IC Date: 07/30/2025
Elysia’s chest heaved under her armor as the Basileus’ flagship glided into its berth in the shadow of the palace. It was too bright out here. Too bright and too dark with the smoke-choked sun gasping its last from someplace red. Nothing would bring more comfort than to press her fingers against her aching eyes, pale fingers trapped in pale armor that would cut and bruise the soft skin of her face. “Elysia, come.” His fingers grasped her arm with the unshakeable confidence of a master commanding their selapeth. She would fly straight and true, as much an extension of his will as his own arm. Elysia lowered her head slightly, veil shading the sides of her face as it fell forward. A merciful pall shrouding the white hot dread that blazed across her fear-pallid visage.

“Raise your head, dear friend. You are our greatest hope. Their greatest hope” She felt his hand tighten anxiously against her tricep as he gestured broadly toward the city. An armored hand caught her chin in a light but unyielding grip, raising her head to face their destination. Searing cold soldiers clashed with unseen foes, obscured by smoke behind the makeshift barricades that kept the nebulous horde from breaching the palace itself. She steadied her gaze, focusing her red-tinged vision on the vague mass of enemies ahead. A small rivulet of blood meandered from just below her lip where the sharp tip of Basileus Archelaus' gauntlet had caught on her skin. A sharp sigh from the emperor pierced her. Anger, remorse, both maybe. Or something else entirely that went unspoken and coiled coldly around her spine. If she felt the cut, felt the blood, she showed no sign of it, unmoving and silent. Silence was safe. Stillness was safe.

The Basileus loosened his grip on her arm before reluctantly releasing it as the wind fled her lungs. “Go. Prove that you are more than what you are.”

-----

Tempesti’s knees and palms smarted, skinned against the shrine’s rough stone floor as her lungs threatened to disintegrate within her chest. Panic seized her body as the world began to swim and she hurled herself desperately forward toward the door. With her last surge of strength her shoulder connected with the slab just forcefully enough to activate the mechanism within. Agonizing seconds passed as stars flared and died across her vision. It remained unmoved, uninterested in what physicality she could exert against it.

Panic flashed wildly into sheer blind terror as her lips struggled to form words, push any air forward.

“harrowing storm."

The words were barely audible as they slipped weakly from within her. If these mechanisms were Sotiria’s work, then they should respond to her magic. Recognize the energy of her starseed. Her forehead rested against the unresponsive door, the harpies bombarding the stone with their fury.

Blackness punctured her, claiming the edges of her sight before the stone began to shift, merciful oxygen rushing to fill the increasingly airless chamber. Harboring a grim suspicion that magically enhanced endurance was the only reason that she was still alive, the senshi lay all but senseless on the ground. Apparently content to return now that the danger had passed the wisp reappeared, hovering inches above her face in what might have been concern. Tempesti still wasn’t sure whether or not to ascribe anthropomorphic emotions to the little thing, but it certainly seemed to display something akin to curiosity, worry, and general nosiness, depending on the occasion.

The soft hum of the repair constructs mingled with her own ragged breath in the soft quiet surrounding the Primordial Tower.