The High Council of Insight convened in a chamber draped in pearlescent walls, floors, and ceiling, their mirrored surfaces producing an almost overwhelming glimmer of light. Golden torches lined the perimeter, their flames steady and strangely subdued, casting long, wavering shadows that seemed to retreat from the room's brilliance. At the center stood a pulpit carved from white, birch-like wood, broad as a family table, its roots spiraling from the base, wriggling into the white floor as if it were soil. Heavy, rune-marked crystal doors loomed at either end of the chamber, guarded by silent, dove-winged Saint-Elite soldiers.
A high, domed ceiling arched overhead, its surface inscribed with open-eyed, shaped sigils representing both heroes and saints, names that seemed to watch, silent and unblinking; raining judgment on those below.
Nivk sat with both legs tucked beneath him, kneeling atop a Prillora, a heavenly, floating pillow imbued with ancient prayers. Golden tassels dangling from each of its four corners. Its rectangular-shaped body hovered above the floor, gently swaying. From the cushion's underside, delicate flakes of white sparkles shimmered and drifted, casting a miraculous glow below. The surface was adorned with intricate Adrazenith' star designs, every bit of the fabric meticulously laced, stitched, and sewn by Decampremai servants using needles consecrated through prayer.
The Rekindler's cloak, blank and pure white, rippled softly as they moved around the pulpit, barely making a sound. They approached Nivk, who sat atop a floating Prillora, and leaned in close, their presence more than merely firm; it was imposing. " To go see your Monama, that's all you faith yields," spoke the Rekindler, their tone calm yet filled with judgment.
Nivk, his own white cloak draped over his armor and spilling across the top of the Prillora, repeated quietly, " I just want to see my Monama." The words rang with a drained tone, his expression blank, a hollow mask shaped by the sterile facility in which he sat."
And what of your precious Dodma? Does your faith not yearn to search for him, rescue and return with him? Securing both his praise and a Saint title from the High Council," the Rekindler continued, once again circling the Pulpit as if he hadn't momentarily halted before Nivk.
"I just want to see my Monama." Once again, spoken in the same monotoned, non-expressive way. The bland, almost drone-like repetition sparked a flicker of anger in the Rekindler, who stopped once more on the other side of the Pulpit; flanked by two Saint-Elites soldiers. Scriptures lay scrambled atop the white floor-rooted table as the Rekindler searched, with a frantic yet strangely graceful urgency, for Nivk's sabbatical approval form. When the Rekindler finally found it, flipping the sheet from the table with a brisk, reeling pull, he said, " What if I say , your shine seems to be dimming? Refusing you the ability to abstain from your Chrysalis training regimen, we wouldn't want you to lose your light, now, would we?"
"I just want to go see my..." Before Nivk could finish his deadpan, repeated line, the Rekindler extended one thick-sleeved, covered hand beneath his hooded cloak and began rubbing his face in exasperation.
"Dear lord, are they all like this? The young one's core is scrambled so bad that all he can call for is the one who birthed him. Are all the lamp-light aged soldiers like this?" The Rekindler asked, turning to two Saint-Elite soldiers. The soldiers briefly exchanged glances, then looked back at the Rekindler and offered a collective, uncertain shrug; an unspoken gesture.
"We still haven't found a single trace of Saint General Dowu since the Nayoe ambush a couple of Bloom stars ago. And as his son, I'm sure the prospect of finding him bulbs that shine of yours, to the point of flaring. It would be a shame if refusing this sabbatical led you to search for your Dodma during more and more patrols, until you went missing as well…. so then."
The Rekindler withdrew his hand from beneath his cloak's hood, revealing pale white skin marked by lines that stretched from each of his five gold-painted fingernails. He placed his hand atop the stack of papers, and a golden triangle with a centered shimmering circle appeared, overlaying countless sigils and text listed under Nivk's Feyriroses title.
"You may go see your Monama, time granted, three to four warp stars," the Rekindler said, handing over sabbatical approval forms. As Nivk's hands gripped the sheets, they were firmly held in place by the Rekindler's hand.
"Make no mistake, though, if anyone from the Chrysalis finds out you used this time to search for you, Dodma, you will be severely punished."
With that, the Rekindler released the approval forms. Nivk withdrew them from his hands and slid off the Prillora, landing softly atop the white-coated floor. He bowed respectfully to the two saint elite guards and the Rekindler, then made his way toward one of the rune-marked crystal doors on one side of the room. The door creaked as it popped forward, a glare of light spilling through the widening crack.
Decampremais, lined along the entrance walls, began to chant and sing at full volume as Nivk stepped into the blinding light and started to descend a grand staircase lined with pillow-fluffed clouds. The radiance grew, enveloping him completely until he was lost from sight, and the door closed quietly behind him.
Within the Elite 435 youth dormitories, dozens of Prade pods, horizontally lined against the floors and walls, sat unfurled and open. Silence filled the white room, mingling with the scent of the flora beds inside each pod. Nivk stood beside his own pod, carefully unraveling the golden fabric belt from around his waist. He placed his bladeless Elite spirit saber hilt alongside the belt, then unclipped his pearl-white, flowing cape, the straps on his armor clanking against the rustling fabric. Next, he removed his thick white and golden chestplate, shimmying it over his head to reveal a crisp white tunic embroidered with chrysalis sigils. After unfastening and swapping his lower armor for a pair of common Ragnar pants, Nivk tied all his elite gear together with the golden belt, securing it in a neat bow. He placed everything inside except his barestride greaves, those he couldn't part with as easily.
Adjusting to his simpler attire, Nivk's long, light blue hair, still tied in a ponytail, draped down the collar and back of his tunic. He took his Elite435 badge and stamped it into the side of his Prade pod. The badge clicked, its four corners retracting as a bright light enveloped the pod, transforming it into a fused, slinged bookbag-sleeping bag. Nivk then removed it from the row of other lined-up Parde pods, ready to leave.
Slinging the single strap over his shoulder, Nivk shuffled forward with the pod-pack now secure on his back. At the dormitory entrance, the sharp sound of harp strings firing into another Elite soldier's arm echoed through the space, followed by a heavy thrum of intense golden spirit energy. Then the secured door chimed, flashing a sigil, a triangle with a shimmering circle at its center. When the door popped open, another lamp-light age Elite soldier entered, his cloak rustling behind him and his barestride greaves clinking against the floor tiles.
This newcomer stood about an inch taller than Nivk, roughly five feet tall. His armor was identical to the set Nivk had just removed and packed away in his Prade pod. Only his hair set him apart, brown and tufted like a paintbrush thick with color, while light golden freckles dotted his cheeks, his elongated bayoe ears pointed upwards, and his eyes radiated entitlement.
"Podmate 5, is there a reason you've decided to give up the next four warp stars of your training and rituals? Or do you wish to fail our race like your Dodma did when he was caught in that ambush?" The words were firm and disrespectful, laced with hollow insults aimed at Nivk's trauma. It wasn't the first time He'd heard something like this, especially from Tezzi Lacroy, a stuck-up Elite soldier and one of the many lamplight-aged dorm bullies, indistinguishable from the rest of the social elitists.
Nivk suppressed any reaction, turning instead toward the door Tezzi had just entered.
" You do know that within your first week of missed training, your light will have dimmed by approximately 40 percent. Not only that, your chances for reaching the Saint title and achieving your wings drop even lower. Meanwhile, I'll still be here, improving. If you can't keep up with me, let alone the rest of our podmates, you won't even deserve your status when you return. Maybe you should just demote your rank on the hierarchy to Decampremai."
The moment Tezzi insulted the Decampremais, Nivk's body responded with anger, a deep, powerful surge of energy shot from his spirit orb's core, veins flaring madly against his tanned forearms and making them appear almost translucent. But before he could turn around and react, his mind shifted to memories of Stella farm, Ederi, Themaine, Jevohan's arrival, and even meeting his own Monama. A faint smile spread across Nivk's lips as he extended his hand toward the sealed dorm entrance door.
As before, thick harp cords shot from the door handle into Nivk's arm, digging deeply and tethering themselves into his golden veins, siphoning a measure of his spirit energy. The triangle sigil with its shimmering centred circle appeared with a soft chime as Nivk was approved to leave, and the door slid open.
"Tezzi", Nivk called back, " If you think tripping over your own feet every two seconds and barely being able to weave a halo after two leap stars of practice isn't a waste of time, then you're more hopeless than I thought. You genuinely have no chance of improving in the mere four warp stars I'll be gone."
With that, Nivk stepped through the door, letting it slide shut swiftly behind him. He didn't look back, but he could feel the deathly glare Tezzi was shooting at his back.
Once in the hallway, Nivk strolled slowly through the pearl-stainless corridors, the ceilings still aglow with shimmering golden flecks. Cloaked Decampremais lined the walls, their hoods now drawn back, as dozens and dozens chanted over short crystal sun shards, preparing nourishment for the other Elite soldiers. Nivk noticed a white, teal-haired, Bayoe women and what appeard to be a younger, fuzzy pink-haired pair of twins beside her, the tri chanting and praying in unison.
As the machine started up, thrumming and rumbling like a thunderstorm gathering overhead, a preemptive orbital strike, almost, the last thing Nivk saw wasn't the familiar, haunting figures of the cloaked Rekindlers, nor his pod mates or Elite soldiers. Not one person who was trained to join him in arms in the many zones of Adrazenith. Instead, he saw only the Decampremais running the entrance, welcoming and bidding him farewell. They chanted, danced, and sang, praying for Nivk's safety. One Decampremai man even wished him well on seeing his Monama. Then, with a boom, a bright, flaring light filled the tube, engulfing Nivk and his vision.
When Nivk's sight returned, he found himself atop one of the many branches of the Chrysalis. The Adrazenith star still gleamed overhead in its full phase, slowly shifting towards its exposed phase. Behind him, one of the many flora-coated entrances sat inactive, unassuming as a doorway.
Without hesitation, Nivk leapt from the edge of the branch, arms spreading wide as he glanced at the dizzying drop thousands of feet below. He extended his hands, fingers grasping and yanking on a nearby branch to swing his weight forward, feet arched into a point as he slipped through a gap between two overlapping twin branches. Landing on a closer tree limb, he backflipped in the air before catching his barestride greaves along another white branch as he lands. As he grinded, white spirit sparks shot from his feet, his body pivoting and twisting with the splitting branches. He propelled himself into a series of tight loops mid-grind, and as the branch came to a sudden stop, he leapt towards the tree's base wall, both hands and feet clinging lightly in a crouch pose.
Adjusting his strapped pod-pack tighter on his shoulder, Nivk released himself from the side of the tree wall, free-falling head-first toward the ground like a lawn dart. He was filled with joy, a longing to leave; he didn't bother questioning. As Nivk dropped into the vast shade the Chrysalis cast, a smile beamed across his face. He knew exactly where he must stop first, Stella Farms.