By the time we descended from the sky and touched down on the estate lawn, night had swallowed nearly all of Lavinsk.
Only a handful of lanterns beneath the wooden frame of the porch resisted the darkness, casting uneven pools of golden light across the garden.
The cold predawn wind rustled through the treetops, creating the brief and absurd illusion that the world was at peace—that we were nothing more than two ordinary people coming home.
Tsukumo landed first, his knees bending slightly in a silent motion.
I touched down on the grass a moment later, the sound of my boots crushing the dew the only noise in the courtyard.
The stillness of the Sacred Ocean had eased some of my physical exhaustion, but it had also unearthed questions I'd spent three years forcing into the deepest corners of my mind.
We climbed the porch steps side by side.
Before my hand could even reach the doorknob, the door swung inward.
Kânia filled the doorway.
She still wore the same dark shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the cold.
Her golden hair was loosely tied at the nape of her neck, several strands escaping across her face, and faint shadows of exhaustion rested beneath her brown eyes.
She hadn't slept for even a minute.
Her gaze swept over Tsukumo from head to toe, then settled on me, assessing our posture and visible injuries before she spoke.
"Better?" Her voice was quiet in the silent hallway.
Tsukumo ran his tongue over his teeth and straightened slightly.
"Yeah, yeah," Tsukumo said.
She exhaled through her nose, the sound carrying equal parts exhaustion and relief, then stepped aside.
"Come in."
We entered, accompanied only by the sound of our own breathing.
The house was submerged in shadow.
Silver had probably retired to his room already, though when it came to the Silver God, that meant absolutely nothing.
That damn old man could be sleeping, meditating on the roof, crossing the galaxy, or simply clinging to the ceiling of some dark room watching us for reasons only he understood.
I headed straight for the kitchen, feeling the cold floor even through the soles of my boots.
Kânia followed and lit two small crystal lamps hanging above the long oak table.
The room was immediately washed in a warm amber glow that brought out every old groove in the wood.
Tsukumo pulled out one of the chairs, dragging it lightly across the floor, then sat and crossed his long arms over his chest.
I remained standing.
Something had been scratching at my throat ever since we'd sat among the rocks of the Sacred Ocean.
Laura.
More specifically, the avalanche of things I simply didn't know about her.
I'd spent the last three years cutting across the universe in search of someone whose origins I barely understood at all.
I knew how she laughed.
I knew the exact way her brow furrowed whenever Arthur pushed her patience too far.
I knew how the muscles in her shoulders shifted milliseconds before her claws tore through the air, and how she crossed her arms and pretended not to care whenever something hurt her.
But I didn't know why Arthur had taken her.
I didn't know why entities powerful enough to pulverize the Domain of Strength had crossed through a portal just to make sure she vanished from the map.
I was sick of running through the dark.
Sick of swallowing half-truths.
"Kânia." My voice came out harsher than I'd intended.
She stopped with one hand reaching toward the handle of a cabinet.
"Hm?"
"What exactly is Laura?"
Kânia's hand froze millimeters from the wood.
Tsukumo, who until then had seemed absorbed in the grooves of the table, slowly raised his head, golden eyes catching the sudden shift in the kitchen's atmosphere.
The faint electrical hum of the crystal lamps suddenly seemed deafening.
Kânia remained with her back to me for several long seconds before withdrawing her hand and slowly closing the cabinet.
She turned and leaned one hip against the counter.
"You're going to have to explain that question better, Suki."
"No, I'm not," I cut in, planting both hands on the edge of the table and leaning forward.
"I don't know enough about her. I don't know her past."
No answer.
Her brown eyes locked onto mine, studying the aggressive determination radiating from me.
Beside me, Tsukumo uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, joining my demand.
"Arthur didn't take her by chance," he said, his deep voice completely devoid of hesitation.
Kânia glanced toward him.
"And those two things that tore open Ruitan's sky knew something too."
Kânia lowered her eyes toward her shoes, lips pressing into a thin line.
That tiny break in eye contact was all I needed.
Silent confirmation.
"So there is something," I said, striking my palm against the table.
"Three years, Kânia. We've spent the last three years hunting for traces of Laura without even knowing why anyone would go to such absurd lengths to keep her hidden."
She released a slow breath and lifted her head again.
There was pain there, but also the rigidity of someone who kept secrets because she had no choice.
"Suki... some things simply aren't mine to tell."
"Then tell me only what is."
A deep voice filled with cold, unwavering authority sounded directly behind me.
The muscles in my neck locked.
"Tell them."
Tsukumo turned immediately.
I spun on my heels.
Silver stood beneath the archway leading into the kitchen. As always, I hadn't sensed even the slightest vibration from his footsteps.
He wore simple dark clothes, without the imposing presence of his silver cloak.
His green eyes, sharp as blades, moved from Tsukumo to me before finally settling on Kânia.
She frowned, surprise mixing with irritation.
"Silver."
"He has the right to know," he said, his voice unchanged.
Kânia closed her eyes briefly and massaged the bridge of her nose.
She remained beside the counter, posture rigid, hesitating in a way I'd rarely ever seen from her.
Then she moved around the counter in silence, pulled out the remaining chair across from Tsukumo and me, and sat.
Her fingers intertwined tightly atop the table.
When she raised her face again, the worried, maternal woman was gone.
All that remained was a survivor reaching into memories she'd rather have kept buried.
"Veronica."
She spoke the name slowly, as though the word itself had texture.
It hung uselessly in the air before me.
It meant nothing.
Tsukumo's expression remained equally unreadable. He didn't recognize it either.
"A primordial Goddess of Blood," Kânia continued.
My stomach lurched and dropped. For a fraction of a second, the blood drained from my face as my mind processed the scale of that title.
"She was Laura's mother," Kânia said, her voice soft but steady.
I immediately looked toward Silver, searching for any sign of denial, but his face was carved from stone.
My attention returned to Kânia, catching the tense she'd used.
"Was?"
She held my gaze without wavering.
"Was."
The weight of that confirmation settled over the table.
Tsukumo, as practical as ever in the middle of an avalanche of information, uncrossed his arms and tilted his head slightly to the right.
"And her father?"
This time, it was Silver's voice that broke the silence, almost metallic.
"Krunian."
The smallest change passed across Tsukumo's face.
His golden eyes widened by a fraction almost no one else would have noticed.
I did.
One of his fingers tapped the wood once.
"You know that name?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
"I've heard it before," Tsukumo murmured, his eyes fixed on Silver.
"God of Chaos."
Silver gave a slow nod.
Those two words began orbiting inside my head, colliding in something ugly and violent, painting a picture I didn't want anywhere near Laura's sarcastic smile.
"Krunian and Veronica..." I murmured, my tongue suddenly heavy.
"Yes," Kânia said.
"Laura was born from the union of those two ancient and unstable bloodlines."
Tsukumo rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers beneath his chin, his tactical mind clearly working at full speed.
Kânia glanced toward Silver for a moment before returning her attention to us.
"To me, to all of you, Laura was always just Laura. But to certain factions—to beings operating beneath the kingdoms, in the underworld—they didn't see a short-tempered girl."
Kânia's fingers whitened from how tightly she squeezed them together.
"Some of them saw an opportunity."
"What kind of opportunity?" I demanded, my patience evaporating.
"Veronica never raised Laura as a daughter."
My breath caught.
"She conceived her and raised her strictly as a vessel."
The kitchen sank into absolute silence.
I knew what that word meant.
And because I did, bile threatened to rise into my throat.
"A vessel for what?" My voice came out rough.
Kânia slowly shook her head.
"She intended to use Laura's vitality to steal her body."
"Is something like that even possible?" I asked, incredulous. I'd never heard of anything remotely like it.
"There are secrets in those galaxies that escape even the wisest among us," Kânia answered.
"What Veronica intended to do to Laura is known as Soul Fusion."
"Soul Fusion..." Tsukumo repeated, almost in a whisper.
"It's an ancient art, forged thousands of years ago. A group of witches managed to touch a spark of divine power, raising their magic to unimaginable levels."
"In doing so, they achieved a twisted form of immortality. They began parasitizing new bodies, trading their worn-out shells for young, vigorous vessels... preferably divine ones."
"So you're telling me Veronica..."
"Yes," Kânia cut me off, her voice grave.
"Veronica was one of them."
Silver slowly leaned back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap, his expression buried beneath the shadows cast by the lamps.
A cold shiver—a trail of filthy ice—climbed my arms and crawled along my spine.
I looked at Tsukumo.
His closed expression told me his mind had arrived at the same place as mine.
Silver noticed the silent exchange between us.
He slowly raised his eyes and met Kânia's gaze.
It lasted barely a fraction of a second, but it carried centuries of concealed concern.
What were they hiding?
"You know something," I said, clenching my fists against the table.
"Suspicions, Suki," Silver replied sharply.
"Nothing more."
"Then give me the damn suspicions."
Silver's eyes returned to mine, dark and immovable.
"No."
My jaw locked hard enough for my teeth to click together.
The exhaustion from the Furnace became fuel for my anger.
"Silver."
"I said no, Suki."
"And why the hell not?!" My voice finally rose, echoing through the kitchen.
"Because you, boy, still mistake incomplete and dangerous information for a direction."
"And that's exactly how people die before their time."
The words struck me squarely.
I planted my palms against the table and shoved myself upright.
"We've spent the last three years without any direction at all!"
"And you're still alive because of that," he replied, completely composed despite my outburst.
"Laura might not have that luxury!"
"You really think I don't understand the weight of that time, Suki?"
Silver didn't raise his voice, but every trace of civility disappeared from it.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Cutting.
"I found Laura when she was nine years old."
I froze.
The fire of my anger slammed into a wall of ice.
The Silver God, always focused on the training and battles of the present, had never once spoken about that past.
Not once.
Silver looked away from me and focused on the faint, trembling flame inside one of the crystal lamps, as though searching within it for images from that distant day.
"I had already faced Veronica before Laura was born."
My attention locked completely onto him.
Tsukumo went still as well.
"It was many years ago," Silver continued.
"When her crimes began crossing even the lines the gods of Lavinsk were willing to ignore."
He placed one hand on the table.
"I went after her."
There was no pride in his voice.
No attempt to turn the memory into some glorious old war story.
"Veronica and I fought for seven days."
"When it ended, she could no longer continue."
Tsukumo narrowed his eyes.
"And you didn't kill her."
"No."
The answer was dry.
"Why?" I asked.
Silver spent several seconds staring at the lamp's flame.
"Because she begged me."
The kitchen fell silent.
"And because she was pregnant."
My chest tightened.
Tsukumo understood first.
"Laura."
Silver nodded once.
"I didn't know who the child was. Or what would be born from that union."
His jaw hardened.
"But that child had committed no crime."
Kânia watched Silver from the side, as though she'd known those words for centuries.
"So I spared Veronica."
Silver's fingers slowly curled against the table.
"I spent many years wondering whether that had been mercy..."
His eyes darkened.
"...or the worst mistake I've ever made."
No one answered.
After several seconds, he continued.
"Years later, the rumors started."
"What kind of rumors?" I asked.
"About a child."
"A daughter of Veronica's that almost no one had ever seen. People entering her territory and disappearing. Experiments. Rituals. Too much activity for someone supposedly living in isolation."
Silver lifted his eyes.
"That was when I decided that child was my responsibility. I couldn't leave her with Veronica under those circumstances."
"I went there. Alone."
This time, those four words sounded completely different.
It was Silver returning to correct a decision that had haunted him for years.
"When I crossed into Veronica's domain, I began to understand what was happening."
His voice dropped.
"And when I finally found Laura..."
Silver stopped.
For the first time since he'd begun telling the story, he seemed to search for the right words.
"She was nine years old. A little girl who couldn't even speak or read."
I didn't like the weight behind the way he said it.
"She didn't trust me. In fact, she didn't trust anything that moved."
One corner of his mouth curved into a smile so small and melancholy that it almost seemed impossible coming from Silver.
"When I tried to approach her, she attacked me."
I stared at him.
"She attacked you?"
"Immediately."
"With everything she had."
Despite the weight of the conversation, a short laugh escaped through my nose.
"That sounds exactly like her."
"She always was."
Kânia opened one hand against the table, spreading trembling fingers across the wood.
"When Silver found her and brought her here, Suki, that child barely understood the concept of existing outside that hellish environment."
"She didn't know what it meant to simply live."
My mind tried to form an image of Laura—loud, irritable, full of herself—as a nine-year-old girl trapped on an altar of blood.
My brain rejected it.
I simply didn't want to imagine it.
"But why didn't Veronica just perform the Soul Fusion as soon as she could?" I asked, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to take on horrifying shapes.
"She tried. Cruelly. For the fusion to succeed completely, the vessel has to either consent to the one taking possession... or have their mind broken."
"And Veronica chose to break Laura's mind because that was easier. She was a child, after all."
Then I asked:
"Okay... but what happened to Veronica?"
"When I saw Laura, I understood exactly what my mercy had allowed."
"The first time, Veronica asked me to spare her because of the child."
His green eyes met mine.
"The second..."
"...the child herself was the reason I didn't spare her."
"You killed Veronica," I murmured.
"Yes."
"I killed her."
"And I took Laura with me."
"But wait. If Veronica is dead, then what do they want with Laura right now?"
"That's exactly what we still don't know, Suki. Those galaxies are too dangerous for us to push much farther than their borders."
"We killed many beings across some of the nearby planets, but none of them carried the information we were looking for."
Each hollow answer felt like a different blow to my chest, opening fresh cavities of pure dread.
Tsukumo remained staring grimly down at the surface of the table, fitting the final structural piece into Laura's past.
"Enough."
Silver's word was short and final, severing the conversation at the root.
I looked at him indignantly, ready to demand the rest of the filthy story, ready to tell him I had every right to know.
"I need to know everything, Silver."
"No."
He stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"You aren't ready for that place."
He walked around the table and stopped directly in front of me, his height forcing me to tilt my head back.
I opened my mouth to argue, to spit out some desperate answer, but the words died in my throat.
I couldn't.
"But wait. Just one more thing," I said quickly.
He stopped in the doorway without turning.
"Arthur... did he know all of this? Did he know about Veronica? About Laura's past?"
"That's exactly what worries me every day, Suki."
"Knowing that somehow he made contact with the Obscure Galaxies right beneath our noses is frightening."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Arthur and his cold obsession.
The two hooded figures that had personally torn open space for her in Ruitan.
The fact that she hadn't been executed on the spot, but kept alive and hidden until this very day.
Our search parties vanishing like dust whenever they crossed the borders of the Obscure Galaxies.
But I wouldn't stay still.
Not anymore.
Because I had a route that could take me there.
Syfles.
The hidden passage through the heart of the Yorm meteorite belt.
The smuggling route Bartholomew had given us shortly before he died.
I forced every muscle in my face to remain relaxed.
I desperately tried to keep my expression blank.
The problem was Tsukumo.
He sat only a meter away and knew me far too well to be fooled.
His golden eyes slid subtly toward me, reading the revelation I'd tried to hide.
Silver, being the damn seasoned predator he was, caught the exchange instantly.
"Do you two have something?" The Silver God raised one silver eyebrow.
"No."
The lie flew out of my mouth far too quickly, pure instinct trampling over reason.
In truth, he probably had mathematical certainty that I was lying.
But to my surprise, he didn't push.
He seemed exhausted by the arguments and decided to give us rope.
"Sleep," he ordered flatly, turning his back on us for good.
"We'll talk again in the morning, when your heads are clear."
The sound of his light footsteps echoed down the hallway until he disappeared into the far wing of the house.
I remained completely still, counting the seconds in my head.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
I waited until my senses confirmed Silver's presence had withdrawn far enough that whispers would no longer reach him.
Only then did I slowly turn toward Tsukumo.
He was already staring at me with the exact same conspiratorial intensity.
Kânia, seated in the middle of the crossfire and knowing both of us far too well, shot to her feet.
"No."
Neither of us had said a single word.
"Lady Kânia..." Tsukumo began, using his calmest tone.
"No, Tsukumo. I don't want to hear it!"
She rounded the chair and crossed her arms tightly.
"And you, Suki. I know that stupid look far too well."
I shifted my weight onto my other leg, trying to maintain an innocent expression.
"What look, Kânia?"
"That exact idiotic look you get three seconds before making the worst and most stupid decision of your life."
Tsukumo, demonstrating absolutely no loyalty toward defending me, raised an eyebrow and studied my face.
"To be fair, he really does have that look, Lady Kânia."
"Very specific."
I glared at him.
"You are definitely not helping our case, Tsukumo."
"We already gave everything away anyway, Suki. Kânia figured it out just from looking at us."
Kânia slammed both palms against the table.
The dull impact silenced us immediately.
"Do you two understand how absurd this is?! You came out of the Furnace covered in blood and trauma only a few hours ago!"
"We're fine," I declared confidently.
"You just spent half the night rolling around in bed without sleeping and had to fly to the ocean to calm your wrecked nerves!" she shot back with brutal accuracy.
"I continue to maintain that I'm fine."
"That generic answer becomes exponentially less convincing every single time you repeat it!"
I drew a deep breath and rubbed a hand over my face.
Then I planted both palms flat against the table and spoke the word that was about to turn our lives upside down.
"Syfles."
Kânia froze, her hands still pressed against the wood.
"What?"
"Syfles," I repeated firmly.
"How did you find out about that?"
"It's the name Bartholomew gave me when I interrogated him."
Tsukumo took over the tactical explanation, moving closer to the center of the table beneath the lamp.
"A forgotten coordinate hidden within the Yorm Belt."
"A passage carved out and protected by a colossal wall of unstable meteorites."
"Bartholomew swore that the heaviest smugglers in the underworld use that exact route to enter and leave this system unnoticed, moving goods and captives into the filthiest corners of the universe."
"I know, Tsukumo. I've killed plenty of them there myself."
"Does Silver know about this? That you two know the name?"
"I hope not."
"Syfles is only one of several routes used to enter the Obscure Galaxies," Kânia said, bringing her hands to her face.
"But Syfles isn't abandoned. Lavinsk currently watches the end facing our system specifically to prevent invasions and trafficking."
She drew a deep breath.
"The problem is the other side."
Tsukumo narrowed his eyes.
"The mercenaries?"
"Exactly. Beyond our borders, they control entire stretches of the passage, constantly changing routes, rendezvous points, and codes. We protect the entrance to keep them from getting in."
Kânia's gaze hardened.
"They protect the exit to make sure we can't follow anyone who gets away."
"We'll find a way."
"We've already waited three damn years. I can't do this anymore, Lady Kânia."
"Think about it. Laura could be getting tortured at this exact moment while I'm standing here arguing with you. It makes me feel like I'm the villain in all of this."
My voice didn't rise.
It didn't lose control.
Quite the opposite.
It came out so calm, so dark, so weighted with lead that the entire kitchen seemed to shrink around it.
The open wound finally stopped bleeding long enough to speak.
She took a step back and crossed her arms defensively over her chest.
"And you think you can solve this by simply jumping into the dark, crossing a criminal route that could very well be directly connected to the Messengers?"
Tsukumo raised his head immediately.
"Messengers?"
Kânia closed her eyes for a second.
The irritation on her face made it obvious the word had slipped out before she meant it to.
"Damn it."
"Who are they?" I asked.
She remained silent for several seconds before giving up on hiding it.
"Messenger isn't a race, and it isn't exactly an organization."
Kânia placed both hands on the table.
"It's a title."
Tsukumo narrowed his eyes.
"A title given by whom?"
"No one. They gave it to themselves."
The contempt in her voice was impossible to miss.
"They're underworld intermediaries. Mercenaries powerful enough to command other mercenaries, negotiate routes, move information, sell people, weapons, and entire territories without ever appearing directly connected to the transaction."
"So they're bosses?" I asked.
"Yes."
Kânia shook her head.
"Others are brokers, assassins, traffickers, informants. What they all have in common is that they control entire networks without staying in one place for too long."
Tsukumo rested an arm on the table.
"That's why they're called Messengers."
"Exactly."
I spent a few seconds processing that.
"And Bartholomew?"
"Too small."
The answer came immediately.
"Bartholomew was a mercenary with contacts. Maybe he worked for one of them. Maybe he worked for someone who worked for one."
"Out there, the higher you climb in that chain, the fewer names you find."
Tsukumo glanced at me.
I already knew what he was thinking.
"So now we have a name to look for."
Kânia slapped her palm against the table.
"No, Suki. Now you have a name to avoid."
I tilted my head.
"Sounds almost like the same thing to me."
"That's exactly why I'm worried."
Kânia fell silent, lips pressed tight, brown eyes gleaming with anguish.
I took two steps around the table, moving closer to make sure the weight of the situation landed.
"Silver explicitly forbade both of you from crossing beyond the safe borders of our system."
"You know the consequences of defying a direct order from him."
"I know very well."
"Then this conversation is over. Go back to bed."
"No."
Her head snapped up, fire blazing in her eyes.
I held that stare without blinking, without backing down a millimeter.
"If you open that door, go upstairs, and tell Silver not to let us leave... I'll climb out the window and go alone."
Kânia's gentle features disappeared beneath sudden hardness.
Her jaw tightened.
"Don't say that to me like you're making some cheap threat, Suki."
"At your current level, you'd never escape me."
Something in the way she said it scared me.
It was as though a version of Kânia I'd never met had suddenly begun speaking.
"It's not a threat, Kânia," I replied, using the calmest and most lethal tone I could manage.
"It's a respectful warning from someone who can't stand wasting any more time."
I felt the air shift to my left before I even saw him move.
Tsukumo rounded the chair, his heavy footsteps crossing the wooden floor, and came to stand directly beside me—a tower of muscle and gravity closing the wall.
"I'll go as well, Lady Kânia. With or without permission."
She let out a defeated murmur and looked at Tsukumo like he'd personally stabbed her in the back.
"I hate both of you. Deeply."
"No, you don't," I replied with the faintest hint of a smile.
"At this exact moment, I am actively considering hatred."
The kitchen fell silent for ten long, necessary seconds, filled only by her heavy breathing and the low electrical hum of the lamps.
When Kânia lowered her hands from her face, she no longer breathed like the worried woman who prepared bandages while waiting for us to come home.
Her posture changed.
Her shoulders broadened.
The softness left her eyes, and the air took on a martial urgency.
It was rare to see that side awaken, but there, leaning against the kitchen counter, the old Goddess of War returned.
"Very well."
Her voice rang out hard and dry, leaving no room for jokes.
"Listen carefully. If you two idiots try to cross that forgotten route through the Yorm Belt tomorrow morning without proper tactical preparation, you will die."
"Either you'll be shot apart in space or dragged into Chaos rifts. You will die. Am I clear?"
"We'll prepare tonight," I assured her.
Kânia let out a harsh laugh and pointed a firm finger at my nose.
"Then stop threatening us and tell us exactly what we'll need, Lady Kânia."
"Fine."
"Then I'd rather help and make sure you commit this colossal stupidity with at least a reasonable chance of returning in one piece."
Tsukumo visibly relaxed, slowly exhaling through his nose in relief.
I held myself back.
It wasn't time to celebrate yet.
"First warning, and the most non-negotiable one," she said, raising her index finger.
"Neither of you leaves this planet today. Under any circumstances."
I opened my mouth, urgency screaming inside me that I needed to leave immediately, that every minute could mean Laura suffering.
Before a sound could escape, her finger stopped a few millimeters from the center of my forehead.
"Don't even try to argue, boy. If you want my help and my silence in front of Silver, you'll obey."
I shut my mouth and nodded.
For the first time during that entire turbulent night, I saw Kânia's lips pull into the beginning of a genuine smile.
Her exasperation fought bravely against affectionate relief.
"Suki."
"Hm?"
"You may find people over there who already know you. Be careful with that. And Tsukumo... take care of him for me."
"Yes, ma'am."
That sentence...
Why would anyone in that hell know me?
It seemed impossible.
Until I remembered that, for most of her life, my mother hadn't exactly been a kind goddess.
"Get some rest, boys. Tomorrow, you have a long journey ahead of you."