Chapter Text

“The unequivocal faith in the magical wisdom of  The Temple of Silver Sister, may it be blessed, is the first of the two foundation stones of the Unity of Five Realms. The sacrosanct  reverence for the legacy of The Original World, may the memory of it be eternal, is the second."

Article 1, The Declaration of Unity of The Five Realms

Chapter 1: The Silver Sister Covenant

Siverin tried to release the unpleasant sensation of passing through the thin liquid glass. Her skin, her body didn't suffer. At least, not tangibly. But the ice, the heat, the electric hum, the thousand tiny needle-points, the slick yet sticky resistance — it all came too fast, blending into a single overwhelming wave that threatened her mind.
She would never get used to that.  Siverin adjusted the light hood over her head and attempted to look around. Only to close her eyes instantly, pierced with pain – the land beneath her feet was so silver-blue. Human eyes, she reminded herself, were imperfect and needed time to adjust.  

When they finally did, Siverin moved one step forward, and the surface of her Magic Mirror, belonging to planet Utarid, went rigid at once. Its puzzling resistance, different every time, tugged at the tips of her fingers, calling for magic to taste new powers, to reveal what the Mirror gave or took. 

“Not now”, Siverin decided coldly, building a wall between the humming and her mind, “It can wait”. 

She looked around wearily. Land around her, still blazingly blue, turned out to be so fractured that dust hung above it, in a silvery halo.  Siverin frowned, remembering that the halo had a name - The Crown of Silver Sister. It might have been too extravagant for an asteroid to have a name for the dust above its surface. 

If only this asteroid weren’t so special -  once every few millennia, it came so close to their star, Golden God, that it became a rival to it in the skies. 

Siverin looked up, where a gigantic orange ball hung over her head, so close it should have scorched Siverin at once. 

If only the Silver Sister weren't the domain of magic, the protected house of the Silver Temple. 

“Option B: it all could be just an illusion,” Siverin reminded herself, shielding her eyes from the orange light. “The human brain is easily tricked.” 

Looking over the horizon, Siverin realised that still, the domain of magic better not be an illusion. Otherwise, Siverin had no hope left about what lay before her eyes -  five planets slowly drifting into a dangerous straight line.  Siverin's gaze darted between them. 

If Silver Sister temple hadn't got the answer, there were only a few years left until gravity would tear them up. 

This was the reason why the royals of five planets were summoned today. The approaching catastrophe hung over their worlds like a dark blanket. Siverin sensed its laden weight heaving upon her own skin with every report she had read: disruptions in navigation, electric outages, and connection failures were becoming more frequent on all five planets day by day. The robots Siverin governed started experiencing it first, but soon humans would follow. And panic. 

There was no escape. A precedent – Siverin tried to see it and couldn't, only distant starry flickering far ahead. The asteroid belt, Stone Veil, was a dazzling curtain of shattered rock, shiny ore, and lightning-like streams of magic. 

Remnant of the planet and the previous largest cataclysm that happened impossibly long ago. It was what was left from The Original World. 

The cradle of civilization. The origin of knowledge. The source of magic.  Magical forces bound it in place, forming the impassable border that made their realm a box with five stones nearing the second deadly crush. 

All experiments on breaching the Stone Veil failed. They were locked between one cataclysm and another. Siverin felt the daunting ache freezing her. If her science, the best science in five worlds, couldn't get her the answers, the magic will. The Silver Sister was the only asteroid that wasn't part of the belt. 

 The hum at the fingers grew even stronger, the tips almost burning, sensing the ties it had with the Temple, her destination. She could see it - a neat circle of tall, gleaming columns. Siverin hoped to hear that there was a way to survive. 

The Temple was the domain of the High Priestess, a ghost-like, eternal creature revered with dedication in all five worlds. Her prognosis, or should Siverin call them prophecies, were always true, and decisions stopped wars and kept new ones from starting. That’s why whenever the High Priestess summoned ruling females of the five planets, they arrived, no questions asked. And did what she told them - no weaving. 

As Siverin measured her steps towards the Silver Temple, she tried to find the expected faith that everything would work out. That High Priestess would cast a spell or hint at the way to protect everyone.  

But where religious awe should have been, only fatigue and disappointment remained. 

A splash had torn Siverin out of her thoughts. She turned toward the sound as a sleek female figure emerged from what appeared to be a pond — another Magic Mirror, belonging to the planet of Serafis.

For a second, Siverin thought she shouldn’t keep by for too long - the princess of Serafis, Vispera, might not be so glad to see her.   Siverin's fingers tightened around the folds of her gown. Five years passed since Vispera had to stop her traditional apprenticeship under Siverin's mentorship. 

Siverin realised she was still standing when Vyspera stepped out of the Mirror, caught Siverin's glance. 

Five years since Siverin's Council banished all personal contacts between them.

For a second, the silence rang like the right metallic string. But almost instantly, Vispera smiled. 

“The best mentor in all five worlds,” Siverin heard, not in her ears but in her head, as if a gentle hand brushed over it.  For a fraction of a second, Siverin felt a painful twitch - she remembered how natural telepathy used to be for her while Vispera stayed on Utarid.

“My best apprentice”, thought Siverin back.
“Oh, the one who brought you so many troubles”, she heard in her mind again. 

Siverin shook her head. “You didn't.” Words seemed to mix and dance in her mind. She tried to find the correct ones. “I wish it were different. And I wish you could come over. At least to brush over the Council nerves.” 

Vyspera tried to hold a solemn face - and failed, a smirk dancing in her amber eyes, her face framed by waves of golden hair, child-like. 

She gathered herself quickly, pointing at the Silver Sister Temple. 

Of course, it demanded them to be silent, even in their thoughts. Siverin knew the rules. 

For a while, as they walked along towards the hill, the hush their gowns made, hovering over silver sand, was the only sound.

 Then, lightning suddenly pierced the sky ahead, illuminating a tall figure emerging from another mirror. Siverin's fingers automatically twitched in the gesture of respect—a habit from her decade in Tianlong under High Queen Yunxi's mentorship. Meilin was her daughter, and Siverin saw from the corner of her eye how strikingly alike they were, even  Meilin, only 16, was visibly nervous, lightning swirling around her fingers. 

Perhaps Meilin's electricity-wielding powers could be used to breach the Veil,  Siverin thought for a second. They hadn't tried it yet. The girl was young, but the proper training could make miracles. Knowledge and skill, with a right dose of magic. If Siverin ever was trained to believe anything - this was it. 

 Siverin's gaze lingered on the silent mirror to her left. Vertanon – the world where knowledge and magic failed to work together.  Fifteen years since anyone had seen its Queen - a scientist that was as skilled as Siverin. Or, almost better, as Queen of Vertanon was much more experienced. But then, fifteen years ago, her husband vanished - and his son, the only heir, went after him as soon as he turned eighteen  - and never returned. The Queen's fragile human heart succumbed to madness. She cut all ties, halted all diplomatic contacts. 

And left the space for rumours.
Queen Calleigh is engaged in alchemy.
Queen Calleigh is experimenting with dark matter.
No one could get any proof. Rare trade ships were carefully searched. Spy missions failed, and even Utarid robots sent to Vertanon stopped working.
Siverin wondered if they would ever know what was going on there. 

Vyspera caught Siverin’s gaze. She looked concerned. “We have enough power to work out a solution, Siverin. You need to believe humans are not that fragile.” 

Siverin nodded. She didn’t exactly work on belief. Trying to avoid Vispera 's inquisitive eyes, Siverin looked to the left, where the last of them - Princess of Rekka  Xenara was approaching in paces so sharp and fast they made her sleek black hair and white gossamer of her dress fall behind her like sails.  

Two steps before the marble circle, the princesses stopped, looking at each other. Xenara stepped inside first, nodding to Vispera. Siverin's apprentice closed her eyes for a second, praying. 

 Siverin stepped inside before she had finished, twitching the folds of her sleeve.  The sooner it is over, the better.
At the instant when the four princesses took their places in a circle within the Temple, the air at its center shivered. It folded in on itself like fabric caught in an invisible wind. Nothing Siverin knew or read about could take form the way the High Priestess did. Siverin's mind argued on the impossibility as starlight condensed, first as scattered points, then as the outline of a woman. Taller and more slender than any of the present, her form solidified—crystalline hair cascading down translucent back, eyes of such impossible blue that Siverin had to squint against their brightness.
Never did she feel so small, so scrutinised as under the High Priestess gaze. Even when she didn't look at her, the pressure of magic was in her bones, in her hair. Siverin felt wrapped in the hands of a deity, who looked at all of them in turns, preparing. 

It still could be just an illusion, a feeble whisper of reason reminded Siverin. It all could have been a trick for the human brain. 

But then, the Temple shook violently, and the High Priestess suddenly tensed like a spring.  The land trembled, rising dust around all of them, cloaking white gowns in a ghostly smog. Siverin found the outline of Vispera to her left. 

“Something is wrong!” She tried to reach Vispera's mind without shouting the words aloud. “We need to leave!” 

But Vispera gazed towards the High Priestess with an unwavering gaze.

Just when a deafening roar cut through the sacred silence. Siverin spun toward it – and saw a starship descending to the star's surface.
This was beyond wrong.
It was impossible. 

The magic would not let the ship land. Magic Mirrors were the only way to reach The Silver Sister.
The pilots inside were bound to lose their lives for approaching the magical asteroid, which is why all known rules protected Silver Sister from intervention. Battling the desire to run towards the mirror, Siverin looked at the others. Xenara’s fist curled at her waist, grasping for the sword she wished she carried. Meilin pressed a hand to her eyes, as if shielding herself from the sight. Vyspera stood rigid, her lips slightly parted. 

They should leave before the ship is crushed or shredded by the dust hanging at the surface.
Siverin tried to move – and couldn't, as if the magic of the temple glued her to the place. She willed her gaze back to the High Priestess.  The ethereal form flickered, starlight dimming as if retreating. A tremor passed through the Priestess's translucent shoulders—hesitation? Fear?  Then her chin lifted, her stance steadied, and she stepped from the temple's center. 

Siverin watched in disbelief as the vessel settled behind Vertanon's mirror.
The High Priestess halted mid-step, her luminous eyes fixed on the ship's opening hatch. The rigid set of her shoulders, the slight forward tilt of her head—Siverin's training recognized the posture. The Lady of the Temple knew who piloted that ship.
A man appeared on the ramp. He was tall, his shoulders draped in a navy-blue navigator suit reinforced with gleaming metallic plates. His dark hair was swept back, and his face was concerned and composed. He didn't look scared – if anything, he looked tired. But his eyes were focused on the bundle in his arms. Siverin tried to see better what was inside. Just when a tiny palm appeared, clutching the folds. 

A child? 

A baby wrapped in white fabric, gleaming with a strange light. 

Siverin looked at the man again. He looked like someone from an old image. Siverin willed her brain to concentrate. And realised she saw this face on reports and intel. He wasn’t seen in ten years - and here he was, crown prince of Vertanon. 

What was he doing here? What was that baby?
The voice of the High Priestess drew her back.
"The Balance...Distorted." The High Priestess's voice fractured the silence—a thousand sounds at once: hissing steam, jingling crystals, thunderous echoes, and whisper. 

Siverin's mind was racing.
The man descended the ramp. Even though he had somehow landed, it didn't mean he could get to the surface,  as magic was deadly to male kind. Favouring only sworn royal females, it was never passed to princes because it broke them at the first touch. Whatever brought Prince of Vertanon here would not be able to keep him safe on the ground. 

Siverin called for the hum in her fingers, and metals under her feet responded at once. She swayed at how rapid and strong her magical powers became, how quickly her mind made up the safest alloy. All while a metallic ribbon of path rushed to the foot of the ship, keeping a few inches off the surface, and getting to the ship right before the Prince’s foot should have touched the ground. 

The man looked around. He wouldn't be able to find who did it, Siverin knew. The powers of royals had been a secret across all Five Realms. 

After a second of hesitation, he stepped towards the temple.   

He shouldn’t step inside, repeated Siverin soundlessly,  watching the High Priestess unwavering gaze at the prince. 

Siverin thought she would scream for him to stop. But at the temple's threshold, he paused. 

He must have known. 

The prince lowered to one knee, his chin bowed in deference, the child still cradled against his chest.
"I beg your forgiveness, The High Priestess of the Silver Temple," said the Prince, and, for a fleeting moment, dust rose on the invisible wind.
The High Priestess's piercing gaze traveled from the man's bowed head to the baby in his arms. The child, barely a newborn, wide-eyed, stared at the temple's crystalline columns.
"My sister, Aethra, princess of Vertanon." The man extended his arms, his gesture both firm and gentle.
So, did Vertanon have a princess now? After 15 years of silence?
The High Priestess brought her palms together, and the baby glided in the thin air from the Prince to the High Priestess as if carried by an invisible current. The moment Priestess's translucent fingers touched the white gossamer of the child's dress, the temple columns blazed with light. Siverin blinked away starbursts, her vision clearing, and saw the High Priestess kneeling at the chamber's center, the child on her lap.
"No human..." The whisper echoed from every column, as if the temple itself spoke through her. "The bloom of power. Something new awakens."
The man—Kael, the lost Prince of Vertanon— was motionless. His focus remained fixed on the child, but his shoulders had squared, as if preparing to catch something falling from a great height.  

 The Priestess finally turned to him, her bright eyes dimming.
“She is no offering, no burden, ” she said, her voice smooth and cold.
The High Priestess looked at every princess and then lowered her head back, her gaze floating at the skies above her head.
The temple’s radiance dimmed, the columns fading into a quiet glow. The High Priestess turned her piercing gaze upon Kael.
"Yet, your paths entwined. Through shadow and storm, you shall stand—her shield, her sword."
Kael’s fingers curled, shoulders went rigid. “How do I—” His voice, when it came, was hoarse. He stopped, swallowing hard, his gaze flickering to the child in Pristess’s arms. “What–. 
Priestess left the circle in the middle, transforming into a mist, approached Kael, and landed near him, her silver shade almost touching his dark metal-clad silhouette. His eyes shut for a moment. He exhaled sharply and sank to both knees now, bowing his head as if he had prepared for the blast of a blade. Siverin froze - she had never questioned before if the Lady of the Temple could hurt or kill.
Instead, the Priestess whispered, "No burden it is for one".

The words tasted like the rain after the storm. The Prince opened his eyes, but the Lady of the Temple wasn’t looking at him anymore. The translucent silhouette turned to Siverin. And the look on those empty eyes was colder than the night in the sunless desert, making every nerve and beat in Siverin freeze. 

“The child cannot yet bear the weight of her fate. She must be prepared for what has been written.”  

Siverin could not take a breath.

“By your hands, and your mind, and your heart. You, Lady of Uthaid, shall join her in her world to see where dust meets salt and future meets past.”

This was impossible. Siverin felt how even her cells turned taut. Once ascended the throne, the Queen couldn't leave Utarid for long - it was against tradition. Traditions were the Law. 

The Priestess's eyes were unblinking. 

“For a year and a day. You are bound to her, for she is your answer before the question voiced and the footprint before you take your way. "
The words penetrated Siverin's mind like needles, bypassing her ears. 

 “This is the way alignment is righted.”

The way…It couldn’t be the answer. The child was thin and fragile. The child wouldn't stop the cosmic collapse. Her fingers traced the embroidery on her sleeves, searching for something that would make this moment logical. She will think it through later. She will find the way to explain this to her Council and to herself. 

The Priestess' gaze was piercing to the point of pain. Siverin’s throat constricted, desert-dry, as her gaze fell to the bundle in Priestess's hands. 

Unable to voice a word, she bowed. 

Siverin thought she’d imagined a smile, lingering on the glass-like face. 

 High Priestess turned her luminous gaze, settling upon Vyspera, whose hands were already clasped over her heart, and her head bowed, golden locks falling on both sides. She, indeed, would have been a perfect mentor to the newborn.  Not Siverin. 

 "Vyspera, the light that warms and dazzles. For when the veil thins and the darkness falls, the child will be your beacon that shows the true when shadows reign."

Vyspera's hand rose to the crystal pendant at her throat—the symbol of her world's beauty and light. Her fingers trembled once before tightening around it. 

 The High Priestess let the silence linger, her gaze settling on Xenara.
Siverin understood that their assessments were designed the same way as the planets aligned.
The Priestess's voice was steady, solemn.

"Xenara, the ember that refuses to fade.”  

Xenara met the Priestess’s eyes, unflinching. “She will need a pathfinder. So, you will be her flame. You will teach her not only the strength to fight, but the will to rise when all else seeks to cast her down."

Xenara’s jaw tightened, her hands flexing at her sides. She turned to face the Prince, whose eyes were still fixed on the child. No one could resist High Priestess magic. However, when Xenara bowed, she did it as if she were throwing a challenge. And Siverin caught herself admiring that. 

   The Priestess inclined her head, then turned to Meilin. The teen looked lightning-struck.
"Meilin, the blade that strikes true, you will be her shield. You will teach her not only to wield light and storm, but to stand unyielding, even when the weight of fate seeks to bend her."

The final words were still humming in the columns when Meilin bowed. Siverin could not stop thinking that the Queen of Tianlong would take great honour in her offspring when she heard what had happened here. 

   As the last vow was spoken, the High Priestess returned the child to Kael's protective embrace. The Prince's posture became even heavier and tenser. 

The Lady of the Temple looked up, extending her hands, and crystalline walls pulsed with light in response.
"The storm and the flame and heart and the blade do not share the same sky, yet when the stars fall, they must burn together or be lost to the void. Four paths unravel. Four pillars are enough to hold the weight of the dome. Four queens to stop the Nightfall."

Siverin realised that descended silence had some magic in it, falling upon their skin like merely visible dust. The baby got the protection that had been unthinkable - no wars between the worlds could start if they were given the joint task to protect the child. No magic could be turned against her. The air thickened, each proclaimed word settling like a massive boulder. 

She would be an answer. She should be an answer, Siverin repeated in her head, trying to make this sound. 

The High Priestess approached Kael again. She lowered in front of him, and her luminous eyes softened as she whispered words almost too faint to hear:
“All will be settled, for she will stand by you as you stand by her, and the path will forge itself beneath your feet, and pain will mist".

The Prince stared at her, unmoving. But once the silhouette of the Priestess began to flicker, she turned to Siverin again. 

 "She is the force yet unseen. May she know love before she knows loss."

The phrase sliced through Siverin's chest like a blade.

Force yet unseen. 

When she looked up again, Priestess of Silver Sister was already disintegrating—her form unraveling into pinpoints of light until nothing remained but starry mist dancing on the temple floor.