The mansion lood before Nyxavere like a monunt to abandoned ambition, its Gothic spires piercing the sky like accusing fingers. The very air here tasted of righteous fury and misguided heroism—champions had definitely been here, their essence still clinging to the stonework like residual perfu.
But they were gone now. Every last one of them.
She materialized in the courtyard with a sound like reality tearing at the seams. Space itself groaned under the weight of her arrival, the fundantal forces of existence bending to accommodate a being who existed beyond normal dinsional boundaries. Ancient cobblestones cracked beneath her feet as raw power bled from her form like heat from a forge.
’That icy signature. Aunt Chione’s unmistakable presence lingered here like frost on winter glass.’ This is what she’d felt.
"So, this is where you’ve been hiding," Nyxavere murmured, her voice carrying undertones that made the mansion’s windows tremble in their fras.
Now it made sense why she couldn’t perceive the heroes and their sches. They’d been sheltering under Chione’s oblivious protection, hidden by ice-born power that could obscure even omniscient sight.
But why was her aunt with the champions? What possible reason could Chione have for allying with the very beings hunting her father?
Sothing didn’t add up. Sothing fundantal was missing from this equation.
The air beside her shimred, and suddenly she wasn’t alone.
The woman who appeared was tall, elegant, and moved with the kind of fluid grace that suggested she’d been dancing with fundantal forces since before galaxies learned to spin. Reality rippled around her like water disturbed by stones, space folding to accommodate her presence without protest.
Nyxavere barely glanced at her—another entity with delusions of grandeur, probably. She’d encountered thousands of them.
’Another wannabe puppet master who thinks they can—’
Wait.
The woman had appeared without triggering any of her senses or seen her before she ca. No dinsional displacent, no energy signature, no forewarning at all. She’d simply... been there, as if she’d always existed in that spot and Nyxavere had sohow failed to notice.
’That’s impossible. Nothing can sneak up on .’
"Who are you?" Nyxavere asked, her voice sharp with suspicion and growing unease. "And how the hell did you appear without sensing you?"
The woman smiled with the kind of predatory satisfaction that made dinsions themselves seem nervous. "More importantly, child, how do you think I know who you are?"
That stopped Nyxavere cold.
She looked down at herself—the clothes she wore were woven with protective runes her father had crafted personally, each thread inscribed with wards that made her presence undetectable to anyone except him. The ring on her finger pulsed with ancient power, a gift from the Prince of Existence himself that should have rendered her invisible to all supernatural senses.
’Only Dad can sense when I’m wearing these. Only him.’
"Impossible," Nyxavere said, though her voice carried less certainty than before. "These protections were made by the Prince of Existence himself. No one else should be able to—"
"To perceive you? To know what you are?" The woman’s laugh was like silver bells mixed with breaking glass. "Child, I’ve been watching your family since before your father understood what he was becoming."
’That’s... that’s billions of years. No one’s that old except those...’
"You’re lying," Nyxavere said, but doubt crept into her voice like poison through cracks in stone.
"To perceive you? To know what you are?" The woman’s laugh was like silver bells mixed with breaking glass. "Child, I’ve been watching your family since before your father understood what he was becoming."
That’s... that’s billions of years. No one’s that old except...
"You’re lying," Nyxavere said, but doubt crept into her voice like poison through cracks in stone.
"Am I?" The woman circled her slowly, each step causing ripples in reality that made the mansion’s architecture blur at the edges. "Tell , little princess, when was the last ti you actually saw your precious Aunt Chione?"
What kind of question was that?
"She’s been busy," Nyxavere replied, though sothing cold was beginning to settle in her stomach. "With handling things Dad couldn’t get involved in directly."
"Has she now?" The woman’s smile grew sharper. "And did anyone ever tell you exactly what she’s been handling?"
Why did this feel like a trap?
"She’s..." Nyxavere started, then faltered. When was the last ti she’d actually spoken to Chione? When was the last ti anyone had ntioned her aunt in conversation that wasn’t quickly changed to another topic?
"She’s what, child?"
"She’s protecting the family from threats Dad can’t address without starting wars," Nyxavere said, but the words felt hollow even as she spoke them.
The woman’s expression shifted to sothing that looked almost like sympathy. "Oh, you sweet, naive little princess. You really don’t know, do you?"
Know what? What was she supposed to know?
"Your Aunt Chione," the woman said quietly, "has been dead, until recently..."
The words hit Nyxavere like a physical blow. The mansion’s courtyard spun around her as reality seed to tilt on its axis.
Dead? That was impossible. Chione was too powerful, too connected to fundantal forces of existence. She couldn’t just die.
"You’re lying," Nyxavere whispered, but her voice ca out broken, uncertain.
"Three divine brothers killed her," the woman continued relentlessly. "Murdered her while she was trying to protect sothing precious to your father. And do you know what the most tragic part is?"
No. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
"Your family knows. They’ve known all along. And they chose to keep it from you."
The air around Nyxavere began to shimr as her power responded to her emotional state. Ancient stones started to crack as reality warped under the pressure of her disbelief and growing anguish.
"Why?" The word tore from her throat like a physical thing. "Why would they hide this from ?"
"Because, sweet child," the woman said, stepping closer, "they’re the ones who let it happen."
What?
"That’s impossible," Nyxavere said, but her voice was shaking now. "My parents loved Chione. They would never—"
"Never what?" The woman raised her hand, and the air around them began to shimr with trapped light. "Never sacrifice one family mber to save the rest?"
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