Dawnspire sanctum
Stuart Domain, AKA Bastion Pass
Sol Continent
Terra, Gaea, solar system
Luminary star sector
Milky Way Galaxy
21st Vetraeus cycle, 50 New Solaris Prime
Sam felt a surge of rage unlike anything she had known in a long while. It was a raw, searing emotion that clawed at her insides, unfamiliar yet undeniable. After her awakening, and decades of being a Mystic, she had always prided herself on her newly calm demeanor, on being able to master her emotions with ease. But this time, the betrayal stung deeply, like a dagger to her heart. Someone had sold her out. Someone had gone behind her back, exploiting her trust to target June. And the answer was as clear as the scorching anger in her chest—there was only one word for it: Traitor.
As she neared the Dawnspire Sanctum, the sacred seat of the Custodians of Dawn—those elite figures who held the highest rank within the secretive Octagram—her steps quickened. The towering structure loomed ahead, its floating mass shimmering with ethereal light, an imposing beacon of power. The Sanctum was a place of reverence, yet it was now the site of her fury.
Sam alighted on one of the seven ring platforms that encircled the tower. Each platform, suspended high above the ground by unseen forces, was a testament to the Custodians' mastery over space and energy. The platform beneath her feet hummed with power as she touched down, her presence unsettling the delicate balance of this otherwise tranquil place.
She strode purposefully across the bridge that connected the platform to the Sanctum, the intricate runes carved into the bridge pulsing softly as she passed. The air around her seemed to grow heavier, as though the very atmosphere sensed the tension radiating from her.
On the far side of the bridge, the guards stationed at the entrance of the Sanctum looked up in shock. Their eyes widened, and a flicker of uncertainty passed between them. The arrival of someone as formidable as Sam was no ordinary event, especially not in the state she was in now. The usual calm composure that marked her presence was replaced by a palpable storm, and the guards, who had stood watch for years, could do little more than glance at each other in silent apprehension.
Sam didn't pause, didn't even acknowledge their surprised stares. She walked with a determined pace, her footsteps ringing sharply in the otherwise still air. This was no place for hesitation. She had come for answers—and for retribution.
As Sam's focus sharpened, an unsettling feeling prickled at the edges of her awareness. It was subtle at first, a slight shift in the air, a cold thread of unease weaving its way through her thoughts. She came to an abrupt stop, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the surroundings with heightened sensitivity. The Sanctum, with its towering spires and ethereal structure, seemed still, but beneath that stillness, something was amiss. She turned her gaze to the edge of the Sanctum, her eyes drawn to the expanse below.
The Sanctum was a vast, segmented marvel, divided into distinct sections, each with its own function and purpose. The Northern Tower loomed high, a symbol of cold authority, while the Southern Tower radiated a warm, inviting glow. The Eastern and Western Towers balanced the complex's structure, their presence equally imposing. The heart of the Sanctum, the Central Tower, stood at the core—a place of both leadership and mysticism.
But it was the Western Tower that caught Sam's attention. This was where the residents of the Sanctum, including herself, made their homes. The comfortable quarters that were meant for rest and reflection. It was here that Emily, her closest companion, had always found solace. Now, one of the windows of the Western Tower was shattered. The jagged edges of glass hung in the frame, suspended as if caught in an invisible moment of time. Sam's breath caught in her throat as she instantly recognized it—the window was Emily's.
A rush of panic surged through Sam's chest, her heartbeat quickening in response to the alarming sight. The broken glass, the quiet aftermath—it painted a grim picture of what might have happened. She couldn't waste another second. Without hesitation, she propelled herself into the air, her body moving with fluid grace as she shot toward the Western Tower, urgency fueling her every movement.
Just as she was about to reach the shattered window, a presence stopped her. Rosa and Henry materialized before her, their forms emerging from the shadows, their expressions a mirror of grim certainty. The tightness in their faces, the way their eyes refused to meet hers, sent a cold chill through Sam's spine. It was in their silence, the heavy weight of unspoken words, that Sam understood the gravity of the situation. A chill swept through her as she realized—whatever had happened, it was far worse than she could have ever imagined.
_
"What do you mean she's gone?" Sam repeated, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and fury. She asked the question for the third time, each word cutting deeper as if the truth refused to settle in her mind.
Rosa and Henry had brought her here—into the heart of the Dawnspire Sanctum—where she was now standing in the chamber reserved for the inner circle of the Octagram religious order. This was a room known only to those of the highest ranks, a place where decisions were made, where power was wielded in hushed tones. Vuelo, Sophia, Aria, Emanu, and James Stuart were present, their faces grim, their silence heavier than any words. Emanu, the Overseer of the Sanctum and a High Guardian of Golden Dawn, stood before her, his expression somber as he recounted the tragic events.
"Assassins managed to infiltrate," Emanu's voice was low, filled with a palpable sorrow. "They made it past our defenses, reached Emily—and they succeeded."
Sam felt her body go cold as the words settled in. Her mind screamed in denial, but her heart—her very soul—resonated with a fiery intensity. "I mean, they were able to bring her body to one of the starships in the Hangar and fly off-planet," Emanu added, each syllable sinking into her chest like a stone.
A wave of raw emotion surged through Sam, intense and uncontrollable. Her soul began to thrum with a resonance so powerful that the very fabric of the planet seemed to vibrate with her fury. The bond she shared with the core of the planet—deep and ancient—flared into existence, amplifying her pain, her rage, until the air itself grew thick and oppressive. The temperature shifted, the skies above darkened, and the pressure in the room escalated. Those present—Ascendants of varying ranks—felt the immense weight of her emotions, their breathing growing labored, their hearts pounding as the very atmosphere pressed down on them. Rosa, Henry, Aria, and James Stuart struggled, their bodies fighting against the suffocating force that emanated from Sam.
"Sam," came the soft voice of Sophia, breaking through the storm.
With that single word, the pressure vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only the echo of Sam's turbulent emotions in the air. Her breath steadied, the heat in her chest cooling as she regained control. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, turned toward Vuelo, her Great-Aunt.
"What happened to the barrier of the Sanctum?" Sam demanded, her voice edged with a fury that refused to be quelled. "You and the Witches of the Delphi Clan are responsible for the protective barrier. How the hell did assassins break in?"
Vuelo's expression faltered for a moment, the weight of guilt and responsibility flashing across her face. "It seems... someone from our side may have let them in," she said quietly.
Sam's gaze hardened. "You're a Seer," she shot a look at both Vuelo and Aria. "You didn't see this coming? Didn't see this happening?"
"The flow of causality is in a delicate state," Aria spoke, her voice distant yet filled with regret. "It's been disrupted, making the future... difficult to predict."
Vuelo added, her tone quieter, almost reluctant. "It's hard to see the future of Emily Legens. Her path is tangled in ways we can't fully comprehend."
Sam's heart raced as she turned her full attention to Vuelo. "What do you mean it's hard to see Emily's future?"
Vuelo's expression grew darker, her brow furrowing with the weight of the answer she was about to give. "The karmic thread of Emily Legens is... irregular," she said, her voice laced with a sense of foreboding.
"Karmic thread?" Sam repeated, confusion rippling through her.
"The karmic thread is the predictive algorithm encoded within the soulstream of the universe," Vuelo explained. "It is the essence through which Seers can glimpse the future. We tap into this thread, interpret its pattern, and calculate the potential outcomes based on its course. We foresee events—paths that individuals are destined to follow. But Emily Legens? Her thread is unreadable. It doesn't follow any of the usual patterns. It's as though it's... constantly shifting, defying all logic."
Sam's mind raced, her thoughts spinning. "And what about June Wryward?" she asked, her voice tight with a desperate need for some clarity. "What about her future?"
Vuelo hesitated before answering, her gaze distant as she tried to peer beyond the veil. "Unfortunately, I can't see anything regarding her," she admitted. "It seems there's a shadow obscuring her path. Something... or someone is hiding her future from view."
Sam let out a sharp breath, her fists clenching at her sides. "Well, that's just great," she muttered bitterly, her voice thick with frustration. The answers were slipping through her fingers, and the weight of the unknown pressed down harder than ever before. ChatGPT said:
Sam's gaze swept over the faces of those seated before her. Despite knowing, deep down, that none of them would betray her, an uneasy feeling stirred in the pit of her stomach. Something was missing, something that gnawed at her thoughts, a subtle but persistent sense that she was being kept in the dark. The weight of the moment pressed down on her as she studied their expressions—silent, unreadable. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than anyone was saying.
"Where is Ginny?" The words left her lips with an edge of frustration, the need to know sharp in her voice.
Rosa looked up from the table, her face clouded with concern. "No one's seen Ginny in a while," she replied, her tone low. "We searched the Craft Lab, but there was no sign of her."
A pang of unease tightened around Sam's chest. She didn't need to hear any more. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door. "I'll find her myself." Her voice was firm, resolute. The decision was made.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she made her way to the Transporter platform. With a flick of her wrist, she activated the lift. The air around her shimmered with violet energy, and in the blink of an eye, she was whisked away in a flash of purple light. The world seemed to fold in on itself as she was transported to the Northern Tower, the very heart of the Craftsmith facilities.
The room behind her fell into silence after her departure, leaving only the lingering presence of Vuelo and Sophia. The heavy atmosphere seemed to thicken as Sophia glanced toward her aunt, her mind racing with questions that had no easy answers.
"You may not have been able to see Legens' future," Sophia began, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, "but you knew of the assassins' presence within the Sanctum. Why else would you stop me from finding out who tampered with the barrier?"
Vuelo's eyes remained calm, her gaze steady but distant. She seemed to be contemplating her next words carefully, choosing her response with deliberation. "Let's just say," she said, her voice measured and almost regretful, "things are proceeding as they should. I allowed the assassins to take her because... it's the same reason I had Freya and Lance attack her decades ago."
Sophia's brow furrowed in confusion. "And for what? Why lie to Sam, keep things hidden from her? I... I don't know if I can—"
Vuelo's voice cut through the tension, quiet yet filled with a knowing weight. "I know you're feeling guilty about the things you're still keeping from her," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "But for now, it is better that Sam does not know about it."
Sophia opened her mouth, a retort forming on her lips, but she stopped herself. The words felt hollow, incomplete. She let them go, the weight of Vuelo's words sinking into her chest. "Right now," Vuelo continued, her voice firm yet compassionate, "Sam and Emily's paths are not aligned. And we need Sam to stay on the path that she is on."
Sophia stood silently, the unspoken implications of Vuelo's statement echoing in her mind. She couldn't help but wonder just how much she was willing to sacrifice—and how much Sam might one day need to know. But for now, the truth would remain buried, and the path they had set for Sam must remain unchanged.
****
Sam arrived at the Craft Lab, the familiar space she had once shared with Emily and Ginny. The sight of it, though unchanged, struck her with a sudden sense of loss. Ginny was nowhere to be found. Sam's eyes immediately locked onto Emily's craft bench, a chaotic testament to the creative genius that Emily was. Scattered projects, unfinished experiments, and tools lay strewn across the surface in a deliberate disarray. Among the clutter, Emily's Dimensional Band sat quietly, its polished surface catching the dim light. Sam picked it up, scanning it briefly, only to find it empty.
A sinking feeling crawled up her spine as the implication hit her. Emily must have shown the Automaton Knight to Ginny. Her gut twisted, but she pushed the thought aside. Her gaze swept across the room, scanning the shadows for any sign of Ginny's presence. And then, as if pulled by an unseen force, her eyes landed on the concealed doorway in the far corner—the secret room.
Sam's breath caught. Ginny had installed that room for herself long ago, a hidden lab, sealed off from the world. Emily and Sam had both known about it but had chosen to respect Ginny's privacy, content to let her work in secret. After all, Ginny had known that she and Emily were Sensory experts, and yet she still installed the room. But this time was different. Sam's instincts told her exactly where to go.
"Ginny," she called, her voice laced with a mix of urgency and frustration. She didn't have time to play games anymore.
There was a long pause. For ten minutes, nothing stirred. And then, with a faint click and the soft creak of the door, Ginny emerged. Her posture was casual, as though she hadn't just been hiding away in some secret corner of the world, as though she hadn't been keeping secrets. She raised an eyebrow at Sam, her expression unreadable.
"You're back already?" Ginny said, her tone laced with mild surprise, though there was a hint of something deeper lurking in her voice.
"Emily's gone," Sam said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. The weight of them made her chest tighten, but she pushed forward. "What happened to her... it's not right. And now..." She hesitated, struggling with the rawness of it all. "June was taken. In front of me."
Ginny's expression shifted, her brow furrowing slightly. "June... the Self-awakened girl?" Her voice softened as she absorbed the information. "What happened?"
Sam took a deep breath, her gaze flickering to the floor as she relived the events in her mind. She told Ginny everything—about Emily's disappearance, about the attack, and about June being taken before her eyes, a helpless bystander in the face of an overwhelming enemy.
"As much as I want to help Emily," Sam continued, her voice trembling with both anger and helplessness, "she's a Master Realm expert. She can fend for herself." She clenched her fists, the heat of fury surging through her veins. "But June... she's only a Novice. She needs me more."
The admission stung, more than Sam had expected. She wanted to be with Emily, wanted to charge into the fray and tear down every barrier that stood in her way, but reality was colder than that. June's safety had to come first. She couldn't ignore it.
"I need your help," Sam said, her voice low and desperate.
Ginny's gaze sharpened, and she tilted her head, curiosity and concern flickering in her eyes. "With what?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
"The Sage who took June..." Sam's voice dropped, as though speaking the words aloud would make them real, too real. "He's powerful. Extremely powerful. I don't think I could defeat him even if I threw everything I have at him. Which means..." She exhaled sharply, her frustration rising like a storm. "I need to get stronger. I need to find a way."
Ginny nodded slowly, sensing the gravity of Sam's words. "What do you need from me?" she asked, her expression shifting into one of determination.
"I need you to look into the Solar Ascension Academy," Sam said, her voice firm. "Look into Master Kael, one of the instructors for the Ascendant classes."
"Master Kael," Ginny repeated, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What about him?"
Sam's mind raced as she spoke, her thoughts weaving together the threads of suspicion that had been slowly unraveling in her mind. "It's strange," she admitted. "The Mightist group—or whatever they're calling themselves—arrived around the same time I was in Ironveil Forest with June. Their true target was June. The only person who could have known that, the only one who knew she was with me, was Master Kael. My gut tells me that we need to look into him. I don't trust him."
Ginny's eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line as she absorbed Sam's words. "I'll get right on it," she said, her voice steady. "I'll find out everything I can."
"Thanks," Sam replied, the words feeling like a small relief amidst the storm inside her.
With that, she turned and left the Craft Lab, the weight of the task ahead pressing heavily on her shoulders. She made her way to the Western Tower, her steps purposeful as she headed toward her personal cultivation room. Inside, a Cultivation Pad was waiting for her, surrounded by a ring of Mana Stones. It was a simple but powerful setup, designed to enhance her focus and energy flow.
She sank down onto the pad, her body settling into a cross-legged position. Her mind cleared as she summoned the Celestial Key from her pocket dimension. The long, dagger-shaped key appeared in her hand, its golden surface gleaming softly in the dim light. The edge of the key was etched with intricate runic inscriptions—symbols Sam recognized all too well. The AurenIdril runes.
She ran her fingers over the surface, feeling the weight of the lost empire's history in her grasp. This key was no ordinary artifact—it was a bridge to something greater, something hidden. And now, with Emily and June both taken, it might be the only way to unlock the power Sam needed to confront the forces arrayed against them. She translated the inscriptions on the key, reading it's name as Bellator.
"In the clash of steel and the fury of the soul, the path of Bellator is forged. Through the fire of conflict, strength is tempered, and through the dust of battle, the divine is revealed. The Bellator is not merely the hand that strikes, but the heart that endures. The Key calls to those who walk the razor's edge between destruction and creation, for war does not only tear asunder—it builds anew, shapes realms with the will of the strongest, and carves histories with the blood of the brave."
"To wield the Bellator is to embrace the eternal dance between conflict and order. The Key opens the door to victory, yet warns that war is no servant to its master. Its cost is boundless, and those who seek its power must carry the weight of their choices across the planes. War, like the Bellator, is a force of reckoning—a storm that can either destroy or redefine the very fabric of existence."
"Well then, it's time to redefine my existence," Sam said as she looked inward herself to the Terra Constellation cultivation formula that was within her.