Seventy-Nine: Coming conflicts

Astraeus Tower

Starlight Headquarters

Orbital space station

Agartha, Anu Solar system

Divine Federation

Karkinos 10th Y-1909

Admiral Willcock stood in his office, his gaze fixed on the expanse beyond the reinforced viewport. The stars shimmered in the abyss of space, but his focus remained on the countless figures moving about the corridors of Astraeus Tower, the Divine Federation's premier orbital space station. Designed as both a bastion of celestial governance and a hub of scientific and military coordination, the station was a masterpiece of Pleiadian engineering. Its colossal structure spanned miles, with interlocking rings and towering spires illuminated by radiant blue energy conduits, pulsating like the lifeblood of a living entity. Massive docking bays extended outward, housing fleets of Federation warships, patrol vessels, and trade carriers, while the central command dome, a gleaming construct of gold and silver alloys, loomed as the heart of Astraeus Tower's operational might.

Beyond the grandeur of its architecture, the station was a melting pot of the Federation's many races. Admiral Willcock observed his fellow Pleiadians stationed throughout the facility—many were Paladins of Starlight, elite warriors sworn to protect the Divine Mandate. Yet, not all Pleiadians were awakened to their celestial gifts, and those who lacked the blessings of ascension served in other crucial roles—engineers, researchers, administrators, and diplomats. Their work ensured the continued stability of Astraeus Tower, a duty no less honorable than wielding a blade in battle.

Interspersed among them were non-Pleiadian citizens of the Federation—humans, elves, daemons, and even a few enlightened automatons. While the Federation was a vast empire that embraced many races under the Divine Emperor's rule, Willcock could not help but notice a quiet divide. The station's occupants often gravitated toward their own kind, forming invisible lines of separation despite their shared allegiance. The sight weighed heavily on him. He had seen this pattern before, a lingering prejudice hidden beneath the surface of unity.

He sighed. Segregation, though unofficial, was still present in the Federation, and it was something he loathed. He had dedicated his life to upholding the ideals of the Divine Mandate—not just through strength, but through wisdom, diplomacy, and justice. He was not like the zealots of the Purist faction who saw war as the only means to enforce order. He believed there was another way. Peace did not have to be bought with blood; stability did not have to be forged through endless conflict.

That was what set him apart from figures like Mallus and his faction, whose philosophy rested upon domination through force. Mallus saw war as an inevitability, a necessity to maintain the Federation's supremacy, whereas Willcock saw it as a failure—a failure to negotiate, to understand, to unite.

His thoughts drifted back to Astraeus Tower itself, a marvel of order and precision, yet beneath its polished surface, tensions simmered. It was his duty to navigate these delicate balances, to find a path forward that did not lead to ruin. For as much as he loved the Federation, he feared what it might become if war continued to be its only answer.

Willcock turned his attention to his Zodiak tab, a sleek, rectangular device embedded with intricate celestial engravings, its surface glowing faintly with a soft azure light. It was his primary communication link, a direct connection to the operatives under his command. A single message notification blinked on the interface—Meridien.

It had been a while since he had assigned her to the mission in Litvain, and this was the first message he had received from her. He exhaled slowly, leaning against his desk as he prepared himself for whatever update she had to offer.

If anyone could handle the situation there, it was her. He trusted her, even if she was often a headache to work with. Meridien was an enigma, a contradiction of traits that made her both infuriating and invaluable. She was the most self-serving person he had ever known, driven by an almost obsessive need to shape the world to fit her ideals. And yet, paradoxically, she cared for others—but only when their well-being aligned with her ambitions.

Meri believed in justice, but it was a justice dictated by her unwavering perspective. If she deemed something unfair, she would burn the entire system down to rebuild it in her image. That unrelenting determination was what made her the perfect hunting dog for the Jaeger Corp, and why Willcock had chosen her for this mission. She got results. But at what cost?

He tapped the notification, his expression unreadable as the message unfolded before him. He read it once, then again, ensuring he had understood its contents correctly. A slow exhale escaped him, the weight of the revelation settling upon his shoulders. The message was more significant than he had anticipated.

Knight Isarus had uncovered something monumental in Lamentias. However, according to Meridien, he would not be delivering that information himself—because she had found him dead. His body, lifeless and discarded, was now a grim testament to the danger lurking in the shadows.

Yet, despite the tragedy, Meridien had managed to recover the intel he had uncovered before his demise. Now, the responsibility fell on her to deliver it safely. Willcock knew the risks of transmitting such sensitive information through conventional channels—there was always the chance it could be intercepted, altered, or worse, weaponized against them. The only way to ensure its integrity was for her to bring it back personally.

He leaned back, fingers tightening around the Zodiak tab as his mind raced. Litvain was already a volatile sector, and now, with the death of Knight Isarus and the unknown forces at play, it was clear that something far greater was unfolding. And Meridien, as always, was at the center of it.

A faint rustle behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to see Julia Haravok seated behind his desk, her posture regal yet eerily relaxed. Draped in a golden cassock robe, the fabric shimmered under the dim lighting, the embroidery catching glints of ethereal luminescence. A delicate white veil cascaded over her face, obscuring her features save for the outline of piercing eyes that studied him with quiet intensity.

Willcock regarded her carefully, reminded that Julia had never been a believer in the Annunaki religion. Her faith lay elsewhere—rooted in the traditions of her clan's ancestral goddess. She was a Witch, after all, an identity that made her presence in the Divine Federation an anomaly. The only reason she had been accepted within its rigid hierarchy was due to her extraordinary abilities and her marriage to the esteemed Haravok family.

Even so, she was tolerated rather than embraced, an outlier walking the fine line between a revered asset and an unwanted heretic. Willcock knew that Julia was not one to waste time with pleasantries, and if she was here, it meant she had something important to discuss.

"It seems the battle in Litvain is reaching its final phase," Julia remarked, her voice carrying a knowing lilt. A mysterious smile played on her lips, the kind that hinted at knowledge beyond the reach of ordinary minds. "That girl never ceases to amaze me with her choices."

Draped in her flowing golden cassock, she exuded an almost ethereal presence, the intricate embroidery shimmering faintly under the ambient glow of the chamber. Though her face remained veiled, a subtle amusement was evident in the way she carried herself—a woman who saw far more than she let on.

Julia's clairvoyance was a gift, or perhaps a curse, that allowed her to perceive the threads of time as they wove through past, present, and future. At this very moment, her mind stretched across the vast tapestry of existence, observing events unfolding simultaneously in different places. Battles raged, alliances shifted, and destinies intertwined, all within the unseen corridors of time that she alone could navigate.

And yet, even with such an ability, there were always anomalies—those who defied the script of fate. That girl, in particular, had a penchant for disrupting expectations. Julia's smile widened, a flicker of intrigue dancing behind the veil. Some stories were far more interesting when left unwritten.

"I assume you're speaking of Meri," Admiral Wilcock said, his tone measured yet laced with curiosity. His sharp gaze locked onto Julia, searching for hints of what she knew but would not yet reveal. "Did you see the intel she's bringing?"

Julia let out a soft chuckle, a sound as enigmatic as the woman herself. "I have," she admitted, tilting her head slightly as if considering whether to share more. "I could tell you, but where's the fun in that? I think it would be far more interesting for you to experience what she's about to do firsthand."

Beneath the delicate veil that concealed her face, Julia's mind drifted, shifting her awareness to the unfolding events in Terra. Her consciousness danced across space and time, settling upon the intricate weavings of her design.

Samantha Sinclair was ascending. The moment had finally come. Her mind had encountered the spell Julia had placed within the ancient seal, a trigger woven from layers of arcane precision. The process was progressing exactly as predicted—the puzzle pieces falling into place, guided by the unseen hand of fate. Or, more accurately, by Julia's own meticulous calculations.

A thousand outcomes, countless possibilities, all mapped out within the vast network of her clairvoyant mind. Even now, she was recalculating, adjusting variables, and fine-tuning the flow of events to steer them toward her desired outcome. There were, of course, anomalies—unforeseen disruptions that could not be accounted for with absolute certainty. Some might have seen them as miscalculations, but to Julia, they were merely fluctuations within a controlled system.

Regret? No, she felt none. The cost of her actions, the ripples they created—these were inevitabilities, not burdens. The game was still hers to control, the board moving as she dictated. And as long as the pieces fell in line, Julia saw no need for remorse.

"Well, I suppose so," Admiral Wilcock admitted, his voice carrying the weight of growing concern. His hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the endless void beyond the viewport. The distant glow of Agartha shimmered in the darkness, a world unknown to the chaos that was happening in the galaxy. "But still, the situation has reached a troubling phase." His expression hardened as he turned back toward Julia. "Mallus and his forces are already en route to Terra. They intend to cleanse it. If they succeed, it will be more than just another conquest—it will ignite a war with the Genesis Empire. Adonis Yesh will not tolerate the Federation's aggression. Terra belongs to his partner, Phoebe Yesh."

Julia remained seated, unbothered, her golden cassock glistening faintly as she shifted. "The Yesh is already aware of Sector Zero's arrival," she said, her voice as smooth and unwavering as ever. "Plans are already in place to intercept them."

Yet even as she spoke those words, her mind traveled beyond the present moment, beyond the limitations of simple foresight. She had seen what Mallus had in store. His movements were not reckless but calculated, his strategy honed by a mind that understood warfare in ways few could fathom. And worse still, there was something else—something beyond his machinations.

The Divine Emperor's influence loomed over him, his presence manifesting in a way that could not be ignored. Julia had observed the divine intervention aura surrounding Mallus before, but now, it burned brighter than ever, pulsing like a celestial beacon of unwavering authority. The implications were unsettling. If the Divine Emperor was truly aiding Mallus, then all the careful plans set against him might crumble before they could even take root.

Still, Julia did not waver. Even with the unforeseen shifting of divine hands in the game, she was always adapting, always recalculating. And while the future was never fixed, she intended to ensure that it still bent toward the outcome she desired.

****

After concluding her meeting with the Admiral, Julia Haravok stepped into the pressurized tube that linked her spaceship to Astraeus Tower. The corridor pulsed with soft blue lights, guiding her path through the sterile metallic structure. The gentle hum of energy coursing through the reinforced walls resonated faintly in the silence, broken only by the measured footsteps of her escort.

Her guards flanked her on all sides, an elite force of both Pleiadians and humans, their presence an unspoken declaration of her influence. The Pleiadians bore the proud insignia of the House of Leo, her husband's noble lineage, their golden armor reflecting the artificial glow of the station. Their features were sharp, their movements disciplined, each carrying themselves with the unshakable poise of Starlight warriors.

The humans, in contrast, hailed from the Delphi Clan, Julia's own bloodline, a lineage of ancient mystics feared and revered in equal measure. Unlike most mortals of the Federation, they were Awakened, their souls infused with the arcane mysteries of witchcraft. Cloaked in dark robes woven with celestial patterns, they exuded an eerie presence, the air around them thick with unseen forces.

Though vastly different in heritage, her guards shared one defining trait—they were all seasoned warriors, battle-hardened and capable of feats that transcended the limitations of their own realm. Their existence was a testament to their training, their bloodlines, and the power they wielded.

Julia walked forward, unhurried, her golden cassock flowing behind her like liquid light. Every step echoed with purpose. Though she appeared serene, her mind was ever-calculating, already working through the intricate web of events unfolding across the stars. The war was coming, and she would ensure that when the pieces fell, they did so in her favor.

As Julia stepped into the heart of her ship, the atmosphere shifted—warmer, yet still imbued with the arcane undertones of power that followed her wherever she went. The interior was a blend of elegance and utility, dark metallic surfaces woven with golden etchings of ancient sigils, pulsating faintly with a soft, rhythmic glow. It was less a vessel and more a sanctum, a floating temple of mysticism and precision-engineered machinery.

Waiting for her in the center of the chamber was another Witch, draped in dark golden cassock robes similar to Julia's, though the subtle design differences marked her as a subordinate. The fabric shimmered under the soft ambient lighting, its intricate embroidery hinting at layers of enchantments woven into its very threads. A delicate veil concealed her face, but Julia had no need for sight to recognize her. Even through the fabric, she could make out the contours of the young girl's features—the high cheekbones, the sharp yet uncertain eyes, the barely restrained eagerness that came with youth and ambition.

The girl rose gracefully from the seat where she had been waiting, her movements precise, yet reverent. With measured steps, she approached, bowing her head slightly before speaking.

"Master, how was your meeting with the Admiral?" she asked, her voice smooth but tinged with curiosity.

Julia regarded her for a moment before replying. "It went well," she said, her tone composed yet laced with the weight of unfolding events. "I've warned him that there will be pushback from the Yesh—Adonis will not let the Federation's actions go unanswered. If they persist, war with the Genesis Empire will be inevitable."

She spoke with certainty, not speculation. The pieces were already in motion, and though some paths remained obscured, she knew conflict was on the horizon. Whether the Federation truly understood the magnitude of what they were provoking was another matter entirely.

Julia turned to regard her subordinate, her golden eyes gleaming with a rare flicker of acknowledgment. Aria had done well—better than most would have in her place. The weight of unseen machinations, of carefully woven fates, rested upon them both, yet Aria had upheld her role with unwavering diligence.

"You did well, Aria," Julia said, her voice softer than before, a quiet ripple of approval beneath the usual steel of command. "Watching over the Asha'Yee, ensuring that this moment comes to pass."

The younger Witch inclined her head in acknowledgment, though a shadow of regret lingered behind her veil. "Yes, Master," Aria replied, her tone measured but edged with something unspoken. "Though I regret that I didn't stay long enough to see how far she's come."

Julia studied her for a moment before speaking. "She has come far since her Awakening," she said. "And now, she is on the cusp of entering the Warrior Realm, the first step on the path to claiming the Crown."

Aria straightened, absorbing the weight of those words. "So Leon has a chance," she mused aloud.

"Yes," Julia admitted, though her voice carried no optimism. "Though it is not much."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with the gravity of what lay ahead. Julia's gaze drifted, not to the walls of her sanctum, but beyond—to the threads of fate she had spent so long weaving, bending, breaking. So much had already been sacrificed to bring them to this moment. And yet, she knew with certainty, more would have to be given.

"I've sacrificed so much to reach this stage," she murmured, almost to herself. "And it seems I'll have to sacrifice even more before this is over."