Oracle, Reflection and Sinner

Night draped Beauté du Passé in a gentle, star-speckled hush. A week had passed since the battle, and the district had risen from its ruin, restored to its former brilliance. Golden lights illuminated cobblestone streets, laughter and music spilled from open windows, and the scent of fresh bread and spices drifted through the air.

The city had healed.

Of course, such a rapid transformation hadn't been natural. The district's revival was only possible thanks to those with utility aspects—awakeneds who had shaped stone, bent metal, and woven energy into structure. Without them, it would have taken months, even years, to undo the damage. But here they were. A week later. As if nothing had ever happened.

And now, in the heart of their reclaimed home, the Zakharovs gathered.

The dining hall was a vision of old-world aristocracy—grand, opulent, yet touched with a warmth that made it theirs. The walls were adorned with masterful artworks, oil paintings capturing figures of myth and history, their gazes frozen in time. The chandelier overhead, a cascade of crystal and golden light, shimmered softly against the dark mahogany ceiling.

At the center of it all sat a long, imposing table, carved from black oak. Real wood. A rarity in this world.

Each sibling had their seat. Plates filled, glasses poured. The scent of rich meats, spiced wines, and freshly baked bread wove through the air, mingling with the soft glow of candlelight.

Then, Klaus rose.

His amethyst eyes, filled with something deeper than mischief, swept over his family. A rare moment of sincerity settled in his expression as he lifted his cup, a warm smile playing at his lips.

"A wise man once said… Family doesn't end with blood, but it doesn't begin there either."

The room fell silent, every sibling listening.

"Family is more than what you can offer them. It's about loyalty—about standing beside each other, no matter what. Through the good, the bad, and everything in between. Family is the one thing that never wavers. Your constant. Your foundation. They've got your back even when it hurts. Even when it seems impossible."

Klaus exhaled, his smile deepening.

"Family isn't just important… It's everything. And I am proud to be called your brother. You lot are my greatest joy. My greatest pride."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then—

Then—glasses clinked together, smiles breaking across battle-worn faces.

A toast. A celebration. A homecoming.

This place was something they've built. It was their home and as well their pride.

____

Cassia awoke to the familiar sounds of her home—soft murmurs from the kitchen, the distant clatter of dishes, and the rhythmic footsteps of her parents moving about. They were trying. Trying so hard to make everything feel normal. To make her feel safe, relaxed, happy.

But she couldn't.

Because every time she closed her eyes, she saw it.

Blood. Carnage. Endless death.

Everyone she loved—gone. Her parents, her friends, herself... all reduced to corpses in the ever-turning gears of fate. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how desperately she searched for a different path, the outcome was always the same.

But there was one anomaly.

Klaus.

No matter what she did, she could not see him. Not in the past. Not in the future. His existence rejected any attempt to be known, as if the threads of fate themselves recoiled from him. Even Nephis, with her unwavering will to shatter the Nightmare Spell, still played within fate's rules. Sunny, for all his defiance, was still chained. And Cassia...

Cassia was shackled just as they were.

But Klaus wasn't.

It was in his nature. To be unbound. To be unchained. To stand above all and spit in the face of control.

She had met him only a handful of times, and each encounter had been... unlike anything else. Klaus was pleasant, uniquely alive in a way most powerful people weren't. He was devastating, confident, dangerous—and yet, he treated her like she was something precious.

"You deserve to be happy, Cassia. To be satisfied. You could do so much more—see the world, enjoy life."

She had wanted to believe him. But could she?

When the future promised nothing but tragedy?

When her choices had left Nephis trapped in the Dream Realm, with no way out?

When she had made Sunny slave, and now, he hated her for it?

Cassia exhaled, pressing a hand to her temple. What would Klaus say if he were here?

Probably something like— "What kind of bullshit is that?"

A small, involuntary smile touched her lips.

Someone who had never once allowed fate to dictate his path.

How beautiful.

But then, something shifted.

Her visions were not supposed to change.

And yet, they had.

She had seen it before—Sunny, battling an Ascended Reflection on Reckoning Island. Claiming Cruel Sight, a powerful weapon, and obtaining a mirror shard that connected him to Mordret. Mordret, in turn, revealed that he had been watching Sunny's journey all along, silently observing, waiting. Using the shard, he would lure Sunny to the Night Temple—and from there, he would break free from his prison.

That was how it was supposed to happen.

But now—

Now, the vision had changed.

Sunny still found the mirror shard, but now, he also discovered something else. An old scroll.

A tale. A story.

A record of seven damned Transcendent warriors, forever bound by the Sun God's will. Immortal, powerful, trapped in their duty—to keep the shackles of the Demon of Desire sealed.

The scroll's name was—Reflection of Fire.

And its author?

"The Oldest Dream."

Cassia's breath caught.

What kind of name is that? Was it an alias? Or was it a true name?

She knew Sunny. He wouldn't ignore something like this. He was curious. He needed information about the Nightmare, and the scroll had that information. He would seek the second part.

But why?

How had the future changed?

Was it because of Klaus?

If so...

Did that mean he and Mordret knew each other?

Cassia clenched her fists, uncertainty gnawing at her mind.

She didn't know and that terrified her. It made her feel like same weak, blind girl she was before.

___

Mordret watched with quiet amusement as Sunny continued his endless plunge into the abyss beneath the Chain Isles. The poor guy had been falling for... what, weeks now?

It was almost funny.

But humor wasn't the reason Mordret maintained his friendly and harmless act. No, no. Sunny was his key to freedom. And knowing how utterly paranoid the boy was, Mordret had to play his role with utmost care—subtlety, deception, and patience.

And oh, how patient he was.

Soon… soon, he would be free.

His thoughts were interrupted by Sunny's groan, followed by an exasperated curse.

"Damnation! I've been falling for... weeks?! Damn it!" He flailed his arms dramatically, as if that would somehow slow his descent. Then he paused and narrowed his eyes. "Hey, your highness... you there? Hey!?"

Mordret sighed—well, he couldn't really sigh given his current lack of a body but the sentiment was there.

"What is it?"

Sunny grinned, holding up an old scroll with a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me what this is?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock politeness. "Someone of your exalted status should know many things, correct? What's this about seven transcendent warriors? A Sun God? A Demon of Desire and her shackles? And more importantly... who the hell is Oldest Dream?"

Mordret went still.

Ah… this old scroll. So that's how it was.

He had been carefully nudging Sunny toward the Night Temple all this time, planting seeds of deception, ensuring that the paranoid bastard would go exactly where he needed to. But now... it seemed that wasn't even necessary. His old friend had already set things in motion.

That clownish bastard...

Mordret chuckled—or at least, he would have if he still had vocal cords. Instead, his voice drifted lazily into Sunny's mind, carrying an air of amusement.

"Hmm… Oldest Dream, you say? You could say he was a rather powerful and knowledgeable creature."

Sunny's brow twitched. "That's not an answer."

"Patience, dear Sunless."

Mordret continued, ignoring the growing irritation on the other end.

"Not much is known about him, but I do recall one of his many names…" A pause, then a hum of amusement. "Ah, yes. He called himself The Original Sinner."

Sunny's mouth twitched. "...The what now?"

"Oh, and that scroll? That is history, my friend." Mordret's tone was maddeningly casual. "I don't know everything about it, but if it was written by that Abomination, it must be very important."

Sunny's patience was wearing thin.

"And who exactly was this Abomination?"

"A scholar, of sorts. A walking library, really."

Sunny stared at the reflection, unimpressed. His fingers twitched, as if he was debating whether or not to throw the scroll just out of spite.

"So let me get this straight," he said slowly, his voice dangerously calm. "The Oldest Dream is also the Original Sinner, who was also an Abomination, but also a scholar?!"

"See? You are capable of putting pieces together!" Mordret praised.

Sunny inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to scream.

"Fine, fine… Then what about the history part? How are these Transcendent warriors the Demon of Desire's shackles?"

Silence.

Sunny blinked.

Silence.

He stared at the mirror shard, then grit his teeth.

"...Hello?"

Still nothing.

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his expression slowly turned from confusion to frustration.

"You son of a—did you disappear again?!"

His voice echoed into the abyss. No response.

Sunny groaned in defeat and took a huge bite of raw abomination meat, chewing aggressively.

"Screw you, you smug bastard."