As slowly as a sheet of paper being lifted by the gentlest of winds, Orion’s eyelids opened.

  Where am I?

  He found himself in a place unlike any other, his body light, his being untethered. Straightening, he scanned his surroundings.

  There was nothing.

  And yet, it was not the kind of nothing mortals feared. The space was not empty but full of lingering lights—pinpricks that blinked faintly in the darkness, drifting like stars caught between existence and memory. They pulsed gently, as though the void itself were breathing.

  “Alright.”

  The word escaped him in a calm murmur. After a moment, he nodded to himself.

  “I’m still sleeping,” Orion said aloud. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Free-floating in the quiet expanse of his own soul, he exhaled, his breath light as mist. Relief washed over him, subtle but steady.

  “At least that means everyone’s doing fine outside. If not, Tetra would have woken me.”

  The thought grounded him. He could feel the order within this place—the serenity of his inner sanctum, untouched and unfiltered. Here, his mind remained whole, his peace absolute.

  But peace did not linger.

  “...”

  His eyes furrowed.

  “What is this weirdness? Something’s not right.”

  Deep within, from a place he could not immediately locate, another rhythm pressed against the boundaries of his soul. A foreign wavelength, soft but insistent, sought to force its way in.

  Closing his eyes, Orion reached out with senses beyond sight.

  “...”

  “There.” His gaze shifted toward an unseen corner of the void. “But... I don’t feel any bad intent from it. If anything, it carries no hostility.”

  Trusting instinct, Orion lifted his hand. With a flick of his fingers, he let the intruder pass through the veil.

  At once, a massive light surged overhead. It cut through the void like a comet blazing across a starless night, its tail scattering sparks of brilliance.

  Orion’s expression darkened as his eyes followed its trail.

  “Right. I should’ve expected that.”

  Before the light could flee farther, Orion raised his hand. The command of his will froze its advance. Here, in his soul, everything bent to his authority.

  The comet shuddered, thrashing as though unwilling, then dimmed. Slowly, its brilliance subsided, revealing a sphere faintly glowing, fragile as glass.

  Orion drew it toward himself, his lips pressing into a sigh.

  “I knew it wouldn’t be intact... but I didn’t expect it to be in such a pitiful state.”

  Within the sphere, a rune blinked like a candle guttering against extinction. Its glow was shallow, its edges cracked. The sphere itself flickered as if at any moment it might dissolve into nothing.

  The rune took shape as a circle, flawless only at first glance. Across its surface ran jagged fractures like scars.

  At its heart, a spiral coiled inward, dragging the eye deeper and deeper, as though trying to draw the world itself into its center. From that spiral’s edges, faint tendrils stretched outward, curling into the fractures of the circle like roots pushing into broken stone.

  Orion studied it with steady eyes.

  “While this would have been the end for you in normal circumstances, you’re lucky I know a thing or two about repairing souls.”

  A smile softened his features, lifting the shadow from his face. Without hesitation, he set to work.

  “...”

  He extended both hands toward the sphere, closing his eyes. Threads of light slipped from his fingertips, weaving themselves around the sphere like strands of silk. They probed carefully, penetrating its surface until they reached the rune at its core.

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  With patient precision, Orion began mending the cracks. His movements carried memory—the echo of when he had once repaired Layla’s soul. That experience guided him now, shaping his every touch.

  “This is still more difficult than I expected,” he admitted with a crooked smile. “Her soul’s nothing like a human’s.”

  Even Apostles, no matter how exalted, were human at their root. But this... this was older, stranger. A soul belonging to a time long before humanity had even learned to name such things.

  “This primordial feel...” His smile faded. “It’s similar to my own soul.”

  The realization echoed through him, cold and undeniable. He tried to chase the thought further, but the answer had already taken form.

  “The Valkyries. What formidable strength. Their souls brimmed with energy—constant, endless. Even now, I can feel remnants of it seeping into me through this bond.”

  His awe grew, but he forced himself to focus. With a final press of will, the last fracture closed. His threads of light withdrew, and the rune shone brighter, renewed.

  The glow deepened into a radiant white, its strength no longer fragile but resolute.

  Satisfied, Orion nodded.

  “For what it was, I did good work.”

  The sphere, scarcely larger than a heart, pulsed rhythmically. Light poured from it, saturating the void. The rune vanished within that brightness, and from it, a shape began to emerge.

  Pressure filled the sanctum—vast, commanding. The weight pressed down on all things within the soul, save its master, who remained untouched.

  From the sea of light, a woman’s form took root. She opened her eyes slowly, with a grace that carried centuries, and looked upon Orion. Her smile was radiant, rivaled only by those of his wives.

  “Hello?”

  Her voice was as delicate as the first breath of dawn.

  “Hello. My name is Orion,” he replied evenly. “I’m not wrong in assuming you’re the real Carmillya, am I?”

  The woman dipped her head lightly, fingers brushing her garb with practiced elegance.

  “Orion. It is a pleasure to meet such a bright individual. I am Carmillya. And... let me apologize for the trouble I’ve caused you.”

  His gaze sharpened. Across her shoulders, he caught the faint tremble of unease.

  “Are you perhaps afraid of me?”

  “...”

  Carmillya stood frozen, her posture still bent.

  “Fear not,” Orion continued gently, a note of levity in his tone. “I’ve no reason to treat you harshly. I wouldn’t save a soul and reconstruct it only to destroy it afterward.”

  A chuckle slipped past his lips.

  “I’m not that type of person. At least, I believe so.”

  The words eased her tension. A quiet sigh escaped her, and she straightened, one hand clenching faintly at her chest.

  “I could sense it in the energy around you... or perhaps in this space itself. But hearing it directly relieves me greatly.”

  She lifted her eyes to him. “You have a calming aura. Kind, even. And yet... I can sense a similarity between us.”

  Her body ceased its trembling. Her gaze drifted into the endless dark, thoughtful, almost wistful.

  “Unfulfilled resolve. Unbridled anger. And unrestrained love.”

  Orion’s eyes widened at her words.

  “While I won’t pretend to know you,” Carmillya continued, her lips curling in a tender smile, “I believe our essences are close. The burden you carry is the same as mine... or rather, was.”

  Her expression dimmed. She studied her hands, pale against the light.

  “I have perished, haven’t I?”

  Orion’s nod was slow, his expression somber but understanding.

  “My memories... they’re returning. Piece by piece.” She lifted her face again, the smile bittersweet. “Am I still a Valkyrie?”

  She let the question linger but did not wait for the answer. Instead, she tilted her head, curiosity returning.

  “Though I wouldn’t mind discussing it further, perhaps... is there a way to converse elsewhere?”

  Orion caught the subtle shift in her demeanor—the restless way she fidgeted, her inability to anchor herself in the emptiness around them.

  “Is something bothering you?” he asked.

  “Well... how should I say this...” Her voice softened, almost embarrassed. “This vast expanse unsettles me. It feels cold.”

  Orion absorbed her words, thoughtful.

  Perhaps my soul is too vast... or maybe too lifeless for her comfort.

  Closing his eyes, he willed change. His soul answered.

  From the countless blinking lights, particles of starlight spilled forth. They converged, weaving into form—a great dome of shimmering walls. Within, a tiled floor stretched underfoot. A table and two chairs settled gently into place, as though waiting for guests.

  Carmillya’s feet touched the floor with grace. A sparkle of light rippled outward and vanished. She breathed in relief.

  “Is that better?”

  “Yes.” She smiled, calmer now. “Much better. Thank you.”

  Orion inclined his head. “Then please—this way.”

  He guided her toward the table with a gallant gesture.

  Carmillya’s lips curved faintly. “Such hospitality, for a remnant of the past like me.”

  Her tone was light, but her smile held sorrow. She sat delicately, waiting for him to join.

  Before sitting, Orion slipped a hand into a rift in space. From it, he drew a kettle and two exquisitely adorned cups—gifts from Deveralna, meant for occasions just like this.

  He poured carefully, sliding one cup toward her before seating himself.

  “Thank you. That is most kind.”

  Carmillya lifted the cup without hesitation, inhaling the aroma with quiet delight.

  “I brought you back,” Orion said, lifting his own cup. “The least I can do is make you comfortable.” His drink shifted, disappearing for a moment before reappearing as a dark liquid. “Besides, there are things I’d like to discuss with you.”

  They sipped in silence until Orion lowered his cup. His eyes, sharp now, fixed on her.

  “Do you recognize this?”

  For a moment, his pupils vanished. A sigil, intricate and web-like, flared in their place.

  “Huh?”

  Carmillya tilted her head, confused. But as her gaze locked with his, she saw beyond.

  “...”

  Behind Orion stood a silhouette. Familiar. Beloved.

  Her hands shook. She set the cup down carefully and rose to her feet.

  “S-Silka!”

  Her hand reached out, trembling with longing. But the figure vanished the instant she moved, and with it, the sigil in Orion’s eyes.

  Her graceful features crumbled, anguish twisting her face.

  “W-Why? Why was my son...?”

  Her voice broke, that of a mother drowning in grief she thought long buried.

  Orion’s expression stayed steady, his voice quiet but firm.

  “I suggest you sit down. This will be a rather long story.”

  And so, with careful words, Orion began.