Zephyr sat back down on his throne—now completely inverted, hovering above the clouds as if the world itself had turned on its head just to amuse him.
He crossed one leg over the other, fingers steepled, the air around him still, as if even the wind held its breath.
"Leave now, Highfall," he said, voice smooth as silk dragged across glass. "We must prepare… the storm approaches."
His gaze darkened, the amusement fading for just a heartbeat.
"VlastMoroz… she was the strongest after the Dragon King himself. Even if she's weakened, I won't make a fool's decision."
Highfall lowered his head, wings folding behind him like a wilted banner. He said nothing more as he turned and walked away—each step silent, lost in the cloudstuff beneath him.
Zephyr waited. Then he smiled again, the chaos returning like an old friend.
"Come forth… my Divine Generals."
At once, the skies split open.
Ten beings tore through the clouds, rising from beneath like celestial blades piercing the veil. They landed in a perfect arc before Zephyr, kneeling on air, heads bowed.
They all shared an eerie resemblance—as if carved from the same divine mold. Robes of flowing white clung to their figures like living light. No weapons. No armor. Only the solemn strength of ancient beings shaped like men, but born of wind.
Their bodies were statuesque—divine yet terrifyingly human.
Each face carried resolve. Reverence.
Unyielding loyalty toward the one seated above.
Zephyr tilted his head, lips curling in that serene, irreverent smile.
"Why are you all in your human forms?" he asked, voice lilting with amusement. "Doesn't it drain your power to stay like that?"
One of the generals stepped forward.
He had tousled brown hair, green-tinted eyes, and a voice that carried the charm of a mockingbird wrapped in honey.
"How could we stand in our true forms, my Lord," he said, "when you must suppress yours at all times? We do not deserve such comfort when our Sovereign endures the weight of restraint."
Zephyr blinked once… then looked at him sideways.
"Dorores… is that truly the reason?"
The general nodded solemnly.
Zephyr sighed, his amusement now tinged with faint disappointment.
"Foolish," he said, shaking his head. "You still let respect and reverence cloud your instincts. Sentiment is the mother of weakness. The moment you cherish anything… it has the power to break you."
Another general raised his chin.
This one had icy blue eyes, faint fangs peeking beneath his lip. His presence crackled faintly, like lightning before a monsoon.
"Do we truly need to worry about strength?" he asked. "VlastMoroz no longer holds the power she once commanded. She turned her artifacts into Emblems—sacrificing her own armory for her subordinates."
He smirked.
"And she is injured. From her last battle. That much is certain."
Zephyr slowly leaned forward, fingers tapping the edge of his upside-down throne.
"Yes… and she can't even appear beneath open sky anymore, can she? Not without catching the eye of the Heavens."
His gaze narrowed.
"She's shackled now. Just as I am. Just as all Sovereigns are. She's hiding in frost and shadows, dragging herself across the earth while pretending her wings are still whole."
He stood up, the air trembling with anticipation.
"She has made her move. And now we shall make ours."
Zephyr's gaze flickered across the room, settling on Dorores. His voice was calm, almost detached, as he asked:
"How long until they arrive?"
Dorores, ever the loyal servant, gave a slight bow before speaking.
"They are already here. Spying on us, weaving between the currents of energy." His voice was laced with an unspoken warning.
Zephyr smirked, a shadow of amusement crossing his face.
"So, even with my powers restrained, they have the gall to disrespect me? How quaint."
The air around them began to hum. A low, electric crackle surged through the nothingness, breaking the silence like the first rumbles of a storm. The space around Zephyr trembled with energy, twisting and writhing as currents of electricity carved jagged lines across the void.
Then, it happened.
A figure emerged from the swirling energy, a presence that chilled the air. At first glance, there was no mistaking it—a Abyss Lector. The familiar silhouette of dark energy, the crackling power, the presence that hinted at a much darker force.
Zephyr raised an eyebrow, his amusement never fading.
"What is this appearance?" he asked, his voice cool, but with an edge of curiosity.
The Abyss Lector stood tall before him, its form crackling with energy. The being's features were obscured by shadows, but the signature glow of electro energy pulsed within the darkness that surrounded it. The air around them seemed to distort, like the very fabric of reality stretched thin by the pressure of its arrival.
"Has the Loyal of Electro Sovereign decided to change their sacred and eternal form?" Zephyr asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. There was no warmth, only a cold, mocking tone.
The Abyss Lector growled, frustration evident in the guttural sound that escaped its throat.
"Don't kid me, Zephyr. You and I both know that among the Seven Sovereigns, the ones beneath the Electro Sovereign will never change their Divine forms by choice," the Lector spat, the words sharp as shards of glass.
Zephyr's eyes narrowed, the playful smirk fading into something colder. He stood taller, every inch of his being radiating power, even restrained.
"If not for the Judgment of the Hydro Sovereign in the last war, we wouldn't have turned into this…" The Abyss Lector's words trailed off, bitterness seeping through every syllable.
The Abyss Lector's glare burned through the air, arcs of raw Electro sparking off his warped, humanoid form. The electricity dancing across his limbs wasn't just energy—it was resentment, bottled inside a form no longer of his choosing.
Zephyr leaned back in his upside-down throne, one leg crossed over the other, chin propped on his knuckles with a grin.
"You think I don't recognize that scowl? What is it this time, Lector? Come to moan about your condition? Or are you still bitter that your divine skin peeled off like a lie during the last war?"
The Lector snarled, sparks biting into the floor of clouds beneath them. The faintest echo of thunder rumbled somewhere beyond the divine citadel.
"I didn't come to reminisce, Zephyr," the Lector said, voice grinding like metal dragged across glass. "I came to deliver a warning—from the one who still holds her authority under storm and sky."
Zephyr raised an eyebrow. His smirk never faltered.
"The Electro Sovereign still sending you around like a burnt courier? What message does Her Radiance bring this time?"
The Lector stepped forward, the cloud-floor charring under each pulse of his feet.
"Your pursuit of the Cryo Sovereign ends now."
The throne room fell silent.
"You will not interfere with our movements against VlastMoroz," the Lector continued. "The time of patience is over. The Electro Sovereign will strike soon, and with finality."
"And if you, or your… half-naked choir of airborne devotees," he gestured at the Divine Generals, "attempt to meddle…"
The air cracked with pressure. His voice grew deeper—resonating with the will of the Electro Sovereign herself.
"There will be consequences. The kind not even you can dodge behind clever words and clouded skies."
A thin vein of lightning slithered up his arm and down his spine, glowing bright for a brief second.
Zephyr stared at him, silent for the first time.
Then… he smiled wider.
"You've always had a flair for drama, Lector. Tell your Sovereign…" he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with layered meaning,
"I was hoping she'd come out of hiding soon. This stage has been missing a little thunder."
The Lector didn't wait for further pleasantries. His body dissolved back into electric threads, discharging with a loud snap into the storm-ridden air.
Only silence remained, broken finally by one of the Divine Generals.
"What now, my Lord?"
Zephyr turned his gaze skyward, as if staring past the clouds into a greater truth.
His voice was low. Steady.
"Now we wait. And watch. If they want to awaken the Cryo Sovereign's wrath…"
"Let them."
Dorores took a half-step forward, brow furrowed, his usually charming tone replaced with grim caution.
"What was that about the Electro Sovereign still holding on to her Authority?" he asked, gaze locked on the spot where the Lector had vanished.
Zephyr's laughter was soft at first—a knowing chuckle, laced with mockery.
"You overthink it, Dorores," he said as he stretched his arms above him. "There's no way a Sovereign has redeveloped their Elemental Authority without openly defying the Heavenly Principles."
His throne glided back beneath him mid-motion, cradling his form like a lover drawn from vapor and will. He sank into it with the elegance of a man who had never lost control.
"Besides…" he said with a sigh of smug contentment, "once they've both worn each other down, we'll just sweep in and clean up whatever's left. A strategy as old as war itself—no drawbacks, no risks..."
He smiled.
"Well, except missing out on the fun."
---
In the Realm of Arian…
Mist coiled through the valley like sleeping breath, curling in reverence beneath the colossal head of Mother Rosen.
A sharp chill lanced through the air—Yandelf appeared without sound or announcement, blood dripping from her fingers like raindrops made of war.
Mother Rosen's gaze lowered, eyes narrowing with immediate concern.
"What is the meaning of this, Yandelf?" she asked, her voice echoing like the low hum of a glacier shifting beneath the earth. "You never fight yourself. You command. You watch."
Yandelf wiped a drop from her thumb, smiling faintly.
"This isn't from battle, Mother," she said, eyes distant. "It's from the feast we all had."
That smile did not fade—but neither did it grow. It remained perched on her lips like something trapped between fondness and madness.
Mother Rosen's massive eyes narrowed further. Her breath deepened the surrounding fog.
"That is the blood of Skyborne Revenants," she said flatly.
Yandelf tilted her head, genuinely confused.
"Yes... what of it?"
The silence that followed was heavier than steel. Mother Rosen exhaled slowly, the cold deepening.
"Nevermind," she finally murmured, folding her wings slightly inward. "So then... is this your return? You wish to rest within me again?"
Yandelf stepped forward, her bloodied hand gently brushing against the feathered frost lining Rosen's scales. She leaned in closer, eyes dark, voice soft.
"Actually... I wanted to ask something."
"Has Mother already redeveloped the complete Authority over Cryo?"
Rosen didn't move. Not for a breath. Not for a moment.
When she finally spoke, her tone had changed—like a door slowly creaking shut behind a secret.
"I can't answer that, Yandelf."
"Not even to you."