Chapter 8: The Blue Queen's Manor

In the high hall at the heart of the blue prison tower, a suspended lightning bolt pulses softly above the black and cobalt throne. Silhouettes of frozen lightning form columns of vertical light, and a deep silence reigns, charged with power. Saphira Noctielle, dressed in a black gothic gown bordered with blue arabesques, walks slowly. She has returned to her natural appearance: a gothic loli with impassive eyes, holding between her fingers a silver key that flashes to the rhythm of her heart. Before her, an empty throne, then, a red and black light twists, condensing.

"Mother," Arcaana appears, the goddess of the tower, her body fused with the building, her face veiled by lightning, her eyes burning with lucidity. Saphira gently bows her head. "Arcaana, I've come to speak." "I'm listening." Saphira stops, her boots softly clacking on the lightning-struck marble. "The Temporal Police asked me a favor. Taar-Nel informed me that their central prison, the Infinite Tower, is no longer usable. He wants to place their most dangerous detainees here." A silence, then Arcaana responds, her voice steady. "Beings of Vortex class? Multiverse breakers, outlaw anomalies?" "Exactly." Arcaana doesn't react immediately, then, "And you, Mother, what do you want?" Saphira closes her eyes. "I want you to make room for them, so we aren't caught off guard. I want you to make space in our floors, and most of all, that you agree." The tower pulses softly, as if breathing. "Then I shall prepare myself."

"You accept?" Saphira whispers, her eyes suddenly bright with emotion. "If you wish it, I wish it. We are one." Saphira smiles slightly, wordlessly. "More rooms will be needed, more layers of security, and a dedicated access door for the Temporal Police guardians," Arcaana adds. "I give you carte blanche." "I will generate eight new floors, some dedicated to unstable beings, others to eternal slumber."

Two hours later, in the great inner courtyard of the blue tower, a lightning bolt splits the sky. A golden silhouette in winged sandals appears, floating above the ground. Hermes, smiling, deposits a series of cases—seventeen, exactly. They are deep black, each adorned with a hand-stitched blue spark—Saphira Noctielle's personal mark. "Special delivery for the Blue Goddess. Dimensional transfer luggage, marked, secured, enchanted. They can only be opened inside the Tower." Saphira, still in gothic form, nods, her hands clasped behind her back. "Perfect. Each temporary guardian or partner will find what they need. Thank you, Hermes." "The pleasure is all mine," and he vanishes in a golden light. Saphira turns, observing the floors under construction, slowly taking shape in the heights of the tower. Arcaana still watches her, her gaze fused with the heart of the structure. "Do you trust them?" Saphira murmurs, "No. But I trust us."

Then she disappears in a blue flash, leaving the tower to continue its divine work.

End of Chapter 7 - Preparations for the Unnameable

CHAPITRE 8 - LE MANOIR DE LA REINE BLEU

La lumière timide du matin glisse entre les branches fines d'une forêt ancienne, non loin de la ville principale de l'Univers 14. le vent y porte une brise douce, presque enchantée, mais chargée d'électricité à, au cœur d'un petit vallon isolé, une clairière s'ouvre, vierge, silencieuse une silhouette se tient au centre Saphira Noctielle sous sa forme adulte, la reine èclair se tient droite, vêtue de sa robe noire brodée d'éclairs bleus, comme une larme d'orage suspendue au-dessus du monde son regard surplombe l'endroit autour d'elle, trois présences l'accompagnent.

«Zorya, sa fidèle chevalière, en armure élégante mais sobre, veille dans le silence»

«Une poupée fille, l'incarnation du temps, les yeux marqués par les siècles, tenant une horloge suspendue dans le vide»

«Une poupée garçon, lié au livre du destin, flottant autour d'un grimoire vivant qui tourne les pages de lui-même» tous les trois l'appellent de la même voix douce et révérencieuse «Reine», «Déesse mère»

Saphira hoche la tête «Nous bâtirons ici, un abri un sanctuaire, un cœur noir pour une paix bleue» Saphira lève les bras les éclairs bleus jaillissent de ses doigts comme des plumes de tempête le sol tremble, puis s'ouvre doucement la terre se recourbe, se soulève, se structure des poutres d'obsidienne surgissent des vitres de verre criant apparaissent, comme soufflées par des âmes le manoir prend forme il est immense, terrifiant dans sa beauté noire «Une façade gothique, aux pointes acérées», «Des fenêtres qui clignotent comme des yeux dans l'ombre», «Une cloche suspendue au sommet, qui ne sonne que dans le silence»

tout autour, la forêt semble reculer, comme respectueuse de l'entité qui s'élève là une porte s'ouvre et ils sortent les poupées abyssales, anciennes résidentes muettes des profondeurs de la tour noire, s'avancent une à une elles portent des tabliers de domestiques, mais chacune dégage une présence presque non humaine

«Les majordomes ont des dents fines, longues, cachées sous leurs sourires»

«Les servantes ne clignent jamais des yeux, comme si elles lisaient l'âme de chaque visiteur», «Elles marchent sans bruit, ne respirent que quand Saphira parle»

mais l'un d'eux ne sort pas de la porte, il sort du ciel, il tombe comme une tâche d'encre vivante, une masse aux formes floues et impossibles, une horreur cosmique qui se plie à l'existence par amour pour sa reine Zorya murmure à Saphira

« Pourquoi l'avoir réveillé ce gardien sans nom ? » Saphira répond sans la regarder :

«Parce que si je disparais il avalera les étoiles jusqu'à me retrouver» le manoir terminé, Saphira entre son pas résonne sur le marbre vivant elle touche un mur, et le mur frémit chaque pièce sait déjà ce qu'elle désire chaque ombre connaît déjà son nom elle s'arrête devant une immense cheminée et murmure, presque émue «Voici la première maison que je construis pour moi»

les poupées s'inclinent en silence le manoir la reconnaît il l'aime déjà plus tard dans la journée, alors que les papiers légaux liés au terrain sont transmis dans une enveloppe magique à la mairie, et que le sceau royal de Saphira est apposé, une poupée approche

«Reine ce lieu vous aime déjà» Saphira regarde par la fenêtre la forêt tremble doucement autour du manoir elle ferme les yeux «Tant mieux car un jour, le monde entier y frappera et j'aurai besoin d'un toit pour tous les protéger»

Fin du Chapitre 8 — Le Manoir de la Reine N

The timid morning light filters through the slender branches of an ancient forest, not far from the main city of Universe 14. The wind carries a gentle, almost enchanted breeze, charged with electricity. At the heart of a small, isolated valley, a clearing opens, pristine and silent. A figure stands at its center. Saphira Noctielle, in her adult form, the lightning queen, stands tall, clad in her black dress embroidered with blue lightning, like a storm tear suspended above the world. Her gaze surveys the site. Around her, three presences accompany her.

Zorya, her loyal knight, in elegant yet simple armor, watches in silence. A female doll, the embodiment of time, her eyes marked by centuries, holds a handless clock suspended in the void. A male doll, bound to the Book of Destiny, floats around a living grimoire whose pages turn by themselves. All three address her in the same soft, reverent voice: "Queen," "Mother Goddess."

Saphira nods. "We will build here, a sanctuary, a black heart for a blue peace." Saphira raises her arms. Blue lightning bursts from her fingers like storm feathers. The ground trembles, then slowly opens. The earth curves, rises, structures itself. Obsidian beams emerge. Crying glass panes appear, as if blown by souls. The manor takes shape. It is immense, terrifying in its dark beauty. "A gothic facade with sharp points," "Windows that flicker like eyes in the shadows," "A bell suspended at the summit, ringing only in silence."

All around, the forest seems to recede, as if respectful of the entity rising there. A door opens, and they emerge: the abyssal dolls, ancient silent residents from the depths of the black tower, advance one by one. They wear domestic aprons, yet each exudes an almost non-human presence. "The butlers have fine, long teeth, hidden beneath their smiles." "The maids never blink, as if reading the soul of every visitor." "They walk soundlessly, only breathing when Saphira speaks."

But one of them does not exit through the door; it emerges from the sky, falling like a living inkblot, a mass of blurred and impossible forms, a cosmic horror that bends to existence out of love for its queen. Zorya murmurs to Saphira: "Why did you awaken this nameless guardian?" Saphira replies without looking at her: "Because if I disappear, it will swallow the stars until it finds me."

The manor completed, Saphira enters. Her step resonates on the living marble. She touches a wall, and the wall trembles. Every room already knows what she desires. Every shadow already knows her name. She stops before an immense fireplace and murmurs, almost moved, "This is the first home I build for myself."

The dolls bow in silence. The manor recognizes her. It already loves her. Later in the day, as the legal papers for the land are magically transmitted in an envelope to the mayor's office, and Saphira's royal seal is affixed, a doll approaches. "Queen, this place already loves you." Saphira looks out the window. The forest trembles softly around the manor. She closes her eyes. "Good. Because one day, the whole world will knock here, and I will need a roof to protect them all."

End of Chapter 8 — The Blue Queen's Manor