Aaron's eyes flickered open, and an unsettling sensation spread through his body. Something felt off—his limbs were weightless, yet he wasn't falling. His hand tightened instinctively, and he noticed the familiar ring still encircling his finger. A simple white sash draped over him, but his legs dangled, suspended in midair.
Disoriented, he scanned his surroundings. A transparent, cylindrical tank enclosed him, its glass walls stretching one and a half times his height. Above and below, circular metal platforms sealed the chamber, trapping him inside.
Why was he floating? What was this? His thoughts spiraled as fragments of memory crashed into him—the fair, his father, Apohis ezzz. The brutal defeat. But above all, the worst image of all—Era, throwing herself between him and death, losing her arm in the process.
"Era!" His voice was raw with desperation as he surged toward the glass, willing the ring's power to respond. Nothing. Panic gripped him as he pounded his fists against the barrier. "Era!" he called again, but the thick glass swallowed his voice, reducing it to a muffled echo.
Only then did he notice them.
A crowd surrounded the tank, their eyes locked onto him, wide with a mix of fear and contempt. Some wore the distinct uniforms of the Sky Weavers, while others did not. But regardless of their attire, none were merely spectators—they were witnesses. He wasn't just being observed; he was being judged, a prisoner on display in some cruel, calculated spectacle.
Among them, one figure commanded attention. A woman with an imposing presence and piercing gaze stood apart from the rest. Her face stirred a faint recognition in Aaron, as if she resembled someone he had seen before.
She leaned toward a younger woman who appeared to be operating the control-laden table, murmuring something before straightening and adjusting a microphone.
"Aaron Lorne," her voice rang out, cold and authoritative. "You wielded the Phoenix Ring for your own ends, endangering countless lives. Because of your actions, one of the eight rings now rests in the hands of the enemy. Your recklessness cost your teammate dearly." She lingered on the last accusation, her tone sharpening as if it pained her personally. Then, with finality, she declared:
"In witness whereof, I, Althea Valehart, in the absence of the High Weaver, sentence you to… Severance. Effective immediately." Her voice was cold, absolute. Without hesitation, she turned to the young woman at the control panel and gave a single, decisive nod.
The lever was pulled. The process began.
Aaron didn't know what Severance entailed, but he knew it couldn't mean anything good. Panic surged through him. "Let me out! Free me!" he shouted, his voice lost behind the thick glass. His plea went unanswered as a faint blue light began to gather at the center of both the top and bottom plates of the tank.
Dread clawed at him. He pounded harder on the barrier, then desperately tried to summon the power of his ring—to no avail. The lights intensified, then connected in a single, blinding beam, passing straight through him. A violent tremor overtook his body. His muscles seized, his limbs convulsed, and the whites of his eyes rolled back as if life itself was being drained from him.
At that moment, the Phoenix Ring loosened from his finger. It began to slip away—until a sharp, commanding voice cut through the room.
"Stop!"
The force behind the word snapped every gaze toward its source.
The operator hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was enough. The woman raised her hand, energy already crackling around her fingertips, and unleashed a blast that shattered the tank's glass. The Severance process halted instantly, and Aaron's limp body crashed heavily onto the floor of the chamber. He lay motionless, caught between life and death.
The woman who had spoken descended the stairs toward Althea.
Hydra.
The two locked eyes, their expressions taut with distrust. Though both radiated anger, Hydra's gaze burned with raw ferocity, while Althea's was steeped in cold, unspoken disappointment.
A tense silence filled the chamber as Hydra stepped forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered Weavers. Then, in a voice that left no room for argument, she commanded:
"Remove him from the tank."
This time, the operators didn't hesitate. Moving swiftly, they, along with several other Weavers, carefully lifted Aaron's limp body from the shattered chamber. He stirred weakly, his mind still reeling from the ordeal.
Hydra turned then, her piercing eyes locking onto Althea. "I am the High Weaver. It is to me that the Weavers owe their obedience." Her words rang through the hall with authority. "By what right do you wield my power as if it were your own?"
Althea met Hydra's glare without flinching, a slow smirk curving her lips. "Always so authoritarian, Hydra," she said, beginning to pace in a slow, deliberate circle around her adversary. "Always putting your pride before all else—even before the sacred mission entrusted to you by the stars." Her tone dripped with disdain. "The same stars that elevated you to High Weaver."
Aaron woke up slowly, his whole body hurting. The floor was cold under him, and his head pounded like it had been smashed with a rock. His vision was blurry, shapes shifting in and out of focus.
But it wasn't the pain that snapped him back—it was the voices. Loud. Angry. Sharp.
One voice stood out, cutting through everything else.
Althea.
She was mad.
"And here we are. The Ring of Forgotten Souls—gone, now in Corvus's hands. My daughter, Era, might never use the Griffin Ring again after what happened to her."
Aaron's breath hitched. His sluggish mind grasped onto one word. Daughter.
He blinked hard, his mind catching up. Althea is Era's mother.
A wave of shock hit him, but it wasn't the worst part. Althea turned to him, her gaze like ice.
"And the one to blame?" she said bitterly. "Your own nephew."
The weight of her words crushed him. Era may never fight again? His chest tightened with guilt.
Hydra stood still, her expression hard to read, but Althea wasn't done. She stepped closer, her voice sharp.
"So, High Weaver, what will you do to fix this?" She let the question hang before shaking her head. "No, I already know. You'll say the same thing as always, won't you?" Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "That Aaron isn't the first Phoenix Ring bearer to mess up."
Hydra straightened. "And he isn't."
"Exactly the kind of nonsense I expected." Althea cut Hydra off before she could even finish, her voice sharp and cold. She let the silence drag for a moment, making sure everyone was hanging on her next words.
"I give you an ultimatum, Hydra. Either Aaron goes through Severance and gives up the Phoenix Ring for good… or my whole faction walks. We're done. No more Ring quest, no more war against the Eye of the Void. We're out."
The room went dead silent.