Chapter 61: Birth

The forest was thick with the hush of early morning, dew still clinging to the leaves as we made our way through the undergrowth. Iron Veil Bastion loomed ahead—a squat, stone fortress half-swallowed by moss and shadow. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and old blood.


Helium led the way, her steps measured and eyes sharp. The others fanned out in practiced formation: Neon flickered at the edges of vision, Argon’s gaze scanning for traps, Krypton and Radon flanking the rear, Xenon and Oganesson moving with silent discipline. I trailed at the center.


We expected resistance. There was none.


The gates hung open, one hinge twisted and broken. Inside, the halls were eerily silent, the torches long since burned out. We moved in pairs, clearing each room with silent hand signals. The place had been ransacked—drawers yanked open, papers scattered, valuables missing. The only sounds were our footsteps and the distant drip of water from the cracked ceiling.


Neon’s voice, low and tense, echoed from the next corridor. “No bodies. No guards. Not even a dog left behind.”


Argon pressed her palm to a splintered doorframe, eyes narrowed. “This wasn’t a raid. This was a message.”


We descended a spiral staircase, the air growing colder with each step. At the bottom, a heavy iron door stood ajar, the lock melted into slag. Beyond it, the main chamber was shrouded in gloom.


Helium raised her hand, signaling us to halt. She stepped forward, her aura flaring just enough to illuminate the center of the room.


There, sprawled across a toppled desk, was Count Vareon Faulmont.


His corpse was fresh—no more than a day old. His fine clothes were torn, his face twisted in a mask of rage and disbelief. There were no wounds, no sign of a struggle. He looked as if he’d simply dropped dead from the weight of his own fury.


But I saw the truth: a single black mark, seared into the stone behind his head. The sigil of Eclipse—a crescent moon devouring a sun.


I knelt, studying the body. No bruises, no defensive wounds, not even a drop of blood out of place. He hadn’t fought. He hadn’t even had the chance.


Helium’s voice was cool, almost detached. “Eclipse Order got here first.”


The others nodded, their expressions grim.


Argon stepped forward, her analysis immediate. “There’s no reason to proceed. Target eliminated.”


Radon crouched beside the corpse, turning Vareon’s head with two fingers. “He died angry. Not afraid.”


“Pride,” Krypton murmured. “He never saw it coming.”


Neon flicked her hair, a spark of frustration in her eyes. “So we’re too late. Again.”


Xenon’s voice was soft, diplomatic. “Perhaps it’s better this way. The fewer witnesses, the fewer complications.”


Oganesson said nothing, but her gaze lingered on the Eclipse mark, her expression unreadable.


I stood, wiping dust from my hands. “We move out. No point lingering.”


We left Vareon’s corpse where it lay, the sigil burning in our minds. The message was clear: the Eclipse Order was always one step ahead.


But not for long.


That evening, we made camp in a hollow beneath the trees. The fire crackled, casting long shadows on the mossy ground. The girls settled in a loose circle, each falling into their own ritual—cleaning weapons, tending wounds, or simply staring into the flames.


Helium sat nearest the fire, her posture as straight as ever. She watched me with a faint, knowing smile. “You’re brooding again”


Neon grinned, tossing a twig into the fire. “He always looks like that. Like he’s plotting the downfall of the world.”


I shrugged, poking at the embers with a stick. “Maybe I am.”


Radon returned from the darkness, dragging the carcass of a wild boar behind her. She dropped it at the edge of the fire, wiped her blade on the grass, and calmly resumed sharpening it. “Dinner,” she said, voice flat.


Neon clapped. “Radon, you’re terrifying. I love it.”


Krypton nodded in approval. “Efficient.”


Xenon, always the observer, leaned closer to the fire. “Rumors are spreading in the empire. Nobles whisper that the Eclipse Order is cleansing the land of old blood. Some say they’ve taken control of the council.”


Argon frowned. “If that’s true, our window for action is closing.”


Helium’s gaze was steady. “We’ll adapt. We always do.”


Oganesson sat in the shadows, her presence a silent anchor. She never spoke unless necessary, but tonight she sat closest to me, as if to remind me I wasn’t alone.


The conversation drifted from strategy to stories—Neon recounting a disastrous illusion that had left her stuck as a sheep for two hours, Krypton quietly correcting everyone’s memory of past, Radon offering a rare, sardonic joke that left the group in stitches.


For a moment, the tension eased. The firelight softened the hard edges of our lives, and I almost believed we could be normal—just a group of friends sharing a meal under the stars.


Later, when the others slept or kept watch, I slipped away to the edge of the camp, the egg cradled in my hands. The night was cool, the sky clear and endless. I sat with my back against a tree, the egg glowing faintly in the moonlight.


I closed my eyes, focusing on the pulse of magic within. Instinctively, I let a trickle of my own energy flow into it—gentle, careful, like coaxing a spark to life. The egg responded, its glow brightening, a warmth blooming in my chest.


A memory surfaced—Lyra’s voice, soft but fierce:


“Protect it. Even when the world calls it a threat.”


I opened my eyes, the ache of loss sharp and fresh. “I will,” I whispered. “I promise.”


Footsteps approached. Helium knelt beside me, her violet hair falling like a curtain around her face. “You’re different, you know. Since that night.”


I didn’t look up. “We’re all different.”


She nodded, silent for a while. “You’re not alone, Not anymore.”


The others joined us one by one, drawn by the soft glow of the egg or perhaps by the unspoken need to be close. Neon flopped down with a dramatic sigh. “If you’re going tosecretly plan something, at least invite us.”


Argon sat cross-legged, eyes curious. “What are you doing?”


I hesitated, then decided to share something—something from a world none of them had seen.


“Have you ever heard of atoms?” I asked.


Blank stares.


I smiled, just a little. “Everything you see—trees, fire, even us—is made of tiny particles called atoms. They’re so small you can’t see them, but they make up everything. There are different types, and each has its own properties. Some are light, some are heavy, some react with fire, some don’t react at all.”


Neon’s eyes widened. “That’s… kind of amazing.”


Argon leaned in, fascinated. “So, like… magic, but smaller?”


“In a way. But it’s not magic. It’s the foundation of everything.I'll tell you later ,how to use them, even split them apart to release energy.”


Krypton’s voice was soft. “That’s how you see the world, isn’t it? In pieces. In patterns.”


I nodded. “It helps. When things get complicated, I break them down. Find the core.”


Helium’s gaze was thoughtful. “You’re teaching us more than fighting.”


Xenon smiled. “Maybe that’s why we follow you.”


Radon snorted. “I follow him because he’s the only one who can keep up.”


Oganesson, silent until now, spoke in a voice that seemed to echo from the shadows. “Knowledge is a weapon. Use it well.”


We sat in silence, the egg pulsing between us, the stars wheeling overhead.


Argon broke the quiet. “We need a name. For us. For what we’re building.”


Neon grinned. “Something mysterious. Something that’ll make the Eclipse Order tremble.”


Krypton’s voice was calm. “We’re not just a group. We’re an element. Unseen, but everywhere.”


Helium looked at me, waiting.


I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Shadow Periodics.”


The words settled over us, heavy with promise.


One by one, the girls spoke, their voices weaving together:


“We are Shadow Periodics,
Forged from darkness,
Hunting where shadows dares.”


The fire crackled, the egg glowed, and for the first time in days, I felt something like hope.


We sat together beneath the stars, a new oath binding us—one not just of vengeance, but of purpose.


Whatever came next, we would face it as one.




To be continued