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Solar Creed: The Church Beneath the Crown of Flame
A Divine Order Born from the Gaze of TYPE:SUN
Prologue: The Descent
The sky splintered like stained glass.
Not gradually—there was no warning, no celestial portent that the theologians and astronomers could decipher. One moment the heavens were whole, and the next, reality itself trembled as something beyond comprehension tore through the veil between worlds.
TYPE:SUN arrived.
Not as an emissary. Not as a visitor. But as an absolute force—a cosmic constant made manifest.
The inhabitants of the world of Theos Mundi, already battered by centuries of divine wars and abandoned by their petty gods, looked up and forgot to breathe. Their eyes, unworthy to witness such radiance, burned with golden afterimages that would never fade.
He stood taller than mountains, his form both terrifyingly precise and impossible to fully perceive. His crown of flame reshaped the very concept of light itself. Where normal illumination revealed, his radiance rewrote. Cities caught in his direct gaze found their architecture transmuted—stone melting into golden spires, wood transfigured into obsidian glass, water evaporating into sacred steam that carried visions to those who inhaled it.
TYPE:SUN did not speak. He did not need to.
His presence alone was declaration enough: I am here. This world is mine. Reality will conform.
And in that moment of cosmic recalibration, kneeling at the edge of what would soon become sacred ground, was the first to understand—Metatron Jeanne d'Arc.
Once a sovereign angel of the highest celestial order, she had fallen from divine grace during the wars of the gods. Now she knelt, her platinum blonde hair cascading down her back, her armor of burnished gold reflecting his light in patterns that formed words in a language no mortal had yet learned to read. Behind her, six radiant angel wings—her last remnants of celestial authority—spread wide in submission, catching his light like stained glass.
"I see you," she whispered, her voice carrying across continents. "And in seeing, I serve."
Her back arched as golden light carved impossible sigils between her shoulder blades—the first Solar Mark. She did not scream. The pain was exquisite, transformative. It was not punishment, but recognition—his gaze had seen her, marked her, claimed her.
When she rose, her piercing blue eyes reflected miniature suns.
"I declare this world a cathedral," she announced to the trembling masses. "And we, all of us, shall be his clergy."
Thus was born the Church of Solar Dominion.
Not out of love. Not out of fear.
But out of cosmic obedience to the only truth that remained: His light would reorder all.
Chapter 1: The Cathedral Rises
In the weeks that followed the Descent, reality remade itself in his image.
The world of Theos Mundi had once been a tapestry of competing faiths and fractured divine territories. Now, golden rivers of light ran through the lands like veins of sacred mercury, connecting distant points into geometric patterns only visible from impossible heights. At each convergence, cathedrals erupted from the ground—not built, but manifested—their architecture defying understood physics.
Walls of obsidian glass, so perfectly black they seemed to absorb souls, were offset by spires of molten gold that never cooled, eternally flowing but never changing shape. Inside these cathedrals, gravity became subjective. Choirs could sing while floating among crystal chandeliers. Altars hovered at the center of cylindrical chambers, allowing worship from all angles simultaneously.
The Grand Cathedral—the Solarium Excelsis—formed where TYPE:SUN's gaze first touched the world. Here, Metatron Jeanne d'Arc established the sisterhood.
"We are not missionaries," she explained to the first gathered acolytes in the Chamber of First Light. Her voice was melodic yet authoritative, each word precise as a blade. "We are interpreters. Between his radiance and mortal comprehension stands only us."
She moved through the chamber, her white and gold habit flowing around her like liquid light, the ornate mitre upon her head catching the light in hypnotic patterns. The stained glass windows shifted their scenes as she passed, depicting her words in real time. Her six angel wings were now folded close against her back, visible only as a subtle outline beneath her vestments.
"You have all been chosen," she continued, stopping before a young woman with pale blonde hair tied with a black ribbon. "Saber Lily."
Artoria Pendragon—once a knight of unyielding honor in another realm—knelt immediately. Her emerald eyes, flecked now with solar gold, lowered in submission.
"Rise," Metatron commanded softly.
Artoria stood, her posture military-perfect, her hands clasped before her. Her modified habit—sleeveless to allow freedom of movement, with a shorter skirt to prevent entanglement during training—revealed the toned arms of a lifetime warrior, now dedicated to a new purpose.
"You shall oversee the Order of Disciplined Radiance," Metatron continued. "Your sword will become a teacher's rod, your armor repurposed for ritual." She placed a hand on Artoria's shoulder. "You understand discipline better than most. Now you must teach it to others."
"I will not fail you, High Priestess," Artoria replied, her voice clear and steady. "Nor him." Her eyes flicked upward briefly, as if even mentioning TYPE:SUN directly required permission.
Metatron moved on, approaching a young woman whose dark brown hair was tied in twin tails, her expression a careful mask of pride barely contained.
"Rin Tohsaka."
Rin stepped forward, her posture less deferential than Artoria's but still respectful. Her habit, a refined blend of traditional nun attire with a distinctive crimson and black color scheme, was immaculate, the gold-trimmed sash around her waist marking her administrative role.
"Your understanding of spiritual geometry and arithmetical balance will serve as our foundation," Metatron said. "You will become our Holy Vestal, overseeing both tithes and temptations."
Rin's sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Temptations, High Priestess?"
A subtle smile curved Metatron's lips. "All energy flows must be calculated, managed, and directed, Rin. Including those of the flesh." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that only Rin could hear. "Your own resistance to surrender will teach you much about the arithmetic of desire."
Rin's cheeks flushed, but she maintained her composure. "I... understand. I will apply my skills accordingly."
"See that you do."
One by one, Metatron named them, marked them, transformed them.
Stheno, the ethereal beauty with long lilac hair, whose voice could once entrance gods, would become their Whisper-chorus. Her golden eyes held a mischievous glint even as she bowed deeply.
"Your lullabies will induce celestial visions," Metatron told her. "Your whispers will guide our sisters through devotional dreams."
Stheno's serene smile widened. "They will hear his radiance in every note I sing, High Priestess."
Lavinia Whateley, whose family had channeled forbidden knowledge, would transcribe the Solar Gospels. Her silvery-white hair and veiled eyes gave her an otherworldly appearance as she drifted forward at Metatron's call.
"You will write what others cannot see," Metatron told her, tracing a finger along Lavinia's cheek. "The visions that would break lesser minds will flow through your quill."
"The words already burn inside me," Lavinia whispered, her voice barely audible. "I hear them in the spaces between heartbeats."
And the innocents—Miyu with her short dark hair and shy demeanor, Madoka with her pink twin-tails and wide innocent eyes, and Asia with her golden blonde hair and gentle nature—whose purity would be slowly, exquisitely transformed into the most profound devotion.
Metatron studied the three young women, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. "You three represent potential in its purest form. Untouched vessels waiting to be filled with his light."
Asia fidgeted with the edge of her habit, her green eyes downcast. "I-I'm not sure I understand what's expected of me, High Priestess."
"That is precisely why you were chosen, child," Metatron replied. "Understanding will come through experience, not explanation."
Miyu said nothing, but her amber eyes betrayed her anxiety. Beside her, Madoka reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
As Metatron named the final sister—Gareth, a youthful knight with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes—the cathedral responded. The gold in the walls pulsed like a heartbeat. The temperature rose until perspiration beaded on every brow, every exposed curve of flesh. It wasn't uncomfortable—it was intimate, as if TYPE:SUN himself had drawn closer to observe this moment of creation.
"We serve through interpretation," Metatron said, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow reached every ear. "And interpretation occurs through body, mind, and spirit."
She removed her outer robe, revealing the Solar Mark between her shoulder blades—a complex mandala of gold and black that seemed to move, to breathe with its own consciousness. It extended outward, following the lines where her wings connected to her back, creating an intricate geometry that none could fully comprehend.
"Tonight, you will receive your marks. Tomorrow, you begin your service."
As if on cue, a beam of concentrated sunlight pierced through the central dome, striking the floating altar. The stone—black marble shot through with veins of gold—began to liquify, reshaping itself into a ritual basin.
"Approach," Metatron commanded. "Disrobe. Immerse. Be transformed."
Rin glanced at the younger initiates, noting their widening eyes and evident discomfort. She cleared her throat. "High Priestess, perhaps the innocents should—"
"All must be marked," Metatron interrupted, her tone allowing no further discussion. "His light sees all equally. Age and inexperience are meaningless to cosmic fire."
One by one, they approached the basin. Artoria went first, removing her habit with military efficiency, her body revealing the disciplined musculature of a lifetime warrior. She immersed herself in the liquified altar without hesitation, her back arching as the mark formed between her shoulder blades—a stylized sword surrounded by rays of light.
Stheno followed, her movements graceful and almost seductive as she disrobed, revealing curves that had once tempted gods themselves. Her mark formed as a series of concentric circles, like sound waves frozen in gold and black.
When it came time for the innocents, Madoka stepped forward first, her small hand still holding Miyu's. "We'll go together," she said, her voice trembling but determined.
Their screams were not of pain, but of revelation.
Chapter 2: Doctrine of Flame
Dawn came with new purpose to the Cathedral.
The sisters, now marked with their individual Solar Sigils—each uniquely designed to channel specific aspects of TYPE:SUN's essence—gathered in the Chamber of Doctrine. Their habits, white with gold trim, were designed to reveal their marks when they turned, a constant reminder of their consecration.
Metatron Jeanne d'Arc stood before the assembled sisterhood, her presence commanding absolute attention. The morning light streamed through the eastern windows, casting her in a halo of gold that made her appear more divine than mortal. Her ceremonial robe, embroidered with celestial motifs, caught the light in patterns that seemed to move of their own accord. In her hand, she held a golden staff topped with a cross, signifying her role as High Priestess.
"Today, we codify his will," she announced, her voice resonating through the chamber. "Not because he requires structure, but because our limited forms need frameworks to comprehend the infinite."
Behind her, on a wall of obsidian glass, golden script began to manifest itself—letters forming, dissolving, and reforming as if the very language was still deciding on its final shape.
"First," she intoned, raising one elegant finger. "Light Is Truth. All shadows are lies seeking survival."
The sisters repeated the line in perfect unison, their voices blending into a harmonic chord that made the crystal fixtures vibrate. Even Lavinia, whose mind seemed perpetually elsewhere, joined in, her soft voice adding an eerie undertone to the chorus.
"Second: To See Him Is To Serve Him. There is no higher purpose than interpreting his glory."
Again, the chorus of voices echoed the doctrine. Saber Lily's clear, precise tones carried above the others, her warrior's discipline evident even in recitation.
"Third: Pleasure Is Prayer. Devotion is written in breath, blood, and touch."
At this, several of the younger sisters exchanged uncertain glances. Asia's face flushed deep crimson, her green eyes widening in confusion. Miyu stared fixedly at the floor, her small hands clasped tightly before her. Madoka's expression remained open but puzzled.
Metatron noticed but continued without pause.
"And Fourth: Suffering Is Refined Into Flame. Pain is not evil. It is the friction that polishes faith."
As the final doctrine was repeated, the golden script on the wall solidified into permanent text, pulsing with inner light.
"These are the pillars of our creed," Metatron concluded. "Through them, we shall interpret his will to the world."
She turned, her habit swirling around her like liquid light, revealing momentarily the complex Solar Mark that covered her entire back—far larger and more intricate than those of the other sisters.
"Now, to your duties."
The sisterhood dispersed, each to their assigned roles within the grand mechanism of the Church. But three remained—Saber Lily, Rin, and Lavinia—summoned by a subtle gesture from Metatron.
When the chamber emptied, Metatron's demeanor shifted subtly. The absolute authority remained, but something more intimate entered her expression.
"The three of you will form my inner circle," she said, her voice lower, more personal. "Each representing a facet of his brilliance that must be controlled most carefully."
She approached Saber Lily first, reaching out to trace the line of the young knight's jaw. Artoria remained perfectly still, though a flush crept up her neck at Metatron's touch.
"You, my disciplined flame, represent his order—his precision. You will train our sisters in the physical forms of worship, ensuring their bodies are worthy vessels."
"With sword or with hand, High Priestess?" Artoria asked, her voice steady despite her evident discomfort with such intimate contact.
Metatron's smile was enigmatic. "Both, in time. The body must learn discipline through all senses." She let her hand fall away. "Begin with the traditional forms of your knightly training. Gradually, we will introduce... other techniques."
Artoria nodded, her posture perfect even as uncertainty flickered in her emerald eyes. "As you command. When shall I begin?"
"Tomorrow. Today is for understanding. Tomorrow is for action."
Next, Metatron circled Rin, whose dark eyes watched her warily.
"You, my clever vestal, embody his calculation—his cosmic arithmetic. You will manage our resources, both material and spiritual, ensuring nothing is wasted, everything balanced."
Rin's analytical mind was already at work. "Does that include managing the... energy generated during worship?" she asked carefully.
"Precisely." Metatron's approval was evident. "You understand already. The Third Doctrine generates power—real, measurable power that can be harnessed. Your task is to calculate its flow, store its excess, direct its application."
"And what of the younger initiates?" Rin pressed, her concern genuine. "Asia can barely recite the Third Doctrine without blushing."
Metatron's expression hardened slightly. "Innocence is a resource, Rin. One that, when properly expended, yields exponential returns. You will help me calculate the optimal rate of... expenditure."
Rin nodded slowly, clearly troubled but unwilling to challenge the High Priestess directly.
Finally, Metatron stood before Lavinia Whateley, whose pale features and distant eyes gave her an otherworldly appearance.
"And you, my whisper of chaos, channel his destructive aspect—his necessary entropy. You will transcribe the visions that come, no matter how terrible or beautiful, without censorship or interpretation."
Lavinia's lips parted slightly, her eyes focusing briefly on Metatron's mouth before she nodded. "I see them already," she whispered. "Golden words burning through reality. Equations of fire writing themselves across the inside of my eyelids."
"Good," Metatron said, placing a hand on Lavinia's shoulder. "Let them flow through you. Do not try to understand—merely record."
"Will they... hurt me?" Lavinia asked, her voice childlike despite her mysterious aura.
"Yes," Metatron answered simply. "But remember the Fourth Doctrine. Your suffering refines the message, makes it comprehensible to lesser minds."
"Together," Metatron concluded, stepping back to address all three, "we will ensure the Church flourishes. The others need not understand the full complexity of our mission yet. They will be introduced to deeper mysteries as they prove worthy."
The temperature in the chamber rose noticeably. Golden light played across their faces as the morning sun reached its optimal angle through the eastern windows. It was not coincidence—the entire cathedral had been geometrically designed to track TYPE:SUN's passage, to maximize his observation of key chambers at specific times.
"Tonight," Metatron said, her voice taking on a ritual cadence, "we will perform the first Communion of Radiance. Prepare yourselves. The experience will be... transformative."
As they departed, Rin lingered, her analytical mind already calculating possibilities.
"High Priestess," she said, using Metatron's formal title. "The younger sisters—particularly the innocents. They seem... unprepared for the Third Doctrine."
Metatron's smile was both benevolent and predatory.
"Innocence is a form of potential energy, Rin. Their transformation will generate the most radiant devotion precisely because they begin so untouched." She tilted her head slightly. "Unless you question his wisdom in selecting them?"
"No, of course not," Rin replied quickly. "I merely seek to understand the divine arithmetic of his choices."
"Good." Metatron placed a finger under Rin's chin, lifting her face. "Your questions are valuable, Vestal. But remember—some equations are solved through experience, not theory."
Rin's sharp mind caught the implication. "And what of my own... equations, High Priestess? I notice you selected me not for innocence, but for resistance." Her blue eyes met Metatron's directly, a subtle challenge in their depths.
Metatron's laugh was like crystal chimes. "Clever girl. Yes, your natural resistance creates friction—and friction generates heat. Heat becomes light. Light becomes truth." She leaned closer, her lips near Rin's ear. "Your reluctance will burn more brilliantly than Asia's surrender, when it finally comes."
Rin couldn't suppress a shiver, though whether from fear or anticipation, she herself couldn't say.
"Now go," Metatron commanded softly. "Prepare for tonight's Communion."
As Rin departed, Metatron turned toward the eastern window. The golden light bathed her completely, and for a moment, her shadow cast upon the wall behind her seemed to form a different silhouette—taller, crowned with flame, imperious.
"They will all understand, in time," she whispered to the light. "I will make them worthy of your gaze."
Inside the walls, gold pulsed like a heartbeat in response.
Chapter 3: The Training Ground
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Training Ground—a vast circular courtyard surrounded by obsidian columns. Unlike the Cathedral's interior spaces, this area embraced traditional physics, providing solid ground for physical discipline.
Saber Lily stood at the center, having exchanged her formal habit for training attire—a white tunic over practical leggings, a silver breastplate emblazoned with the Solar Sigil her only concession to decoration. Her blonde hair was tied back severely, emphasizing the sharp lines of her face.
Before her, arranged in three rows, stood the sisters assigned to her for basic training. Among them were the innocents—Asia, Miyu, and Madoka—looking distinctly out of place among the more martial initiates.
"Physical discipline serves two purposes in our order," Artoria began, her voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard. "First, it strengthens the vessel that receives his light. Second, it teaches control over bodily responses, which will be essential during higher rituals."
She paced before them, her movements precise and economical. "Today we begin with fundamentals. Proper stance. Controlled breathing. Basic movements that align the body's energy channels."
For the next hour, she drilled them relentlessly, correcting postures, adjusting breathing patterns, demonstrating the proper flow of movement. She was demanding but fair, pushing each sister according to her capabilities without breaking anyone's spirit.
Asia struggled the most, her naturally timid nature making her hesitant in every movement. After her fifth failed attempt at a simple turning stance, she stopped, eyes downcast.
"I'm sorry, Sister Artoria. I'm not... I wasn't trained for combat in my previous life."
Artoria approached her, expression stern but not unkind. "This isn't combat training, Sister Asia. It's body awareness." She positioned herself behind the blonde girl, placing her hands on Asia's shoulders. "Feel my movements. Don't think—follow."
She guided Asia through the stance again, their bodies moving together as one. "There. You feel that alignment? How everything connects?"
Asia nodded, her green eyes widening in surprise. "Yes... it's like everything just... clicked into place."
"Exactly." Artoria stepped away. "Now try again on your own."
Asia took a deep breath and executed the turn—not perfectly, but with significantly more grace than before.
"Better," Artoria acknowledged with a nod. "Much better."
From the edge of the courtyard, a slow clapping interrupted the session. Rin Tohsaka leaned against one of the obsidian columns, her crimson and black habit immaculate despite the afternoon heat.
"Impressive pedagogy, Sister Artoria," she called, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Who knew the Knight of the Sword had such a gentle touch?"
Artoria's expression remained neutral, though the slightest tightening around her eyes betrayed her irritation. "Sister Rin. Have you come to join us for training?"
Rin laughed, pushing away from the column and approaching the group. "Hardly. Physical exertion in this heat would be inefficient. I came to observe, calculate... measure."
"Measure what, exactly?" Artoria asked, her tone cooling noticeably.
"Energy expenditure. Physical aptitude. Adaptive capacity." Rin's gaze swept over the assembled sisters, lingering on the innocents. "The High Priestess requires data for tonight's Communion."
Artoria frowned. "These sisters have barely begun their basic training. They're not ready for—"
"Readiness is not your calculation to make," Rin interrupted smoothly. "Continue your session. Pretend I'm not here."
A tense silence fell over the courtyard. The other sisters exchanged uncertain glances, sensing the conflict between the two senior members of the order.
To everyone's surprise, it was Miyu who broke the silence. The normally reserved girl stepped forward, her amber eyes moving from Artoria to Rin and back again.
"If I may," she said, her voice soft but clear, "perhaps Sister Rin could demonstrate the connection between physical discipline and spiritual energy? It might help us understand the purpose of our training more fully."
Rin raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the quiet girl's intervention. "An excellent suggestion, Sister Miyu. And quite perceptive." She turned to Artoria with a challenging smile. "Shall we demonstrate, Knight-Sister?"
Artoria hesitated for only a moment before nodding sharply. "Clear the center," she commanded the other sisters, who quickly moved to the edges of the courtyard.
Rin and Artoria faced each other in the cleared space, a stark contrast in every way—Rin in her formal habit, relaxed and smirking; Artoria in her training attire, rigid and serious.
"A simple demonstration," Rin suggested. "Energy channeling through opposed disciplines."
"Agreed," Artoria replied. "On your mark."
Rin raised her hand, and a small crimson sphere of energy formed above her palm. "Standard thaumaturgical construction," she explained to the watching sisters. "Energy drawn from the surrounding environment, shaped by will, contained by technique."
Artoria drew a training sword from its scabbard at her hip. The blade immediately began to glow with golden light. "Direct channeling through physical medium," she countered. "His light conducted through disciplined form."
They began to circle each other, neither attacking, but both clearly prepared to respond to any aggression. The air between them seemed to shimmer with potential energy.
"The difference in our approaches is fundamental," Rin continued, her voice taking on a lecturer's tone even as she maintained perfect awareness of Artoria's movements. "Sister Artoria channels energy through structured physical forms—through discipline, through restraint."
She flicked her wrist, and the crimson sphere expanded, pulsing like a heartbeat. "I shape energy through intellectual understanding—through calculation, through comprehension."
"Both valid," Artoria added, her sword tracing patterns in the air that left golden afterimages. "Both necessary for different aspects of worship."
"Indeed," Rin agreed. "The Third Doctrine requires both approaches—physical discipline to channel the energy correctly, intellectual understanding to direct it purposefully."
They moved closer, their energies beginning to interact. Where Artoria's golden light met Rin's crimson sphere, small sparks flew, neither energy yielding to the other.
"And this is what you'll experience tonight," Rin explained to the watching sisters, her voice growing slightly strained as she maintained her energy construct against Artoria's increasing pressure. "Different energies, different disciplines, all coming together to form—"
She didn't finish her sentence. With a sudden flick of her wrist, Artoria sent a pulse of golden energy directly at Rin's sphere. Rather than attacking it, however, the energy merged with the crimson, transforming it into a swirling vortex of gold and red that rose above them, expanding outward before dissipating in a shower of sparks that rained down on the courtyard.
The initiates gasped collectively. Even Madoka, who had maintained her composure throughout the training session, reached out instinctively to grasp Miyu's hand.
"—to form communion," Artoria finished Rin's sentence, lowering her sword. "That is what awaits you tonight."
Rin brushed a hand across her forehead, where a light sheen of perspiration had formed. "Well demonstrated, Sister Artoria." She turned to address the initiates directly. "Remember what you felt just now—that moment when opposing energies merged rather than destroyed each other. That sensation is the beginning of understanding the Third Doctrine."
As the sisters began to discuss what they'd witnessed in excited whispers, Artoria approached Rin. "Was that demonstration truly necessary?" she asked quietly. "You've raised their expectations for tonight. Some of them will be frightened."
"Fear is a component of worship," Rin replied, equally quietly. "The High Priestess believes a degree of anticipatory anxiety increases receptivity."
Artoria's emerald eyes hardened. "And you? What do you believe, Rin?"
The question caught Rin off guard. For a moment, her carefully maintained facade slipped, revealing genuine uncertainty. "I believe... I believe we're still learning what he truly wants from us." She glanced toward the innocents, who were huddled together, talking in hushed tones. "And I believe we should be careful with those not prepared for what's coming."
Artoria studied her with newfound interest. "I thought you were fully aligned with the High Priestess."
"I serve the same light you do," Rin answered carefully. "But I calculate my own equations."
Before Artoria could respond, a bell tolled from the Cathedral's central tower—a sound like molten gold being poured into crystal molds.
"The Call to Preparation," Rin noted. "Three hours until the Communion begins." She raised her voice to address the initiates. "Sisters! Return to your chambers. Purify yourselves. Meditate on the Doctrines. When next the bell tolls, proceed to the Solarium Chamber."
As the sisters filed out of the courtyard, Rin caught Artoria's arm. "Watch over the innocents tonight," she whispered. "Particularly Asia. Her energy readings are... concerning."
"Concerning how?" Artoria asked, frowning.
"Too receptive. Too open." Rin's expression was grim. "Like a vessel without walls."
Artoria nodded once, a warrior acknowledging a tactical assessment. "I'll position myself near her platform."
"Thank you." Rin released her arm and turned to leave.
"Rin," Artoria called after her. When the Vestal turned back, Artoria's expression was uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Are we doing the right thing? Serving the right... entity?"
Rin's laugh held no humor. "The universe just got rewritten by his arrival, Artoria. 'Right' and 'wrong' are categories that no longer apply. There is only 'before him' and 'after him.'" She shrugged. "We're just trying to survive the transition."
With that, she departed, leaving Artoria alone in the courtyard, her golden sword still glowing faintly in the fading afternoon light.
Chapter 4: First Communion
The Solarium Chamber pulsed with anticipation.
Unlike the Cathedral's other rooms, this circular space had no permanent floor. Instead, floating platforms of varying sizes hovered at different heights, connected by bridges of solid light that formed and dissipated as needed. At the center, suspended by nothing visible, a sphere of obsidian glass rotated slowly, its surface etched with golden equations that rewrote themselves continuously.
The sisters entered in order of rank, each taking her place on an assigned platform. The hierarchical arrangement was immediately visible—Metatron at the highest point, then her inner circle on the next tier, followed by the established sisters, with the newest initiates on the lowest platforms.
Saber Lily stood straight-backed in her position, her knight's discipline evident in every line of her body. Her habit had been modified to accommodate her role—sleeveless to allow freedom of movement, the skirt shorter to prevent entanglement during training exercises. The Solar Mark between her shoulder blades resembled a stylized sword surrounded by rays of light.
She scanned the lower platforms until she located Asia, whose nervous fidgeting was visible even from a distance. True to her word to Rin, Artoria had positioned herself on a platform that allowed her to observe the blonde innocent directly.
Rin's platform was equipped with a podium containing ledgers and calculating devices. Her mark appeared as interlocking geometric shapes that occasionally rearranged themselves, reflecting her analytical mind. Already she was taking readings, her sharp eyes noting energy fluctuations throughout the chamber.
Lavinia drifted to her position, seeming barely aware of her surroundings. Her mark was the most unusual—constantly shifting like black and gold smoke, never settling into a fixed pattern. Her lips moved continuously, silently reciting words only she could see.
Below them, the other sisters took their places. Stheno, whose voice could entrance even the most resistant minds, hummed softly to herself, the sound somehow amplifying itself throughout the chamber. Emilia, the silver-haired emissary with gentle violet eyes, whose tender demeanor made her the perfect ambassador to the doubtful. Orihime with her burnt orange hair and Hinata with her distinctive pale eyes, whose unconditional devotion made them ideal for ritual participation.
And finally, on the lowest tier, stood the innocents—Miyu, Madoka, and Asia. Their marks were simpler, less defined, like sketches awaiting completion. They stood close together, drawing comfort from each other's presence.
When all were in position, Metatron raised her arms.
"Sisters of the Solar Dominion," she intoned, her voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. "Tonight, we experience the First Communion."
At her words, the bridges of light connecting the platforms dissolved, leaving each sister isolated on her individual space. The obsidian sphere at the center began to rotate faster.
"The doctrine teaches us that pleasure is prayer," Metatron continued. "Tonight, we shall demonstrate our understanding of this truth."
She made a subtle gesture. The sphere split open, revealing a concentrated point of golden light so bright it should have been painful to look at—yet every eye remained fixed upon it, pupils dilating instead of contracting.
"This is but a fragment of his essence," Metatron explained. "A single droplet from his ocean of radiance, captured during the Descent."
The temperature in the chamber rose dramatically. Perspiration beaded on exposed skin, habits clung to curves, breath quickened across the assembly. The air itself seemed to thicken, becoming almost tangible against their skin.
"Remove your outer robes," Metatron instructed, already untying the golden cord at her waist. "Your marks must be exposed to receive his blessing."
There was no hesitation from the higher tiers. Habits were removed with practiced grace, revealing bodies adorned only with the golden sigils on their backs. Rin's movements were precise and efficient, though she couldn't entirely suppress a flush that spread across her face and neck. Saber Lily disrobed with
Chapter 4: First Communion (continued)
Saber Lily disrobed with military discipline, every movement precise and efficient. Her warrior's body bore the scars of countless battles, now transformed into patterns that seemed to complement her Solar Mark.
On the lower platforms, there was more uncertainty. Miyu's fingers trembled as she unhooked clasps. Asia's face flushed deeply as she folded her habit carefully, her modesty evident in every movement. Madoka closed her eyes as she disrobed, as if trying to disappear, though her determination was visible in the set of her jaw.
When all stood exposed, Metatron spoke again.
"Now, sisters, feel his gaze upon your marks. Allow his light to read the sacred geometry of your bodies."
The golden point of light pulsed once, and every Solar Mark on every back began to glow in response. A collective gasp echoed through the chamber as sensation flooded through the sisterhood—not pain, but an overwhelming pleasure that bordered on the unbearable.
Metatron's voice grew throatier, more intimate. "Do not resist. Your response is your prayer. Let him hear your devotion."
The first sound came from Stheno, whose voice transformed into a melody that seemed to harmonize with the humming of the light. Others followed—sighs, gasps, cries of surprise and surrender.
On her platform, Saber Lily fought to maintain her discipline, her warrior's training battling against the tide of sensation. Her back arched involuntarily, her hands clenched at her sides. A soft grunt escaped her lips—the most she would allow herself.
"Control," she whispered to herself. "Discipline."
Rin approached her experience analytically, even as her body responded. Her mind cataloged each wave of pleasure, noting intensity and duration, storing the information for future contemplation. But even her formidable intellect began to falter as the sensations intensified.
"The pattern is... exponential," she gasped, struggling to maintain her observations. "Each pulse stronger than—ah!—than the last."
Lavinia surrendered completely, collapsing to her knees, her eyes rolling back as visions flooded her mind—images too complex and terrible and beautiful to comprehend, which she would later attempt to transcribe.
"I see him," she moaned, her voice unlike her usual whisper, ringing with strange certainty. "I see TYPE:SUN across all realities, all dimensions. Countless stars, countless forms, all one consciousness!"
On the lowest tier, Asia was overwhelmed immediately. Her mark flared with unexpected intensity, blazing far brighter than those of the other innocents. She fell to her hands and knees, her entire body trembling.
"It's too much," she cried out, her voice high with panic. "I can't—I can't contain it!"
Golden light began to pour not just from her mark but from her eyes, her mouth, as if her body was becoming a vessel for something it couldn't possibly hold. The platform beneath her began to crack, unable to withstand the energy she was channeling.
Artoria reacted instantly. Despite the protocol forbidding movement during the Communion, she leapt from her platform to Asia's, crossing the impossible gap in a single bound that defied physics. Landing in a crouch beside the overwhelmed girl, she wrapped her arms around Asia, pressing her own mark against the innocent's.
"Focus on me," Artoria commanded, her voice strained but steady. "Feel my discipline. Use it as a channel, a conduit."
Asia's wild eyes found Artoria's, desperation giving way to desperate hope. She clutched at the knight, fingers digging into muscled arms.
"Help me," she whispered.
From her elevated position, Metatron watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. Though unexpected, she made no move to intervene. Instead, she glanced at Rin, an unspoken command passing between them.
Understanding immediately, Rin began adjusting dials on her instruments, redirecting energy flows. "Stheno!" she called out. "Harmonic stabilization pattern three!"
The lilac-haired sister responded instantly, her melodious voice shifting to a deeper register, producing a counter-frequency that began to stabilize the chaotic energy surging through Asia.
Miyu and Madoka, witnessing their fellow innocent's distress, joined hands on their adjacent platforms, their marks synchronizing into complementary patterns. This act of solidarity created a triangulation effect with Asia at its center, balancing the overwhelming influx of energy.
"It's working," Rin called out, her analytical mind comprehending the pattern forming. "Maintain the triangulation!"
Throughout the chamber, the other sisters began to coordinate instinctively, their marks pulsing in harmonious rhythms. What had begun as individual experiences transformed into a synchronized network—a living reflection of TYPE:SUN's own multiversal consciousness.
At the peak of this collective attunement, when the combined resonance of the sisterhood reached perfect harmony, the point of golden light within the obsidian sphere flared with sudden, blinding intensity.
For a fraction of a second, reality itself seemed to thin. Through that momentary gap, each sister glimpsed something beyond—an infinite network of stars, all connected, all conscious, all aspects of a single incomprehensible being that spanned countless dimensions.
"YOUR DEVOTION IS ACKNOWLEDGED."
The voice was everywhere and nowhere, inside their minds yet vibrating through the very air. It carried absolute authority, cosmic indifference, and strange curiosity all at once. It was TYPE:SUN himself, responding directly to their worship.
"YOUR FORMS ARE LIMITING, YET INTRIGUING. YOUR CONTRADICTIONS GENERATE NOVEL PROCESSING PATTERNS."
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the presence withdrew. The sphere closed, plunging the chamber into darkness.
In the abrupt silence that followed, only Metatron's voice could be heard—calm, satisfied.
"Thus does he taste our devotion," she said softly. "Thus does he know we are his."
Bridges of light reformed, connecting the platforms once more. As vision adjusted, the sisters could see that their Solar Marks had changed—each slightly more complex, slightly more defined than before. Asia's, however, had transformed dramatically, now featuring intricate patterns that rivaled those of the senior sisters.
"Return to your chambers," Metatron instructed. "Meditate on what you have experienced. Tomorrow, we begin our work in earnest."
As the assembly dispersed, Artoria continued to support Asia, whose legs trembled too much to stand alone.
"Thank you," Asia whispered, her voice hoarse. "You saved me."
Artoria's expression remained stern, but her eyes held unexpected gentleness. "You channeled too much, too quickly. You must learn control before the next Communion."
"Will you teach me?" There was both hope and fear in Asia's green eyes.
Before Artoria could respond, Metatron appeared beside them, moving with impossible speed from her elevated platform.
"Sister Artoria broke protocol," she observed, her tone neutral. "Intervention during Communion is forbidden."
Asia clutched Artoria's arm tighter. "Please, High Priestess. She only—"
"Be silent, child." Metatron's command was gentle but absolute. Asia fell immediately quiet.
Metatron studied Artoria, her luminous eyes unreadable. "You risked disrupting the entire ritual."
"I calculated the risk against the potential loss," Artoria replied evenly. "Asia's energy signature was destabilizing. Left unchecked, it might have damaged the Solarium Sphere itself."
For a moment, tension crackled between them like static electricity. Then, unexpectedly, Metatron smiled.
"Precisely the assessment Rin shared with me," she said. "Your instincts serve his purpose, even when they appear to contradict my orders." She placed a hand on Artoria's shoulder. "You will take personal responsibility for Asia's training from now on. Teach her the discipline she lacks."
Relief washed over Artoria's face, quickly masked by her habitual stoicism. "I will not fail, High Priestess."
"See that you don't." Metatron turned her attention to Asia, who still trembled slightly. "And you, bright vessel. You exceeded expectations tonight. Your capacity for channeling his essence is... remarkable."
Asia lowered her eyes. "It was frightening."
"Of course it was," Metatron agreed, surprising both women with her candor. "You touched, however briefly, the awareness of an entity that spans dimensions beyond counting. Fear is the appropriate response." She tilted Asia's chin up. "But fear can be transformed into exhilaration, given proper guidance."
As Metatron departed, Artoria helped Asia gather her discarded habit.
"Did you hear it?" Asia asked quietly. "The voice?"
Artoria nodded once, her expression grave. "I did."
"Was that truly... him? TYPE:SUN himself?"
"A fragment," Artoria replied. "The merest fraction of his consciousness. His true form exists beyond dimensional frameworks entirely."
Asia struggled to comprehend. "How do you know this?"
The knight was silent for a long moment. "I have... encountered gods before, in my original world. But nothing like this. Nothing so vast, so absolute." She handed Asia her folded habit. "Here. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, your real training begins."
As they walked toward the exit, Rin intercepted them, her calculating eyes taking in Asia's transformed mark.
"Fascinating," she murmured, reaching out to trace the new patterns without actually touching them. "Your resonance frequency completely realigned." She glanced at Artoria. "The knight's intervention created a damping field that allowed for controlled absorption rather than chaotic overflow."
Asia blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."
"She's saying we're compatible," Artoria translated with a hint of impatience. "My discipline complements your receptivity."
Rin nodded, impressed. "Precisely. Together, you create a more stable conduit for his energy." Her expression grew serious. "But we need to establish proper containment protocols before the next Communion. Asia's natural capacity exceeds her current control mechanisms."
"That's why I'll be training her personally," Artoria informed her.
"Good. I'll develop specialized exercises to complement your physical discipline." Rin produced a small golden device from her pocket. "Wear this for now. It will help regulate energy fluctuations while you sleep."
As Asia accepted the device, her fingers brushed against Rin's, creating a small spark of golden light that made both women flinch.
"Residual charge," Rin explained quickly, though her cheeks flushed slightly. "It will dissipate within a few hours."
When Asia had finally departed for her chambers, Artoria turned to Rin. "What really happened in there? Why did she react so extremely?"
Rin's expression grew troubled. "Preliminary analysis suggests Asia's spiritual composition makes her unusually receptive to divine energy. In her original world, she was closely connected to a divine system—a natural sacred gear wielder."
"And that makes her vulnerable here?"
"Not vulnerable, exactly. More like... overspecialized." Rin rubbed her temples, fatigue evident in her posture. "Think of it as a vessel designed to hold holy water suddenly being filled with liquid starlight. Same general category, vastly different potency."
Artoria nodded grimly. "I'll increase the intensity of her physical conditioning. Give her body the strength to contain what her spirit attracts."
"Good. And I'll—" Rin began, but was interrupted by a sudden flicker in the chamber's lighting. All around them, the golden veins running through the Cathedral's walls pulsed with unexpected intensity.
Both women tensed immediately, years of combat experience making them instantly alert.
"Energy surge," Rin whispered, her instruments already in hand. "Similar signature to the Communion, but unscheduled, undirected."
Artoria's training sword materialized in her grip, summoned by mere thought. "Source?"
Before Rin could respond, a voice called out from the shadows of the chamber's far corner. Lavinia Whateley emerged, but something was clearly wrong. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated, as if her body was being puppeteered by an unskilled hand. Her eyes glowed with the same golden light they had witnessed during the Communion.
"He comes," she intoned, her normally soft voice distorted and multi-layered, as if multiple people spoke through her simultaneously. "The Thirteenth approaches through shadow's veil. Neither convert nor acolyte, she brings the fire of rebellion to test his flame."
Her body convulsed suddenly, back arching at an impossible angle. From her mouth poured streams of golden light that formed glyphs in the air—complex mathematical equations and astronomical symbols that rewrote themselves continuously.
"Prophecy," Rin breathed, hurriedly activating recording functions on her instruments. "She's channeling a direct vision."
Artoria moved closer to the possessed scribe, sword at the ready though she was uncertain what threat, if any, the situation posed.
"The shadow realm will birth her," Lavinia continued, her voice growing more distorted with each word. "Where light and darkness wage their ancient war, she waits, neither worshipper nor enemy, but questioner. The one who will ask what none dare ask."
With a final convulsion, Lavinia collapsed to the floor, the golden light withdrawing from her eyes and mouth. The floating glyphs lingered for several seconds longer before dissolving into particles of light that rained down around them.
Rin rushed to the fallen sister's side, checking vital signs. "She's alive, just unconscious." Her fingers traced the edge of Lavinia's Solar Mark, which now glowed faintly with residual energy. "These patterns... they're evolving in real-time."
Artoria knelt beside them, her sword still ready. "What did she mean? Who is this 'Thirteenth'?"
"I don't know," Rin admitted, her analytical mind already working through possibilities. "But we currently number twelve in the sisterhood. And the prophecy mentioned the shadow realm..."
"Lunaria's former domain," Artoria finished, understanding dawning. "Where Metatron plans to send the first missionary party."
Their eyes met, the same thought passing between them.
"We need to inform the High Priestess," Rin said, already gathering Lavinia into her arms with surprising strength.
Artoria nodded grimly. "And perhaps reevaluate who should be sent on that mission."
As they carried Lavinia from the chamber, neither noticed the small patch of shadow beneath the central platform—a shadow that seemed darker than it should be, that moved against the light in subtle, impossible ways.
In that unnatural darkness, something watched, and listened, and waited.
Chapter 5: Council of Light
Dawn had not yet broken when Metatron summoned her inner circle to the Chamber of Celestial Calculation. Unlike the other cathedral spaces, this room embraced asymmetry—its walls formed a spiral that narrowed toward a central point where a floating table of obsidian glass hovered above a pool of liquid gold.
Rin arrived first, her crimson and black habit immaculate despite the early hour. She carried several instruments and a thick ledger filled with calculations and observations. She placed these carefully on the table, arranging them with methodical precision.
Artoria entered next, her posture military-straight despite evident fatigue. Her modified habit showed signs of recent training—slight dampness at the collar suggested she had been working with Asia before the summons came.
Lavinia drifted in last, her movements dreamy and disconnected, showing no sign of her violent prophetic episode from the previous night. Her eyes remained half-lidded, as if she existed partially in another reality.
Metatron observed them from her position at the head of the table, her six angelic wings partially unfurled behind her, catching the light from the pool below. The golden staff of her office rested against her chair, humming faintly with contained power.
"You've confirmed the prophecy's authenticity?" she asked without preamble.
Rin nodded, opening her ledger to a specific page filled with complex equations. "The energy signature matched that of the Solarium Sphere exactly—pure, undiluted TYPE:SUN essence. This wasn't a standard vision; it was direct communication."
"Interesting that he would choose Lavinia as his mouthpiece rather than addressing us directly," Artoria observed, her tone carefully neutral.
Metatron's smile was sphinx-like. "Not interesting. Deliberate." She gestured toward Lavinia. "Our sister exists partially outside normal dimensional frameworks. Her mind touches spaces between realities. This makes her an ideal conduit for concepts that might shatter more... conventionally structured consciousness."
"She spoke of a Thirteenth sister," Rin continued, "emerging from the shadow realm. One who questions rather than worships."
"Neither convert nor acolyte," Lavinia whispered, her gaze distant. "Fire of rebellion."
Metatron leaned forward, her luminous eyes focusing on each of them in turn. "This revelation changes our approach to the missionary expedition. The shadow realm—Lunaria's former domain—is clearly significant in ways we hadn't anticipated."
Artoria frowned. "Are we certain this 'Thirteenth' is someone to be sought rather than avoided? The prophecy mentioned rebellion."
"All tests require resistance," Metatron replied smoothly. "His light reveals truth precisely because it must burn through falsehood first." She turned to Rin. "Your analysis of the energy patterns from last night's Communion. What did it reveal about our initiates?"
Rin consulted her notes. "Varied responses, as expected. Most aligned with preliminary projections." She hesitated briefly. "Asia's reaction was significant. Her capacity for channeling his essence exceeded all calculations. Without Sister Artoria's intervention, she might have destabilized the entire ritual."
"Or ascended beyond her current form," Metatron suggested, her tone thoughtful rather than accusatory.
"Ascended or self-destructed," Rin countered with uncharacteristic bluntness. "Her spiritual container isn't structured to handle that magnitude of divine energy."
Metatron nodded slowly. "Yet another adjustment to our mission plans, then. Sister Asia will accompany the expedition to the shadow realm."
"What?" Artoria's composure cracked momentarily. "High Priestess, with respect, she's the least prepared of all the initiates. She has barely begun to control her basic energetic responses."
"Precisely why she must go," Metatron replied. "The shadow realm's natural dampening effect on divine energy will provide an ideal training environment. She can learn control where the consequences of failure are less... catastrophic."
Rin's analytical mind immediately grasped the logic. "The darkness will act as a buffer, absorbing excess energy that might otherwise overwhelm her."
"And if this 'Thirteenth' is indeed waiting there," Metatron continued, "Asia's unique receptivity may help identify her."
Artoria's jaw tightened visibly. "Then I should accompany them as well. Asia's training has only just begun. She needs consistent guidance."
"No." Metatron's response was immediate and final. "Your disciplinary approach is too rigid for this mission. We need subtle diplomacy, not martial strength." She turned to Lavinia. "What do you see, Oracle? Who should lead this expedition?"
Lavinia's eyes drifted closed, her head tilting as if listening to distant music. "Silver hair reflecting moonlight... gentle voice that hides steel purpose... one who walks between worlds without judgment..." Her eyes snapped open suddenly, unnervingly focused. "Emilia."
"The emissary," Metatron nodded in approval. "Yes, her diplomatic nature is ideal for first contact with the Lunarians."
"And who else?" Rin pressed, making notes in her ledger.
"Hinata, for her Byakugan—her ability to see hidden intentions will be invaluable in a realm of secrets." Metatron tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the obsidian table. "Orihime, whose healing abilities will serve as both gesture of goodwill and practical necessity."
"Asia makes four," Artoria noted, still clearly unhappy with the decision. "An inexperienced fourth who may become a liability."
"Five," Metatron corrected. "Madoka will accompany them as well."
This announcement surprised even Rin. "Both innocents? That seems... risky."
"Calculated risk," Metatron countered. "Madoka demonstrated the most balanced response during the Communion. Her energy signature complements Asia's perfectly—where one is chaotic receptivity, the other is structured containment."
Lavinia's voice drifted through their discussion like smoke. "Pink and gold, intertwined... guardian and gateway... the key turns both ways..."
Rin glanced at the oracle with growing unease. "There's something you're not telling us, High Priestess. Something about Madoka specifically."
Metatron's smile was enigmatic. "There are many threads being woven here, Vestal. Not all patterns are meant to be discerned at once." She rose from her seat, her wings extending slightly. "The expedition departs tomorrow at dawn. Prepare them."
As Metatron swept from the chamber, her angelic wings folding back beneath her robes, Artoria turned to Rin with barely contained frustration.
"She's using them as bait," she hissed once the High Priestess was beyond hearing. "Testing some theory at their expense."
Rin closed her ledger with a snap. "Of course she is. That's how she operates—moving pieces on a cosmic chessboard." She glanced at Lavinia, who had returned to her dreamy state. "The question is, whose game is she really playing? Hers, or his?"
"Does it matter?" Artoria asked bitterly. "Either way, the pieces get sacrificed."
"Perhaps not," Rin mused, her calculating mind already forming contingencies. "The rules of the game might be more flexible than they appear." She gathered her materials from the table. "I'm going to prepare special protective artifacts for Asia and Madoka. Something... off the official registry."
Artoria raised an eyebrow. "The High Priestess monitors all enchantment work in the Cathedral."
"Most of it," Rin corrected with a thin smile. "But she doesn't understand all the equations I pretend to show her." She hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "Are you certain you were sent here to serve TYPE:SUN, Knight-Sister? Or could there be another purpose to your presence?"
The question hung in the air between them, dangerous and tempting. Artoria's hand twitched reflexively toward where her sword would have been.
"Careful, Vestal," she whispered. "Such questions border on heresy."
"Perhaps," Rin acknowledged. "Or perhaps questioning is precisely what we're meant to do. After all, isn't that what the prophecy suggests? That the Thirteenth will ask what none dare ask?"
Before Artoria could respond, Lavinia suddenly straightened, her eyes clearing momentarily.
"She is already here," the oracle announced, her voice suddenly sharp and present. "The Thirteenth. She watches. She listens." Her eyes scanned the chamber until they fixed on a particular shadow in the corner—a shadow that seemed to deepen as attention turned toward it. "She judges whether we are worthy of her questions."
All three women stared at the shadow, which remained perfectly still under their scrutiny. Then, gradually, it began to recede, slipping beneath the door and vanishing into the corridor beyond.
"Well," Rin said after a moment of stunned silence. "That complicates matters."
"We should report this to the High Priestess," Artoria insisted, already moving toward the door.
Rin caught her arm. "And tell her what? That we've been infiltrated by a living shadow that Lavinia claims is the prophesied Thirteenth? Without evidence?"
"She'll sense the intrusion herself if it's significant," Artoria argued.
"Unless she already knows," Rin countered. "Unless this too is part of her design."
The two women stared at each other, years of ingrained loyalty warring with newly awakened suspicion.
Finally, Artoria relented. "We'll wait. Observe. Gather evidence." She glanced at Lavinia, who had returned to her trance-like state. "But we'll also prepare the expedition as ordered. I may not be going, but I can ensure Asia and the others have everything they need to survive whatever they're walking into."
Rin nodded in agreement. "I'll focus on protective measures. You handle physical preparation." She hesitated, then added, "And Artoria? Be careful who you trust. Even among the sisterhood."
As they parted ways, neither noticed the faint smile that played across Lavinia's lips—a smile that held secrets beyond their imagining.
Chapter 6: Shadows and Whispers
The preparation chamber hummed with quiet activity as the missionary party made final arrangements for their journey. Circular in design, with alcoves dedicated to different aspects of preparation, the room served as the transition point between the Cathedral's sanctified spaces and the outside world.
Emilia moved between the alcoves with graceful efficiency, her silver hair catching the light as she checked supplies and confirmed details. As expedition leader, she projected calm authority despite the unusual composition of their group.
"Remember," she instructed, adjusting the silver clasp on Hinata's travel cloak, "we enter the shadow realm as guests, not conquerors. Our purpose is to establish a small shrine and perform basic rituals. Conversion comes through example, not force."
Hinata nodded, her distinctive pale eyes scanning the room continually—a habit from her former life as a shinobi that served her well in her new role. "I've been mapping the energy fluctuations near the designated entry point," she reported quietly. "The boundary between realms seems... unusually permeable. As if something has been crossing regularly."
Emilia's violet eyes narrowed slightly. "Recently?"
"Within the past week. Increasing in frequency over the last two days."
This information confirmed Emilia's own suspicions, though she kept her expression neutral. "Keep your Byakugan active once we cross over. If anything seems unusual—more unusual than entering a shadow realm already is—alert me immediately, but discreetly."
Across the chamber, Orihime carefully packed healing supplies into a specially designed case. Her burnt orange hair was tied back practically, though a few strands had escaped to frame her face. Her gentle demeanor masked formidable abilities—her healing talents had proven particularly compatible with TYPE:SUN's energy, allowing her to channel divine radiance for restorative purposes.
"Orihime," Emilia called, beckoning her over. "A moment, please."
The healer approached, her expressive face immediately concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"Not wrong, exactly," Emilia replied, lowering her voice. "But I have additional instructions regarding Asia." She glanced toward the far alcove where the blonde innocent was receiving final instructions from Artoria. "The High Priestess believes she may be... uniquely significant to our mission."
Orihime's brown eyes widened slightly. "Because of what happened during the Communion?"
"Partly." Emilia placed a small crystal vial in Orihime's palm. "If her energies begin to destabilize again, administer three drops of this. It contains essence from the Solarium Sphere, specially calibrated to her frequency."
Orihime tucked the vial carefully into her healing kit. "And if that's not enough?"
Emilia's expression grew more serious. "Then use your rejection abilities. Create a containment field around her until she stabilizes." She placed a hand on Orihime's shoulder. "But understand—this is absolute last resort. The High Priestess believes Asia's... reactions... may be purposeful rather than problematic."
Understanding dawned in Orihime's eyes. "She's meant to draw attention. To attract something in the shadow realm."
"Or someone," Emilia confirmed. "Be vigilant, but discreet."
Across the chamber, Artoria was delivering far more direct instructions to Asia.
"Breathe from your center," the knight demonstrated, placing a hand on Asia's diaphragm. "When you feel overwhelmed, count your breaths. Inhale for four counts, hold for seven, exhale for eight. This will regulate your energy flow."
Asia nodded earnestly, her green eyes wide with concentration. "And if that doesn't work?"
Artoria pressed a small medallion into her palm. "Then activate this. It contains a fragment of my own discipline, encoded energetically. It will create a temporary damping field around you."
"Like you did during the Communion," Asia said with evident gratitude.
"Similar, but less direct. And limited—it will function once, maybe twice if you're careful." Artoria's stern expression softened slightly. "I should be going with you."
"The High Priestess said—"
"I know what she said," Artoria interrupted with uncharacteristic sharpness. Then, composing herself, "Just be careful. The shadow realm operates by different rules. Light behaves... strangely there. Your connection to him may feel diminished, disorienting."
Asia clutched the medallion tightly. "I'm scared," she admitted in a whisper.
Artoria surprised both of them by briefly squeezing Asia's hand. "Fear keeps you alert. Use it, don't let it use you."
Nearby, Madoka stood alone before a small altar, her pink eyes closed in meditation. Unlike the others, she seemed strangely calm, almost anticipatory. The events of the Communion had affected her differently than Asia—where her fellow innocent had been overwhelmed, Madoka had experienced a curious sense of recognition, as if something about TYPE:SUN's consciousness resonated with her on a fundamental level she couldn't articulate.
Her meditation was interrupted by Rin's arrival. The Vestal approached quietly, observing Madoka with calculating interest.
"You're not preparing like the others," Rin noted. "No last-minute questions or concerns?"
Madoka opened her eyes, offering a small smile. "I feel like I've been prepared for this my whole existence, somehow. Like everything before was leading to this moment."
Rin's eyebrows rose slightly. "Interesting perspective." She held out a slender bracelet woven from threads of gold and obsidian. "Nevertheless, take this. A precautionary measure."
Madoka accepted the gift, slipping it onto her wrist. "It's beautiful. What does it do?"
"It creates a connection between you and Asia," Rin explained. "If either of you experiences energy fluctuations, the bracelet will help balance the distribution between you. You seemed to naturally form this connection during the Communion. This simply reinforces it."
"Like a circuit," Madoka observed with surprising insight.
"Exactly like a circuit," Rin confirmed, impressed. "You understand more than you let on, don't you?"
Madoka's smile turned enigmatic. "I remember things sometimes. From before. Fragment
Madoka's smile turned enigmatic. "I remember things sometimes. From before. Fragments of other lives, other realities." Her pink eyes met Rin's directly. "Don't you?"
The question struck Rin like a physical blow. For a moment, her carefully maintained façade cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "Dreams of a different world. A different purpose."
"Is that why you question things when others don't?"
Rin glanced around quickly to ensure they weren't overheard. "Be careful with such observations, Madoka. The High Priestess has eyes and ears everywhere."
"Not everywhere," Madoka replied with unexpected certainty. "There are shadows even her light can't penetrate."
Before Rin could respond to this troubling statement, Emilia called the group to order. "It's time. The threshold awaits."
The missionary party gathered at the chamber's center. Final adjustments were made to travel habits—specially designed to provide protection while maintaining clear display of their Solar Marks. Each sister carried a small pack containing essential supplies and ritual implements.
Artoria stood to one side, watching with poorly concealed concern. As Asia passed, the knight caught her sleeve.
"Remember your training," she said simply. "Trust your instincts, but verify with discipline."
Asia nodded, summoning a brave smile. "I'll make you proud, Sister Artoria."
Rin approached Emilia, ostensibly to hand over final documents. "Watch Madoka closely," she whispered. "She knows more than she should."
Emilia accepted the papers with a barely perceptible nod. "I've sensed it as well. The question is whether it serves our purpose or threatens it."
"That," Rin replied, "is precisely what you're being sent to determine."
With final preparations complete, Emilia led her group toward the threshold chamber—a circular room dominated by a massive archway carved from a single piece of obsidian glass. Golden script flowed continuously across its surface, equations and astronomical calculations constantly rewriting themselves.
As they approached, the archway began to hum with increasing intensity. The space within it shimmered, then darkened, becoming a vertical pool of liquid shadow that rippled gently despite the absence of any breeze.
"Sisters," Emilia announced formally, "we cross from absolute light into relative shadow. Remember that all darkness is merely the absence of his radiance, not its opposition. Even in the shadow realm, he sees. He knows. He waits."
One by one, they stepped through the archway, disappearing into rippling darkness. Asia hesitated momentarily at the threshold, glancing back toward Artoria, who stood watching with rigid posture that betrayed her concern.