"It feels like I didn't sleep at all. Why the fuck is it so bright?"
Ayla cracked her eyes open, only to be swallowed by blur. The light burned, bending and shifting until it took the shape of a figure — no, two. One blazing, wings folded tight. One dark, a shadow that moved without sound. Both drifted closer, but their faces refused to sharpen, like someone had smudged them out of reality.
The bright one leaned in first, her glow soft but heavy, like it could press Ayla back into the floor if it wanted to.
"Be calm, dear child," the angel's voice slipped through the light, warm yet unyielding.
From the other side, the shadow scoffed, its edges writhing like smoke tasting blood.
"You just going to take orders from such a pitiful existence?" the demon's voice was velvet wrapped around broken glass.
"The only thing pitiful here," the angel's tone sharpened, wings flexing just enough to spill more blinding light, "is the horrid smell of sulfur you carry around with you, foul beast."
The shadow tried to speak, fangs bared in a grin, but the angel raised a hand.
"Enough. It's her first time in the Firmamental Void, and we should introduce ourselves!"
The angel bent to one knee, bowing with reverence.
"Dear protégé, I am thy guardian angel, Michael."
The demon mirrored the gesture, bowing low in twisted grace.
"My liege, I, Lucid Natas, am proud to finally have met you."
Ayla's vision trembled as violent waves of light and darkness collided around them. As it adjusted, she saw them clearly:
- Michael — tall, buff, golden-blond hair, clad in white-and-gold gladiator gear, wings wide and imposing, white feathers trimmed in gold.
- Lucid Natas — a beautiful, unsettling demoness; a woman's face on a red-and-purple body that seemed fused and warped, exuding a suffocating aura like the air itself had been cranked to maximum pressure.
Yet both bowed to her.
Ayla's voice trembled as she asked, "How… did I get here? And why did you bring me here?"
Michael spoke first, calm but commanding:
"You weren't born in that world, Ayla. You were sent there. Hidden. Tucked into flesh not yours. That's why your soul rejects both Heaven and Hell."
Natas added, voice like silk and steel:
"You belong to the Firmament. You are not its child, but its consequence."
"What?" she asked, heart hammering.
"You're the balance," Natas continued. "The war ends with you, or begins again because of you."
One of them — Michael, his gaze unwavering — gestured toward the endless expanse around them.
"Walk with me. I'll show you."
Ayla's eyes darted between them, lips curling with irritation.
"You expect me to do what's asked of me, and you didn't answer either of my questions! How did I get here, and why did you bring me here? Guardian angels and whatever the fuck that is," she snapped, pointing directly at Natas.
Michael's gaze remained steady, calm as ever.
"This is your soulscape, a realm only you and Sir Galan can enter. We didn't bring you here — you brought yourself here. Have you recently awakened, Madam Ayla?"
"Sir Galan? Soulscape? I guess this is me being awakened?" Ayla gestured at her body and face, eyebrows raised.
"We have a smart ass," Natas muttered, leaning against a rising cloud, the shadows of his form twisting lazily.
Michael's expression didn't change, his voice steady, patient.
"If fate hasn't brought you two together yet, you'll see who Sir Galan is in due time. But I will say this: a soulscape is your soul's home — the place where your body stores your soul. The soulscape began with you and Sir Galan. If you follow me, I can explain a small piece of why you awakened this way."
Without waiting for another word, Ayla stepped forward, letting Michael guide her toward the grey lake.
Ayla stomped forward, fists clenched.
"If you two try anything funny, I'll kill you both!"
In an instant, both Michael and Natas unleashed their Sovereign Flux. The world around her warped; the weight of their combined auras slammed into her like a tidal wave. Ayla collapsed to the ground, a high-pitched ringing shredding her ears as she clutched her head and screamed.
"You can't even handle the pressure of my aura, and you think you can kill us," they said simultaneously, their voices cutting through the roar of her own pain.
Gradually, they eased the invisible pressure, allowing her to rise shakily.
"You have a lot to learn, kid, especially if you want to have a good ending," they said, turning away and beginning to walk.
"Just wait until I'm stronger!" Ayla shouted after them, rage and frustration coiling in her chest.
They ignored her, and Ayla followed until they stopped in front of a dense grey fog.
She squinted, arms crossed, skepticism curling in her voice.
"So… what is this?"
Natas stepped closer, his aura brushing the fog like wind over water.
"It's your memories. They will clear as you get stronger. Step into the Lake of Memories, and you'll see what you can handle at your current state."
Ayla hesitated. Slowly, she dipped her hand into the swirling grey mist. Instantly, a jolt ran through her body, making her convulse. Her eyes flared a vibrant violet before rolling back, leaving only the whites visible.
When she opened them again, she was somewhere else — a dimly lit, old building. The floor was lined with hay, a wooden bed frame sat empty, and lanterns cast flickering shadows along the walls.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Instinctively, she raised a fighting stance, only to see a beautiful black-haired, red-eyed woman being carried in by two people in green scrubs.
"Her pulse is spiking! We have to get this baby out immediately!"
Ayla's gaze sharpened as she watched them prepare, realizing they were about to deliver — a actual baby.
Ayla gagged at the sight but was unable to move or look away.
The woman's gown was opened, and the medics urged her:
"Come on, Lilith! Just a few more pushes!"
With a scream of effort, one baby emerged — a boy. But panic broke out among the medics.
"What is going on?" Ayla whispered, heart hammering.
The mother, Lilith, didn't stop. Another push, and a second baby appeared — a girl with purple hair and glowing violet eyes. Ayla's stomach dropped. She was looking at herself.
Then the scene collapsed. Nausea tore through her, sharp pulses of pain hammering in her head, and darkness swallowed her.
When she came to, she was back in her bed, the familiar surroundings of her room grounding her.
"What the fuck… who remembers being born, this can't be my memories?" she muttered, stumbling toward the mirror. Her violet eyes shimmered faintly, and her purple hair lifted slightly in the breeze of the fan.
Ayla staggered back from the mirror, still trying to process what she had just seen. Her hands shook, and her heart was racing.
"It seems I chose a good host in you, Ayla," a familiar voice said, calm yet tinged with pride.
She froze. Mythos?
"And now, understanding thy beginnings, I shall impart but a small piece of knowledge to keep thee safe," he continued.
"In thy fight last night, thou didst expend all the Essence Echoes thy body had gathered upon awakening. They are no longer thine to command. I tell thee this so thou mayst understand: thou may feel strong, and thou didst put on a fine display to ward off assassins for a time, yet thou shalt not endure if assailants come upon thee unprepared. Mark my words — with the manner of thy movements, it would not surprise me if none remain who would not seek thy blood. The mark upon thy back grows. Keep to thyself until thou art able to guard thy own life."
The weight of his words settled over her like a stone, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly small, as if the walls themselves were leaning in to listen.
Ayla's eyes fell upon a small golden envelope resting on her nightstand. She picked it up, breaking the seal, and unfolded the letter inside.
"Due to thy recent outburst, the royal meeting hath been rescheduled to the fourth hour past noon this day, and shall now host every noble and lesser noble of Itania. There, we shall deliberate upon thy actions and render verdict for thy insolence. Once thy audience with Queen Zarelle is concluded, meet me at the entrance to the secret passage — and be not late. Many will not forgive thee."
— King Eldric Minos
Ayla's hand trembled as she clutched the letter, her violet eyes glinting in the dim light. The weight of what was to come pressed against her chest, and for the first time, she realized just how alone she truly was.
(AN: I dropped this small chapter, just to say i'm back lol… I will continue to do more chapters this weekend and i promise any criticism or thoughts will be listened to but for now feed me power stones 🙂↕️)