Gaia Paradise always seemed calm at first glance—radiant, serene, every horizon woven from gentle light. But beneath that calm lay currents of divine force that never slept, shifting like hidden tides. It was here, in one of its controlled practice zones, that Dante and Anarissa stood at the start of their newest trial.
The training field was nothing like the open gardens or daylight expanses. This one was an isolated environment surrounded by floating crystalline plates that moved in fractal patterns. They resonated faintly, humming with the subtle pulse of conceptual boundaries.
Lysera stepped forward, her expression calm but sharp. "Today," she said, "you will enact controlled Authority usage in a live environment."
Dante glanced at the plates. "Live… but contained, right?"
"Contained," Varael replied, "but still real."
Vorun raised a hand, and the crystalline plates rearranged into a mirrored arena—a reflective space where ripples of their Authorities would show visually as distortions in the panels, allowing the mentors to see every mistake.
"We will simulate interruption," Vorun explained. "Distraction. Emotional provocation. Unpredictable circumstances. If you react instinctively, the plates will crack."
"And if they crack?" Anarissa asked.
Lysera answered plainly. "Then your control needs work."
Dante leaned toward his sister and whispered, "They say that like it isn't terrifying."
Anarissa whispered back, "Just don't break anything."
He snorted once. "You say that like I'm the one who nearly melted a training platform."
She nudged him. "You did launch a moon fragment last time."
"That was one time."
Lysera cleared her throat. "Whenever you are finished whispering…"
They straightened instantly.
The trial began.
Dante closed his eyes, breathing carefully until the world flattened into stillness. His Authority stirred on instinct, but this time he didn't let it flare; he guided it, gently, shaping intent before influence. A faint silver glow spread under his feet but remained controlled, soft as moonlit mist.
Anarissa mirrored him, letting warmth flow through her without rising into full sunlight. Her Authority manifested as a gentle radiance—calm, steady, contained within a tight ring around her body.
Lysera nodded. "Good. Now maintain that."
Vorun lifted a hand.
A pulse of emotional agitation struck them like a psychic gust—instantly triggering instinctive divine reflexes.
Dante's third eye fluttered open, moonlight bending.
Anarissa's halo flickered, rising behind her like a dawnflare.
But they caught themselves.
Dante ground the excitement down, forcing the moonlight to dim.
Anarissa exhaled sharply and pulled the light back into her chest.
The plates stayed intact.
Lysera smiled faintly. "Better."
Another wave struck. This one stronger. Paired with afterimages of memory—fear, surprise, irritation—meant to tug at their instincts.
Varael's voice echoed softly. "Authority is emotion made physical. To master it, you must separate feeling from reaction."
Dante let the surge of emotion pass through him like water through stone. Anarissa smoothed hers into steady light.
Again, the plates stayed whole.
Vorun exchanged a knowing look with the others. "They are ready for the next stage."
Lysera raised her hand.
But before she could speak further, the ground trembled.
Just a vibration. Faint. But wrong. The crystalline plates flickered.
Varael stiffened. "This is not part of the exercise."
Lysera's eyes narrowed. "Something is disturbing the field boundary."
A crackling rift of distorted harmonic light shimmered into existence near the far edge of the arena. It was small—barely the size of a handprint—but it radiated warped force like a heartbeat out of rhythm with the realm.
Anarissa stepped closer. "Is that supposed to be there?"
"No," Vorun said, instantly summoning a ward of shaped dusk to stabilize the air. "Not under any circumstance."
Dante felt his skin prickle. The distortion vibrated at a pitch he could feel in his bones—like a dream rippling, like a moon caught in a storm. His Authority stirred involuntarily.
Lysera warned sharply, "Hold your control. Do not react to it."
But the distortion pulsed again—harder—and the plates warped, sending a shockwave across the arena. Several lesser gods in a watching area stumbled as the air twisted.
Anarissa whipped her head toward the mentors. "What is that?"
Varael's expression was grave. "A Harmonic Breach. A rare instability between conceptual layers. It should not exist here."
Dante felt something deep inside him respond. His third eye throbbed. Moonlight stirred behind his ribs. He clenched his teeth. "It's… echoing something."
That was when another presence appeared.
A silver-black ripple parted the air just outside the arena, and a tall figure stepped into view. His robes flowed like folded constellations. His hair fell in long silver waves. His eyes—pupils ringed with shifting runes—carried the calm weight of centuries.
Vorun bowed his head immediately.
"High God Archanos," he said. "We were not expecting you."
Anarissa inhaled softly. "He's…"
"One of the eldest," Varael murmured.
Archanos inclined his head with a faint smile. "I felt the tremor. Authority instability of this type does not arise without… interesting participants."
His gaze drifted directly to Dante and Anarissa.
They felt it like a gentle pressure on the soul.
"Ah," he said softly. "You two. The ones who survived Oblivion and rose reborn."
Dante swallowed. "Sir… we didn't cause this."
"Not intentionally," Archanos agreed, stepping forward. "But your Authorities resonate with old forces. Especially yours, Dante."
He gestured toward the breach.
"Approach it."
Lysera opened her mouth to object—but stopped when Archanos raised a hand.
"He will not be harmed."
With cautious steps, Dante approached the breach. His heart pounded, his Authority humming like a touched string. The distortion pulsed again—and Dante felt something reach toward him.
Not physically.
Through resonance.
His third eye flashed open.
Silver-violet light burst outward, striking the distortion just as a thread of harmonic energy shot toward him.
Anarissa cried out, "Dante!"
Lysera surged forward—but Archanos stopped her.
"Let it happen."
The distortion touched Dante's Authority—and something clicked into place.
A new talent awakened.
Silver sigils spiraled around his third eye, forming a rotating ring of runic light. An overlay of dreamlike symbols layered across the arena. The distortion stabilized under Dante's presence, flattening into stillness.
Then it folded in on itself and vanished.
Silence.
Dante blinked slowly, the new sensation settling behind his skull like a second heartbeat.
Anarissa rushed to his side. "Dante—what just happened?"
He rubbed his forehead, stunned. "I… think something woke up."
Archanos approached, studying the runic afterglow around Dante's eye.
"Harmonic Vision," he murmured. "A rare divine talent. It allows you to perceive unstable conceptual frequencies… and correct them. Even those that predate our era."
He turned to the mentors. "This boy is more attuned to dream-structure and cosmic rhythm than previously understood."
Lysera exhaled slowly. "Another talent awakened already…"
Anarissa looked from Dante to Archanos. "What about me? Did anything—"
But Archanos smiled. "Worry not, Sunborn. Your resonance remains stable for now. Your awakening will come differently."
She huffed, folding her arms. "That's vague and unhelpful."
"Correct," he replied lightly. "I find it entertaining."
The mentors could only stare.
Varael finally spoke. "This… complicates training."
Archanos placed a hand on Dante's shoulder.
"You two are not merely gods," he said quietly. "You are convergence points. Forces respond to you. Chaos recognizes you. Dream and Sunlight reshape themselves around you."
He stepped back, turning toward the shimmering horizon.
"When your next trial arrives, you will not seek it."
He looked at Dante.
"It will seek you."
The ancient god vanished like a star winking out.
Dante and Anarissa exchanged a look—half fear, half excitement.
The Harmonic Breach was gone.
But its message lingered:
Their Authorities weren't finished awakening.
Not even close.