4th Day of the 2nd Earth Cycle[1], 2000, g.c.
By the time the afternoon sun was getting into its groove, I had three hundred and fifty soul ravens leave from Castle Midnight like a track race. They poured from my window in a black-feathered storm, splitting across Talasi and the greater stretch of Arcadia with three violet eyes burning from every face. Some carried my invitations to friends. Some carried them to enemies. Some carried them to strangers who probably should've said a prayer before opening my mail. The message wasn't full mercy. It wasn't a full threat either. It was an invitation.
Which, depending on who read it, was probably worse.
For a dozen of them, they didn't have far to go. A local resident was a short glide away, especially when the messenger was a S-Class soul bird built out of Dark Energy. Some of the first stops were to the remaining Noble Clans of Talasi: Aylin and Nox. The ones who stayed. The ones who didn't abandon the Mikazuki Clan when the crown became more burden than blessing. That kind of loyalty deserved recognition. And maybe a nice card with a portal spell attached, because I'm thoughtful when I'm not being emotionally unstable.
The first soul raven landed outside a familiar blacksmith shop on the northwest side of Talasi.
The shop sat in a row of sturdy buildings that carried the scent of hard labor and hot metal into the street. The front sign had been darkened by years of furnace smoke, but the carved Aylin crest still stood clean enough to catch sunlight around the edges. Inside, the sounds of alien metal being banged on a mythril anvil echoed off nearby shops and homes. Each strike rang bright and sharp, a rhythmic song of craft and stubbornness that sounded like somebody beating the future into shape.
Heat rolled from the open doorway in shimmering waves. Black smoke curled from the furnace vents. Sparks leapt in bursts of orange, white, and blue as Ceyda Aylin shaped her future blade with focused violence. Obsidium ore sat beside her anvil in glistening chunks, blacker than coal and smoother than polished bone, carrying silver veins that pulsed faintly whenever the hammer struck close. The metal remix she had cooking looked mean enough to cut somebody's confidence before it touched flesh.
Two apprentices ran around the shop with tongs, cooling buckets, polishing stones, and expressions that said they had already been yelled at twice and were not trying to make it three. Ceyda barely lifted her eyes from her work. Short ginger hair clung slightly to her forehead from sweat, and the heat painted her pale Celestial skin with a soft flush. With a corset wrapped around her apron, you would've thought the fit was restrictive, but she moved like the material knew better than to get in her way. With so many sharpened, straight edges in her shop, she was the curviest and softest-looking thing by far. The woman looked like she belonged on a forge poster titled Craftsmanship and Bikini Armors.
She narrowed her eyes at the glowing slab of alloy, shifting her grip on the hammer.
"All...most... There. Damn, this obsidium ore is amazing."
The soul raven found her mid-gloating.
It swooped through the smoke and landed right on top of her anvil.
The bird should've been bothered by the heat. Normal feathers would've curled. Normal claws would've burned. Normal birds would've had enough sense not to plant themselves on a slab of enchanted metal hot enough to make most people confess to crimes they didn't commit. But my familiar just stood there, black talons gripping the mythril surface, three violet eyes locked on Ceyda with patient, unsettling silence.
Ceyda froze.
Her hammer remained raised for half a second too long before she slowly lowered it. The apprentices stopped moving. The furnace popped behind them, sending sparks through the air like nervous fireflies.
"What the?! Oh no... It's a messenger of death. Is this a bad omen or something, Creator?"
The soul raven cocked its head.
Ceyda pointed the hammer at it, which was bold considering the bird didn't have any nerves to intimidate.
"Go away. Shoo. Shoo! Stupid, scary-looking bird."
Her words did nothing.
My familiar only stared at her harder, its three eyes blinking one after another with the kind of confusion that made it look offended by being dismissed without completing the delivery. Honestly, I respected it. I built those birds to be professional. Scary, yes, but professional.
That was when an older Celestial walked out from her front door.
The man had grandpa written all over him from face to slippers. Silver hair flowed neatly behind him, and his beard hung thick enough to hide half his chest. He combed one hand down through it as he stepped into the workshop, his loose robe dragging slightly behind him. His eyes moved from Ceyda to the raven, then to the unfinished blade, then back to Ceyda. He looked less afraid and more confused that his granddaughter or niece or whatever branch of the Aylin family closeness they had was apparently in a standoff with a bird.
"Ce-Ce, darling, are you okay? How is that new sword coming?"
Ceyda kept her hammer between herself and the raven.
"It was coming along good, until this death messenger showed up."
The elder tilted his head.
"If it's a messenger, then what message did it bring?"
Ceyda paused.
Her eyes flicked to the bird. Then to the elder. Then back to the bird.
"You know... Well... I haven't asked it yet. I just figured it was about death or something."
The soul raven opened its beak.
"BAAALLL."
Ceyda flinched so hard that one of her apprentices dropped a pair of tongs.
"Uncle Marius, why is the bird yelling at me? Is it mad or something?"
The raven stamped one foot on the anvil, somehow managing to look impatient.
"BALLL. BALL. BAAALLL."
Marius rubbed his beard again, his eyes narrowing with a thoughtful calm that only old people and cats could pull off.
"I believe it's saying 'ball'. It may have something to do with the message from the Demon Lord."
Ceyda's entire face changed.
"Lord Xiro?! How do you know that?"
The elder pointed toward the raven's leg.
"By the symbol on that black card."
The bird lifted its leg slightly, showing the Night Invitation tied against it. The black card gleamed under forge light, obsidium surface drinking in the orange glow while the silver crescent moon shimmered with a faint pulse. Ceyda's fear turned into cautious curiosity. She approached like the bird might bite her soul off if she moved too fast. Her fingers stretched toward the invitation and letter, stopping twice before finally untying them from the raven's leg.
The soul raven didn't move.
It simply watched her, three eyes reflecting her face from different angles.
Almost as if she had found a new interest in the letter, Ceyda quickly unfolded it and read out loud with a breathy rhythm, trying to calm her anxiety through performance.
"Ceyda Aylin, mastersmith of Talasi, loyal daughter of House Aylin, is cordially invited to attend the Royal Player's Ball at Castle Midnight as an honored representative of your clan..."
She stopped. Her eyes widened, and the paper lowered just enough for her to stare at the words again.
"Mastersmith? Did he write mastersmith?"
One of her apprentices spoke from near the cooling buckets, voice careful but honest.
"But, you are one."
Ceyda snapped her head toward him.
"Shut up, I'm having a moment."
Marius chuckled warmly.
"Hehe..."
Ceyda cleared her throat, trying to regain professional dignity while holding the invitation like it had blessed her personally.
"I've been invited to the royal party as a Clan representative for the Aylin."
The elder's amusement softened into something deeper. Pride, maybe. Relief too.
"It seems as if the Mikazuki are finally calling the other Houses back to the crown."
Ceyda looked down at the black card, thumb brushing along the obsidium surface. The forge light reflected in her eyes, turning them bright and wet without becoming tears.
"Yeah, but they still remember who never left them. That's why I like Lord Xiro."
While the Aylin celebrated their newfound respect, a member of another Talasi foundational family was listening right around the edge of the shop's building.
Still recovering from being trapped in Frost's ice, Cierra Chandra and Stamps watched the blacksmith's interaction with my familiar from the shadows beside the shop. They looked rough. A cold breath and alley mist still clung to their clothes like punishment that refused to clock out. Frost burns marked Cierra's arms and wings in pale patches, the edges of her feathers blackened from magical cold that had bitten too deep. She rolled one shoulder, wincing as the movement pulled at tender skin.
"Ouch. Stupid ass frost burns still hurt."
Stamps crouched beside her, rubbing his hands together as if he could still feel the ice around his fingers. The Dark Elf's eyes stayed fixed on the invitation in Ceyda's hand.
"Mistress Cierra, did you hear that?"
Cierra gave him a look like the question had physically offended her.
"Of course I did. And are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Stamps squinted toward the forge, gaze sliding to the half-finished blade still glowing on the anvil.
"I think so, but what would we do with an incomplete sword. We should let her finish before we steal it."
Cierra slowly turned her head toward him.
That stare had enough disappointment in it to impress an Asian parent.
"No, you idiot! We're going to crash the Demon Lord's ball."
Stamps recoiled slightly, his voice dropping like saying my name too loud might summon me out of the smoke.
"But why would we do that? It's the Devil of Velonica's castle. We should be doing everything we can to get far away from him."
Cierra's expression tightened.
For all the comedic dumbassery around her, there was something desperate beneath it. The kind that turned pride into a bad plan and then dressed that bad plan in confidence. She glanced back toward the Aylin shop, watching Ceyda and the elder admire the invitation like it represented a future she had been locked out of.
"We can't. He's the ticket to fixing my family's problems."
Her blackened wings shifted behind her, stiff with lingering pain.
"Ever since the Chandra Clan left Talasi, they have been unable to reestablish themselves anywhere else. The entire clan now sits in Lashun, doing whatever Beatrix Ashendor tells them to do."
Stamps scratched his cheek, nervous eyes moving toward the street where town guards passed in the distance.
"But I heard they weren't the only ones to leave Talasi. A lot of nobles left."
Cierra's jaw clenched.
"It's those stupid Mikazuki who are at fault. Like, bro, if they had given up the crown, then my idiot clan wouldn't have followed the Soleil into ruin."
Stamps swallowed.
"I don't know, boss. It was smart to leave them in Lashun, but this... This might end badly. We should go back to being Highway Men."
Cierra's eyes snapped toward him again, bright with anger and embarrassment in equal measure.
"So you're a scary little bitch? You want the Aylin Clan to keep getting royal treatment, while the Chandra gets frozen in alleys by fake Demon Lords? Nah. I'm going to that damn Ball. I'm getting my Clan forgiveness from the Devil."
There it was.
"If I can get in front of him, he has to hear me. A letter can be ignored. A woman standing in his ballroom can't."
It wasn't greed. Not completely.
Pride wrapped around desperation. Cierra didn't just want access to the Ball because it sounded fancy or because she wanted to rob someone with cleaner floors. She wanted a way back. The Chandra Clan had left with the wrong crowd, followed the wrong hands, and ended up serving another city's interests while the loyal clans were remembered by the crown. And if forgiveness had to be stolen through the front door of my castle, Cierra was the type of woman dumb enough to try and brave enough to maybe survive the attempt.
That was when the brunette Sky Celestial spotted another soul raven gliding over the roofs.
Her eyes sharpened. Her wings stretched, blackened feathers spreading with a pained shudder as she prepared to chase after it.
"We need to catch that other bird. Town guards are too close to rob the blacksmith. Try to keep up, Stamps!"
"Boss, even if we catch a bird, won't the card know it isn't ours?"
"I said, keep up!"
Stamps stumbled after her as she launched into the air.
"I'm coming, boss!"
The two of them flew down the side of the shops, hoping my familiar made it easy.
Little did they know.
My next soul raven made its way to the Nox Clan, a Celestial Clan of ninety percent women who lived on the south side of Talasi. They were a clan my brothers and I grew up around and often interacted with. Their estates sat behind dark iron gates and flowering hedges, all smooth stone paths, blackwood balconies, silk curtains, and women who had been trained since birth to weaponize beauty, etiquette, and gossip with the same accuracy as a knife.
Their clan matriarch, Jennifer Nox, was a true dark-haired thicc baddie.
Respectfully.
Mostly respectfully.
Jennifer had been my first crush on Gaia. A dangerous one, too, because she was grown, fine, and always smelled like jasmine soap and trouble when I was young enough to think looking too long might get me grounded. I was always too young whenever I saw her, but I could always hear her telling Grandma Fann that she hoped to blend the clans with her daughters and the Wolfpak. The Nox Clan never hid their interest in the Mikazuki line. Hell, they rarely wanted to hide their body.
So I was curious how she would react to me showing her priority.
The magical courier landed on the open bedroom window of Jennifer's mansion.
Perfumed incense graced the air, rich and sweet, mixing with the open breeze that carried the scent around the room. Her bedroom was all dark polished wood, silk bedding, soft lantern light, and hanging charms shaped like crescent moons. Red and violet curtains swayed around the open window, brushing against the raven's feathers as it hopped inside with eerie patience.
Jennifer stirred from a day nap beneath thin sheets.
Her imported kimono had slipped down her shoulders, exposing smooth khaki-beige skin and the top of her large breasts as she rubbed her eyes. The fabric was dark pink with silver flowers stitched along the sleeves, and it clung to her curves like the tailor had been having a spiritual experience. Her long black hair spilled across the pillow in loose waves, slightly messy from sleep. When she blinked her vision clear and saw the black bird hopping closer; she didn't scream.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Little messenger, your mana is familiar... Wait... that's Lord Xiro!"
The sleep vanished from her face like somebody had thrown cold water on it.
Jennifer immediately sat up, the sheets sliding down her waist as she retrieved the card and letter from the raven. Her fingers moved with feverish anxiety, careful enough not to damage the message but fast enough to show her nerves. She unfolded the letter, eyes darting across the words while the soul raven perched on her windowsill and watched like a tiny shadow judge.
"The Demon Lord invites House Nox to Castle Midnight?"
Her lips parted.
Then her smile turned predatory, but not childish. Jennifer Nox had survived too many courts to mistake a party for only a party. This was access. Recognition. A door opening after years of patient loyalty.
The kind of smile that made it clear the Nox Clan had been waiting for this exact opening and already had three marriage plots preheated.
"It's a Ball. With the request to dress our sexiest."
Jennifer moved so fast she almost left her legs behind.
She threw the bedding aside, the kimono slipping lower before she caught it with one hand and rushed out of her bedroom. Her bare feet slapped against polished floors as she yelled down the hallway with enough urgency to make servants, daughters, cousins, and probably old portraits wake up.
"Prepare the formal robes. And wake the unmarried cousins! This is not a drill."
Somewhere in that mansion, I know at least six women started screaming with excitement, and three aunties began spiritually fighting over lipstick shades. The Nox Clan getting priority was either going to be good politics or a mess with perfume on it. Knowing my life, probably both.
While I showed love to the O.G. clans that stayed, I didn't forget about the four that left. Loyalty got the first invitations. But treason got one, too. I mean, I'm fair like that.
The Illuminati of Velonica became a group I kept an eye on after being brought up to date by Grandma and Mom. Knowing that Beau Soleil was their spokesperson, I had his mana signature saved for tracking. [Dimensional Detection] and [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] had him pinned two hundred miles north of Lashun. So I sent a soul raven to find him.
To let him know he couldn't escape me.
The Soleil had been plotting a coup for the crown since Mom said she didn't want to rule. Their attack on my mother had been expected, sure, but expected didn't mean forgiven. Oh no, don't confuse prediction with permission. I knew if Beau was really hoping to take the throne in one swift motion, then challenging me during my public debut would be too good an opportunity to miss.
And I wanted to give him a chance to prove me wrong.
Prove to me he wasn't as stupid as I thought he was.
The Yin Mana familiar found its target in a luxurious but militarized fort compound.
The place sat on a wide estate surrounded by high walls, armed towers, and defensive wards that shimmered faintly in the late cerulean sun. The compound tried to look noble with its manicured gardens, marble fountains, trimmed hedges, and gold-lined windows, but the rows of guards, weapon racks, reinforced gates, and patrol routes made it obvious somebody had poured paranoia into the foundation. Not only were the Soleil Clan there, but so were the Haru and Vega Clans. Yet, only the Soleil looked like they were still being treated like nobility.
That told the whole story without needing a narrator.
Beau Soleil lounged in a gazebo near the central garden, sipping tea while maids waited on him with trays, towels, and little pastries arranged like he was hosting peace instead of plotting treason with table manners. His black hair rested perfectly combed atop his head, and his clothes were too clean for a compound where other clans sweated under armor nearby. Armed guards stood at attention around him in four different corners. Haru and Vega members worked the gardens and equipment routes around the estate, metal on their bodies heating under the sun as they trimmed hedges, carried supplies, or watched the sky with guilt written across their shoulders.
Beau lifted his cup, speaking with that Soleil accent of his, as if disdain was an art form he had studied abroad.
"Zis rumor of ze Sycamore Tree's destruction cannot be real. To think ze Devil killed all of ze witches. It would be impressive, if I did not know ze secret of zose whores."
The soul raven appeared on the gazebo railing in a blink of black feathers.
Seeing the black bird suddenly appear spooked a lot of them. Several Celestials stepped back. A maid gasped and nearly dropped a porcelain tray. The guards reached for weapons. Haru and Vega members started whispering amongst each other with wide eyes, their anxiety spreading faster than a bad rumor in church.
One Haru clan member pressed both hands together in prayer.
"Do you see that? Death comes for us, soon. We should pray and repent!"
A Vega clan member stared at the bird with haunted certainty.
"It is more punishment for leaving our ancestors' village in anger."
Beau's cup paused halfway to his mouth.
His eyes narrowed.
"You two, silence! How did zis creature slip through ze defense ward?"
The soul raven looked at him.
"BAAWLL. BALLL."
Beau's patience broke instantly.
He swiftly reached for the spear leaning against the gazebo column and launched it at the bird with supersonic speed. His motion was clean, trained, and furious. The spear tore through the air with a violent crack, creating a sonic boom that scared the nearby Celestials into ducking, stumbling, and covering their ears. The weapon vanished from sight for most of them, a silver line of murder aimed directly at my familiar's chest.
But the soul raven didn't dodge.
A black ethereal pool opened on the ground beneath it.
Yin Mana spread across the gazebo floor like spilled ink, then rose into a vertical shadow wall. The spear struck the darkness without sound. No clang. No explosion. No dramatic shower of sparks. The weapon simply stopped dead, swallowed halfway into the black surface before sinking into the pool like the void had decided it belonged in inventory storage.
The guards froze. A few Haru workers looked less angry at the raven and more terrified of Beau's reaction to it.
Beau stared.
"Stupid bird! What even was zat?"
That was when the raven dropped the Night Invitation and royal letter directly on top of Beau's head. For one perfect second, nobody moved. The Devil of Velonica's invitation slid down Beau Soleil's perfect hair and landed in his lap like disrespect had learned calligraphy.
The soul raven fluffed its feathers and screamed at him with the energy of a courier who had just endured unnecessary workplace hostility.
"BAAAWWWWLLL."
Beau snatched the letter with visible disgust, though curiosity had already hooked him. As he read the invite, his hatred and annoyance of me constantly rose. His fingers tightened around the paper, and the maids around him wisely took one step back. The letter read:
By command and courtesy of Lord Xiro Mikazuki, Devil of Velonica, Grandmaster of the Mikazuki Clan, Sovereign of Talasi, and Midnight King of Castle Midnight, you are invited to attend the Royal Player's Ball.
Beau's mouth curved downward.
"Xiro Mikazuki... Zat bastard knows where I am? Zen he invites me after stealing my prize, killing my friends, and wearing ze crown I deserve."
His expression shifted.
The anger didn't leave. It sharpened.
Beau smiled without warmth. Without fear. The kind of smile that made plotting look like breathing.
"Either ze Devil of Velonica has no fear, or he has no manners. To set an open trap, thinking no one will purposely spring it, is an immature gamble."
He took a sip of tea.
The garden around him had gone too quiet. The Haru and Vega workers watched from the edges. The guards stood stiff as statues. The soul raven remained on the railing, three eyes glowing, head cocked as if waiting to see whether Beau had more dumb shit to say before it left.
Beau looked toward the door of his manor, his smile sharpening into something ugly and ambitious.
"Ze Mikazuki Clan spends decades sleeping on ze throne, zen their new devil sends me a dance invitation?"
He lowered his cup with slow precision.
"Non. Zis is not a royal gathering. Zis but a summons wearing ego."
Beau folded the invitation with careful hands.
"Prepare my finest clothes," he said. "If ze Devil wants a performance, I will give him one."
The soul raven watched him for one more breath, then vanished into black feathers.
Not all soul ravens were lucky enough for a local drop-off.
Some of my dark flying FedEx had to put a lil' more wind under their feathers and earn those S-Class wings I gave them. One of them flew about one thousand, two hundred and thirteen miles southeast, cutting through clouds, mountain winds, and open country until the land below shifted into the deep cultural bones of East Velonica. The region looked different from Velonica's rough southern charm. More refined in places. More ancient. More shaped by history that never asked for permission to survive.
East Velonica had once belonged to Velonica back in the days when the whole country floated as one nation. Back when the crown still meant something beyond an old seat collecting dust and grudges. But once Fann Mikazuki was set to inherit Synga's throne, Grandma chose not to become a Demon Lord. That choice left a vacuum, and Gaia did what Gaia always did with a power vacuum. Anarchy walked in first. The Majin followed after, claimed the land, and dared anyone to ask them to leave.
East Velonica was also where Oni originated.
So yeah, I had to invite their ruler.
The land of the rising Majin was currently ruled by the Night Orchid of East Velonica, Sayaka Kurozumi. An elegant, gorgeous, and traditional Chaos Oni with the kind of posture that made slouching feel like a criminal offense. She carried beauty like a blade kept in silk, sharp enough to cut and polished enough to admire before it did. She was intelligent, formal, and noble in a way that made the modern nonsense around her feel childish by comparison. East Velonican culture would've been right at home with East Asia back on Earth. The clothing, the architecture, the manners, the way warriors stood at attention, like their ancestors were still judging them from the walls. Honestly, I was surprised they weren't producing anime yet. They already had kimonos and dramatic sword politics. They were halfway there.
The raven descended into the city of Rian. Into the ninomaru of a wealthy hirajiro, without losing course.
The castle grounds rose from volcanic stone like a fortress carved from cooled anger. Layered white walls towered above black-tiled roofs, each curved edge tipped upward like the building was quietly smiling at enemies dumb enough to approach. Red lanterns lined the halls, their glow becoming warmer as the afternoon eased into its golden era. Shadows stretched long across polished stone paths. Wind moved through hanging banners bearing the Kurozumi crest, snapping them softly against the silence. The place felt regal without needing to scream about money. It had that old power smell. Incense. Steel oil. Wood smoke. Polished equipment. Quiet danger.
The soul raven's wings stirred ash-colored dust as it passed over the inner defenses.
The Oni didn't attack it, but they damn sure didn't let it out of their sight. Black-horned guards stood inside volcanic stone halls with weapons ready, their armor layered in lacquered black and deep crimson plates. Some carried spears with curved blades. Others had katanas resting at their hips, hands close enough to the hilts to turn suspicion into violence in one breath. Their eyes followed the raven's every movement, but their discipline held. Nobody wanted to be the fool who struck down a strange, divine-looking messenger in their ruler's house. Good instincts. Bad things happen to dumb couriers, but worse things happen to people who kill the courier of a Demon Lord.
When the bird located Sayaka walking with her councilor, she didn't flinch as it approached.
She moved through the hallway like the castle was an extension of her spine. Pale, graceful, and composed, with long dark hair flowing behind her in a smooth waterfall, decorated by ornamental pins that caught lantern light in tiny gold flashes. Her kimono was layered in deep black, red, and moonlit silver, hugging her figure with traditional elegance while doing nothing to hide that the woman had curves under all that nobility. A sash wrapped her waist perfectly, making every measured step look like a ritual. Her black horns curved from her head with glossy pride, each one polished to an obsidian shine.
The soul raven glided lower.
Sayaka's eyes softened with curiosity.
"Like a kiss from a shadow, come here, little one. I would have a closer look at your beauty."
Can't lie, that was how you talk to anyone you didn't want to scare. Respectful. Poetic. Slightly ominous. Ten out of ten for delivery etiquette.
The three-eyed raven landed on a nearby pole, talons clicking softly against lacquered wood. Its black feathers absorbed the lantern glow while its three violet eyes burned like small ghost-lamps in its skull. Sayaka stepped closer until they were face-to-face, studying the bird with no fear at all. Her councilor stayed just behind her shoulder, silent and rigid, his eyes moving between the familiar and the guards waiting down the hall.
Sayaka stared at the raven for a long moment, then slowly removed the invitation and letter from its leg.
The sight of the Mikazuki Clan symbol was the first thing she noticed. The crescent moon marked in silver against blackwood and obsidium caught the lantern light with quiet authority. Her thumb brushed along the card's edge, feeling the hidden glyphwork beneath the surface. She unfolded the letter and read with calm eyes, but the meaning hit instantly. I wasn't just inviting people to a party. I was showing every ruler in southern Arcadia that the crown had awakened.
Sayaka lowered the letter slightly.
"I heard that the Devil of Velonica was an Oni. And here he is, not asking permission to exist as a Demon Lord. Instead..."
A small smile touched her lips.
"He's making himself visible to Velonica's rulers. To all of Arcadia. I like a man with some balls on him."
The soul raven puffed its chest.
"BAAWLLLS."
Sayaka's smile became genuine.
"Correct, cute one. He is going to need them if he's attempting unification. Still, what should I do?"
Her councilor remained quiet while Sayaka turned toward the open walkway overlooking the inner courtyard. Below, guards trained in clean formations, their blades catching the late light. A pond reflected red lanterns and dark rooflines. White petals drifted across the water like soft little witnesses to political trouble.
Sayaka folded one arm under the other, letter resting between her fingers.
"If I attend, I acknowledge him. I let the rest of Arcadia know that I support the Mikazuki returning to their valor. Even if that means he may seek to reclaim my country as well at some point."
Her eyes narrowed, not with fear, but calculation.
"If I refuse him, I risk insulting a rising power. One that has rumors about him that could scare Daemons. One, who is said to be a child from the Mayonaka Clan. Heaven knows, they are known to be petty and grudgeful."
Her councilor's face tightened at that name.
Sayaka continued before he could speak.
"If I send a representative, I would appear cautious. Yet, that would also make me look fearful."
The councilor finally stepped from beside her, his robes whispering over the stone floor. He was older than her, but not elderly. Thin, composed, with sharp eyes and a face that looked like it had been carved by years of saying no to risky ideas. His horns were shorter than hers, though polished with the same traditional care.
"Would it not be wise to put your safety and well-being before some silly public stunt?"
Sayaka did not look away from the courtyard.
"But don't you see, it's not just silly. The Devil of Velonica sends invitations before demands. He is either a brilliant sage, wise beyond his years, or a theatrical demon there to showcase his power. Are you not curious?"
The councilor's mouth drew into a thin line.
"Not curious enough to want to attend a Demon Lord's celebration so eagerly. The Devil of Velonica is known as a masterful M-Cee. One we do not know the full capabilities of."
Sayaka turned, and the light from the lanterns slid along the curve of her horns.
"Rulers who only meet allies learn nothing. Plus, this might be my only time to see the Oni who my spies say killed a Trapper."
The hall went a little quieter after that.
Even guards who pretended not to listen stiffened. Killing a Trapper wasn't a casual rumor. That kind of feat had weight. Angelic enemies weren't bandits, beasts, or arrogant noblemen with inherited swords. A person who could kill one of them had to be measured carefully, especially if that same person had just sent a courier across more than a thousand miles for a party.
Sayaka lifted the Night Invitation.
"I can't pass up a chance to meet such a man so casually. So, it's decided then."
Her councilor bowed, reluctant but obedient.
"If you desire such, Your Highness. I shall fetch the royal tailors."
Sayaka's smile returned, soft but sharp.
The soul raven blinked its three eyes and hopped once, mission accomplished.
In the reverse direction of Talasi, toward the far west within Velonica, another soul raven made its way to the border city of Kymberli.
Kymberli was different from a lot of villages and towns within the country. It was wealthier, louder, busier, and smelled like salt, coin, and opportunity. Located close to the Carolyn Sea and the borders of Bhadboi, Kymberli had become the city where many imports and exports flowed through Velonica. Ships from across Arcadia docked at its ports. Merchants shouted over one another in open markets. Sailors hauled crates down wet planks. Fishmongers, magic gem traders, textile dealers, potion sellers, and RIAA Guild members all moved through the streets like blood through a living body.
The city had been rebuilt in 1993 after a hurricane took most of it with the kind of disrespect only nature could get away with. The recovery was thanks to Duke Sumo Robins, a Merman crafter who ended up taking a political position after the rebuild. Nowadays, Kymberli was the premier port city in Velonica, and you could feel that ambition in the streets. Stone roads were clean but crowded. Dock cranes ran on Runestones. Sea walls glistened with defensive wards. Warehouses rose beside noble villas, and every corner smelled like trade waiting to happen.
Say what you wanted about nobles, but a crafter who rebuilt a drowned city had earned at least a little respect from me.
My soul raven flew through the sea breeze and into the open window of the Duke's villa.
Sumo Robins was in the middle of administrative work, which was probably one of the strongest reasons not to become a noble if you valued happiness. The bearded Merman sat behind his desk, buried beneath stamped parchments, ledgers, work orders, merchant complaints, and RIAA Guild documents stacked so high they looked like they were trying to form their own government. His aquatic features gave him a smooth, handsome strangeness, with faintly shimmering skin, webbed fingers, and deep eyes that looked better suited to ocean depths than paperwork hell.
He had one sleeve rolled up, a pen in hand, and fatigue sitting heavy on his shoulders.
The raven landed on top of his jar of Elysian Tree nuggets.
The sudden arrival almost spooked him, but the exhaustion from paperwork made him too lazy to jump. He only stared at the bird like he had reached the end of his patience three signatures ago.
"Look, bird, if you're here to drop off more work orders, then I'm going to be eating black crispy hen tonight."
The raven stared at him for a moment.
Then it tilted its head sideways, showing absolutely no fear of Sumo's threat. Which made sense. It had no digestive system or survival instinct.
"BAAAALLLL."
Sumo blinked.
"What did you say? What ball?"
The raven lifted its leg.
Sumo's eyes dropped to the letter and the black card tied there. He removed them with slow curiosity, then unfolded the letter. His brow lowered as he read that he had been invited to the Demon Lord's Royal Player's Ball. The words seemed to wake him more than coffee could've. He leaned back in his chair, chair creaking beneath him as he stared at the invitation like it had opened a window in his future.
"So, the Devil of Velonica, huh? He was always an M-Cee to keep an eye on, but to think he finally took Lady Vericka's position."
He turned the obsidium-coated card in his fingers, studying the crescent moon and glyphs.
"I do remember hearing Talasi's road becoming safer from beasts, but I didn't think that little lumber town would survive much longer."
Sumo reached for his glass of water and gulped half of it down. The glass hit the desk with a heavy clack that made a few documents slide.
"This could be big for Kymberli. Especially if the Devil is open to commerce. That new ivorywood goes for a lot on the market in Bhadboi. But we could never get first-hand cuts here."
His mind was already moving. I could almost respect it from a distance. Some people received royal invitations and thought of outfits. Sumo saw trade routes, contracts, future negotiations, and profit margins wearing a tuxedo.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Then again, this could be a trap. Ahhh, who cares? I've no qualms about the Mikazuki Clan and honestly can't afford to not attend. Anyone worth their coin purse will be there to network with the Devil."
The soul raven blinked at him.
Sumo looked the familiar straight into all three of its eyes, and a smile grew across his face. Not greedy in the sloppy sense. More like a businessman who smelled the first rain before a gold rush.
"And that will be more ways to make money. I will be there. I even know a perfect gift to bring," he said, glancing toward a sealed coralwood case near the wall.
The raven gave a low caw, then hopped from the jar to the windowsill, leaving behind one more political ripple in the water.
Now, the last major player in Velonica I reached out to was in Lashun.
The free city held the majority of Velonica's population, which already made it too important to ignore. Lashun was run by a High Elf named Beatrix Ashendor. Renowned for her femme fatale beauty, Beatrix had earned the alias the Ivory Viper of Velonica. Not too many nobles cared to dance with her in the political ring. Many of her enemies ended up dead after challenging her out loud. That kind of reputation always made me curious. Beauty, power, murder, and political survival wrapped in one tall glass of porcelain danger. Yeah, I had to invite her closer.
Lashun itself carried a strange contradiction.
From the outside, the city looked elegant and proud. White towers, clean roads, bright plazas, and walls built to make travelers think safety lived there rent-free. But beneath that shine, the place carried tension. Human influence had seeped into parts of its design, its technology, and its nobility. Some of it was useful. Some of it felt like an infection. The kind of poison that tasted sweet until your hands started shaking.
Even the guards outside wore polished leather & mithril armor cut closer to Human military fashion than Velonican tradition.
Beatrix's private estate chamber reflected that contradiction beautifully.
Ivory-white walls surrounded the room, polished smooth and carved with delicate floral reliefs. Gold-threaded curtains hung tall from arched windows, rippling in the warm afternoon breeze. The balcony housed a table with pale wine, crystal cups, and small biscuits arranged on silver porcelain. Glass sculptures stood around the chamber, catching the setting sunlight and fracturing it into prisms across the floor. Magitech that would normally be found in the Holy Lands gave her estate a far more advanced level of comfort than the rest of Lashun. Soft cooling arrays hummed near the ceiling. Light panels glowed without flame. A communication crystal sat on a carved stand, trimmed in gold. The entire scene looked expensive, polished, and poisoned with Human taste.
The soul raven landed on the balcony ledge with barely a sound.
Beatrix stopped her conversation with a cloaked male standing in the shadows.
She was as beautiful as rumor claimed. Long blonde hair pinned into a failing bun over ivory skin, and her blue eyes were sharp enough to make compliments feel lethal. Her dress hugged her body with elegant control, pale fabric shaped to flatter her figure without surrendering any dignity. She looked delicate, the way a suicide flower looked delicate. The kind of woman a fool would mistake for soft until he started choking on his own ambition.
Her attention was locked on the soul raven.
"I've never stumbled upon a familiar like this before."
She stepped closer to the balcony, eyes narrowing as she examined the raven's body.
"Yes... I thought so. The bird's body appears to have traces of ascended mana woven into it. How is that so?"
The cloaked man remained near the shadows, voice calm beneath his hood.
"There are Divine Beasts who can use ascended manas."
Beatrix didn't look convinced.
"Auburn, whoever sent this bird is dangerous if they can command such magick."
"In this country, there may be more than just one. Check the letter attached to it."
Beatrix approached with caution, though her pride kept the movement graceful. The soul raven stayed still as she removed the card and letter from its leg. Her fingers brushed the obsidium surface first, then the Mikazuki crescent. She unfolded the note addressed to her, reading quickly.
Her mouth dropped after she finished. The room went still enough for the cooling arrays to sound loud.
Then she spun around to Auburn. For the first time in that chamber, dread coated her face.
"I thought you said the Devil of Velonica was being taken care of? This messenger is from him."
Auburn's posture shifted.
Only slightly.
But the air changed with it.
"That must mean the Saint Disciples and Jojo have all failed. What does the letter say?"
Beatrix looked down at the letter again, as if reading it a second time might make the words less dangerous.
"It's an invitation to his royal gathering. The Devil of Velonica is the new Demon Lord taking the throne. Oh no... This will be trouble for Lashun, as he's planning a reunification."
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
"I fear rejection would only hasten our collision."
Auburn stepped out from the edge of shadow, though the cloak still hid enough of him to make the room feel like it hadn't fully revealed its secrets. His voice remained smooth, almost gentle, but there was pressure beneath it. The kind that didn't need to raise volume to be obeyed.
"You won't be rejecting. This is an opportunity we cannot pass on."
Beatrix's eyes lifted.
"You would be so bold to send me into the wolf's den alone?"
"Of course not, my gorgeous. I will be attending with you."
Beatrix went silent. Her worry deepened. Auburn's attendance did not make the den safer. It only meant the wolf might notice two predators walking in together.
Her face carried concern and worry in a way that felt too honest for a woman known as the Ivory Viper. Her gaze shifted toward the balcony, toward the raven, toward the city beyond the gold curtains. Lashun stretched out under the setting haze, bright rooftops and pale towers basking in warm light, unaware of the new danger flying straight into its political future. Or maybe Lashun knew and simply pretended otherwise.
Auburn approached her smoothly.
His steps made no sound against the polished floor. He lifted her head with one finger beneath her chin, gentle enough to look romantic, controlling enough to feel like a leash made of satin. Beatrix looked into his eyes, and her breath caught.
"Don't worry, my sweet, the Devil will not stop our plan to make you the new Queen of Velonica."
Beatrix's blue eyes flashed pink.
Only for a breath.
Then they returned to clear blue, but her expression had softened. The worry melted into yearning, warm and sudden, like a candle flame taking over a dark room. Whatever Auburn had over her, love, manipulation, spellwork, or a mixture of all three, it wrapped around her in that moment and pulled her closer.
Within the next breath, the two were kissing beneath the shadow of the setting sun.
The light poured across them in gold and rose tones, catching the glass sculptures around the chamber until fractured reflections painted their bodies in shimmering pieces. Beatrix's hand curled into the front of Auburn's cloak as his fingers held her chin and jaw with possessive tenderness. The kiss was slow, intimate, and dangerous in the way all political romance should be. The kind that made promises with lips and hid knives behind the back.
My soul raven watched from the balcony ledge.
Three violet eyes.
Silent.
Recording the moment like a voyeur with feathers.
Most of my soul ravens completed their deliveries with a variety of success, which was about as clean as a political mass-invitation campaign could go when the couriers looked like something a necromancer would send before tax season.
A few of them found their targets without drama. One raven found the Grand Registrar of the RIAA outside a training courtyard, coaching a cluster of rookie Artists who looked like they were trying to decide whether they wanted to be legends or quit before lunch. She stood with a clipboard tucked under one arm, watching a young M-Cee fumble through a Fire Mana rhythm while another tried to sync Wind Mana to a poorly timed drum pattern. The courtyard smelled of sweat, parchment, polished instruments, and that burnt ozone scent rookie spellcasters always made when they forced mana instead of flowing with it. When the raven landed on the registrar's shoulder like it had always been there, the rookie Artists froze so hard that one of them accidentally dropped his spell's flow and set his own boot smoking.
The Grand Registrar didn't scream. She simply adjusted her glasses, took the Night Invitation from the raven's leg, and read the letter with one brow rising higher by the sentence. From what my familiar recorded, she didn't smile much, but her eyes sharpened with interest. The RIAA loved two things above most else: talent and influence. I had both, plus enough chaos around me to keep their clerks busy for years. Somewhere in that woman's mind, I knew paperwork was already reproducing like rabbits.
Other ravens traveled to Mikazuki cousins living out in central Velonica, some in small noble holdings, some in village estates, and a few in settlements where the Mikazuki name had been carried more like a memory than a banner. Their reactions were mixed. Some bowed to the raven after seeing the crescent symbol. Some cried. Some yelled for their families so loudly that neighbors came outside thinking somebody had died or birthed a dragon. A few cousins held the black card like it was proof the clan had finally remembered them in the wider shadow of history. That part hit me harder when I watched it later through the raven's memory.
Not everybody accepted the invitation with pride or joy.
One nobleman hated the Mikazuki Clan so much that he attempted to set the card on fire in the middle of his dining room. He was an older Celestial with a thin mustache, a wide belly, and the kind of face that looked like it had spent decades judging poor people for breathing near him. He held the Night Invitation over a candle flame, smiling like he had personally defeated my bloodline by being petty with stationery.
The flame licked the obsidian-colored blackwood.
Nothing happened.
The card didn't singe. Didn't smoke. Didn't warm. The hidden glyphs in the crescent moon pulsed once with cold silver light, and the fire actually leaned away from it like the candle had developed survival instincts. The nobleman's smile died slowly. My soul raven stood on the dining table between silver plates and half-cut steak, staring into his soul with all three violet eyes while the man kept trying to burn the card harder. He huffed. He cursed. He poured lamp oil over the invitation and tried again. The card remained flawless, black, and smug as hell.
The raven blinked once.
"BAAALLL."
That wounded his pride more than any insult I could've written into the letter. Sometimes magickal durability was the best kind of disrespect.
Up in Endora, Dream Flower got hers.
The soul raven found her beneath a canopy of living vines near a grove she had been helping restore. The Great Sycamore was gone, but Endora still carried pieces of beauty that refused to die. Morning dew clung to broad leaves. Strange flowers opened their petals toward filtered sunlight, their centers glowing faintly with nature magick. The air smelled of wet soil, crushed herbs, and the lingering green sweetness of forest life trying to heal over a wound too big to hide.
Dream Flower stood with her hands hovering over a cluster of saplings, periwinkle-blue irises soft with exhaustion and care. Her mana moved gently through the ground, not forcing growth, more like whispering encouragement to roots that had every reason to give up. When the raven landed nearby, she turned, and that bittersweet smile of hers already told me the answer before she unfolded the letter.
She wasn't going to be able to attend.
Her Fenrir still needed her. Her clan still needed her. Grief still had a hand around her throat, even when she was standing upright. She read the invitation carefully, holding the black card against her chest for a moment like she wished she could split herself in two and send one half to celebrate while the other stayed behind to continue fighting loss.
Instead, she sent a gift back.
Dream Flower knelt and placed her palm over the soil. Earth Mana rose in soft green threads, weaving around her wrist and fingers before spiraling into a bud between her hands. The flower bloomed slowly, each petal unfolding in layers of pale blue, pink, and gold. Its center held a tiny bead of mana that glowed like captured dawn. She tied it gently to the raven's leg, along with a small note of regret and thanks. My familiar watched her in silence, unusually still, as if even the soul construct understood when not to be rude.
That flower carried more emotion than half the speeches I had heard from nobles.
Cali's delivery went differently.
That raven tracked him by my previous Call Card, which he was already carrying. Smart of him to keep it close. Either he trusted me, feared losing the connection, or had been waiting for the chance to say "I was right" with evidence in hand. Knowing Cali, probably all three. My familiar found him inside his company's headquarters, which smelled of ink, dust, old contracts, and irritated middle management. Wooden shutters filtered sunlight across shelves packed with ledgers. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, powered by a small Wind Runestone that needed maintenance before it gave up and became decoration.
Cali stood across from the Brazen Society's boss, Jenna Mayhem, with the letter in one hand and the Night Invitation in the other. Jenna had that exhausted executive look, dressed well enough to communicate authority and tired enough to prove she actually used it. Her eyes moved from the black card to Cali, then back to the card like she was searching for the lie in the material itself.
Cali's face held the beautiful satisfaction of a man who had been doubted for too long and finally got to hit somebody with a receipt.
"I told you, Jenna, the Devil was serious. He was a True Demon Lord."
Jenna leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping against the desk.
The soul raven remained perched on a filing cabinet, watching her with enough pressure to make the room feel smaller. The card's crescent glowed faintly in Cali's hand, and even if Jenna didn't know the exact spellwork inside it, she understood money, danger, and opportunity. That invitation carried all three wearing a tailored suit.
I hoped Cali got to rub it in whoever's face doubted him. My boy had been through enough after running into me. A lil' professional vindication was good for the skin.
Still, I would be lying if I said I wasn't excited myself.
The Royal Player's Ball went from a political obligation to something the whole city started breathing around. Over the next six-day fortnight, Talasi grew louder with every sunrise. Carpenters raised decorative archways. Tailors worked until their fingers cramped. Merchants polished signs and argued over stall placements. Guards rehearsed patrol routes around the castle and portal staging areas. The city had survived war, death, reconstruction, and my usual brand of chaos, but now it buzzed with anticipation instead of fear.
By the sixth day, Talasi smelled like roasted meat, Elysian smoke, perfume, hot metal, and expensive pleasure.
That last smell is hard to explain if you ain't been around rich people preparing to be seen. It was perfume layered over polished jewelry, fresh fabric, oiled hair, imported bath salts, and nervous sweat hidden under confidence. The town streets were dressed with crescent banners, lantern strings, and fresh flower arrangements. Black and silver fabric draped across balconies. Mana lamps glowed brighter than usual, their light tuned into deep violet and moonlit blue. Even the air felt different, charged with the kind of energy that made everybody walk like something was about to happen, and they wanted to be close enough to say they saw it first.
Castle Midnight had been decorated from gate to tower.
The walls shimmered under enchantments that made the black stone look brushed with starlight. Silver trims caught the moonlight from Gaia's three moons, each reflection sliding along the architecture like liquid metal. The courtyard had been cleared and marked with portal staging circles, each one carved into smooth black stone and lined with Spatial Mana glyphs. They sat dormant during the day, quiet as sleeping eyes, waiting for invited guests to activate their Night Invitations. A dozen guards were posted around the grounds, armor cleaned, weapons sharpened, expressions serious enough to impress people who didn't know half of them were probably gossiping telepathically.
I even hired additional help around the castle grounds.
Servers, cleaners, stable hands, temporary attendants, and a few people who looked like they had never been inside a castle before and were determined not to touch anything expensive with the wrong finger. Their movement gave Castle Midnight new life. Doors opened and closed. Footsteps echoed through the halls. Voices called from kitchens, balconies, storage rooms, and garden paths. The castle had begun feeling less like a big ass monument to my sudden rise and more like the center of a living kingdom.
One young attendant paused beneath a moonlit arch and whispered, "I can't believe I'm working here," before another dragged her back toward reality by the sleeve.
We were cookin' with gas.
While she wasn't cooking everything herself, Kyttin's kitchen operation was militarized.
And I mean that with all respect to war criminals and aunties at Thanksgiving.
The castle kitchen had become a battlefield of flavor. Massive ovens roared. Pots big enough to bathe a small child bubbled over enchanted flames. Roasted meats turned on mana-powered spits, dripping fat into trays of herbs and vegetables. Dough rested beneath cloths. Greens simmered with smoked bones and spices that made the air rich enough to slap somebody's grandmother. Frying oil hissed. Sweet glaze thickened in copper pans. Cornbread pans lined one table like golden bricks waiting to build morale.
Kyttin moved through it all with terrifying grace, her tails swaying behind her like commanders inspecting troops. She had the chefs stuck in awe with the soul food recipes pulled from my mnemonic crystals. Some of the cooks had tried to approach the dishes like regular noble cuisine, all delicate portions and timid seasoning. Kyttin corrected that nonsense quick. Soul food required love, patience, heat, memory, and the confidence to season like you had survived something. She didn't yell much, but when she smiled too sweetly after tasting something bland, grown chefs started sweating.
Azumi followed beside her, bright-eyed and mischievous, tasting things she had no business touching and somehow improving some of them. She had a spoon in one hand, a little notebook in the other, and flour dusting her cheek like she had been defeated by a biscuit and enjoyed it. Together, they gave the kitchen one last check-up before leaving the chefs on their own.
Kyttin lifted a warm piece of cornbread from a tray, pressed it gently between two fingers, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Now this cornbread is much softer and sweeter. With that complete, we shall leave y'all so we can go get ready."
Azumi raised both arms like somebody had announced a festival in her honor.
"Yes! Sexy time for dresses. Come on, Kyttin."
Several chefs watched them leave like their commanding officers had abandoned them before the final battle. To be fair, they had recipes, prep charts, and Kyttin's earlier warnings ringing in their ears. They would survive. Probably.
In the ballroom, Chomei was with Akai, testing music.
The ballroom had been transformed into something worthy of the Ball. Moonlit chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, each crystal filled with captured light that changed color depending on the angle. The polished floor reflected everything: black marble pillars, silver banners, violet candles, and the wide windows revealing the moons above Talasi. Tables lined the sides, draped in dark velvet and trimmed with silver thread. The air smelled faintly of wax, polished wood, flowers, and that clean sharpness of fresh magitech.
Jukeboxes hadn't been invented on Gaia, so I took the liberty of creating the first record player.
One of my Smoke Room side projects finally earned its place in public. The thing looked good, too. Blackwood body. Magisteel trim. A smooth spinning plate powered by a quiet Electric Runestone. Mana needles converted grooves into sound, while resonance crystals amplified the music across the room. A little Earth nostalgia with Gaian magick stitched through the wires. After [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] helped me slide out a few reproduced classics and favorites from Earth, Chomei had the sounds of the Isley Brothers coating the air.
That soft, soulful groove floated through the ballroom like liquid smoke.
Akai stood nearby with arms crossed, pretending to judge the device from a purely technical angle. But her foot tapped. Just slightly. Enough to betray her. Chomei noticed, because Chomei noticed everything that could become teasing material. She adjusted her glasses, smiling while the record spun beneath the mana needle.
Victorya quietly danced behind them, enjoying the alien tunes for the first time. Even Akai stopped pretending not to care for a second when the Succubus grooved beneath the chandelier light.
She moved with a slow, graceful sway, her gothic black hair catching chandelier light as she stepped across the polished floor. Her dress brushed around her legs, and her hands lifted slightly as if she were learning the rhythm through her fingertips. She didn't dance like somebody trying to impress anyone. She danced like the song had found a private place inside her and asked to stay. There was something strangely beautiful about watching a woman born from death and resurrection discovering old Earth love songs in a castle ballroom on Gaia.
Karma, meanwhile, was making last-second fashion changes.
Karma had returned to her bedroom and turned it into a voidsilk disaster zone. Fabric floated around her in black shimmering panels, pins hovered like silver stars, and the vanity had surrendered beneath jewelry, gloves, shoes, ribbons, and several items that had no honest business calling themselves clothing.
She wanted to surprise me that night, so she left me to get dressed by myself.
I respected the romance of that.
Also, it wasn't hard for me to dress alone, since I still commanded my bioarmor when Karma didn't inhabit it. My living armor responded to my thoughts with smooth obedience, shaping formalwear from black and indigo material that hugged my body like midnight made fabric. Silver trims formed along the cuffs, collar, and seams. The chest design shifted into a more regal indigo cut, sharp enough for a king, comfortable enough for a nigga who might have to fight somebody between appetizers. A subtle crescent formed near the heart, glowing faintly before sinking into the material.
No tailor needed.
Castle Midnight glittered beneath the moons when the first portals opened across the courtyard.
One by one, Spatial Mana circles awakened in the stone. Silver-blue light rose from the glyphs in smooth rings, humming through the night air. The portal surfaces unfolded vertically like mirrors made of moonwater, each one showing a different place beyond its rippling frame. Some opened to noble estates. Some to city halls. Some to private rooms where guests had clearly taken one last deep breath before stepping into my home. The courtyard filled slowly with movement, color, perfume, weapons, laughter, quiet threats, and the kind of nervous elegance that made politics look like theater with sharper props.
Friends came dressed to celebrate.
Enemies came dressed to smile.
And somewhere between the music, the voidsilk, and the smoke, everyone was anxious about dancing with the Devil.
[End of Chapter]
[1] May on Earth