Volume V – The First Bloom
Chapter One: Beneath the Petals (Part Five)
Date: May 23, Year 204 PCR (Maelis 23)
Location: Celestis Veil – Heartbloom Summit / Petalwind Courtyard
Time: Late Morning
The three figures emerged not as guests, but as judgments.
They stepped into the Petalwind Courtyard like shadows with names.
Not one of them bowed. Not one waited for permission.
And the Pulse Eye—still hovering in its fractured triad—dimmed to let them speak.
The first to move was the one cloaked in white.
She smiled. Wide. Bright. Dangerous.
"Alright, my little bloomers—let's get one thing straight."
Sylie Voss stepped onto the platform with bare legs, a lab coat, and the kind of smirk that made instructors groan and rivals blush. Her voice dripped with playful cruelty.
"I'm not here to hold your hands. I'm here to rebuild your pulse from the inside out.
My squad doesn't flinch. We don't break. We don't wait for orders.
When the battle ends, we're the reason anyone's still breathing."
She twirled a finger in her hair, winked, and lifted her hand toward the leftmost glyph.
It pulsed soft gold and storm blue.
"We are the scalpel in the noise. The second breath when the first one fails."
She stepped forward. And the name rang out behind her like silk over steel:
"I call the Staccato Unit."
The glyph lit fully. Four names shimmered behind her:
Nima Liora Luma Elari
Sylie flicked her wrist. "Let's go, heartbeats."
The four stepped forward, each bearing marks touched by healing, rhythm, and electric control.
Next came the figure in black.
His cloak whispered across the stone like memory woven into fabric.
Mino Seravelle didn't speak with volume. He didn't need to.
"We don't light the fire.
We move through it."
His voice was calm. Too calm. It slowed the air.
"My squad doesn't scream. We see first. We arrive second. We finish last.
You will not be praised. You will not be known.
But without you… the whole Veil would fall."
He stood beneath the middle glyph—dark jade and fractured silver.
His eyes narrowed beneath round obsidian lenses.
"I call the Cantare Unit."
The glyph responded with precision—controlled resonance.
He listed the names:
Torr Kellian Vessa Rhea
No one clapped. No one dared.
The four stepped forward, quiet as breath between verses.
Then… the wind shifted.
Smoke curled through the air.
The last figure stepped up—Buta Yuki.
Tank-top. Tattoos. Eyepatch. And a stare that felt like a war you already lost.
He didn't speak at first. He just looked at them. All of them.
His voice came like flint striking steel:
"My squad is the front line."
"We don't ask questions. We don't look back.
When the others fall, we hold the Veil."
"We bleed first.
We rise first.
And if need be… we die first."
No flourish. No gesture.
He raised his hand toward the final glyph.
It blazed—scarlet and black, cut with a rising symbol that none could name.
"I call the Legato Unit."
The names followed—not shouted, but etched:
Zephryn Selka Kaelen Yolti
The crowd stirred.
Some in awe. Some in fear.
But the Pulse Eye was silent.
The squads were chosen.
The glyphs had answered.