"I shall return shortly," Opal said as she stepped down from the carriage.
"Understood," the carriage responded with a soft hum of acknowledgment.
Opal ascended the wide marble stairs of the Lumenoth Grand Library, her boots clicking against the stone. Upon entering, she paused just beyond the doorway, her eyes scanning the vast chamber for any sign of the ancient custodian, Tet. The warm light filtering in from the stained glass windows cast an eerie calm over the massive rows of books, but Tet was nowhere to be seen.
She took a few cautious steps forward, headed toward a familiar platform that led to the deeper, more arcane sections of the library, the same place Tet had once guided Cynthia. Just as she was about to set foot on the platform, a chill ran down her spine.
Something's wrong.
In an instant, she sprang backward her instincts screaming at her. The door behind her slammed shut as a rush of air swept through the chamber. And then, right where she had stood, Tet appeared his obsidian talons poised in a deadly grip.
Had she been even a second slower, she might've been torn in half.
"Tch. Was that really necessary, you overgrown feathered beast?" Opal snapped, her Aura flaring around her like a storm of wild embers. Her eyes locked on Tet with a feral intensity, glowing faintly with power.
Tet towered before her, feathers sleek and posture regal. "This Venerable One warned you once before, did he not?" he said, voice low and resonant. "Lesser beings such as yourself must not defile these sacred halls without your mistress present. Only under her shadow may you walk here."
He began to advance, slow and menacing, his wings gently unfurling behind him as his talons scraped the floor with each step. "Now state your business, lowly one. This Venerable One has better things to do than entertain your intrusion. And I advise you to quell that Aura before you perish where you stand."
Opal's breath slowed. She forced the storm within her to quiet, though her glare never softened. With a voice like frost, she answered:
"My Lady has sent me to inform you she requires all compiled material on Mystic, Spirit, and Battle Beasts. She needs them for her work."
Though anger shimmered in her gaze, her tone was ice-controlled, dangerous, and unwavering.
Tet paused, studying her with cold, calculating eyes. Then, with a nod, he turned sharply.
"This Venerable One acknowledges the Councilwoman's command. It shall be executed with precision. Follow me."
He led her down one of the many narrow aisles, towering shelves of ancient tomes surrounding them like the ribs of a giant beast. After several turns through the labyrinthine halls, Tet abruptly took flight, vanishing into the upper shadows of the library.
Moments later, he descended in a swirl of wind and feathers, carrying a single, massive volume in his talons.
"This," he declared, placing it down with a resonant thud, "is The Arcane Lexicon of Beasts. It contains all known classifications, abilities, and weaknesses of Mystic, Spirit, and Battle Beasts. It is more than sufficient for your mistress's needs."
He loomed over her once more, wings lifting with finality. "Now leave."
As his wings beat the air, Tet rose into the rafters once again, watching silently as Opal turned and walked out, book in hand. The moment she crossed the threshold, the doors creaked shut behind her.
Back at the carriage, she climbed in without a word.
"To the estate," she ordered.
And the wheels began to turn.
While back in the Lab, "My Lady, this instrument, what is it?" Jennifer asked, her gaze fixed on the softly hovering, trance-locked form of Vesan.
Cynthia looked up briefly from the papers she was studying. Following Jennifer's eyes, she gave a small nod and returned her attention to her work.
"That is Vesan," she said calmly. "He's the model embedded within the ring you brought me from Father. You'll be seeing him more often around the estate, but not directly, at least not yet. As you can see, he's not... fully present."
Jennifer nodded slowly, absorbing her mistress's words.
"Now," Cynthia continued, "pour that mixture into this container."
She was delicately slicing through a thick root, its surface glowing faintly with a green bioluminescence. Jennifer stepped forward and carefully poured an amber liquid into a heat-resistant glass crucible. Inside it rested a brilliant feather, vibrant red with golden tips, its edges slightly curled as if holding the memory of flame.
As the liquid met the feather, the container instantly ignited. Fire danced within, though it did not burst into a blaze. Instead, the ambient heat in the room began to rise steadily. The air thickened, heat rolling off the container in suffocating waves.
Cynthia, now finished preparing the root, coated the pieces with a thick black gel and dropped them carefully into the fire. The flames flared neon green and the heat surged to a punishing level.
Both women began to sweat profusely. Their breathing grew heavy, labored. Cynthia, though clearly struggling, maintained control, manually regulating her breath while bracing herself with her scepter. Jennifer who was a experienced Martial Artist, managed slightly better, but the discomfort was written across her face.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, the green flames shifted to a calm blue. The fire dulled and gradually died away. The oppressive heat began to dissipate, and silence returned to the lab.
Left behind in the container was the feather untouched, unscorched, as if nothing had happened at all.
"Young Miss…" Jennifer ventured cautiously, her eyes still on the unaltered feather. "It seems as if nothing happened. Does that mean… your experiment was a failure?"
Cynthia, still catching her breath, leaned against the edge of the table.
"It... wasn't... a... failure... per se…" she said between gasps. After a few moments, she managed to regain composure and stood straight again.
"This experiment," she continued, voice now steadier, "was not a failure. What you just witnessed was a strengthening process… completed successfully."
Jennifer blinked in surprise, then turned again to the feather. "Strengthening? But… whose feather is that? It looks like it could be from a variant Battle Beast, perhaps?"
Cynthia tilted her head, considering the guess. "No," she replied. "Look closer."
Jennifer frowned, observing the feather's size, nearly half the length of an adult's arm, and its radiant color. "Then… is it from a Pyrova?"
"A good guess," Cynthia acknowledged, "but look at the size. Even the largest known Pyrovas do not have feathers this long."
Jennifer's eyes widened. "Then… whose feather is it, Young Miss?"
Cynthia's gaze deepened, reverent and firm. "What you're looking at… is a feather from one of the Guardian Beasts. Specifically, the feather of the Vermillion Dawn Phoenix."
Jennifer's breath caught, her eyes darting back to the feather with newfound awe.