The Kutsche descended slowly through shifting currents.
Space itself bent around the island.
Not violently. Not chaotically.
It changed.
Currents folded into one another, directions losing meaning before reasserting themselves. And yet, at the center of it all, the island remained untouched—anchored in something deeper than space.
The Flux estate.
A massive landmass suspended between distortions that should have torn it apart.
It did not move.
It decided.
I watched in silence as we passed through the final layer of warped air. The pressure vanished instantly.
We arrived.
The landing was effortless. The moment the Kutsche touched the stone, the engraved authority in my blood responded. The estate accepted me without resistance.
Unfortunate.
If not for that old witch's interference, I would have removed that mark long ago.
…as if she could stop me.
Valerius stepped down behind me, followed by the others. Their reactions were predictable. Subtle awe. Poorly hidden.
They were nobles, yes—but not of this level.
Their estates existed below. In the city.
This—
This was something else.
Only the great houses, the Primarch, and the Prime Seers held domains like this.
And me.
We walked.
The deeper we moved into the estate, the quieter it became. Structures shifted subtly, angles not quite stable, distances not entirely consistent. Buildings seemed to reposition themselves when not directly observed.
Flux.
Change made into foundation.
Members of the house noticed me immediately.
Whispers followed.
No one approached.
They knew me.
Or rather—they knew what was said about me.
Fear spreads faster than truth.
I ignored them.
There was no reason to slow down.
The core estate lay ahead.
I would go there directly.
—
"Cousin."
The voice cut through the air with forced warmth.
I stopped.
A man approached—late twenties. Short braided hair. Black, like the absence of light. But his eyes—
They shifted.
Constantly.
Colors bleeding into one another as if they could not settle on a single state.
Unstable.
Or perhaps too aligned with his house.
"…how long has it been?" he continued, smiling too widely. "You've been well, I assume. It has been ages."
He walked closer.
Too close.
"Mother speaks of you often. The family does. We've all missed you."
I said nothing.
I walked past him.
He followed.
Of course he did.
"How could we rest easy," he continued, voice softening, "knowing the child of those bastards was out there?"
—
I stopped.
Behind me, Valerius inhaled sharply.
Silence fell.
Then—
Something moved.
Not in the world.
In perception.
Darkness gathered at the edge of thought, and from it—
branches.
Withered.
Twisted.
Not growing, not alive—yet expanding.
They tore outwards from my presence like fragments of a dead thing refusing to remain still. Their surface cracked, dry, like something long decayed. And yet they moved with intent.
They wrapped around him instantly.
His body locked.
Then tightened.
A sound escaped him—not a scream, not yet—something caught between confusion and pain.
His power reacted.
Violently.
Space around him distorted, colors in his eyes fracturing faster, unstable currents lashing outward in response.
Quasi-master level.
Irrelevant.
The branches did not break.
They did not resist.
They simply… remained.
And tightened.
His mind fractured first.
Not visibly—but I could feel it.
The pressure.
The collapse of structure.
Thoughts looping, compressing, distorting under something he could not name.
I stepped closer.
Blood slid down from my nose.
Warm.
Irrelevant.
"Say it again," I said.
My voice was quiet.
Flat.
He couldn't answer.
The branches pressed deeper.
Not into flesh—
Into perception.
Fragments of suffering—unformed, undefined—forced into his awareness. Not pain. Not illusion. Something else.
He tried to fight.
His power surged, uncontrolled, tearing at space around him.
Nothing changed.
"Say it again," I repeated.
Behind me, Valerius spoke. Urgent. Controlled.
"My—Ahim, stop. This—"
I ignored him.
The branches spread.
Faster now.
Too fast.
They crawled along the ground, up pillars, across open air, touching everything without touching it.
Servants collapsed.
Silently.
No wounds.
Only pressure.
Only weight.
Even Valerius dropped to one knee, breath uneven, though he tried to endure it.
Good.
This was closer.
Closer to how things should be.
"I hold you all accountable," I said.
Not loudly.
Not with anger.
Simply… stated.
The branches extended further.
The estate itself seemed to dim.
Movement in the distance—people running, forms distorting as perception failed them.
Still—
Not enough.
—
Then—
A sound.
Sharp.
Like something snapping into place.
And a voice.
"Mutatio."
Change.
Everything stopped.
The branches froze.
Not cut.
Not destroyed.
Overwritten.
The man before me stood upright.
No wounds.
Only sweat.
Only confusion.
The estate—
Restored.
Perfect.
Servants stirred, unaware. Conversations resumed in distant corners as if nothing had happened.
Valerius stood again, breathing steady, eyes searching—but finding nothing.
Memory… removed.
Or replaced.
It didn't matter.
I exhaled slowly.
Annoying.
—
"You've caused enough disturbance."
Her voice again.
Closer now.
I turned—
—
And the world shifted.
—
I was no longer standing in the courtyard.
—
Good.
She did not bother with distance anymore.
—
The old witch had decided to receive me.