The rest of their first day in Barcelona was a whirlwind of new sights and sounds, all orchestrated by a newly confident Iuno Li, who had apparently decided that her official new role was Director Moon's cultural liaison and protector from the perils of mortal street crime. She navigated them through the winding, ancient streets of the Gothic Quarter with the focused determination of a general, pointing out historical landmarks and steering Aylin away from anything that looked remotely suspicious, from overly friendly street performers to flocks of what she deemed "tactically aggressive pigeons."
Aylin, for her part, followed with a serene, amused detachment. The petty dangers of this world were a novelty. To her, the true and constant threat was the simmering possessiveness of Willow Chen, the cosmic malice of the Author, and the lingering mystery of the Void. A flock of pigeons, no matter how aggressive, hardly registered. She was more fascinated by watching the soul of her Lian, bright and curious, re engage with a world she was slowly beginning to remember.
Their official "research" began the next day. Their destination: a bizarre, magnificent, and famously unfinished cathedral that looked to Aylin as if a giant had attempted to build a mountain range out of melting sand.
"La Sagrada Família," Iuno breathed, her head tilted back, her expression one of pure, unadulterated awe. The accountant in her was baffled by the sheer, illogical audacity of the design, but the reawakening artist was utterly captivated.
"It is… structurally ambitious," Aylin commented, her own gaze analytical. She could appreciate the sheer, centuries long mortal will required to even attempt such a project. It was a testament to a kind of faith and patience that was both admirable and deeply inefficient.
The true marvel, however, was inside.
They stepped from the bright Spanish sun into a space that felt like a sacred, petrified forest. Soaring columns like ancient trees branched out near the ceiling, creating a canopy of stone. But it was the light that stole the breath. The vast, towering stained glass windows, in hues of fiery orange, deep ocean blue, and vibrant spring green, transformed the sunlight into a living, breathing kaleidoscope of color. Shafts of brilliant, jeweled light rained down, painting the very air, turning the grand hall into an ethereal, magical grotto.
Iuno stood in the center of a brilliant, shifting patch of emerald and sapphire light, her face tilted up, her expression one of pure, childlike wonder. All thoughts of budgets, spreadsheets, and corporate espionage were gone, replaced by a profound, spiritual experience.
Aylin watched her, and the sight of her love, bathed in that impossible, beautiful light triggered a powerful, aching memory of her own. She remembered a secret place in the Silent Palace, a chamber whose walls were made of enchanted, light capturing crystals, a place of silent, shifting rainbows. It had been their sanctuary.
Lost in the memory, she spoke without thinking, her voice a soft, nostalgic whisper that was meant only for herself. "It looks just like the light in the Chamber of Illusions…"
The words, so innocuous and strange, were a key. They slid into a locked room deep within Iuno's soul and turned.
"The Chamber of Illusions…" Iuno whispered the name back, her eyes going wide, her body freezing in the shaft of colored light.
The memory that crashed over her was not a flash of power or a ghost of passion. It was a memory of peace.
She is in a room of impossible, shifting colors. The air is warm and smells of lotus flowers and her favorite, calming incense. She is not an Empress on a throne. She is just Lian. She is lying on a mountain of plush, silken cushions, her head resting in the lap of the most beautiful woman she has ever known.
The woman, dressed in simple white robes, is humming a soft, ancient melody. Her fingers are gently, idly, stroking through her long, white hair. The touch is the most comforting, the most grounding thing in the universe. She feels a sense of perfect, absolute safety, of a quiet, domestic love so profound and so unconditional it is the very center of her existence. It is the feeling of being completely, utterly, and finally home.
The vision was so real, so full of a gentle happiness she had never known in her waking life, that when it vanished, the sense of loss was a physical blow. She gasped, stumbling back, her hand flying to her heart as if to contain its sudden, violent ache.
This memory was different. It was worse. The dream of the crown had been terrifying. The memory of the kiss had been confusing. But this memory, this simple, perfect moment of peace and love… this one felt like a part of her own soul had been ripped away, and she was only just now discovering the wound.
Aylin was at her side in an instant, her hand a steadying presence on her arm. She felt the echo of the memory through their bond the warmth, the love, the peace of their secret chamber and her own heart ached with the loss of it. She had pushed too far.
Iuno looked at her, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears, filled now with a new, terrifying, and undeniable question. The dreams of a queen were strange. The memory of a lover was confusing. But this memory, this feeling of perfect, quiet home… who was this woman who held the key to a peace she had been searching for her entire, lonely life?
"The Chamber of Illusions…" Iuno whispered, the words tasting of a forgotten lifetime. She looked at Aylin, at the deep, sad, and familiar understanding in her serene eyes. "I… I know that place. How do I know that place?"
The question hung in the air of the great, sun drenched cathedral, as fragile and as resonant as a single, perfect note from a guqin. "How do I know that place?"
Iuno stared at Aylin, her eyes wide with a terrifying, pleading confusion. The memory of the Chamber of Illusions, of a perfect, peaceful love, was a phantom limb of her soul, aching with a reality she could not explain.
Aylin's mind raced, a frantic search for a plausible lie, a corporate speak deflection that could safely steer them away from this dangerous precipice. But looking at the raw, genuine bewilderment on Iuno's face the face of her Lian she found that the easy, cunning deceptions that had worked on men like Wei Chen and the patriarchs failed her.
"The mind is a strange and complex landscape, Miss Li," she began, her voice a low, gentle murmur as she tried to lead her away. "The artistry of this place… it is clearly affecting you on a deep, subconscious level. Perhaps it reminds you of a place you saw in a book, or a dream…"
But Iuno wasn't listening to the words. She was looking at Aylin's face. The face of the woman from the memory. The woman whose lap had been a throne of peace. The woman she had, in that fleeting, impossible vision, loved with the entirety of her being.
Driven by an instinct she didn't understand, a soul deep recognition that bypassed all mortal logic, Iuno took a step closer, breaking free from Aylin's gentle guidance. She reached up, her hand trembling, and tentatively touched Aylin's cheek. The touch was featherlight, a question.
"You…" she whispered, her voice full of a dawning, impossible wonder. "You were there…"
In that moment, under that touch, Aylin's own carefully constructed walls, her decade of celestial control, shattered. The overwhelming, crushing wave of her own memories of that same peaceful moment in the Chamber of Illusions, of a decade of aching for this very touch surged to the surface. She instinctively leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut, drawn to the soul that was her other half.
And Iuno, driven by that same ancient, undeniable impulse, leaned in too.
It was not a conscious decision. It was an accident of two souls, torn apart by a cruel god and a merciless fate, recognizing each other across the chasm of a forgotten lifetime. Their lips met.
The kiss was not the deep, passionate claiming of their nights in the Netherworld. It was a soft, chaste, and almost impossibly gentle press of lips against lips. But it was a cataclysm. It was the click of a key in a lock that had been rusted shut for a decade. For Aylin, it was the first, freely given kiss from the woman who did not consciously know her, a pure, instinctual act of love that was the ultimate validation of her quest. For Iuno, it was a feeling of such profound and perfect rightness that it threatened to overwrite her entire existence.
They broke apart after only a second, both of them gasping as if they had just surfaced from a deep ocean.
And for Iuno Li, her 21st century, mortal, accountant brain came roaring back online with the force of a five alarm fire.
What did I just do?
I just kissed my boss.
I just kissed my female boss.
I just kissed my female boss who is engaged to the most terrifying and beautiful woman I have ever seen!
The full, catastrophic weight of the social, professional, and almost certainly life threatening transgression crashed down upon her. The magical, dream like feeling of the moment was instantly incinerated by the cold, hard terror of professional and romantic reality.
Her face, which had been pale with confusion, now flushed with a deep, horrified crimson. She stumbled back, her hands flying up as if to ward off her own actions.
"No…" she gasped, her voice a strangled, panicked whisper. "I… I am so, so sorry, Director Moon! I don't know what just happened!" Her eyes were wide with terror. "This is so wrong! This is a complete violation of corporate policy! And you… you have a fiancée!"
Before Aylin could say a single word to calm her, to explain, to salvage the moment, Iuno turned and ran. It was not a graceful retreat. It was a panicked, desperate flight, a pell mell scramble out of the cathedral and into the anonymous, crowded streets of Barcelona, leaving a bewildered trail of tourists in her wake.
Aylin was left standing alone in the shaft of colored light, her lips still tingling from the ghost of a kiss that had been both a perfect reunion and a complete disaster.
Her heart, which had soared with a triumphant, impossible hope, now plummeted into her stomach. The soul of her Lian was undeniably still there, so powerful it had just acted on its own. The love was not dead. But the mortal shell, the terrified, rule abiding, and deeply logical mind of Iuno Li, was now scared half to death. She had not just pushed too hard; she had accidentally triggered a soul deep impulse that Iuno's conscious mind could not possibly handle.
You fool, she thought, the words a familiar, bitter self recrimination. You are an Empress, a Saint, a being who commanded armies and faced down the apocalypse. And you were just undone by a single, simple kiss.
She had scared her away. The slow, patient work of rebuilding had just been shattered by one impulsive, beautiful, and catastrophic moment of truth.