"Well, this went a little bit more violent than expected.
Kivas seized the little girl by the collar, lifted her effortlessly, and pushed her against the nearest tree.
The bark cracked slightly under the impact, but the girl didn’t flinch. Kivas’ fingers wrapped tight around the girl’s throat, just firm enough to deny comfort, not life.
She smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
"Now, I’m going to ask nicely," Kivas said, voice level, tone patient. "Who. Are. You."
The girl looked her in the eyes, unblinking, her expression oddly gentle despite being pinned. Her lips curled downward in an exaggerated pout, as though saddened by Kivas’ impatience.
"You were doing so well," she sighed. "But then again, you always get like this when sothing doesn’t make sense right away. Still, it’s a little bit evil to do this to a little girl, no?"
Kivas didn’t tighten her grip, but the force behind her stare sharpened.
"Here’s the thing," she said calmly, still smiling, "I’ve been to enough corners of this world to know that appearance is the last thing that matters. I’ve t soone who looks twenty but could write an autobiography thicker than a world map. There is also a tall-eared chef that may have the body of a lazy high schooler, but I bet she’s paid more taxes than I ever will."
"What."
"If I explain it, it will make the joke less humorous."
"Right," the little girl chuckled. "You’re the kind of person who tends to humor when you’re feeling down."
Kivas leaned in, her halo flickering softly in the shade of the tree.
"You could be older than the sky. You could be a worm disguised as a child. You could be my grandmother’s imaginary friend with a skin graft. I don’t care."
"Have you t one, though?"
"I might as well, soon, sowhere in the future,"
The girl giggled. "Indeed. This world is already strange as it is." The girl tilted her head slightly. Still calm. Still composed. Still strange. "It must be harsh for you."
"I’ll count to one," Kivas said. "And if you don’t talk, I’ll choose violence. I’m very tired, and the only humor I want to deal with is myself, not from a random kid who acts like she knows half of my history.
The girl’s eyes softened further. She gave a tiny nod. "Okay. Put down, and I’ll talk."
Kivas hesitated a beat, then released her grip.
The girl landed gracefully, adjusted the folds of her muted dress, and curtsied with poise that felt trained.
"I am Blanchette Chariot," she said.
Kivas squinted. "And what are you?"
"I’m your sister."
The forest seed to still for a mont.
A branch swayed. A breeze passed.
Kivas tilted her head. "You’re my what."
"Sister," Blanchette repeated, still smiling. "I don’t know exactly how it works, or why I’m here now. There’s probably a deeper reason, maybe sothing related to the structure of the world. But in the only terms that matter, that’s what I am~
"However, I can tell for sure about one thing," Blanchette smiled with eyes closed. "Everything happens as intended~"
Kivas gave a flat look, arms folded. "I don’t rember having a sister. I don’t rember ever hearing about you."
Blanchette’s face fell with a look of exaggerated distress, but it was too theatrical, too polished.
"See? That’s what bothers too!" she said, clasping her hands. "I don’t know why you don’t rember . I really don’t. But there’s a reason. Sothing about how this world chooses to hide certain things. Like how the Well of the Soul just exists and doesn’t explain anything. Or how so people just... appear~"
Kivas exhaled slowly, brushing her bangs away from her eyes. "Alright, fine. Let’s table the origin story. Let’s switch topics. How much do you know about ?"
Blanchette’s smile returned, smaller this ti. "You never forget."
That drew a brief flicker of interest from Kivas. Her gaze sharpened again.
"That’s true," she admitted. "But if I never forget, then how co I forgot about you?"
Blanchette clasped her hands behind her back. "I wish I could explain. I really do. But this is definitely not the ti to reveal why."
Kivas clicked her tongue and looked toward the sky. "Great. Another mystery that will pester days away until sothing important happens in this tiline."
Just right before Kivas wanted to search for Samael and ignore Blanchette, the ground nearby rippled.
A patch of earth cracked, and from the swirling soil vapors, a figure erged as if expelled.
Tall, draped in a black dress. Her hair fell in two contrasting shades—one black as void, the other the red of broken suns.
Draconic horns curved upward from her head, and behind her spread batlike wings carved from twilight and starlight, resting gently as if she’d just landed from nowhere.
Samael.
Her feet pressed the moss as she took a slow step forward, looking left, then right, before settling her eyes on the scene in front of her.
She blinked once, took in Kivas, and then the white-haired girl beside her.
Samael frowned. "This... doesn’t feel right."
Kivas stared at her, breath caught in her chest. She blinked again, softer this ti. Her body relaxed. The presence of her soulmate uncoiled sothing that had been clenched tight since waking.
She stepped forward, closed the distance with no care for formality, and simply said, "You’re here."
Samael nodded. "I’m here."
There were a hundred things they needed to say.
But they could wait.
Then Blanchette stepped forward and gave another gentle curtsy. "Blanchette Chariot," she introduced. "Nice to et you. I’m Kivas’ sister."
"Chariot, huh. So you carry the sa noble surna." Samael raised an eyebrow. "This an that you’re Kivas’ sister."
"That’s correct," Blanchette said cheerfully. "As expected of the Endless Dragon, so much wisdom is left unraptured."
Kivas raised a hand. "Okay. What does that even an? How is that possible if we’re not blood-related?"
Samael glanced at Kivas. "Because blood doesn’t define kinship here. Spiritual signature does."
Kivas narrowed her eyes. "Right, that is certainly a way to connect two completely foreign individuals out of nowhere."
Samael elaborated. "The Noble Surna system in Fathomi doesn’t trace genealogy. It traces the soulprint. And if two entities resonate with a specific tier of noble signature, regardless of who appeared and ca first, the noble last na binds them both...
"It could be a coincidence. Could be fate. Could be rewritten causality. But if you carry the sa signature..."
"We’re tied by fate," Blanchette finished. "Isn’t that beautiful?"
Kivas sighed, turning her eyes skyward. "It’s sothing, that’s for sure."
Blanchette walked over to Samael and tilted her head upward.
"I’m thankful," she said softly, voice wrapped in light, "that you’ve always been there for her. That you’ve fought, suffered, and endured just to keep her going. You’re more loyal than anyone I’ve ever seen."
Samael stared at her. Blanchette’s sincerity didn’t match the situation. Her eyes narrowed.
"I’ll accept your words," Samael said slowly, "but I’m still deciding if I trust you. Tiline shifts, especially a reset, are unpredictable. Anomalies happen, and you might be one. You might be sothing worse.
"The fact that you know your sister well yet your sister barely knows anything about you, is sothing that I really want to remove in favor of stability."
Blanchette giggled faintly. "Then I’ll just have to earn your faith, Samael."
Kivas raised a hand to her forehead, already tired. "God, this run’s getting weird. If only I could save a file and reload from there instead of starting from the beginning."
Samael folded her arms. "Speaking of the last tiline... and everything that happened... we’ll talk...
"But before that, you need to see sothing."
Kivas gave a wary glance. "See what?"
Kivas barely had ti to prepare herself before the ground cracked beneath her heels.
A rush of earthy essence surged upward in a narrow spiral, spiraling around her legs and twisting toward Samael’s feet like coiling roots reclaiming what was once buried.
Samael didn’t explain anything yet.
She rely locked eyes with Kivas, extended a hand, and whispered sothing soft enough that even the trees didn’t bother translating it.
The earth opened.
Soil turned fluid. Gravity twisted. The two of them were drawn downward in a pulse of localized descent, the forest above blurring as though being pulled through the surface of mory.
And then, just as suddenly, they were thrown up again—expelled in a controlled eruption of dirt and filtered moss, their bodies cast into the light of another clearing.
Kivas stumbled, caught her footing with the practiced grace of soone who had landed in stranger places than this. Samael followed, far more composed.
"This.. this is..."
Before them stood Yoiglah.
The massive tortoise towered silently beneath the widening canopy of ancient trees. His shell, etched with layered inscriptions and crowned with stonework and moss, bore the sa familiar shrine—a partial structure of vine-wrapped pillars and hollow arches, crowned by the great statue of Renenutet with the obsidian-black void in place of a head.
It hadn’t changed. Not even in the reset.
The headless goddess still lood above the shrine, her arms poised in unbroken grace, her divine pressure whispering in the bones of the landscape.
Yoiglah shifted his bulk, the massive plates of his shell grinding gently like tectonic reverberation.
He regarded them both with eyes that hadn’t moved in centuries, and yet followed their arrival like a breeze would track heat.
"It seems," Yoiglah said with that low, drawn voice of steady stone and old soil, "so of us... have returned."
anwhile.
In the place where Kivas started.
"They really left behind," Blanchette was dumbfounded, but nary an anger ever revolted visibly. "I knew that this would happen, but to think that it did happen."
Reviews
All reviews (0)