulting silently.

Acheron’s tone was quiet, almost philosophical. “The world you have entered… is not easily understood. But… perhaps your presence here is not without purpose.”

Celestine’s hands trembled as she clutched her charm bracelet tighter. Her pulse raced, but her curiosity overrode her fear. “I… I just… I don’t know how to do anything here. I can’t control it,” she whispered, glancing down at her glowing sigils, her lavender hair catching the light.

Black Swan inclined her head slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest. “Power… resides within you. And yet it seems… unrefined. That is… promising.”

Acheron’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “Do not fear. We will see if guidance is warranted. But step carefully. The path you walk is… not trivial.”

Celestine nodded quickly, still shy but filled with a spark of excitement. She fidgeted once more with her bracelet and muttered under her breath, “Okay… this is happening. Definitely happening… wow.”

And with that, she began to follow, cautiously, letting the two enigmatic figures lead her deeper into this new, strange world, every sense alert to the mystery—and potential danger—around her.

Chapter Text

The hotel’s halls stretched impossibly far, each velvet-draped archway blurring into the next. Celestine trailed after Acheron and Black Swan, the charms on her bracelet chiming softly with every nervous fidget of her hand.

Her thoughts swirled faster than her steps.
This is insane. I know this place. I’ve seen it. Penacony—dreamscapes, weird parties, hotel vibes. But on my phone, not… this. Definitely not this.

She glanced up at the violet sigils pulsing faintly across the walls and muttered under her breath:
“Wow. Seeing Penacony on screen was one thing. Being here? Yeah, the devs forgot to mention the wallpaper breathes.”

Neither Black Swan nor Acheron responded. They led her through corridors until they stopped at a grand suite. Black Swan pushed the door open with a graceful motion, revealing a room dressed in violet silks and warm lanternlight.

“Inside,” the Memokeeper said smoothly.

Celestine stepped in cautiously, sinking into the couch Black Swan indicated. Acheron remained standing, silent, her presence heavy but watchful.

The door shut with a soft click. Then Black Swan turned, her golden mask gleaming as she tilted her head.

“Curious…” she murmured, her voice low and melodic. “You already name this world.”

Celestine stiffened. “Wait—you can hear my thoughts?”

The Memokeeper’s lips curved like ink spreading across water. “I need not hear. I see.” Her gaze slid across Celestine like fingers turning pages. “Your memories spill so easily. A fractured star wandering into stories that were never yours. Amusing… and troubling.”

Before Celestine could protest, Black Swan pressed deeper. A rush of pressure slid into her mind—too intimate, too invasive. Celestine gasped, clutching her head as images flickered past: screeching tires, a crash, blinding white light… then her own shocked face staring at a glowing screen, watching them from another life.

Black Swan exhaled softly, retreating with deliberate grace. “So. That is how you came here.”

Celestine’s throat tightened. “You—saw everything?”

“Yes.” Her tone was velvet over steel. “And if anyone else were to know, you would not be safe. This… must remain a secret.”

Acheron’s voice cut through, low and certain. “Then it must not leave this room.”

Celestine looked between them, her pulse racing. “…So we’re making a pact? No telling anyone I’m basically from the other side of the screen? Sure. I can do secrets.”

Black Swan’s smile lingered. “Good. For your safety… and for ours.”

Silence stretched. Then Black Swan asked suddenly, her tone sharper: “How old are you, child?”

Celestine blinked. “Uh… fifteen.”

The air shifted. Acheron’s posture stiffened, her expression hardening. Even Black Swan faltered, her elegant hands stilling.

“…Fifteen?” Black Swan’s voice was velvet, but edged with disbelief. “This… is no place for children.”

“I’m not a child,” Celestine snapped, heat rushing to her cheeks. Her fists clenched until the charms of her bracelet bit into her skin. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask to end up here. But I’m not weak.”

“You are fragile,” Black Swan countered, voice colder now. “Unready. If left unchecked, this power will consume you.”

“She should be returned,” Acheron said flatly. “If such a thing is possible, she must go back before erosion roots itself deeper.”

Celestine’s voice cracked, but she forced it out anyway. “I said I needed help, not a babysitter! I—I can handle it!”

The tension hung heavy, the violet sigils outside pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat.

At last, Black Swan’s expression softened—only slightly. “Such conviction, from one so young… intriguing. Perhaps there is more here than a frightened child. Perhaps.”

Acheron’s gaze lingered on Celestine, her voice quieter. “…Too young. But we cannot turn away.”

Celestine swallowed hard, forcing her shaky grin back. “So… trial period? Awesome. No pressure at all.”

Neither woman smiled.

Black Swan sat gracefully at her desk, folding her hands. “Then the question is simple: do we train her… or hide her?”

“Train her?” Acheron’s tone sharpened. “To walk the Path of Erosion knowingly? That is to hand her a blade that will cut her down before it strikes her enemies.”

“And yet to hide her,” Black Swan countered smoothly, “is to leave her vulnerable, a fractured flame without control. Which is more merciful, I wonder?”

Celestine squirmed, feeling the weight of their debate crash over her. “I’m still right here, you know.”

For the first time, Acheron looked at Black Swan directly, her voice soft but firm. “…Odette.”

The nickname slid into the air with surprising ease. Black Swan’s lips curved instantly into a wider smile, like ink blooming on parchment.

“Oh? You forget what you did three hours ago, beautiful ranger,” she teased, “but you remember my little name?”

Acheron’s eyes narrowed faintly. “…Names have weight. You should not toy with them.”

Black Swan only laughed softly, her voice melodic. “And yet, I see you still hold onto mine.”

Celestine blinked between them, completely lost. “Okay… so, are we deciding my fate, or am I interrupting a… whatever this is? Just need to know the vibe here.”

Both turned to her in unison, their gazes unreadable.

Celestine coughed, fidgeting with her bracelet. “…Right. Shutting up.”

But deep down, despite the fear twisting in her stomach, a spark of exhilaration lit inside her. For the first time, she wasn’t just watching them from a screen. She was in the story.

A beat then-

Black swan tilted her head ever so slightly. “One thing remains,” she said softly, voice curling like smoke. “We have peered into your thoughts, your fears… yet not once have you spoken your name.”

Acheron’s gaze sharpened, steady and unreadable. “Tell us, child. What should we call you?”

Celestine froze for half a second. Then, clutching her book to her chest, she lifted her chin and said, voice quiet but firm:

“…Celestine.”

The room seemed to breathe with her answer, the pulsing violet light outside echoing the syllables.

Black Swan’s lips curved. “Celestine… a fitting name for one who carries the stars of another world.”

Acheron gave the faintest nod, her expression unreadable, but her voice softer than before. “…Then Celestine you shall be.”

Celestine’s eyelids drooped, and a wide yawn slipped out before she could stop it. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry—uh, rude, I know. Totally not bored of the whole mysterious dreamworld hotel thing. Just… long day of… existing?”

Black Swan’s golden eyes softened with a rare warmth. “Exhaustion is no sin, child. You need rest.” She gestured elegantly toward the grand bed draped in violet silk. “You may stay here tonight. I will not see a weary soul cast into Penacony’s hallways.”

Celestine blinked. “Wait—you’re just… letting me crash in your room? No ominous tests, no, like, ritual chants?”

Black Swan’s smile curved faintly. “Not tonight.” She swept gracefully toward an ornate dresser, drawing out a folded bundle of pale silk. “Here. Spare clothes. They should suffice as sleepwear.”

Celestine accepted them gingerly, her face flushing at the idea of borrowing Black Swan’s pajamas. “Uh… thanks. Promise I won’t drool on them. Probably.” She shuffled off behind a screen, muttering to herself about “five-star RPG hospitality.”

When the soft rustle of fabric faded, Acheron finally spoke, her voice low. “You trust her easily.”

“I see what she carries,” Black Swan replied, her tone calm but thoughtful. She turned toward the faint lamplight, shadows flickering across her mask. “Her memories are fractured, yes… but not false. And there is something… familiar about her face.”

Acheron’s gaze lifted, sharp. “Familiar how?”

Black Swan let the silence linger a moment, as if testing the thought. Then she said softly, “She resembles you.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Acheron’s brow furrowed. “Me?”

“Yes.” Black Swan’s golden eyes gleamed. “Not only in her features, but in the way the erosion clings to her, like it was always hers to bear. As though she were carved from the same thread of fate.”

Acheron said nothing, only crossing her arms, her expression unreadable.

Black Swan’s smile deepened faintly. “And yet, I cannot deny she mirrors me as well. The curiosity. The hunger for what lies beneath memory.” She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Perhaps she is a reflection of us both. Or… something in between.”

From behind the screen, Celestine’s muffled voice broke the tension. “Uh, hi. Your pajamas are, like, silkier than my entire existence. Just thought you should know.”

Black Swan’s laughter, soft and melodic, spilled into the quiet. Acheron only exhaled slowly, eyes still fixed on the door.

Chapter Text

The new hotel didn’t breathe. That was the first thing Celestine noticed when she rolled out of bed that morning.

No violet sigils pulsing on the walls, no strange shimmer at the edges of her vision. Just velvet drapes and warm amber lanterns, the kind of luxury that made her mutter, “Yeah, still five stars. Guess we’re leveling up in hotel DLCs.”

She sat cross-legged at the vanity, frowning at her reflection as she tried for the fifth time to braid her hair. Midnight-purple strands slipped free, the crimson tips tangling in rebellion. With a groan, she thunked her forehead against the mirror. “This hair has a personal vendetta against me.”

From behind, a voice drifted soft as smoke.

“Allow me.”

Celestine peeked up as Black Swan approached, her long veil trailing like spilled ink. She took the brush with practiced elegance, each careful stroke taming Celestine’s chaotic strands into something delicate and precise.

Celestine groaned. “You’re making me look like a princess, not a fighter.”

Black Swan’s lips curved faintly. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stab someone than wave from a balcony.” Celestine slumped dramatically against the chair. “Princess training skipped me entirely.”

Through the open connecting door, she caught sight of the other room. Acheron sat on the edge of the shared bed, crimson eyes lowered as she polished her blade. The sight of her—stoic, precise, unshaken—was so on-brand that Celestine couldn’t help herself.

“If I die in battle,” she called, voice laced with a grin, “it won’t be from monsters. It’ll be from your secondhand intimidation.”

Acheron lifted her gaze just enough to meet hers, expression unreadable, before returning to her sword.

Celestine raised both hands like she’d scored a point. “Victory. She looked at me.”

Later, the three slipped through Penacony’s dream-wrapped streets. The new hotel’s golden arches curved behind them as laughter and music rippled faintly in the air. Celestine walked comfortably between her guardians, twirling the charms on her bracelet with every step.

That’s when they ran into them.

“…Wait. Who’s the kid?” Stelle’s voice cut sharp, suspicious.

Celestine froze for a moment, then plastered on her best crooked grin. “Hi! Local stray they picked up. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

March gasped instantly. “She’s adorable! Look at her uniform—aww, she’s like a gothic storybook doll come to life!” She circled eagerly, eyes sparkling.

Celestine flushed, tugging her braid forward like a shield. “I’m not adorable, I’m mysterious. Totally different vibe.”

But March wasn’t the only one staring. Dan Heng’s gaze was sharp, steady, lingering just a little too long. His eyes flicked to the faint violet sigils curling across Celestine’s wrist before fading again.

Stelle noticed it too. Her brow furrowed. “…There’s something strange about you.”

Celestine’s smirk faltered for half a second before she edged closer to Acheron, brushing against the swordswoman’s sleeve. Acheron didn’t move away. Black Swan’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, smoothing her hair as if it were second nature.

“…Great,” Stelle muttered. “We lost custody before we even knew she existed.”

Celestine rallied with a grin. “Yeah, sorry. Already signed the adoption papers.”

Later, at the hotel

The Astral Express crew didn’t let it go.

They followed Acheron and Black Swan back to the hotel, and once Celestine was safely in her adjoining room, the questions came.

“What is she?” Stelle’s voice was blunt, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall of the suite. “Because she’s not just some kid you found wandering Penacony.”

Dan Heng’s gaze was steady, though there was a faint tension in his jaw. “Her aura isn’t natural. Those marks on her skin… erosion.”

March, quieter now, wrung her hands. “She doesn’t look dangerous, but… you can feel it, can’t you?”

Black Swan’s lips curved faintly behind her veil, her tone smooth. “She is a traveler. That is enough.”

“That’s not an answer,” Stelle shot back.

Acheron’s eyes flickered to the door connecting Celestine’s room. Her voice was low, cutting, final. “She is under our protection. That is all you need to know.”

The air tensed, heavy as drawn steel. Stelle opened her mouth to argue again, but March touched her arm, shaking her head softly.

Dan Heng’s gaze lingered, sharp as a blade. “…If she loses control, we won’t look the other way.”

Acheron didn’t flinch. “Neither will I.”

The standoff stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring, until at last the Express crew withdrew, leaving with murmured footsteps down the hall.

Only then did Celestine’s voice drift through the connecting door, muffled but teasing:

“Do I hear people arguing about me like I’m not in the next room? Rude.”

Black Swan chuckled softly, the tension breaking like glass. “Go to sleep, little star.”

Celestine yawned audibly. “Fine. But for the record—I’m ninety percent charming.”

Acheron exhaled slowly, sliding her sword back into its sheath. “…She’s trouble.”

“Undoubtedly,” Black Swan agreed, a smile threading her words. “And yet… she is ours.”

Through the wall, Celestine’s muffled laugh rang out before drifting into silence.

The suite finally fell quiet after the Astral Express crew’s departure. The connecting door stood closed, but faint light seeped through the crack beneath it.

Black Swan was the first to move, gliding across the floor with her usual silent grace. She pressed the door open just enough to peer inside.

Celestine was curled on the velvet-draped bed, her book clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Her braid had half-unraveled, strands spilling over her face in wild midnight waves. She blinked sleepily when she noticed the figure in the doorway.

“…Black Swan?” she mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness.

Black Swan stepped inside, veil catching the lanternlight. She moved to the bedside and brushed the loose hair gently from Celestine’s eyes. “Rest,” she whispered, her voice soft as silk. “You need not guard yourself here.

Celestine smiled faintly, eyelids drooping. “You sound like… bedtime DLC.”

Black Swan chuckled, a low, melodic sound, and tucked the blanket a little higher over her shoulders. “Then dream well, little star.”

As she straightened, Acheron appeared silently in the doorway. Her crimson eyes flicked from Celestine to Black Swan, then back again. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she crossed the room and rested a hand briefly on the edge of Celestine’s bed.

Celestine stirred, peeking one eye open. “…You too, scary sword-lady?”

Acheron’s expression didn’t shift, but her voice was quieter than usual. “…Sleep. You’ll need strength for what’s to come.”

Celestine smirked faintly, even half-asleep. “See? You do care.”

Acheron didn’t answer, but her hand lingered a heartbeat longer before she turned and stepped back toward the door.

By the time Black Swan followed, Celestine was already drifting into sleep, her last mutter slipping into the quiet:

“…Guess I’m not alone anymore…”

The door closed softly, leaving the room bathed in lanternlight.

In the adjoining suite, Acheron leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“She will draw danger to us,” she murmured.

Black Swan’s veil shimmered as she tilted her head. “Perhaps. But she also reminds us of something we have not been for a long time.”

Acheron’s gaze sharpened. “…What is that?”

Black Swan’s lips curved faintly, a secret smile hidden in the veil.

“Human.”

Neither spoke again. The night in Penacony stretched deep and silent, broken only by the faint rhythm of Celestine’s steady breathing through the wall.

Chapter Text

Celestine felt the pull again, subtle but insistent, a thread tugging at her chest that she could no longer ignore. Elara. The memory of the girl’s presence, the way her aura shimmered faintly with lilac light, the effortless calm that somehow commanded attention—gnawed at something deep inside her, a tug she had not felt with anyone else. It wasn’t merely curiosity. It wasn’t simple admiration. It was something older, something instinctive, an invisible pulse linking them as if the universe itself had decided their paths should intersect. And the pull wasn’t polite; it pressed against her ribs, whispered at her veins, demanded recognition, demanded closeness.

The first time she had met Elara was neither planned nor orchestrated. Celestine remembered it clearly, though she had tried to suppress it in the days that followed. It was during one of the moments when both Acheron and Black Swan had convened with Herta and Ruan Mei, a quiet discussion that Celestine had wandered near, curious despite herself. The room had been bathed in a gentle, otherworldly glow, sigils hovering faintly in the air, the soft hum of eldritch energy threading through the space. Elara had been small, even smaller than Celestine expected from the fleeting images she had glimpsed in the news of HSR missions—a child with an aura so potent, so unmistakably alive, that Celestine had felt herself jerk forward involuntarily, drawn by something she could not name.

Elara’s eyes had lifted then, soft yet piercing, and for a heartbeat, Celestine had frozen. The lilac light that danced around the girl seemed to reach toward her, brushing her skin, filling her mind with quiet warmth and unspoken invitation. Celestine’s pulse had skipped; she had wanted to speak, to retreat, to run—but none of it felt right. Instead, she had allowed herself a cautious step closer, every nerve alert, every instinct screaming in confusion and awe.

Elara, oblivious to the chaos Celestine felt inside, had tilted her head slightly, curiosity shining through her unassuming composure. “You’re… different,” she had said softly, almost to herself, and the words had settled into Celestine’s chest like a seed taking root. There had been no judgment, no weighty expectation—only recognition. Celestine had understood, in that quiet instant, that she had found a counterpart. A mirror. A thread. Something that resonated beyond mere words.

And now, months later, that pull had not diminished. It had grown, evolved, sharpened into a tension that made her heart thrash and her thoughts scatter. She did not understand it entirely, could not name it, and yet she could not resist it. Each memory of Elara, the soft laughter, the subtle glimmer of power, the way she moved through the world as if she owned no fear, wound itself into Celestine’s thoughts, stitching the two of them together in a way that felt both natural and terrifying.

Black Swan’s gold-glinting eyes caught Celestine’s restless movement. “Your energy…” she murmured, voice low and deliberate, silk over steel. “It’s changing. The marks you once carried… they resonate differently now. There’s direction to it. Focus. Something… deliberate. And yet… unpredictable.”

Acheron’s crimson gaze followed, measured, unyielding. “…Yes. There’s intent behind it. A pull. Not random, not accidental. Guided. Careful, yet insistent. Something—or someone—is shaping it. You.”

Celestine shivered. Guided. Insistent. The words sent a shiver down her spine. She had known she could not stay away from Elara, that even the faintest thought of her made her veins hum and her pulse catch. But shaping her? Guiding her? It was a sensation unlike anything she had felt before: intoxicating, dangerous, and overwhelmingly magnetic.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, almost involuntary. Perhaps that was the thrill, the danger. Perhaps the pull existed precisely because it dared her to surrender control, to explore boundaries she hadn’t even known she possessed. Every glance, every stolen thought, every hesitant movement toward Elara felt like a test, a calibration of power and emotion. And every time, the pull tightened—like a cord drawn taut between two hearts or two fates—and Celestine realized that she did not want it to loosen.

Black Swan’s voice cut through the reverie. “You feel it, don’t you? That… resonance. It’s not merely instinct. It is shaping you. Guiding your focus. And in turn… shaping what you may become.”

Acheron’s eyes remained fixed on her, silent but full of weight. Celestine’s breath caught in her throat. Shaping what I may become…

She dared to glance toward the imagined location of Elara, the lilac glow of her aura in memory pulsing faintly at the edges of her vision. It was as if the universe itself had drawn a line between them, an invisible thread she could follow but not manipulate. Terrifying. Exhilarating. Full of possibility—and full of peril.

A spark of comprehension flickered inside her. This pull, this tether, was not merely emotional. It was a signal, a mark of potential, a harbinger of roles they both would play in a story larger than either could see. And as the realization settled, a shiver of anticipation coiled in her stomach. Her path would not be hers alone. Elara was a part of it—perhaps the axis around which it turned.

Celestine felt her pulse tighten, hands curling slightly at her sides, mind alight with forbidden fascination and instinctive fear. Every sense ached to find the girl, to confirm the invisible tether that tied them together, to understand its nature and its reach. She did not know whether this connection demanded protection, dominance, allegiance, or something darker—but she felt its gravity, undeniable and all-consuming.

And even as Black Swan and Acheron watched, silent and calculating, Celestine realized the truth that she could not speak aloud: whatever this was—whatever pull, whatever thread, whatever destiny, it was not something she could ignore.

It was not hers alone to walk.

The lobby of the Penacony hotel shimmered with its usual dreamlike haze, lanterns casting soft glows across polished marble floors. Celestine ambled toward the vending machine, muttering about snacks and caffeine—the essentials for surviving yet another surreal evening.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elara. About 5’3”, with light brown hair fading into violet and streaks of blue, neatly pulled into a fishtail braid over her shoulder, her bangs framing her face softly. Her eyes—an intricate blend of blue and purple—caught the light with an almost tangible depth, a mixture of curiosity and quiet confidence.

Celestine felt that familiar tug at her chest—the subtle, insistent pull that had begun the first time they met on Herta’s space station. She’d known her then, laughed with her, shared glances that spoke more than words ever could. And yet, even now, standing across the lobby, her heart tightened slightly, drawn toward the girl in a way that was both comforting and electric.

“Elara,” Celestine called softly, spinning around to face her.

Elara’s lips curved into a small smile, the kind that spoke of private jokes and shared understanding. “Celestine,” she replied, voice calm, warm, and familiar. “Waiting for the grown-ups again?”

The golden arches of the Penacony hotel shimmered softly under the evening lights, their glow reflected in the polished floor like liquid amber. Elara tugged lightly at her fishtail braid, eyes scanning the lavish lobby with quiet curiosity. Her blue eyesshimmered alongside streaks of brown in her hair, which faded into delicate violet tips from Herta’s side. At 5’3”, she felt small yet grounded, a calm bubble of presence amid the chaos of the lobby.

Behind her, Ruan Mei and Herta completed the check-in process, their whispered conversation punctuated by occasional laughter. Meanwhile, Celestine lingered near a vending machine, her lavender hair—cross-pupiled eyes—glinting faintly under the lobby’s lights. Her hands fiddled with the snack bag as if it were a talisman, but her attention was elsewhere.

“Oh, no, I just came down from my hotel room for some snacks,” she said, shrugging lightly, her tone casual, but her chest tightened involuntarily as her gaze fell on Elara. There was an inexplicable pull, subtle yet undeniable, like gravity twisting in a direction she hadn’t expected. Her heart beat faster, and she bit the inside of her cheek, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks.

Elara noticed instantly, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Hungry?” she asked, stepping closer, her braid brushing over her shoulder. “The lobby’s vending machine has the best chips. Not that I actually need them.”

Celestine’s smirk appeared, sharp but unguarded. “I—uh, yeah, that’s exactly why I’m here. Totally coincidental, of course.”

There was a moment, a quiet pause as the lobby’s ambient hum seemed to fade. In that space, they both remembered their first meeting—the day on the Herta Space Station when Black Swan and Acheron had been called to confer with Herta and Ruan Mei. Celestine had floated silently near the medbay, curiosity piqued by the new arrival. Elara, calm but inquisitive even then, had reached out with that same faint aura of command that now drew her in. It had been subtle, almost imperceptible, but it had left a mark. From that first encounter, they had recognized each other, an unspoken bond forming between their two worlds: a blend of power, curiosity, and destiny.

“Funny how we meet again,” Celestine murmured, her voice softer than before, the pull in her chest a quiet drumbeat she couldn’t ignore. “And yet… it feels like we never left that medbay.”

Elara tilted her head slightly, blue eyes twinkling with recognition. “I remember. You were so… observant. Floating there, watching everything. And somehow, I felt you knew more about me than I wanted to admit.” She shifted her weight, braid falling neatly over her shoulder. “I think we’ve both changed a bit since then.”

Celestine’s lips curved into a small smile, eyes narrowing subtly. “Yeah. Different vibe, huh? Energy’s… shifting. Feels like something’s coming. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s you, maybe—” Her hand twitched slightly over the snack bag, “—it’s the pull.”

Elara laughed quietly, not mockingly, but with warmth that touched something deep in Celestine’s chest. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt it too. Like our paths were… meant to intersect.” She leaned just slightly closer, enough for the air between them to hum faintly. “And I know about your origins. I’ve… been told. By the right people.”

Celestine’s eyes widened imperceptibly, curiosity and a touch of awe flickering across her features. “You know… about me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter the fragile connection building between them.

“I do,” Elara said simply, almost solemnly, yet with that subtle warmth that made the pull in Celestine’s chest thrum stronger. “And I think we’re… supposed to help each other. Somehow. Maybe even guide each other.”

The sound of Ruan Mei and Herta approaching broke the moment, their conversation spilling into the lobby. Both girls straightened, casual smiles reappearing, but neither could ignore the undercurrent of tension, the lingering hum of connection that neither could fully name yet.

Celestine adjusted her snack bag with a small, almost shy gesture. “Well… I guess we’ll see how this goes,” she said softly, eyes still locked on Elara.

Elara returned her gaze, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as well. “Yeah… we’ll see.”

Even as they turned toward their respective parents, both girls carried with them the unspoken understanding: this meeting wasn’t just a coincidence. It was the first ripple of something far larger, a bond that would grow, twist, and challenge both of them in ways neither fully comprehended yet. And, in that brief moment, the lobby felt smaller, more intimate, as if it too recognized the beginning of a story neither could yet define.

Celestine let out a quiet sigh, sinking into the plush couch of the suite. The door had closed behind Elara and her mothers, leaving her in the familiar presence of her own—Black Swan and Acheron. For a moment, the room was silent, filled only with the soft hum of distant lanterns and the faint pulsing of her own energy.

She curled into Acheron’s side, letting herself relax. “Mom… mama…” she whispered softly, the words slipping out only when the three of them were alone, a small comfort she rarely allowed herself elsewhere.

Acheron’s hand immediately went to her hair, caressing the strands with a gentle rhythm that always seemed to untangle the knot of tension in her chest. Black Swan, ever observant, tilted her head and let out a low, teasing hum.

“Look at you,” Black Swan murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Snuggling into your mom… someone’s feeling cozy tonight.”

Celestine’s cheeks flushed faintly, but she pressed closer, resting her head against Acheron’s chest. She allowed herself a tiny smirk at Black Swan’s playful jab. “I am cozy,” she muttered, though her words were half-lost in the rhythm of Acheron’s steady hand on her hair.

“Your energy is changing,” Acheron said softly, almost to herself, fingers still brushing through the strands at a slow, careful pace. “There’s a… different pulse now. Subtle, but unmistakable.”

Celestine’s mind flickered briefly to the morning in Penacony, when she had met Elara near the vending machines. The memory tugged at her chest—a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and something deeper she wasn’t ready to name. Her heart had tightened in that instant, drawn inexplicably to Elara, the girl who carried both chaos and calm in her gaze. She had watched her, memorized her posture, the way her fishtail braid fell over her shoulder, her blue-and-purple-flecked eyes scanning the surroundings with that perfect blend of mischief and serenity.

Black Swan’s voice pulled her back from the memory, soft but teasing. “And your marks… the erudition you once carried so rigidly? They’ve shifted. The vibe… completely different. It’s fascinating, really.”

Celestine swallowed, her lips tugging into a small, knowing smile. She had no intention of explaining it—no one could know what was truly stirring beneath her surface. Not yet. Let them guess, let them theorize. The anticipation was… thrilling in a way she couldn’t admit aloud.

Black Swan hummed softly, watching Celestine with an inscrutable smile. “Hm. Seems like someone’s got herself a little girlfriend,” she murmured, letting the comment hang teasingly in the air.

Celestine blinked, cheeks flushing, but allowed herself a quiet laugh. She leaned further into Acheron, grateful for the comfort, for the quiet, for the rare moments when she could simply be herself without pretense.

“I—” Celestine started, but the words caught in her throat. She nestled closer, letting Acheron’s steady presence ground her. Elara was out of sight now, yet the thought of her “little girlfriend” brought a warmth to her chest, a quiet ache that was entirely hers.

Acheron’s fingers tightened slightly in her hair, grounding her, offering the wordless reassurance Celestine needed. And for a moment, the world outside—Elara’s laughter echoing from the hallway, the soft shuffle of Penacony’s hotel corridors, the endless whirl of violet sigils—faded completely.

Here, she could simply be. And that, she realized with a small, satisfied sigh, was more than enough.

Chapter Text

Celestine followed Black Swan and Acheron through the bright, sterile corridors of the IPC headquarters, her pulse quickening with every step. At fifteen, she was still trying to reconcile the vivid, dreamlike world of Penacony with this starkly real one. She fidgeted with the charms on her bracelet, unsure how to act around people who didn’t know her past—or her powers.

When the conference room doors slid open, three figures looked up from the table. Jade, sharp and calm, regarded her with the careful calculation of someone used to assessing people quickly. Topaz, confident and warm, offered a gentle, encouraging smile, while Aventurine leaned casually against the table, playful yet observant, his eyes sizing her up with subtle curiosity.

Black Swan stepped forward, her golden mask catching the overhead light. “These are your colleagues here at the IPC. Celestine will be assisting us on certain matters… for the time being.”

Jade tilted her head slightly. “I see. And… who exactly is she?”

“She is a young traveler, new to our world,” Acheron said, her voice calm but precise. “Her past is complex, but we will ensure she integrates safely. For now, focus on helping her find her place.”

Celestine swallowed, fidgeting with the bracelet again. Keep it a secret, she reminded herself. Black Swan’s hand brushed lightly against her shoulder, a quiet reassurance.

“Remember,” Black Swan said softly, “not everything about you is for them to know. But that does not mean you cannot belong.”

Topaz’s smile widened. “Well, then. Welcome, Celestine. Let’s see what you’re capable of.”

Aventurine nodded, his smirk easy but his eyes sharp. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’ll find we look out for one another here.”

Celestine exhaled quietly, a small flicker of hope sparking inside her. The secret of her Penacony life weighed heavily, but with Black Swan and Acheron guiding her, maybe she could navigate this new world safely—and maybe even belong.

As the meeting continued, Black Swan and Acheron exchanged a glance, silent but full of agreement. They would protect her, help her integrate, and ensure she never felt like an outsider. For the first time since arriving, Celestine felt a tentative sense of connection—to her guardians and to the people she had just met, who would soon become a part of her life in ways she had not yet imagined.

After the meeting with Jade, Topaz, and Aventurine, Celestine lingered slightly behind Black Swan and Acheron as they guided her down the hallway. The bright lights of the IPC headquarters were harsh compared to the soft, dreamlike glow of Penacony, but she tried to match their calm, measured pace.

“You did well,” Black Swan murmured, her hand brushing Celestine’s shoulder briefly. The contact was light, almost casual, but the warmth behind it was unmistakable. “Observe, listen, and remember. That is how you remain safe.”

Celestine nodded, cheeks warming. “I… I think I can do that.”

Acheron’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, and Black Swan caught it. There was a subtle shift between them—a quiet acknowledgment that they were not just guiding Celestine, but also observing each other, measuring, learning. Their connection, often unspoken, hummed beneath the surface like an invisible tether.

Later, as they moved through a quieter wing of the building, Celestine noticed Topaz leaning down to offer her a small notebook. “Here,” she said gently. “Some tips on how we handle paperwork and communication here. You’ll find it easier to keep up if you follow along.”

“Thanks,” Celestine said, taking the notebook with both hands. Her violet eyes flicked to Aventurine, who gave her an encouraging nod. “We’re just trying to help,” he said. “No pressure, okay?”

Black Swan watched her closely, golden eyes thoughtful. She noticed the way Celestine’s shoulders relaxed slightly, how she tentatively mirrored their movements. And then she saw it—the flicker of hesitancy in Acheron’s stance softening, her gaze lingering on Celestine with more warmth than she usually allowed herself to show.

“You are learning,” Acheron murmured, almost to herself. “Faster than expected.”

Black Swan’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, hidden behind her veil. “And yet,” she said softly, “it is not merely her growth I am noticing.” Her eyes flicked toward Acheron, then back to Celestine. “The way she changes us… how we… respond.”

Acheron’s crimson eyes met hers briefly, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. The shift was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there: the quiet recognition that guiding Celestine together was shaping their own bond as well.

In the following days, Black Swan and Acheron continued their careful tutelage, always watching, always guiding, never forcing. Celestine began to feel the difference: she was allowed to speak, to make mistakes, to test her limits under their watchful eyes. Slowly, she began calling Black Swan “Mami,” a soft, affectionate slip one evening after a long day of lessons. Acheron remained silent at first, her expression unreadable—but when Celestine looked to her with wide, hopeful eyes, she offered the faintest nod and let the word settle.

“Mom,” Celestine said the next day, looking at Acheron. The single word was quiet, almost reverent. And though Acheron did not respond immediately, her hand brushed against Celestine’s shoulder, steady, grounding.

That night, as the three of them prepared for sleep, Black Swan leaned close to Acheron while ensuring Celestine was settled. The gesture was subtle—a shared breath, a tilt of heads in quiet conversation, their presence mutually reinforcing.

“Do you think she is ready?” Black Swan asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Acheron’s crimson eyes softened as she considered the question. “…She is ready for guidance. Not for control. And we… are learning ourselves as we teach.”

Black Swan allowed a small, genuine smile to form. “Then we continue. Together.”

And so it was: a delicate dance of trust, growth, and care. Celestine slowly flourished under their watchful eyes, while Black Swan and Acheron, often stoic and distant, found themselves leaning on one another in ways neither had anticipated. In guiding Celestine, they discovered a new rhythm, a shared understanding, and perhaps, for the first time in a long while, a sense of home—however fragile, however newly formed.

The sterile hum of the IPC headquarters was a stark contrast to the dreamlike corridors of Penacony, yet Black Swan and Acheron moved through the halls with the same grace they always did. Celestine walked slightly behind them, Numby clutched in her hands, her violet-and-gold eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with curiosity and caution.

Black Swan held the folder tightly against her chest, the edges of the paper catching the overhead lights. Acheron’s steps were precise, silent, yet somehow her presence filled the space around them, a quiet counterpoint to Black Swan’s deliberate elegance.

Jade waited at the end of the hallway, her stance professional but welcoming, arms crossed lightly as she observed their approach. Aventurine and Topaz flanked her, casual yet attentive, their eyes lighting up the moment they saw Celestine.

“Good to see you again,” Jade said, tilting her head slightly. Her tone was measured, yet there was a hint of warmth. “Let’s finish this quickly, shall we?”

Celestine stepped forward, hesitating for only a moment before offering a polite nod. “Hi,” she said softly. Numby wiggled in her hands, drawing a quiet smile from Topaz.

Black Swan placed the folder carefully on the table before Jade, golden eyes meeting hers briefly. “The mission is complete. All documentation and findings are included.”

Acheron stood to the side, her crimson gaze flicking over the room, assessing, calculating. “The responsibility of this knowledge does not end with its delivery,” she said evenly, her voice low and deliberate. “Ensure it is handled appropriately.”

Jade inclined her head, acknowledging the weight of the words. “Understood.” Her attention then shifted to Celestine, who had perched herself on the edge of a nearby chair, Numby resting in her lap. “And you,” Jade said softly, “you’ve grown.”

Celestine blinked, tilting her head. “I… I’ve been trying,” she admitted. Aventurine and Topaz exchanged a glance and stepped closer.

“You’re learning,” Topaz said, crouching slightly to be at eye level with her. “That’s all anyone can ask for. Keep at it.”

Aventurine added with a gentle smile, “And don’t worry if it feels overwhelming. We’ve got your back.”

Celestine’s fingers tightened around Numby, a small but confident smile forming. “Thanks,” she said. “I… I feel like I’m part of something bigger now.”

Black Swan and Acheron watched her quietly, their expressions unreadable but their attention sharp. There was pride there, subtle but undeniable, mingled with the constant vigilance that came with their roles. They had seen how far Celestine had come—and yet, they kept their thoughts to themselves, mysterious and protective as always.

Jade reached out then, gently brushing a hand over Celestine’s shoulder. “We’re glad you’re here,” she said. “And remember, you’re not alone. We all want to see you succeed.”

Topaz and Aventurine nodded in unison, reinforcing the sentiment. Celestine’s small smile widened, and she whispered, “I know.”

As the meeting wrapped up, Black Swan and Acheron exchanged a brief, silent glance. A subtle warmth flickered between them, unspoken but present—the same quiet acknowledgment of partnership they had shared during Celestine’s tutelage in Penacony.

Finally, as they turned to leave, Jade added softly, almost to herself, “Take care of her.”

Celestine felt the words settle around her like a protective cloak, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe… she really wasn’t alone. Not with Aventurine and Topaz, not with Jade, and certainly not with Black Swan and Acheron—the two women who had become her anchors, her “moms,” in a world that had always felt uncertain.

As they stepped into the corridor, Black Swan glanced at Acheron, her golden eyes catching a hint of the rare softness she reserved for only a few. Acheron’s crimson gaze met hers briefly, an unspoken agreement passing between them: the work wasn’t over, the dangers still existed, but together—they would guide Celestine through it.

Numby wriggled in Celestine’s arms, and she hugged the little pet tight, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the sterile lights overhead. This was her family now, in all its unconventional, complex, and extraordinary glory.

Celestine sat cross-legged on the floor near Aventurine and Topaz, Numby nestled in her lap. Topaz was gently showing her how to balance the little Totter pet on her palm, while Aventurine leaned back slightly, arms folded but eyes attentive, watching her like a patient guardian. The chatter between them was light, teasing, warm—the kind of conversation that made Celestine’s shoulders loosen, her usual cautiousness melting away in tiny, steady increments.

Meanwhile, Jade stepped closer to Black Swan and Acheron, lowering her voice to a confidential whisper. “I need to ask something,” she said, glancing toward Celestine just enough to make sure she was occupied. “It’s delicate. I don’t want her to overhear.”

Black Swan inclined her head, golden eyes narrowing in focus. “Go on,” she said softly, her voice carrying the same melodic undertone that had always set people on edge while still commanding attention.

Acheron stood a step behind, crimson eyes calculating, her posture taut but relaxed. “Speak plainly,” she murmured.

Jade hesitated, then produced a small dossier from her bag. “There’s a… situation in Penacony. Something minor, for now, but it needs careful handling. I’d like you both to oversee it again. Discreetly. Keep it off the official records. Think of it as… a personal favor for the IPC.”

Black Swan’s gaze flicked toward the dossier, then back to Jade. “And the parameters? Risks?”

Jade’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Unclear. That’s why I need your expertise. No one else I can trust to handle this properly. It’s about… a place and people that—well, it’s complicated. But you know how Penacony can be.”

Acheron’s hand brushed lightly along the edge of her sheath, a subtle gesture that hinted at thoughtfulness rather than threat. “We assume this is separate from Celestine?”

“Yes,” Jade said firmly. “She must remain unaware. Her focus should be on her… studies and growth. Nothing else.”

Black Swan inclined her head slowly, the golden glint of her eyes catching the sterile light. “Discretion is our specialty,” she said. “As always.”

Acheron’s crimson gaze briefly flicked toward Celestine, who was laughing softly as Numby wobbled precariously atop her palm, guided by Topaz’s gentle coaching. “…Understood. She will not be involved.”

Jade exhaled, a fraction of relief showing in her stance. “Good. You know what’s expected. I’ll trust your judgment on when to intervene and when to let things… unfold.”

Black Swan’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, almost imperceptible behind her veil. “The unseen hand. Always the most effective.”

Acheron’s eyes softened slightly, the tension in her posture easing. “…We will act, but carefully. Penacony is… unpredictable, even to those who know its layers.”

Jade nodded once, satisfied. “Thank you. I know this is not trivial, but I trust both of you completely.”

With the exchange complete, she stepped back, allowing the pair to melt seamlessly into the hallway shadows. Black Swan and Acheron’s glances met for a fleeting moment, unspoken understanding passing between them. They were in this together, as always.

Behind them, Celestine laughed again, unaware of the covert conversation that had just taken place. Aventurine ruffled her hair gently. “See? You’re doing great. Totally got this.”

Topaz smiled, adjusting Numby’s balance. “Every step counts. You’re learning more than you think.”

And in that small bubble of warmth, laughter, and trust, the world outside—the secret tasks, the folders, the delicate maneuvers in Penacony—faded, just for a moment, letting Celestine feel safe, surrounded by those who cared for her in ways she was only beginning to understand.

The hotel room smelled faintly of lavender and parchment, the soft amber glow of lanterns casting long, warm shadows along the walls. Celestine had curled herself into the bed, Numby tucked beside her, eyes drooping with exhaustion. The day’s events—the brief meeting with Jade, Topaz, and Aventurine, the quiet encouragement, the presence of Black Swan and Acheron—had left her utterly spent. Within moments, she was asleep, a small sigh escaping her lips as her fingers loosened around Numby.

Black Swan leaned against the desk, the mask glinting faintly in the lantern light, while Acheron stood near the door, crimson eyes thoughtful, fingers brushing the hilt of her sheathed sword.

“It will take less than four hours,” Acheron murmured, voice low, almost reverent, as if acknowledging both the urgency of their secret and the fragility of the moment in the next room.

Black Swan’s veil rustled as she moved toward her. “Agreed. We can start immediately and still return without waking her. The mission itself will extend for a month, but this initial step… it is ours to claim now.”

Acheron inclined her head, the faintest trace of a shared smile tugging at her features. “Then let it be so. Quietly, swiftly.”

Together, they slipped out of the hotel room, leaving Celestine in peaceful slumber, the soft rise and fall of her chest a quiet reminder of what they protected—not just her safety, but the trust she had placed in them.

Black Swan and Acheron retraced their steps back to the hotel, their movements precise, efficient, and practiced. But this time, Acheron carried Black Swan in a bridal-style hold, her long legs tucked delicately against Acheron’s side. Black Swan’s arms clung around Acheron, one hand resting lightly on her back, the other curled around her shoulder. Her head was buried in the space between Acheron’s shoulder and neck, veil brushing against the sharp line of Acheron’s jaw, her breath warm against the skin.

Acheron’s steps were careful yet unwavering, each movement measured to keep Black Swan steady. For the briefest of moments, the world narrowed to the quiet rhythm of their shared steps, the soft shuffle of boots across the corridor, and the faintest echo of trust that had grown between them.

Black Swan didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her quiet closeness, the subtle grip, the tilt of her head—it said everything. And Acheron, ever precise, felt it too: the unspoken bond, the fragile warmth that neither dared name aloud but that carried them through the night, back to the sanctuary of the hotel room.

When they arrived, the door to Celestine’s room was just as they had left it. The girl remained asleep, curled into the bed, Numby nestled beside her. Acheron gently lowered Black Swan to their shared bed, their movements synchronized like a silent dance. Black Swan lingered a moment longer, still half-buried in the embrace of Acheron’s shoulder before finally straightening, veil settling back into place.

“She trusts us,” Black Swan murmured, her voice soft, almost reverent.

Acheron’s crimson eyes flicked toward her, faintest trace of a smile brushing her lips. “And we will not betray it.”

Acheron’s crimson eyes softened as she set Black Swan down on the edge of the bed. The Memokeeper’s long, lavender hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, the darkened tips catching the dim hotel light. Her veil hung heavily, brushing against her back, and her long gloves and thigh-high boots made her appear both elegant and fatigued. She looked every bit the image of perfection—but Acheron saw the strain beneath.

“You’re tired,” she murmured gently. “Let me help.”

Black Swan’s violet-gold eyes flicked up at her, a faint, vulnerable smile forming, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she let Acheron step closer.

Carefully, Acheron unfastened the belt securing Black Swan’s veil, lifting the delicate fabric from her head with precise, reverent movements. The veil fell away like liquid silk, pooling softly on the floor. Then, she slid her fingers beneath the long gloves, peeling them slowly off each arm, revealing the pale skin beneath. Her golden bracelet caught the light as she set it aside, and Acheron’s hands lingered just for a moment, as if memorizing the contours of her wrist before continuing.

Next came the bodysuit: the halter strap neckline was carefully unclasped, the lace choker loosened and placed gently on the nightstand. Acheron’s hands worked with a patient grace, unfastening the thin black fabric that partially covered the windows of her outfit, easing her into the softness of the prepared sleepwear beneath. Every motion was slow, deliberate, ensuring that Black Swan never felt rushed or exposed.

Acheron bent slightly, undoing the belts around her thighs and sliding off the heeled boots, one by one. Her black tights were removed with equal care, each piece folded neatly, set aside to maintain the elegance even in private. Finally, she helped her ease into her silk pajamas, pulling the fabric around her with meticulous attention so it rested perfectly against her skin.

“You’ll rest better like this,” Acheron said quietly, helping her to lie back on the bed. Black Swan’s head tilted slightly, leaning into her touch as she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered closed, but she whispered, “Thank you,” soft as the rustle of silk. Acheron adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, tucking her in carefully, ensuring that her veil lay softly atop the pillow. She stayed for a heartbeat longer, her gaze lingering on her in quiet reverence, before stepping back, allowing her to drift into deep, undisturbed sleep.

Even in the silence, the air between them hummed with unspoken trust and intimacy—a quiet, profound closeness that spoke of care beyond words.

Chapter Text

The first thing Celestine noticed when she blinked awake wasn’t the hotel room ceiling or the faint glow of Penacony’s artificial dawn, but the quiet shape of two figures on the bed beside her. Black Swan’s veil had slipped askew during the night, strands of lavender hair cascading across the pillow. Acheron lay close, one arm lazily draped around her waist, their bodies drawn together in a way that looked… natural, as if neither had to think about it.

For a moment Celestine just lay there, hugging Numby close, her heart skipping oddly at the sight. They looked different like this. Softer. Human. Not untouchable, not the fierce warrior and the enigmatic memory-weaver, but simply two women who had chosen to share warmth through the night. Celestine didn’t want to disturb it, so she stayed still, soaking in the scene like a secret gift.

Her fingers toyed with Numby’s ear as her mind began to wander. Maybe this was what real family mornings looked like—messy hair, quiet breathing, a kind of trust woven through every shift of their bodies. She smiled faintly. For once, the constant swirl of questions in her head felt lighter. The vague, unshaped pressure of being different, of needing to live up to something unnamed, faded in the glow of that morning.

But the peace tugged loose a memory. She blinked, and the hotel room melted away into a flashback: the three of them sitting together the week before, the question hanging heavy in the air.

“How do we even begin teaching her to handle it?” Black Swan’s voice had been low, her fingers turning the edge of her veil as if trying to unravel the answer.

“She’s already strong,” Acheron had said, her eyes distant as if watching Celestine’s future battles play out in her mind. “But strength without guidance burns out quickly.”

Books had been their compromise. Black Swan had pressed for knowledge—histories, philosophies, the art of memory and restraint. Acheron had insisted on discipline, small lessons that would prepare Celestine for the path ahead. They hadn’t agreed on much, but both had landed there, at the starting point. Not blades, not power. Pages. Words. A foundation that might hold her steady.

The memory faded, leaving Celestine back in the quiet hotel room. She reached out, brushing her fingers across Numby’s soft fur. “Books first,” she whispered under her breath, a promise echoing in her chest.

And she glanced once more at the two figures curled together, warmth blooming in her heart. Maybe she wasn’t so far from understanding how to fight—not with strength alone, but with connection.

The smell of something sweet drifted from the little dining nook of the hotel suite. Black Swan moved with careful grace, her veil pinned neatly back in place now, though her lavender hair still carried a few soft kinks from the pillow. She placed delicate slices of fruit on a plate, arranging them as though even breakfast ought to tell a story.

Acheron leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching with a faintly amused expression. She had changed into her usual sharp uniform already, crimson accents gleaming against dark fabric, though the faintest mark still lingered at the side of her throat; just visible if one knew where to look.

Celestine sat at the table, legs swinging restlessly as Numby perched in her lap. She was doing her best to be patient, but her stomach growled loud enough to make Black Swan stifle a laugh.

“Patience, darling,” Black Swan said softly as she set down the plate in front of her. “A meal savored is a memory kept.”

“I’ll remember it faster if I eat it,” Celestine countered, though she smiled as she picked up her fork.

The three of them ate together in a quiet rhythm that felt, for a fleeting moment, like an ordinary family. But when the dishes were cleared and Numby had waddled off to curl on the bed again, the mood shifted.

“You’ll be with Aventurine and Topaz today,” Acheron said, her tone calm but threaded with weight. “They’ll keep you busy.”

Celestine tilted her head. “Busy how?”

Black Swan rested her hands lightly on Celestine’s shoulders, squeezing once. “Schoolwork, for one. Books, as we promised. And… other lessons too.”

The “other lessons” revealed themselves soon enough. Aventurine arrived with his usual showman’s grin, a stack of crisp papers tucked under his arm, while Topaz followed with her ever-present tablet and an amused smirk.

“Well, well,” Aventurine said brightly, ruffling Celestine’s hair. “Time for you to learn how to make numbers sing and strategies shine. Don’t worry—I’ll make it more fun than it sounds.”

Topaz set a light hand on her hip. “And when you’re finished with that, I’ll run you through drills. Nothing too much yet, just basics. Footwork, balance. Fighting’s not all about power—it’s about knowing how to move.”

Celestine’s eyes widened, caught between excitement and nerves. She looked back at Acheron and Black Swan, who were already preparing to leave. Their gazes softened, but neither wavered.

“Books first,” Black Swan reminded her, voice calm, a promise threading through the words.

“And discipline after,” Acheron added, her hand brushing briefly across the hilt of her blade as if to anchor the thought.

Celestine hugged Numby once more for courage, then squared her shoulders. Maybe it wasn’t a real battlefield; but something in her told her this was the start of one all the same.

Celestine perched on the edge of the wide training room table, Numby nestled safely beside her. Aventurine and Topaz had spread a small stack of books and papers before her, the sterile fluorescent lights of the IPC headquarters casting sharp lines across the room. “Alright,” Topaz said, crouching to meet her gaze. “Step one: reading these notes will help you understand the theoretical part of our operations. Then, you get to practice it in the field… or at least in simulated exercises.”

Celestine blinked, violet eyes scanning the neatly written pages. Symbols, diagrams, and notes on tactics swirled in a dizzying blur. Her fingers brushed against the notebook Topaz had given her earlier, and she took a steadying breath. “I… I can do this,” she whispered, almost to herself. Topaz smiled gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.

Aventurine’s approach was quieter, but his presence was commanding in a subtle way. He held a small wooden practice weapon and motioned toward the open space in the room. “Once you understand the basics,” he said softly, “we’ll begin sparring exercises. Nothing too complicated at first. Think of it like… learning how to dance, but with more precision and a touch of danger.”

Celestine hesitated, glancing between the weapons and the papers, then back to Aventurine. The excitement of Penacony’s dreamlike world was gone, replaced by the weight of reality, but here, in this room, she could still feel the thrill of learning, of mastering something new. She gripped the practice weapon in both hands, mimicking the stances Aventurine demonstrated. Her movements were awkward at first, jerky and unsure, but Topaz’s calm corrections and Aventurine’s encouraging nods slowly molded her into something more fluid.

Hours passed in a quiet rhythm. Celestine scribbled notes, practicing strikes, and occasionally laughing when she tripped over her own feet or misjudged a swing. Topaz adjusted her posture, explained the theoretical applications behind each motion, while Aventurine guided her hand positions and stances with patient, precise touches. It was exhausting—but exhilarating. With every page she read, every swing she practiced, Celestine felt a small, steady spark of confidence building inside her, a feeling she hadn’t known she could trust.

By the time the sun—or what passed for sun in the artificial light of the headquarters—shifted in the sky, Celestine leaned back, breath shallow but bright-eyed. Aventurine gave a rare smile, and Topaz chuckled softly. “You’re learning faster than I thought,” Topaz said. “But remember: it’s not just about knowledge or skill—it’s about knowing when to act, and when to hold back. That’s what makes someone effective.”

Celestine nodded, fingers clutching Numby a little tighter. “I… I think I understand,” she said, more to herself than to them. The weight of responsibility, the thrill of potential, and the gentle encouragement from both Topaz and Aventurine made her feel, for the first time, that maybe she could belong here, even if she didn’t yet know all the truths about who she was—or what she might become.

Celestine padded quietly down the hallway, Numby tucked safely in her arms. Her legs felt tired in a new way—the kind that came from learning, from challenging herself, from pushing past the uncertainty of the first day. The echoes of her own footsteps seemed unusually loud compared to the gentle hum of the IPC headquarters, but it didn’t bother her. She felt… grounded.

The door to the private lounge opened, and there they were: Black Swan and Acheron, sitting side by side on the low, cushioned chairs. Their bodies were angled toward each other, subtle warmth radiating in the small gap between them. Acheron’s hand rested lightly against Black Swan’s knee, a soft tilt of her head toward the other woman suggesting a quiet intimacy that made Celestine pause, just for a moment. The sight wasn’t startling, it was comforting, almost maternal—and she realized that for the first time, she could feel the world around her as a place where care and guidance existed without pretense or danger.

Black Swan looked up, golden eyes catching the dim light. “Back so soon?” she asked softly, her tone curious but welcoming. Celestine’s small smile mirrored the warmth in her heart. “I… yes. Aventurine and Topaz… they taught me a lot,” she admitted, settling onto the rug near their feet. Acheron’s crimson gaze softened, studying her with measured thought. “And do you understand what they were trying to show you?” she asked.

Celestine nodded. “I… I think so. Books, theory… and practice. I tried to follow their movements, and… it was hard, but I didn’t give up.” Black Swan inclined her head gently, a faint smile playing beneath her veil. “Good. Persistence is as important as knowledge,” she murmured.

For a few moments, the room was quiet except for Numby’s soft rustling. Then, almost imperceptibly, Celestine’s mind drifted back to a memory—or rather, a flash of thought she hadn’t realized she had stored. Black Swan and Acheron, weeks ago, had discussed how best to guide her. Their voices, calm and deliberate, echoed faintly in her mind: “Start with books… start with understanding,” Black Swan had said. “Theory first, so she can control the power before she uses it,” Acheron had replied, her tone precise, almost reverent. They had agreed on this foundation, this careful beginning before the chaos of potential powers or combat training. Celestine’s violet eyes widened slightly as she realized how much thought had gone into her safety, her growth, and her understanding—how deeply she had been considered, even before she knew her own limits.

The flashback ended as seamlessly as it had begun, leaving Celestine with a sense of calm purpose. She looked up at Black Swan, then at Acheron. “I… I’m ready to learn more,” she said softly. The two women exchanged a brief glance, subtle acknowledgment flickering between their golden and crimson eyes, then Black Swan’s hand brushed lightly against Celestine’s shoulder—a grounding touch, reassuring and protective.

“Yes,” Black Swan whispered, voice warm. “But remember, learning is a journey. Knowledge first, control next, and understanding always.” Acheron’s gaze lingered on Celestine, the faintest hint of pride in her eyes. “…And never forget, we are here, watching, guiding. You are not alone.”

Celestine hugged Numby closer, feeling the steady beat of her small companion against her chest, and nodded. In that quiet room, surrounded by two of the most powerful—and caring—figures in her life, she felt the tiniest spark of certainty. Perhaps one day, she would understand everything about herself, her path, and the strange, looming mysteries of her potential. But for now, she would begin with the books, the practice, and the trust she had been given.

Celestine lingered in the small lounge, Numby tucked into her arms, still buzzing from the lessons with Aventurine and Topaz. Her thoughts swirled with strategies, theory, and the careful movements she had practiced, but a sudden, calm voice pulled her back to reality.

“Celestine,” Black Swan said, golden eyes soft behind her veil, “why don’t you freshen up? A warm shower and a little rest will help your focus for the evening.”

Celestine nodded eagerly. “Yes… I’ll be quick,” she said, hurrying toward the private bathroom that had been set up for her. As she shut the door behind her, the quiet gurgle of running water filled the room, Numby perched on the counter beside the sink. She let the warmth of the water wash over her, scrubbing away the stiffness of practice and the lingering tension from the morning’s exercises. Her mind drifted, partly replaying the training and partly wondering what else she could learn.

Meanwhile, in the lounge, Black Swan and Acheron leaned close, voices barely above a whisper, their attention elsewhere but intensely focused.

“We should have Ruan Mei and Herta check her,” Acheron murmured, crimson eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I still sense… anomalies. She is far beyond normal expectations, but where exactly is that power rooted?”

Black Swan’s golden eyes flicked toward the door where Celestine had disappeared. “Yes. I suspected it the moment we saw her in Penacony. But suspicion is not proof. We need a thorough scan—discreet, careful, without alerting her.”

Acheron’s lips curved faintly, though the tension in her posture remained. “…She may be an Emenator,” she said softly, the word almost forbidden in its weight. “Or something close. Either way, we must understand the source before we proceed. Her control, her potential… it could be dangerous if unmonitored.”

Black Swan nodded, her gloved hand brushing lightly against the edge of the table, as if tracing invisible patterns in the air. “We proceed delicately. Ruan Mei’s expertise in latent power, and Herta’s attunement to anomalies, will tell us what we cannot see ourselves. But for now, she must remain unaware. Her trust is essential.”

Acheron’s crimson gaze softened as it met Black Swan’s. “Agreed. We confirm, then adjust. Celestine must not suspect. Not yet.”

A faint smile tugged at Black Swan’s lips behind the veil. “She is remarkable,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Even without knowing her path, she changes everything around her.”

The two women shared a brief, silent acknowledgment; a partnership forged in unspoken understanding. They would watch, guide, and investigate, and only then decide the next step. The mystery of Celestine’s potential, hidden just beneath her violet eyes and quiet confidence, was theirs to unravel—carefully, and together.

Down the hall, Celestine rinsed the soap from her hair, oblivious to the delicate plotting of the two women just beyond the door. She hummed softly, imagining herself mastering her abilities, unaware that every ripple she made in the world had already caught the attention of those who would guide—or challenge—her entire existence.

Celestine stepped out of the bathroom, damp hair tucked behind her ears, Numby perched lightly on her shoulder. The warm steam from the shower clung to her skin, and the lavender-scented soaps Black Swan had chosen still lingered in the air, soothing and familiar. She wore a simple robe, brushing the fabric lightly against her legs as she padded toward the small study corner.

Black Swan’s golden eyes softened as she watched her. “Feeling better?” she asked, voice calm but affectionate, as she stepped closer.

“Yes!” Celestine chirped, brushing Numby gently. “I think I can focus even more now!” Her movements were unaware, almost blissful, of the quiet tension settling in the room around her.

Ruan Mei had stepped in silently, Herta close behind, both moving with practiced stealth. Ruan Mei’s crimson eyes scanned Celestine carefully, tracing her aura. Faint, ephemeral sparks flickered at Celestine’s fingertips and around her pulse points, tiny flashes that reminded Ruan Mei of the accidental magic she had sometimes seen from Elara. The spark was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but it revealed layers of potential energy far beyond a normal child’s capacity.

Herta approached casually, brushing a damp strand of hair from Celestine’s cheek with delicate precision. “We just want to make sure everything is… okay,” she murmured warmly, her touch grounding but also lightly probing. Her own hands shimmered faintly as she mapped Celestine’s energy flows, sensing the irregular pulses and layered patterns that hinted at something extraordinary.

Celestine tilted her head, curious but unaware. “Are you… checking me?” she asked innocently, wide-eyed.

“Just a little,” Ruan Mei said smoothly, kneeling slightly to meet her gaze. “To make sure you’re healthy and strong. Nothing to worry about.” Beneath her calm exterior, she noted every twitch of energy, every faint spark, and the way Celestine’s aura seemed to hum in resonance with her own latent perception of magical currents.

Black Swan stepped back, golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “…Her energy,” she murmured softly. “It is extraordinary. Herta, Ruan Mei, can you confirm?”

Herta’s lips pressed together as she studied the subtle threads of energy. “It’s… layered. Complex. More than normal. She is likely an Emenator—but subtle, not yet active.” She exchanged a quick glance with Ruan Mei. “We can measure affinity, trace strength, but she must remain unaware. If she realizes, her control may fluctuate unpredictably.”

Celestine, oblivious to the scrutiny, twirled slightly, smiling. “I think I’m ready to learn more!” she said cheerfully, placing Numby gently on the counter. “What’s next?”

Ruan Mei and Herta exchanged a silent nod, confirming the truth of their suspicions. Celestine’s potential as an Emenator was immense, the sparks she unknowingly produced a clear signal. For now, the key was observation and careful guidance, letting her curiosity and confidence grow naturally.

Black Swan brushed her hand lightly against Celestine’s shoulder. “Patience,” she said softly. “Knowledge comes in steps.”

Celestine nodded, unaware that her faint magical flares were being tracked, mapped, and stored in the minds of her guardians. Every gesture, every flicker of energy, was a clue, a hint of the power that slept within her.

Ruan Mei’s gaze lingered on Celestine, observing the small sparks of energy like one might watch starlight dancing in the dark. These flashes—tiny, beautiful, uncontrolled—confirmed what she had suspected: Celestine was on a path that would change everything. And as Celestine laughed and Numby wobbled beside her, she had no idea that the two women behind her, Black Swan and Ruan Mei, were quietly beginning the delicate task of mapping her extraordinary potential—an Emenator in the making.

Chapter Text

Celestine woke before Penacony’s artificial dawn, Numby bouncing in her arms. Lilac sparks flickered across her fingertips—her inheritance from Black Swan and Acheron, subtle but unmistakable.

A floating plate wobbled in midair, syrup streaming like liquid starlight. Numby leapt to catch a pancake mid-spin.

“Look, Numby! I’m magic!” Celestine giggled, sending sparks toward the hovering spoon.

Ruan Mei watched from the console. Her energy… it’s unmistakably theirs. But something else flows alongside it—something uniquely hers.

By the time Black Swan and Acheron entered, Celestine had turned the suite into a floating breakfast circus. Berries, forks, napkins, and even syrup drizzles hovered, responding to her lilac energy.

Black Swan’s golden eyes softened. “Darling, breakfast is meant to be eaten, not levitated into orbit.”

Acheron’s crimson gaze swept the room. “And safer.”

Celestine laughed, oblivious to their gentle concern. “I’m helping! Numby says it’s fun!”

Lilac sparks bounced along floating objects, sometimes responding to Celestine’s mood—a hint of her inherited power, guided by instinct rather than training.

Later, Celestine wandered the observation deck. She reached for a hovering console tool—it spun wildly until Herta’s subtle magic gently guided it down.

“Magic inherited is powerful, but focus lets it shine without chaos,” Herta explained.

Ruan Mei knelt beside her. “You carry the spark of your parents… but your control is yours alone.”

Celestine frowned, twisting her hands. “Like painting with light?”

“Exactly,” Ruan Mei murmured. The inheritance is clear, but the resonance potential… astounding.

Elara flitted to the edge of a floating platform, giggling as lilac sparks trailed her fingertips. Celestine’s own sparks twitched nervously in response.

“I’m still ascending,” Elara began, her voice soft but certain. “Still learning how to manage my powers. Sometimes I overdo it… or make mistakes.” She tilted her head toward Celestine, her gaze gentle. “But you… you’re special. I think you’re my Emenator.”

Celestine’s violet eyes widened. “Emena… what?”

Elara grinned, holding out her hand. “The one who resonates with me, stabilizes the spark, guides it so it doesn’t run wild.” A tiny orb of lilac energy leapt from Celestine’s fingers to hover between them, pulsating gently.

Celestine reached for it cautiously, marveling at the way it reacted to her touch, almost alive. “So… I’m connected to you?”

“Yes,” Elara said, nodding. Her own sparks flickered in response to Celestine’s energy, dancing and intertwining like two streams of starlight. “And your parents’ power is part of that, too. You carry their spark, but it’s yours to grow.”

Celestine’s lips curled into a shy smile. “I never thought… I could do something like this.”

Elara nudged her playfully. “You already are. It just takes practice.” Sparks bounced lightly between them, playful and curious, reflecting the bond forming between Aeon and Emenator.

Later, Ruan Mei moved to a glowing alcove in Penacony, holo-quill tracing patterns in midair. Black Swan and Acheron joined her quietly, observing the flickering lilac lights in the suite where Celestine and Elara played.

“Celestine’s flares… they’re unmistakably inherited,” Ruan Mei murmured, swirling glowing glyphs around the floating projections. “But there’s more. See how her energy bends slightly when Elara’s sparks approach? That’s resonance.”

Black Swan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So her magic isn’t just inherited—it responds to Elara’s?”

“Yes,” Ruan Mei said, voice barely above a whisper. “If we observe carefully, Herta and Acheron could guide her safely, strengthen control, and test her limits… without overwhelming her.”

Acheron crossed her arms, crimson eyes narrowing in thought. “And if she becomes unstable?”

“Then we intervene,” Ruan Mei said firmly, tracing a glowing line between the projected sparks of Celestine and Elara. “But right now… the interaction is subtle, playful. Perfect for controlled observation.”

Black Swan’s golden gaze softened. “We must protect her trust first. Observation second. Guidance third.”

Ruan Mei nodded. “Exactly. Tomorrow, we start slowly. Let her curiosity drive her growth—but safely.”

Celestine wandered between floating platforms, sparks trailing her fingertips like liquid starlight. Numby bounced happily, pawing at levitating napkins and pencils.

“Whoa! They’re following me!” Celestine laughed as a small spark orbited around her head. Every step she took sent ripples through the lilac energy, subtly reacting to her parents’ distant presence and Elara’s nearby aura.

Elara giggled, twirling her own spark stream around Celestine’s. “See? They like each other!”

The two children experimented with floating objects, touching lilac sparks together and watching the streams merge and split like braided ribbons of light. Herta hovered nearby, hands glowing faintly, her attention on safety.

Ruan Mei observed silently, making small notes. Inherited power plus resonance potential… the compatibility is immense, but it must be nurtured carefully.

Celestine tripped over a floating napkin; Elara reached out and steadied her with a gentle touch. Their sparks twined for a brief moment, then separated with a soft pop of energy that left both girls giggling.

“See?” Elara said. “We balance each other.”

Celestine beamed. “I think… I can feel it too!”

Ruan Mei leaned against a glowing console, speaking quietly to Black Swan and Acheron.

“If Herta and Acheron train her alongside Elara… step by step… we can observe resonance safely,” she said. “Her inherited power responds instinctively to Elara. Carefully guided, it could accelerate her growth.”

Black Swan’s golden eyes flicked toward the suite. “Step by step. Protect her, guide her… trust first.”

Acheron adjusted her practice weapon, crimson eyes scanning the floating sparks. “Extraordinary power requires extraordinary patience. The inheritance is there—but her own identity must flourish, too.”

Ruan Mei nodded. “Exactly. Tomorrow, controlled exercises. Interaction, observation, learning. Nothing reckless. But if we do this right… the synergy could be incredible.”

As Penacony’s soft artificial sunset glowed, Celestine curled up on a floating cushion with Numby nestled beside her. Lilac sparks shimmered around them, reflecting her parents’ heritage and the nascent resonance with Elara.

She reflected on her successes, minor mishaps, and the strange pull of magic that seemed almost alive. Each spark felt like a heartbeat—hers, inherited and unique, pulsing with curiosity and potential.

Elara floated nearby, watching her, tiny sparks dancing between them like starlight. “You’re going to be amazing,” she said softly, nudging Celestine’s shoulder with her own spark trail.

Ruan Mei and Herta lingered nearby, quiet pride in their expressions. Black Swan and Acheron observed from a distance, evaluating patterns, planning next steps, and noting subtle resonance.

A tiny spark hovered between Celestine and Elara, flickering like distant stars. Tomorrow… we begin carefully. Celestine’s path as an Emenator—guided by her parents’ legacy, her own spark, and her bond with Elara—was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

The Dreampool shimmered like liquid glass beneath the suite’s soft artificial dawn, rippling in colors that no waking eye could name. The ceiling lights dimmed in response to the activation pulse, and the air filled with a faint hum—a harmonic vibration that made Celestine’s lilac sparks dance across her skin.

“Is it gonna feel weird?” she asked, peeking at her reflection, where ripples of purple and gold distorted her curious face.

Herta adjusted her lenses, clipboard floating beside her. “Define weird.”

“Like... if I fall asleep but I’m not really asleep?” Celestine frowned. “That’s weird.”

Black Swan’s lips curved in an amused smile. “You’ll be conscious in the Dreamscape, dear heart. Think of it as a lucid nap. The Dreampool merely links your thoughts to Penacony’s Memoria stream—an ocean of shared dreams. But today, yours and Elara’s will be isolated… for safety.”

Ruan Mei brushed a few curls from Celestine’s forehead and checked the Dreamseal floating above the pool. “Your minds will be synchronized within the lilac frequency. Herta calibrated the parameters to respond to both your resonant energies. You’ll see what you create together.”

Elara watched quietly, standing on tiptoe beside the Dreampool, her lilac glow soft but steady. “So… like painting with thoughts?”

“Exactly,” Herta said, tone clinical but kind. “But remember, every dream reacts to emotion. Stay calm. Stay connected.”

Celestine inhaled, then nodded. “Okay… I’m ready.”

The two girls held hands and stepped into the Dreampool. The liquid surface rippled upward, swallowing light and sound, and the suite faded into silence.

When awareness returned, it came like a sunrise. The world unfolded in hues of violet and pearl—the Lilac Field. A meadow of soft, glowing grass stretched forever beneath a twilight sky. Petals floated like stardust in the wind, and streams of lilac energy pulsed underfoot like living veins.

Numby squeaked happily, bouncing through a patch of glowing flowers. “He made it too!” Celestine laughed, chasing after him. Her laughter made the horizon bloom with new colors—pinks, silvers, threads of gold twisting through the air.

Elara trailed beside her, awed. “It feels… alive.”

“That’s because it is,” came Ruan Mei’s voice—soft and distant, carried through the dream. “Your shared resonance is building this space. Everything here responds to your emotions and synchronization. Try creating something together.”

Celestine looked to Elara, then extended her hand. “Let’s make something pretty.”

Their fingers intertwined, and the air shimmered. The field trembled—then blossomed into a ring of floating lights that drifted upward like miniature stars. A fountain of lilac water rose in the center, reflecting their joined glow.

Black Swan’s voice murmured faintly from the waking world. “Stabilizing resonance pattern… synchronization at seventy-three percent. Excellent control.”

Herta’s tone followed. “Proceed with gentle stimulus. No sudden emotion spikes.”

But Celestine barely heard them. She was staring at the sky—where a vast, slow-moving aurora began to twist above them, lilac and gold blending into shapes that almost looked familiar.

Elara’s eyes widened. “Do you see that?”

Celestine nodded slowly. “It looks like… memories.”

As the aurora shifted, faint images flickered within the light—shadows of faces, a woman in violet silk, a blade of crimson energy cutting through darkness, a small child held by two figures.

Her heartbeat quickened. The fountain pulsed harder, splashing droplets of starlight.

“Elara…” Celestine whispered, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s us.”

The aurora above the Lilac Field rippled like a heartbeat—one pulse, then another, slow and steady at first, then quickening as the girls’ emotions intertwined.

Celestine’s breath came shallowly. “It’s… humming.”

Elara nodded, her own lilac sparks flickering in rhythm with the pulse. “That’s the resonance field—it’s responding to us.”

But the hum deepened. The dream-light thickened, threads of gold and violet tangling like restless stars. Numby squeaked and dove into Celestine’s arms as the field around them began to shimmer—like a curtain lifting between present and something far beyond.

Then, the first echo appeared.

The aurora split open, revealing a silhouette suspended in the sky—tall, radiant, and unmistakably familiar. Her hair, once soft and curled, now cascaded in flowing ribbons of lilac fire, tipped with starlit gold. Fragments of her auto-fit suit—sleek, luminous, half-organic metal and half-stitched light—formed around her like petals folding open. A crystalline circlet hovered above her forehead, set with a pulsing gem that radiated a serene gravity.

Elara’s eyes widened. “That’s… me?”

The future Elara floated above them, Aeon of the Luminous Nova, her entire form glowing with celestial calm. Every strand of hair moved as if caught in an unseen current of starlight, and her expression—soft, distant—was equal parts divine and heartbreakingly human.

“She’s beautiful…” Celestine whispered.

The Aeon’s gaze drifted downward, locking onto them. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t sound—it was resonance itself, vibrating through their bones.

“The spark remembers the flame… even before it burns.”

The field shuddered.

Next to her, another figure took shape—Celestine’s future self. She stood tall beside the Aeon, surrounded by gentle constellations of lilac and rose energy. Her Emenator uniform was a harmony of her lineage and individuality: a fitted coat with high iridescent collar and trailing coattails, decorated with glowing script; crystalline filigree wound around her arms like living jewelry; and her hair—longer now, rich violet with silver streaks—braided with tiny star-shaped charms that shimmered faintly with each movement.

Her gloves were fingerless, revealing faint sigils pulsing beneath her skin. A soft circlet of light rested around her throat, linking her to the Aeon above like a heartbeat.

“Elara…” Celestine whispered, trembling. “That’s… me. Older. Different.”

The future Celestine smiled softly, her expression filled with the kind of tenderness only found after years of shared battles and growth. “Not different, little spark. Just… brighter.”

The resonance flared. The lilac field around them erupted in starlit petals as memory bled through time. Visions flooded the horizon—Elara standing at the center of a cosmic storm; Celestine beside her, hands raised, her resonance shielding entire worlds; Black Swan and Acheron watching from a distance, proud, eternal.

The sky fractured.

Ruan Mei’s distant voice cut through the static. “Their energy is escalating—stabilize the Memoria channel!”

Herta’s tone snapped sharp. “On it. Pull their dream threads apart before the echo consumes the field!”

The aurora convulsed. Celestine reached toward her future self, desperate. “Wait! Don’t go—what does it mean?”

The Emenator Celestine extended her hand, but her voice was fading into the light.

“Remember this, when the stars begin to forget you.”

And then, everything shattered.

The Lilac Field imploded into starlight. Elara screamed, reaching for Celestine as the dream’s gravity tore apart. The last thing they saw before the light consumed everything was their future selves—standing together, hand in hand, serene amid chaos—before dissolving into the endless glow of the Dreamscape’s horizon.

The Dreampool went still with a sudden, glassy hush. The rippling auroras, the hum of Memoria streams—gone. Only silence remained.

Then—one splash.
Celestine broke the surface with a gasp, clutching at the pool’s edge as lilac light dripped from her hair like melting stars. Elara surfaced beside her, breathing hard, eyes wide with afterglow.

The air in the suite shimmered faintly—half dream, half reality. The walls themselves seemed reluctant to solidify, as if Penacony’s Dreamscape hadn’t yet decided whether to release them.

Ruan Mei was there first, kneeling at the Dreampool’s edge. “Celestine, Elara—can you hear me?”

Celestine blinked, dazed, then nodded. “I— I saw something. It was… us.”

Elara’s voice trembled, lilac sparks still flickering around her fingertips. “Not just us now. Us later.”

Herta floated closer, her witchlight scanning the pool’s residual glow. “Temporal interference,” she murmured. “The Memoria must’ve cross-linked with a possible timeline—one where their resonance reached its peak.”

Black Swan and Acheron entered silently, their steps sharp against the marble floor. Acheron’s eyes glowed faintly crimson, still charged from psychic strain. “They shouldn’t have been able to reach that depth without external guidance,” she said, crossing her arms. “What did they tap into?”

Ruan Mei rose slowly, her expression unreadable. “Not what—who.”

Elara turned toward her, wet hair clinging to her cheeks. “We saw… me. But older. Different. She had—” her voice softened into wonder “—a light crown. It felt like standing beside the sun, only it didn’t burn.”

Celestine nodded eagerly, eyes wide. “And me too! I looked older, stronger! My hair had stars in it, and I wore this beautiful—” she trailed off, suddenly shy, “—armor that shimmered when I moved. She said… the stars forget, but I shouldn’t.”

Herta’s gaze sharpened. “Prophetic resonance.”

Ruan Mei’s fingers flew across a hovering console, pulling up the Dreamstream data. “Impossible. The Memoria field isn’t supposed to predict; it archives and reflects. Unless…”

Black Swan finished the thought quietly. “Unless it was the Remembrance itself responding.” Her golden eyes gleamed with something like fear. “Memoria doesn’t just hold dreams—it holds echoes of what could be.”

Celestine shivered, clutching Numby close. “It felt real. Like they were… waiting for us.”

Ruan Mei knelt again, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “It was real, in a way. The resonance didn’t just synchronize your energies—it synchronized your timelines. What you saw was a projection from a possible future, catalyzed by the emotional harmony between you two.”

Elara looked down at her hands. Tiny trails of lilac light still lingered in her palms, glowing faintly with an inner pulse. “Then… it’s true. We really are connected.”

Ruan Mei smiled softly. “You always were.”

Acheron rested a hand on Celestine’s shoulder, her expression unusually tender. “You handled it well, little one. Power like that can crush even the strongest if they’re unprepared.”

Celestine sniffled. “It didn’t feel scary. Just… huge.”

“Good,” Black Swan said, stepping closer. “That means it recognizes you. The Remembrance only shows such echoes to those who can bear them.”

Ruan Mei looked over the console one last time. “Their resonance patterns didn’t collapse—they adapted. Elara’s frequency stabilized at 0.12 above baseline. Celestine’s… at 0.13. Perfect equilibrium.” She exhaled softly. “They’re still in sync.”

Herta folded her arms. “That level of balance shouldn’t be possible between two entities separated by origin. Unless…” she smirked faintly, glancing at Ruan Mei, “you planned this.”

Ruan Mei’s lips curved. “Not planned. Hoped.”

Celestine yawned, exhaustion finally overtaking awe. “Can we nap for real this time?”

Elara giggled sleepily, sparks flickering out like fading fireflies. “Yeah. Dreamless nap.”

As Ruan Mei guided them to a resting couch, the faint hum of the Dreamscape returned—subtle, distant, almost like a lullaby. The Dreampool’s surface reflected them faintly, showing not just two small figures, but their distant reflections—taller, glowing, hand in hand beneath a cosmic sky.

Ruan Mei caught the reflection for just a moment before it vanished, her breath catching.
“They saw the future,” she whispered, voice trembling with wonder. “But maybe… the future saw them too.”