Chapter 73: Family Ties

The cloud drifted lazily through the shimmering air, cutting through the golden mist that wove between the floating spires of the Land of Sovereignty. Yuuna leaned slightly against the edge of the cloud, her golden eyes flickering with awe as she forced herself to focus on the beauty around her. She inhaled deeply, the sweet, floral scent of the glowing gardens below filling her lungs. The soft hum of magic in the air was almost soothing, like the faint notes of a lullaby. 

Despite the serene landscape, her hands trembled faintly at her sides, her anxiety gnawing at her with every passing moment. Something about this place—this city of light and holiness—felt wrong to her. The oppressive power they had felt earlier still pressed against her chest, and though she tried to ignore it, the weight of it lingered, heavy and suffocating. 

Her thoughts spiraled as she looked out at the mesmerizing cityscape. 'It's beautiful. It's perfect. Too perfect…' She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she forced her breathing to stay even. 'Focus, Yuuna. Don't let it get to you. Just enjoy the view. Pretend you belong here. Mom..'

Ahead, Rye stood at the front of the cloud, her hands moving gracefully as she steered them through the metropolis. Her wings, still battered from the earlier battle, glimmered faintly in the light, and her expression was calm, almost serene. 

Xyenn, standing next to Yuuna, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He could sense something was off, but he didn't press her. Instead, he turned his attention back to the sights around them, his golden eye scanning the city with a mixture of caution and wonder. 

As they floated further into the heart of the city, more fantastical sights greeted them. A massive serpent of light, its scales shimmering with hues of gold and silver, coiled lazily around one of the towering spires. The creature was enormous, its body so long it seemed to vanish into the clouds below. Its head, adorned with glowing horns that curved backward like a crown, turned slightly as they passed, its glowing eyes locking onto them for a brief moment. 

"That's the Serpent of Radiance," Rye said, her voice breaking the silence. "He is the guardian of the realm and the protector of the Ohnupilath Tree." 

"The tree… it's not here, is it?" Xyenn asked, his voice quiet but firm. 

Rye shook her head. "No. The Ohnupilath Tree exists in another dimension that is within this realm, accessible only to those chosen by Lancelot himself; like Sugred for example. The Serpent ensures that no one, not even the most devoted clerics, can approach it without permission." 

Yuuna tilted her head slightly, forcing herself to focus on the serpent instead of the tightness in her chest. "It's… beautiful," she murmured, her voice soft. 

Xyenn noticed Yuuna's forced smile, and thought, 'I hate that she is going through this. But it must be done. Don't worry, it'll be over soon.'

The serpent's massive head dipped slightly, acknowledging them before it unfurled its coiled body, stretching out and vanishing into the golden clouds below slowly.

The cloud they rode on continued its journey, passing over more breathtaking scenes. Clerics meditated in floating gardens, their hands glowing as they manipulated golden runes that floated around them like leaves in the wind. A group of clerics on a distant platform tended to a massive, phoenix-like bird with feathers of pure flame, its cry echoing like a song across the city. 

Rye turned to glance at Xyenn and Yuuna, her calm expression softening slightly. "Tranquility is the essence of this land," she said, her voice steady. "It is a place where the faithful can find peace and purpose, where the light of Lancelot guides every action. It is a realm untouched by the chaos of the outside world." 

Yuuna forced a smile, nodding slightly. "It's… incredible," she said, though her voice was tight. 

Xyenn, his gaze shifting back to Rye, raised an eyebrow. "If this place is so perfect, how are you the weakest Siren? You fought like someone who could crush armies." 

Rye chuckled faintly, her wings twitching as she held her hands steady. The cloud shifted slightly under her control, gliding smoothly through the air. "I am the Seventh Siren of Sugred," she said, her tone calm but tinged with a hint of pride. "The weakest, yes, but not without reason. Each Siren is ranked by experience, power, and by the number of witches we have slain, and by the years we have served at Sugred's side." 

She glanced back at them, her golden eyes glimmering faintly. "I have only served Sugred for twenty years. The First Siren has been by his side since the days of King Samuel, the first vessel of Lancelot. His strength is unmatched, his power absolute. Compared to him, I am but a shadow." 

Yuuna tilted her head, her curiosity momentarily overriding her anxiety. "The First Siren... What's he like?" 

Rye's expression darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "He is ruthless. Devoted. A true warrior of the light. But to stand in his presence… it is to feel the weight of eternity pressing down on you." 

Neither Xyenn nor Yuuna responded, the weight of her words sinking in. 

As they floated further, the cloud descended slightly, bringing them closer to a long, open courtyard lined with glowing white pillars. A group of children, dressed in simple yet elegant white garments adorned with golden accents, stood in a perfectly straight line. Their faces were calm, their wide, curious eyes glowing faintly with the light of Lancelot. 

Clerics of the Holy Branch stood near the children, their expressions warm and gentle as they spoke softly to them. In front of each child stood a witch, bound in glowing chains that crackled faintly with energy. The witches knelt, their faces obscured by shadow, their bodies trembling as the clerics chanted softly. 

Rye gestured toward the scene, her wings flaring slightly as she turned to Xyenn and Yuuna. "Watch carefully, Trevor. Alice. This is one of the most sacred moments in the Land of Sovereignty." 

Yuuna blinked, her anxiety momentarily replaced by confusion. "Sacred? What's happening?" 

Rye smiled faintly, her voice soft. "The children are the future of the Holy Branch. When clerics join the family of Lancelot, they are taught to love children above all else. They are the purest vessels of light, untainted by the darkness of the outside world. It is our duty to nurture them, to protect them, and to guide them so that they may one day carry on the light of Lancelot." 

Yuuna thought, 'Is that why Faera and the others created an orphanage? Despite separating themselves from Lancelot, they never abandoned their love for children. Parentless children…at that.'

Xyenn crossed his arms, his golden eye narrowing slightly as he studied the scene below. "And the witches?" 

Rye's expression hardened slightly. "They are here for the children to witness. They serve as a reminder of the darkness that lurks beyond our sanctuary. The clerics teach the children to see their light as a shield against that darkness, to understand the weight of their duty when they grow older." 

Yuuna forced herself to smile, though her chest tightened again, the oppressive power she had felt earlier creeping back into her mind. "That's… lovely," she said, her voice strained. 

Rye nodded, her wings folding slightly as she gestured for the cloud to descend further. The three of them watched as the clerics continued their ritual, the children standing silently, their glowing eyes fixed on the bound witches. 

The cloud descended slowly, its golden edges dissolving like mist as it neared the courtyard where the children stood in perfect rows. Their clothes were immaculate and striking, a blend of holy elegance and practical design. The children wore white, form-fitting tunics embroidered with golden sigils that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The hems of their tunics were decorated with glowing threads that shifted between gold and soft yellow, resembling rays of sunlight. Some of the older children wore sashes of deep gold tied around their waists, denoting their rank as apprentices of the Holy Branch. 

Small halos of light hovered above their heads, not solid like the clerics', but faint and shimmering, as though their connection to Lancelot's mana was still blossoming. Their sandals were made of a translucent, crystalline material that caught the light, refracting it into faint rainbows with each step. 

The children stood silently in front of the bound witches, their glowing eyes wide but focused. The witches knelt in chains of radiant light that crackled and hummed with energy. Their bodies were frail, many of them gaunt and trembling, their faces obscured by flickering shadows cast by the golden runes etched into the very air around them. 

One of the clerics, an older woman with sharp, angular features and a soft golden glow radiating from her hands, stepped forward. She addressed the children with a calm, instructive tone, her voice carrying the weight of authority. 

"Children," she said, her golden eyes sweeping over them, "today, you will learn what it means to harness the draconic mana of Lancelot. His light flows through each of us, a gift and a responsibility. It is not merely power; it is life itself, a piece of the divine. Through this mana, you can create, shape, and destroy. But heed me well—this mana must remain in harmony with Lancelot's affinity. It is not yours to twist into chaos for selfish ends. It must always align with his will, his light." 

The children listened attentively, their expressions solemn. 

"The spells you create," the cleric continued, her glowing hands weaving patterns in the air, "are limited only by your experience, your control, and your imagination. Some of you may already feel the stirrings of creation in your hearts. Others may still struggle to weave the mana into form. But remember, the more you practice, the more you understand, the closer you will come to truly becoming one with Lancelot's light." 

Yuuna, standing on the cloud above the scene, forced herself to focus. Her anxiety was still gnawing at her, but she latched onto the cleric's words, letting the beauty and mysticism of the moment distract her. She glanced at Xyenn, who stood rigid, his arms crossed as he watched the children and clerics below with a sharp eye. 

Xyenn thought, 'It's like this for all draconic deities. Draconic mana is given to their followers by the god itself, and they can cultivate it and create their own skills from it within their gods affinity; aligning with their experience and power. And can be cultivated to increase power by training. For the dragon gods, they don't just assign magic skills to their followers, but allow them to create from their gods mana. Gabriel's mana if we're being technical. I already know from this angle, this isn't gonna end well.'

Before either of them could say anything, a shift in the atmosphere drew their attention. 

From the far end of the courtyard, a figure approached, his presence commanding yet oddly tranquil. The 6th Siren of Sugred, Joeseth, arrived with slow, deliberate steps. 

Joeseth was unlike Rye in every way. He was tall and lean, his body wrapped in a simple glowing white robe that hung loosely around his waist, leaving his chest bare. His bushy, unkempt hair was a mix of brown and white, wild and untamed, giving him a disheveled appearance. Around his hands, glowing yellow strands of light coiled like living ribbons, occasionally sparking with golden energy. His face was serene, a tranquil smile spreading across his lips, but his most striking feature was his eyes—red crystals etched with intricate golden designs, their surfaces shimmering like molten jewels. 

Despite his peaceful demeanor, there was an undercurrent of menace in the way he moved, as though he could unleash unspeakable destruction with a single gesture. 

"Children," Joeseth said, his voice smooth and calm, yet carrying an undeniable weight that silenced the courtyard. "You have been taught the importance of light. Today, you will wield it. Your task is simple: one shot, one kill. Harness your mana. Strike true. Prove that you are worthy of Lancelot's guidance. These witches are a part of a coven. They use their dark magic that goddess of darkness Yuuna spread many years ago, and they have successfully manifested it to their own will! Selling their souls to the demons of Hell. It's her fault they exist."

Yuuna gritted her teeth slightly, a low growl forming from the depths of her chest, and Xyenn slightly reached out and put his hand on her hand.

Down below the children nodded in unison, their glowing eyes fixed on the witches before them. 

Joeseth's tranquil smile remained as he gestured with a slight wave of his hand. "Begin." 

The first child stepped forward, a young girl with short, curly hair and a faintly trembling halo above her head. She extended her hands, golden light pooling between them as she concentrated. Her breathing was steady, her expression calm. The light coalesced into a spear-like form, jagged and raw, but powerful. With a soft grunt, she thrust her hands forward, and the spear shot through the air, piercing the chest of the witch before her. 

The witch let out a gurgling scream, blood spraying from the wound as the spear exploded inside her, tearing her torso apart in a grotesque display of gore and viscera. The girl flinched slightly but kept her composure, stepping back silently as the clerics nodded approvingly. 

'Yes! I did it!'

The second child, a boy with sharp features and a determined gaze, wasted no time. His hands moved quickly, weaving a complex series of runes in the air. The runes glowed brightly before shattering into shards of light that rained down on the witch in front of him. The shards tore into her flesh, ripping her apart in a spray of blood and shredded skin. 

Yuuna's stomach churned, but she forced herself to remain still, her golden eyes fixed on the scene. 'This is insane. They're just kids…'

'Vulnerable and fragile children being taught how to kill at an early age..in brutal fashion. Witches are bad, yeah. But forcing them to kill without letting them experience life more first and the world of Kyrrin…fuck..'

The third child, a quiet girl with long, silvery hair, seemed hesitant at first. But when she stepped forward, her light magic was precise and devastating. She formed a glowing whip in her hands, snapping it forward with surprising force. The whip wrapped around the witch's neck, and with a sharp pull, the child decapitated her target in one brutal motion. Blood gushed from the stump of the witch's neck as her head rolled to the ground, her lifeless body collapsing moments later. 

The fourth child, a small boy with wide, innocent eyes, hesitated for a fraction of a second before extending his hands. His magic was raw, unrefined, but powerful. A burst of light erupted from his palms, vaporizing the upper half of the witch in front of him. The remains of her body fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath it as the boy stepped back, his face pale but determined. 

"Oh yeah! I-I got her!"

Joeseth said, "Do not celebrate, child. In a real fight, that celebration would've caused your early demise."

"Yes, Siren Joeseth."

The final child stepped forward, a young boy with short, messy hair and a nervous expression. He raised his trembling hands, golden light flickering weakly between them. The witch before him, a woman with hollow eyes and a gaunt face, stared at him silently, her chains rattling faintly as she trembled. 

And the witch exclaimed, "I'm glad I've done what I've done! These fucking dragon gods ruining peoples lives. At least we stepped up! Go ahead and do it, brat. You're only scarring yourself!"

The boy released a burst of light, but it struck the witch's shoulder instead of her chest. The attack tore through her flesh, leaving a brutal, gaping wound, but she was still alive. She let out a guttural scream, her body convulsing as blood poured from the wound. 

The boy froze, panic flashing across his face. 

"I-I can't do it.."

Joeseth stepped behind him, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. His tranquil smile remained, but his voice was low and steady. "Do not hesitate. Your light is your strength. Focus. End her suffering. She will join her whores of darkness."

The boy nodded shakily, his breathing uneven as he raised his hands again. This time, he formed a glowing orb of light, its edges crackling with unstable energy. He hurled it at the witch, and it struck her midsection, blowing a chunk out of her abdomen. 

The witch screamed louder, her voice raw and agonized. Blood splattered across the courtyard as she writhed in her chains. 

"Keep going, brat! Turn into the killer they want! Destroy the darkness!" The witch laughed.

The boy's hands trembled violently, tears welling in his eyes as he tried again. 

'Destroy the darkness..' Another burst of light struck the witch, tearing another piece of her body apart, but she still clung to life, her screams growing weaker but no less horrifying. 

"Finish it," Joeseth said softly, his hand still on the boy's shoulder. 

"Haha! Finish it!" The witch screamed.

The boy let out a scream of his own, raw and desperate, as he unleashed one final blast of magic. The light engulfed the witch, disintegrating her body in a grotesque explosion of blood and gore. When the light faded, nothing remained of her but a smoldering stain on the ground. 

The courtyard was silent for a moment before the clerics and children began to clap, their applause echoing across the floating city. 

The boy collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his face. Joeseth knelt beside him, his tranquil smile unwavering. "Well done," he said softly. "Lancelot is proud of you." 

When Xyenn saw the condition of the boy, he thought of himself in the arena, dropped to his knees covered in blood and face streaked with tears.

He shook his head, and focused.

The courtyard fell into a tranquil silence after the clapping subsided, the golden light of the Land of Sovereignty shimmering faintly in the air. Rye stood next to Xyenn and Yuuna, her glowing wings folding neatly behind her as she cast a glance toward Joeseth, who remained by the children. His tranquil smile never faltered as he quietly observed the scene. 

"The 6th Siren," Rye began, her voice soft but commanding, "is unlike the rest of us." 

Yuuna tilted her head, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. "He seems... different. Peaceful almost, but terrifying at the same time." 

Rye nodded, her gaze lingering on Joeseth. "Joeseth is known for his calm demeanor, a trait many mistake for weakness. But make no mistake—his power is unmatched by anyone beneath Sugred himself. His skill with Lancelot's mana is extraordinary, his creativity in weaving spells as fluid as the light he commands. His eyes—those red crystals—are a permanent transformation from his battles with some of the most dangerous witches in history." 

Xyenn crossed his arms, his golden eye narrowing as he studied Joeseth from a distance. "If he's that strong, why isn't he the first Siren?" 

Rye turned back to them, her expression neutral. "The Sirens are not ranked solely by power, like I mentioned earlier. Experience, loyalty, and history with Sugred and Lancelot all play a role. The First Siren has been with Sugred since the beginning, from the days of King Samuel, the first vessel of Lancelot. Joeseth, though powerful, joined many years later." 

Yuuna crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "I thought the Sirens stayed close to Sugred. Why is he out here with the children?" 

Rye smiled faintly, tilting her head toward the glowing spires in the distance. "We are always close to Sugred. However, when Sugred and Lancelot are in a meeting with the elder dragon gods, even we are forbidden to disturb him." 

Xyenn's eyebrow arched slightly. "Elder dragon gods?" 

"Lancelot is but one of many," Rye explained. "Many older dragon gods that are pretty ancient, alongside others—gather for matters beyond our comprehension. During these times, the Sirens are tasked with maintaining order and ensuring that nothing interferes with Sugred's focus." 

Yuuna's voice was quieter now, her tone cautious. "So, how do you approach Sugred's domain if he's… occupied?" 

Rye's expression grew more serious. "We may approach the domain, but we cannot enter until the gates open. Only when the meeting concludes will we be permitted to stand in his presence." 

Inside Sugred's domain, the air shimmered with a surreal brilliance, as though the pocket dimension itself was alive. The space was vast yet intimate, a dreamlike expanse where the boundaries of sky and ground blurred into one. The floor was a mirror-like surface of glowing white and gold, reflecting the figures within in perfect detail. Above them, a swirling sky of soft blues and purples seemed to stretch infinitely, dotted with faint stars that pulsed gently. 

Sugred floated in the center of this space, his presence both tranquil and menacing. His shoulder-length red hair was messy and wild, strands often falling across his pale face. Two bright white horns curved upward from his head, their surfaces faintly etched with glowing runes. His eyes were pure white, devoid of pupils, giving him an otherworldly appearance. In the center of his forehead, a vertical third eye glowed faintly gold, its presence both unsettling and mesmerizing. 

He wore a loose, flowing garment that seemed to be made of light itself, its edges flickering and shifting like flame. He hovered effortlessly, his posture relaxed but his aura oppressive, filling the space with a weight that made it difficult to breathe. 

Beside him was Lancelot, the dragon god of light. Lancelot's form was massive, his body a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship. His scales were a blinding white, each one radiating a soft golden glow. His wings, enormous and majestic, spread wide, their edges lined with radiant feathers that shifted between hues of gold and silver. His eyes were pools of molten light, their gaze piercing and absolute. A glowing crest of horns adorned his head, their intricate patterns flowing like liquid gold. 

Lancelot, the Dragon God of Light, was an awe-inspiring embodiment of divine power and celestial beauty. His form radiated an overwhelming brilliance that seemed almost impossible to look at directly, his presence filling the air with a hum of energy that resonated deep within the soul. His body was enormous, towering like a living mountain of light and majesty. His scales were pure white, each one perfectly smooth and polished, glowing faintly with an inner luminance. But they weren't uniform; each scale carried faint golden veins that pulsed slowly, like the heartbeat of an ancient star. As he moved, his scales refracted the light, creating shimmering halos that danced around his form, making him seem both solid and ethereal. 

His wings were impossibly vast, spanning so far that they seemed to stretch into the horizon of any space they occupied. Unlike typical dragon wings, his were made up of radiant, feather-like structures—each feather intricately detailed, long and sharp, glowing with alternating hues of white and gold. The edges of his wings were lined with a fine, shimmering dust that sparkled like the remnants of a dying star, trailing faint golden streaks of light whenever he moved. His head was a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship. His elongated snout was regal and sharp, his jawline accented by glowing runes etched into his skin—a language of light that seemed to shift and rearrange itself with meaning far beyond mortal comprehension. His eyes were his most striking feature: twin orbs of molten gold, swirling endlessly like galaxies caught in an eternal dance. They seemed to pierce through anything they gazed upon, revealing truths and secrets hidden beneath the surface. 

Adorning his head was a crown of glowing horns, a crest that extended backward in a series of elegant, spiraling arcs. The horns were translucent, their cores glowing with liquid gold that flowed in intricate patterns, resembling rivers of light. Between the horns, a faint halo hovered, its edges rippling like the surface of a calm lake touched by moonlight. 

His neck was long and graceful, adorned with flowing streams of light that cascaded down like radiant ribbons. These streams pulsed gently, as if channeling raw mana from his core. Along his neck and down his spine, glowing spines extended outward, each one sharp yet delicate, almost crystalline in appearance. 

Lancelot's limbs were thick and muscular, exuding a sense of both grace and raw power. His claws were long and sharp, but instead of appearing menacing, they glowed faintly with a soft golden light, as if even his tools of destruction were meant to create beauty. His forearms were encased in intricate golden markings, almost like bracers, that seemed to shift and ripple with his movements. 

His tail was long, flexible, and adorned with glowing scales that grew brighter toward the tip. The end of his tail split into a fan-like structure, resembling a radiant sunburst with sharp edges that shimmered with golden fire. 

Finally, his chest—the core of his divine form—was where his power was most concentrated. Embedded deep within the center of his chest was a radiant crystal, the Heart of Lancelot. It pulsed like a living star, its light spilling outward in faint beams that seemed to ripple through the air. Around the crystal, glowing veins extended outward, connecting to the rest of his body like a vast network of divine energy. 

Every breath he took was a symphony of light and sound, a faint hum that resonated with the rhythm of the universe itself. His presence was both calming and overwhelming, a reminder that he was not simply a dragon—he was a god, a being of infinite power and purpose. 

Lancelot's very existence seemed to blur the line between physical and spiritual, as if he existed on multiple planes of reality at once. To stand in his presence was to feel the weight of eternity pressing down upon you, to feel insignificant and yet uplifted by the light of his gaze. He was a being that inspired reverence, fear, and awe all at once—a creature of perfect balance, embodying the pure, unyielding light of creation.

Sevyini, the dragon goddess of the moon, stood across from them, her presence equally commanding. Her skin was a soft light blue, glowing faintly like the moon's reflection on water. She was tall and imposing, with an ethereal grace that made her movements seem like a slow, deliberate dance. Her gown was majestic, woven from shimmering light and adorned with silver and sapphire accents that rippled like waves. A glowing halo of pale blue light hovered above her head, and her eyes, also light blue, were framed by dark blue tattoos that cascaded down her cheeks like tears. Her multiple arms moved effortlessly, each one radiating power and elegance. 

The three figures stood in perfect balance, their energies intertwining and filling the pocket dimension with a quiet hum of overwhelming power. 

Sugred said, "Ugh. Where are the others?"

Lancelot replied, "Patience. No need to be—."

"—In a rush? I've done enough waiting."

'The ritual is almost complete. This could've waited.'

Sevyini replied, "Freina is..well have you heard?"

"What do you know? Who told you?"

"Orin did. He told me she was going crazy again. And now she's not listening to the other elders."

Sugred sighed, "Let me guess, she's going after Yuuna and her little vessel after we told her NOT to? Could she not be more foolish?"

Lancelot added, "She fears the Cycle like most of those dragon gods, she was always the one to have rushed plans during the meetings. She couldn't take it anymore it seems."

Sugred pointed at Sevyini, "Orin has always been sneaky. Why did he tell you and not us?"

"I don't know, Sugred. And please do not point at me."

Lancelot scoffed softly, "Sugred is not yours to command, Sevyini of the Moon."

"I may not be an elder, but I will not be controlled like your other elders tried."

"If I aim to control you, I would in a heartbeat. But if you came here yourself, that means you have something we want."

"The Ohnupilath Tree. It's becoming…corrupted. Orin mentioned you would need me for it."

"That's something I already know. The tree from the base is rotting, rotting with shadows."

Sugred said, "—It was Yuuna. She did so much in her evil reign—."

Lancelot shook his head, "Silence, Sugred. Do not interrupt when I am talking. Do not forget that I have no emotions for you whatsoever. You became my vessel off a whim, King Samuel will always be my First Vessel. Even after hundreds of years, you cannot compare to him. You got power like you wanted, I gave it to you. Not emotions. Sugred looked after you for years, taught you the ways of light. But you still have long ways to go."

Sugred indeed had shut up, but scoffed silently.

Lancelot looked at Sevyini, "Those demons..the First Monarch, one of his Monarchs invaded Kyrrin during its early stages, but it was because of him. Xlemmeth was his name. The one who battled King Samuel, and my daughter who sealed him..tch. Xlemmeth had used his dark magic to pose as King Samuel's wives. But stole the shard that teleported one to the base of the Tree. And he corrupted it with the First Monarch's blood, and that's when he battled my daughter and King Samuel, but my power is strong enough to hold it back, but not cleanse it. But you, Sevyini, you can make the process slower."

"I didn't come here to help you, Lancelot."

"If the Tree dies, you die. Everyone is dead. You would have no choice. The dragon deities are out of control as it is. King Haldrek and Ezrael are about to go to war that will negatively impact the world and might put it in an apocalyptic state. Two elder gods battling for nothing, only human desires."

"Lancelot! I-I came only to tell you to talk to the other elders. Those bastards are using my people, the Quen, to escape the Cycle. And it worked, but the dragon god of the Sun was killed by Xyenn and Yuuna. These Quen are my people. My children, I understand Freina's anger. Her main source of worship, brutally killed off. So she's taking matters into her own hands, tracing Xyenn and Yuuna's every step. So you'd understand where I'm coming from."

"If it wasn't for the fact that I need your power, I would destroy you at this moment. I was Gabriel's right hand, and I will be shown respect. But their decisions are not mine, you must take it up with them."

"Please help me find them. Point me in the right direction. I don't want to suffer the Cycle, I don't. And cursing my people..I can't allow them to keep doing this."

"Like I said, find them and confront them and be prepared to die. Or, use your magic to slow down the process of the Tree rotting, until we can unseal King Samuel."

"What can he do..?"

"His sword is within the Tree. A sword crafted by the dragon god of the Forge, with a piece of Samuel's soul in the blade itself. Samuel is the only one who can wield it, and one can cut the darkness out with it. But for him to be unsealed, Yuuna must be alive to sing the song notes to him."

"That's why you haven't ambushed her yet.."

"Yes. I need her alive. But if Freina is locating her, she is too late."

"Why is that?"

Sugred said, "Yuuna is already here."

Lancelot added with a grin towards Sevyini, "You'd think I wouldn't sense the soul of my own granddaughter? In my own realm? A direct breed from my daughter? I thought my daughter had died, until she helped King Samuel. Death was supposed to have claimed her, but apparently she didn't stay long. Her mother..was outside the realms of Kyrrin. Yuuna is here, and she can unseal King Samuel. The Tree needs to be fixed! Gabriel trusted Kyrrin in my hands, the Tree was created by me, I have a responsibility."

"What about Yuuna's vessel? Xyenn? He's a Jotyin, and if he—."

Sugred said, "Did Orin tell you that too? Got me thinking he's working with Yuuna. Maybe even working with the All Mother, the Vessels of Gabriel."

Lancelot chuckled, "The All Mother wouldn't work with an elder dragon god. They are hell bent on radiance, order, and Gabriel's perfect will. Not knowing Gabriel only created them to remind him of how radiant Kyrrin was. They were just reminders of his success."

"Why do you need me..if Yuuna is here already?"

"Don't ask questions. There's no guarantee my granddaughter can awaken King Samuel, you are my trump card to protecting the life of the Tree until we can find another solution if Yuuna cannot do it."

Sugred asked Lancelot, "Aye. What can she do for the Tree with her power?"

Sevyini said, "I—."

Lancelot interrupted, "You've done enough talking, Sevyini. It's Sugred's turn." Then he looked over at Sugred, and explained, "I know these dragon gods power better than they know them themselves:

Sevyini weaves her protection magic with the precision and beauty of celestial rhythms, binding the light of the Ohnupilath Tree to the lunar essence she commands. Her magic does not merely shield the Tree from darkness but creates a dynamic interplay between light and shadow, invoking a slow, deliberate resistance. By channeling the silvery glow of moonlight, Sevyini forms a barrier of lunar threads—each a fragment of her divine essence—that wraps around the Tree in shifting patterns. These threads act as conduits for the Tree's light, amplifying its radiance while simultaneously absorbing and neutralizing the invading darkness. The threads hum with a rhythm resembling a heartbeat, synchronized with the phases of the moon, slowing the darkness' progress by forcing it to navigate an ever-changing labyrinth of light. The corruption, unable to find a stable entry point, is caught in a perpetual struggle against the Tree's illuminated defenses, like a predator chasing prey through a forest of mirrors.

The complexity of Sevyini's magic lies in her ability to manipulate the essence of time itself, an intrinsic aspect of her lunar dominion. As the goddess of the moon, she entwines her protective magic with the waxing and waning cycles, deliberately stretching and compressing time around the Ohnupilath Tree. To the darkness, this creates a disorienting distortion, where every attempt to advance feels like centuries of futile effort. The light of the Tree, bolstered by Sevyini's presence, becomes a timeless beacon, constantly regenerating faster than the darkness can deplete it. Her magic does not simply block corruption but transforms the environment around the Tree into a battlefield where time, light, and shadow wage an eternal war. This temporal manipulation ensures that the darkness is not only slowed but gradually weakened; its own corruption begins to decay under the burden of Sevyini's timeless influence, like rot consuming itself.

Sevyini also employs the subtlety of moonlight's duality—its ability to illuminate while leaving shadows intact—to deceive and confuse the darkness. Her magic introduces illusions within the Tree's light, creating false vulnerabilities that draw the corruption into traps. These traps, formed from condensed lunar energy, collapse inward the moment darkness touches them, fragmenting its essence and scattering it harmlessly into the aether. At the same time, the Ohnupilath Tree, infused with Sevyini's power, learns to adapt and evolve, its roots and branches shifting to mirror the moon's cycles. The Tree grows an intrinsic resistance, its light pulsing with the goddess's resolve, becoming a living extension of her will. In essence, Sevyini's protection magic transforms the Ohnupilath Tree into a beacon of defiance—a radiant monument that, under her guardianship, can endure the encroaching darkness for a little bit of time. Hopefully enough time to hold it back. Just in case Yuuna cannot do this."

Sugred said, "Ah."

Sevyini said, "Please! I'll do it only if—."

Lancelot threatened, "—Only if what?"

Sevyini didn't say anything, she merely looked down.

'Lancelot. Orin told me as an elder dragon god, he knows the weakness of every draconic deity, and how their magic works. I cannot win. Especially with his Vessel here. Sugred, despite being a vessel, can defeat me. My Quen…my people..my followers…I tried to stand in for you all, but I'm faced with impossible odds. But I won't give up.'

Sevyini said, "Okay. I will help."

"Great! Also, if you see Orin, tell him his end will come. He cannot be trusted. Like those damned Prophets. They've been silent for weeks. I guess I scared them too."

As the meeting concluded, Lancelot's massive form began to swirl and shift, his radiant body dissolving into streams of golden light. The light funneled toward Sugred, coiling around his outstretched hand before vanishing into his palm. Sugred's horns gleamed faintly as his eyes flickered with a brief golden glow. 

The pocket dimension dissipated, and Sugred reappeared in his throne room. 

The throne room was vast and imposing, a fusion of beauty and menace. The walls were made of a translucent material that shimmered like crystal, etched with glowing runes that pulsed in a steady rhythm. Golden light streamed in from massive arching windows that seemed to open into an infinite sky. 

Sugred's throne itself was carved from a single piece of radiant stone, its surface smooth and glowing faintly. The back of the throne was adorned with intricate patterns that resembled the wings of a dragon, and at its base, streams of golden light flowed like rivers, pooling into a glowing moat that surrounded the dais. 

Sugred sat back on his throne, resting his elbow on the armrest and pressing his hand to his face. His expression was calm, but his golden third eye glowed faintly, a sign of his deeper thoughts. 

"This is why this must happen fast," he muttered to himself, his voice low and deliberate. "We're close…" 

'Tch! That fucking Lancelot..he doesn't know about the ritual..if King Samuel is awakened before the ritual succeeds, the ancient bastard will stop the ritual. He's not omnipresent, so he is not everywhere at once. I don't want Yuuna unsealing Samuel. I'm treated as trash by Lancelot, but never by Samuel. I will open Hell and conquer it! I'm not a Jotyin, but I'm an elder vessel. I'm even better than them! If I do this, I will be taken seriously. I made the light what it is. I've been a vessel longer than King Samuel was. I even offered my past wife Illyana to Lancelot. I've devoted everything to the light just to prove myself. Why? King Samuel..it's what he told me to protect. I'll destroy anything—I'll do anything to make myself on par with a Jotyin! Conquering hell now, would get rid of the darkness forever. I can give the Clerics the promised Holy Land. The light and their faith will be the fruits of their labor, which is the holy land. I will convert Hell into another Land of Sovereignty. There will be no more darkness, no more damned witches! These clerics yearn for the Holy Land I promised, and I will deliver. Lancelot will have no choice but to acknowledge me and my efforts. King Samuel can be unsealed after. Then he will do the same..'

The massive double doors to the throne room creaked open, their golden surfaces reflecting the light of the chamber. Rye entered first, her wings folded neatly behind her as she bowed deeply. Behind her, Xyenn and Yuuna followed, their expressions composed as they stepped forward. 

"Lord Sugred," Rye began, her voice steady but reverent, "allow me to introduce Trevor and Alice. They are outsiders who have proven themselves worthy of entering the Land of Sovereignty." 

Sugred's white eyes flickered toward them, his tranquil smile curving into something sharper. "Rye," he said, his tone calm but laced with a subtle menace, "you're not being cautious when you're letting people into our land, no matter if they have light magic or not." 

His gaze lingered on Xyenn and Yuuna as he added, "Especially ones with such… weak light magic." 

Rye immediately dropped to one knee, her head bowed low. "My lord, forgive me. I should have been more cautious. But Trevor and Alice have proven themselves—they defeated me in battle and took the Tunnel of Light, which means—" 

Sugred's grin widened, his horns gleaming faintly. In a blink, he vanished, reappearing directly in front of Xyenn and Yuuna. The speed of his movement sent a sharp gust of wind through the chamber, the force rattling the glowing runes on the walls. 

Sugred's white eyes bored into Xyenn and Yuuna, his presence suffocating as he tilted his head slightly, his grin never faltering. "Tell me," he said softly, his tone almost playful but dripping with menace, "how did you kill them?"