Back when Kivas found out that she was about to experience the third Apotheosis, she was consud by an unfathomable amount of darkness.
It was a dreadful ti, knowing that you’re about to experience that very sa forced tamorphosis once again.
And even with all of the power and strength she gained this whole ti, she couldn’t help but fall to the floor in anguish.
The painful realization that despite everything you gained and everything you built...
It all still pale in comparison to the maddening reality of fate and its diligent reapers.
But in that mont of horror, sothing inside her beca a dormant place of solace amidst the tightening darkness.
It was the empty place where her ’anxiety’ should be, that sohow prevented the darkness from ever reaching her very core of existence.
This very void in her existence, beca the chasm that prevented her dread from reaching her heart.
And eventually, she stood up again, and got to work on finding a solution for her third Apotheosis.
"Samael...?"
It was not a lot of ti where Kivas was able to see that sight of horror on her beloved forr dragon’s face.
The sight of everyone doing their best to remove whatever was currently encapsulating the new vessel that was housing Kivas’ severed soul.
And maybe, because of the lack of attributes, the lack of skills, and the lack of divinity that her Well of the Soul and divine portfolio provides.
Kivas couldn’t comprehend all of it before it was far too late.
Her consciousness flickered back like a spark in void, but the world resolved not in the rune-lit chasm or the familiar hum of the platform—only blinding light, a radiance so absolute it seared through closed lids, threatening to scorch her retinas if she dared part them.
Her new vessel—taller, heavier, unfamiliar in its balance—thrumd with disorientation, senses overwheld by the glare.
There was no pain, just an all-encompassing white that pressed in from every angle, muffling sound, diluting thought.
She groped blindly, hands finding rough stone beneath her, cool and uneven, but the light persisted, unrelenting, as if she’d been plunged into the heart of a star.
Then, abrupt as a snapped thread, it dimd.
Kivas gasped, eyes fluttering open to a softer haze—ruins, crumbling arches framing a overcast sky, vines snaking through cracked flagstones that once ford the floor of what must have been a church.
An unknown place and possibly an unknown ti.
She had been transported sowhere else.
"What is happening...?"
Pews lay splintered, altar reduced to rubble dusted with moss, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and faint decay.
She sat up slowly, her new fra responding with a lag, muscles coiling strangely under skin that felt... borrowed.
The light’s afterimage lingered in her vision, spots dancing like mocking fireflies.
What happened? The severance—she rembered the tug, the final snip, her soul floating free, the whole ordeal with the realm filled with headless statues...
A rustle drew her gaze.
The familiar fra and expression.
It was Blanchette stepping into the clearing, arms laden with vibrant fruits; plump berries glistening red, oranges peeled to reveal juicy segnts, a cluster of grapes dangling like jewels.
Her sister’s face split into that trademark wide smile, eyes crinkling with feigned innocence. "Well, look who’s up! How’re you feeling, sis? Refreshed? A bit nauseatic, maybe?"
Kivas’ heart lurched—she scrambled to her feet, the new height throwing her balance for a split second, towering fra wobbling like a newborn foal. "Where the hell are we? What did you do?"
Blanchette set the fruits down on a weathered bench, plucking a berry and popping it into her mouth with deliberate casualness, juice staining her lips. "Oh, this place. So random landmark I found.
"As for where exactly we are for reference, well, Myovernia, a nice continent~ Massive, stable—distortions barely touch it as if it is not as aggressive as they were back anywhere else. New chunks don’t barge in much, and the old ones don’t wander off. Keeps things predictable, for Fathomi standards."
Kivas’s eyes narrowed, pieces slotting amid the haze— the ritual’s success, her soul’s drift, but this was not planned at all. "You teleported . Pulled out of Vaingall. Why?"
Blanchette wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, grin unwavering. "Figured you needed so fresh air—can’t stay cooped up in that bastion forever, waiting for the end-tis or whatever doom’s knocking next. Go out, see the world! You know, have so fun adventure—"
Kivas lunged before the words fully landed, hands clamping around Blanchette’s shoulders, shoving her back against the ruined wall with a thud that echoed through the vines.
Blanchette’s smile didn’t falter, even as Kivas’ grip tightened, anger bubbling hot and unfiltered in her chest.
"You idiot! There’s no reason for to leave—everything I need cos through networks, reports, safe channels. Why drag out here? What ga are you playing this ti?"
Blanchette’s laugh escaped in a wheeze, her small fra unresisting under the pin, eyes sparkling with that infuriating mix of mischief and knowing. "Ga? Nah, just a nudge. But hey—look behind. Might explain a thing or two, before, you know, I explain the actual reason or two."
Kivas hesitated, grip loosening just enough to glance over her shoulder.
The church’s remnants sharpened in her view—the altar’s crest, once perhaps a symbol of forgotten faith, now glitched?
Purple pixels jittering across its surface, animating a distortion like static on a faulty screen, edges fuzzing and reforming in erratic loops. It pulsed faintly, unnatural in the ruins’ decay, or Fathomi as a whole.
"What... is that?"
Blanchette wriggled free with a casual twist, brushing off her cloak as if the pin had been a friendly tussle. "Changes. Subtle ones, creeping in everywhere outside your little bubble. Stuff your networks won’t catch—too scattered, too ’Fathomi being Fathomi’ to flag. And it is all just as important and alarming as every war that is happening in Fathomi."
Kivas stared at the crest, the pixels flickering like a digital wound in reality’s fabric. "Explain. What kind of changes?"
Blanchette leaned against a vine-choked pillar, arms crossed. "Fathomi used to be this neat little cube—isolated, its own rules for space, ti, all that jazz. Self-contained chaos that doesn’t interact much with the world outside it, even with the Xenorealms. But lately? Shifts happen. Gradual, but they’re stacking. Started after those two true resets that you did which of course, you don’t know because it is a true reset to you and all those connected to you, in a way."
Kivas’s breath caught—true resets, the gallery’s revelation, Blanchette’s intrusion in that white haze. It clicked now, the weight of it settling like lead.
This wasn’t prank territory; Blanchette knew, had always known, layers deep.
But how did she know? Why did she only appear on the third tiline after the second reset?
So many questions and mystery behind this little rascal, but there was sothing that was much more alarming in the grand sche of things.
"The cosmic threat Norn warned about... it’s tied to this? The changes?"
Blanchette snapped her fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet ruins. "Bingo! Sharp as ever, even without your fancy Well boosting the gears up there."
Kivas’s hand flew instinctively to her temple, willing the Well to unfold—stats, skills, that familiar grid of self.
Nothing.
Empty silence, like calling into a void. "It’s... truly gone, huh."
Blanchette nodded, expression shifting to sothing almost sympathetic, though the smile lingered. "Your Schrödinger stunt worked like a charm. Fathomi’s stumped—you’re neither alive nor dead, maybe both. No tiline flip, no apotheosis firework either~
"Good if that’s the goal, right? But here’s the rub; your vessels, Well of the Soul, divine portfolio—they’re still lumped as one entity in its eyes, which ans that your severed soul and new vessel won’t be getting a new Well."
"You’re a Shallow One now. Term for folks who slip the Well of the Soul but Fathomi lets linger anyway."
Kivas tested the word on her tongue, a bitter tang. "Shallow One. Sounds like an insult."
Blanchette chuckled, plucking another berry. "Because it is. ans you’re skating on thin ice—existing without the full kit. Survive like this till the apotheosis window passes, then reunite with your old shell. Easy peasy, except..."
Kivas pieced it together, the haze clearing to reveal the full absurdity. "Except I’m not in Vaingall anymore. Not safe behind defenses and allies. You yanked to so random continent, forced to play Shallow One out here. Why?"
Blanchette’s eyes twinkled, but she held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, consider it a field trip. But seriously—"
Kivas lunged again, this ti hands closing around Blanchette’s neck, thumbs pressing just enough to pin, anger flaring hot. Blanchette’s smile wavered but held, eyes watering as she gasped out a laugh. "Easy... sis..."
"Why?" Kivas hissed, leaning in close, her taller fra casting a shadow over Blanchette’s small one. "Give one good reason not to squeeze."
Blanchette’s voice rasped through the grip, still laced with that infuriating cheer. "Na... change it. Can’t... be Kivas here. Fathomi might... wise up. Force reunion... between your sever soul and old vessel... and force the apotheosis...!"
Kivas eased off slightly, one hand loosening to tap her lips thoughtfully, the other still firm on Blanchette’s throat. "You have a point. Can’t risk the logic glitch flipping back. Need sothing new..."
She noticed the new hair color she got, which was quite the new experience since her old one had been quite blinding when she saw it.
Kivas’ eyes lit close, and a wicked grin spread as she reapplied pressure with both hands, choking tighter. "I found one."
Blanchette’s face flushed, but she forced a grin back, wheezing.
"What... na you chose...?"
Kivas’s smile turned triumphant, glee edging her words as she squeezed.
"Noirette."
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