Communion

The sun hung low over Zimala, casting golden light across the cobblestone streets. With yesterday's conflict behind them, the Judgment Squad’s patrol was light, more ceremonial than necessary. The squad walked side by side through the winding path that led between the outer neighborhoods, their chatter a mix of teasing and comfortable familiarity.

"Maybe if you weren’t so annoying, we’d actually take you up on your duels," Azumi said, eyeing Knoxx with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Tsuki watched as Knoxx stuck out his tongue in response, his expression playful but sharp. "Maybe if you weren’t so stuck up, guys would actually like you!"

That did it. The two stopped mid-step, turning to face each other, noses inches apart. Sparks practically flew between their glares.

Geo sighed dramatically, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Shut it, you two. Geez."

Tsuki couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic. "Geo the Enforcer," she said, nudging his shoulder.

Then, with a sly smile and glint of mischief in her eyes, she added, "Geo… you’re so attractive when you’re leading."

Geo’s face lit up red instantly. "Wha—what are you talking about?"

Hatori, ever the straight man, smacked Geo lightly on the arm with a grin. "Geo… little red there, aren’t ya?"

"No I’m not!" Geo barked defensively, flustered.

"Sure are," Knoxx chimed in, grinning like a fox. "Tsuki’s got you on a string, buddy."

"Shut your damn mouth!" Geo snapped, but his voice cracked halfway through.

The group burst into laughter, the tension melting into easy camaraderie.

Down the road, Geo spotted a familiar figure. "Hey, it’s Tona!"

They all looked up to see him walking, clearly lost in thought.

"Tona! Hey!" Tsuki called out, waving.

Tona looked up from his sidewalk stare and blinked in surprise. "Ah, hey Judgies."

He approached at a slow, casual pace, hands tucked in the deep pockets of his baggy white pants. His tall frame moved with the quiet confidence that had become second nature, and around his neck, resting above his scarf, hung the Ghost mask.

Hatori crossed his arms with mock solemnity. "Not even trying to hide it anymore, are you?"

Tona raised an eyebrow. "Nothing gets past you big guy."

"That’s right," Knoxx said with a grin. "Hatori’s super observant!"

Hatori shot him a glare. Knoxx simply whistled and looked away, hands behind his head.

Tsuki’s eyes lingered on the mask. It was strange seeing it out in the open now, like a myth that had suddenly become flesh and blood.

"No point hiding the mask anymore," Tona said, noticing their glances. He tapped the edge of it. "Everyone knows now, so it’ll stay here. Right above this scarf."

"Understandable," Geo said with a nod.

Tsuki stepped forward, her voice quiet but clear. "Hey, Tona… we’ve got some down time. So, could you train me?"

Tona blinked. That caught him off guard. "Where’d that come from?"

Tsuki shuffled slightly, her gaze meeting his. "Well… you’re the strongest. And your Solena control was insane during the battle. I was hoping… maybe you could help me with mine."

"Me too!" Knoxx jumped in. "I feel like I’m not pulling my full potential."

Tona rubbed the back of his neck, clearly thinking.

"Alright. I can help you out. Sure."

The squad erupted in cheers. Knoxx and Tsuki high-fived. Azumi grinned, though it was more likely due to being around Tona than his agreeing to teach.

“Well, what do you want to know?” Tona asked. The question hung in the air for a moment. Tsuki hadn’t actually thought about any specifics. Knoxx would hardly think this far ahead either.

Knoxx broke the lingering silence. “Uhh... How about everything?”

Tona laughed until he saw Knoxx’s serious expression. He gave a quick cough before speaking.

"Let’s start with the basics then," Tona said, voice settling into something more instructive.

He turned to face them all. "Now… how often do you speak to your spirits?"

They stared at him blankly.

"Y’know, the source of your Solena?"

Still nothing.

Tona laughed, almost in disbelief. "Didn’t know I was dealing with a bunch of newbies. Damn."

"Hey, dickhead," Hatori said, his tone light, "maybe explain before roasting us."

"Fair." Tona raised a hand in surrender, then began pacing slowly.

"Well, for beginners, the ability we have isn’t our alone. It actually comes from a spirit, based in the Celestial Realm. Every ability user has a spirit. I’m assuming you’ve at least heard of that?"

They all nodded.

"Though I thought it was just a legend," Tsuki admitted. "Didn’t know it was real."

"Oh, it’s real," Tona said. "Very real. I can travel there, if you want to see it sometime."

He gave them a thumbs-up and a cheeky grin.

"Anyway," he went on, "these spirits each have their own unique abilities. They can live separately from humans—but if they do, they burn out. Literally. If they choose to bind with a human soul, the two become one being. That person gets the spirit’s ability. And once they’re bonded, it’s permanent."

He paused and gave Knoxx a pitying look. "Unlucky for your spirit."

Knoxx groaned.

“Just messin’ Knoxx. Sorta.”

"So," Geo said slowly, "the spirit chooses the person?"

"Exactly. They sense the nature of a soul. For example, a spirit that manipulates solar energy might seek someone peaceful, hopeful. Meanwhile, something darker—like voodoo or destructive arts—might pick someone a little more... chaotic. It’s a compatibility thing. A perfect match."

Hatori raised a brow. "When did you learn all this? And why the hell didn’t I know?"

"You never asked," Tona said with a smirk.

"Good point," Hatori muttered.

"So," Azumi asked, brushing her bangs aside, "do you talk to your spirit often?"

"All the time," Tona replied.

"How?"

Tona paused. "That part’s… different for everyone. I contact Severus—my spirit—directly in the Celestial Realm. He won’t respond any other way. But he can reach me any time. I just can’t call out unless I’m there."

"So how do we figure out how to reach ours?" Geo asked.

Tona’s lips curled into a sly grin. "Guess I’ll just take you to the Celestial Realm."

The squad blinked in stunned silence.

"You can actually take us?" Azumi asked.

"Sure can. If everyone’s ready?" Tona said.

He raised his hand, opened a gate, and conjured a glowing solena-formed hand that beckoned them forward.

"Just kidding," he added with a grin. "I don’t care if you’re ready."

A large barrier made of solena proceeded to shove the squad into the gate. Screams filled the scene as the members fell into the Celestial Realm.

They didn’t fall downward so much as inward—drawn through some unseen fold of existence.

Then, silence.

The world reformed around them into an expanse of indescribable beauty. A cosmic sea stretched in all directions, swirling with purples, indigos, rose-golds, and soft pinks that blended like watercolor suspended in clear water. There was no ground—yet something beneath them carried their weight. Trails of shimmering stardust rippled and curled like smoke, responding to unseen tides.

Star-like motes drifted past—some glowing steadily, others flickering like beating hearts. Their movement was slow, dreamlike, as though time itself had relaxed here.

The Judgment Squad floated in open space, bodies weightless, eyes wide in awe.

Knoxx reached out lazily toward a drifting light.
“Whaaaat are these pretty little thingies?” he asked, voice somewhere between reverence and mischief.

Tona floated upside-down beside him, hands behind his head, as if lounging midair. A small laugh escaped him.

“The ones not moving? Souls of people back in Solen. The little flickering ones darting around? Spirits.” He pointed casually toward the clouds of shifting light. “You’ll notice the colors, yeah?”

They all nodded, captivated.

“Each color matches their host’s Solena,” Tona continued. “Like me—Severus burns violet. So my Solena glows violet too.”

Geo’s arms were folded, though his expression betrayed unease.
“…I feel strange,” he muttered. “Like something’s pulling me.”

Tona’s grin widened just slightly.
“That’s your spirit. It’s reaching out—trying to commune.”

Tsuki gasped softly as her feet began to drift forward—though she hadn’t moved them.
“Same here… my body’s moving on its own.”

One by one, the currents of the realm claimed them.

Hatori drifted away in silence, drawn in another direction entirely.
Azumi was caught in a slow current beside him, trying to stay composed.
Knoxx spun through the air doing carefree somersaults, laughing as the stars scattered around him.

And Tsuki—
Tsuki was being pulled faster.

The lights thinned and the colors darkened.
A tear in the cosmic field began to open, like a black iris widening at the center of the realm.

Before she could resist, a shadowed force yanked her through. The vibrant world vanished completely.

She landed with a soft gasp into utter darkness. No ground. No horizon. No sound. Just void. Then. A brief deception of light.

A small black flame with white outlines flickered ahead, casting the faintest glow into the darkness behind it. Slowly, the flame spread, illuminating a tall, elegant silhouette standing perfectly still.

An ancient presence watching her every move.

Tsuki swallowed, breath trembling. She was no longer alone.

A voice drifted through the darkness—soft, calm, resonant. Feminine.

“Tsuki…”

The sound seemed to echo not through the void, but through Tsuki herself. She stood still, tense yet composed, watching as her eyes slowly adjusted to the faint flame ahead.

“It’s been a long time coming,” the voice continued.

Tsuki drew a slow breath. “You… are you my spirit?”

The flame fluttered, almost like a subtle laugh.

“Yes,” the figure replied. “I chose you long ago. I have watched everything you’ve done. I remember more than you do. I hear what you hear. I live in you.”

A chill ran down Tsuki’s spine. Her expression tightened.

“That’s… honestly kind of creepy.”

The figure’s silhouette shifted—almost as though smiling.

“I know. But I am a part of you. So if it’s strange, it’s strange for both of us.”

A nervous breath escaped her—half sigh, half laugh. Her shoulders eased as her arms lowered.

“Alright then…”

She tried to gather her thoughts, but before she could speak, the voice cut in gently.

“I already know your questions. Allow me to answer them.”

The white outline of the black flame seemed to slowly expand.

“You can commune with me from your realm. The stronger our bond becomes, the stronger your abilities will grow.”

Tsuki raised an eyebrow. “Wait… my strength depends on us being close?”

“Exactly.” The voice was patient, instructive. “Your power is Solena pulled from me—pulled from here. I don’t control how much you receive. But if we connect, truly connect, I can guide how it travels through you. I can help you shape it—strike harder, react faster, conserve more.”

Tsuki blinked, stunned. “So I’ve… only been using a fraction of what I could do?”

“Most people do,” the spirit said. “Most never even realize we exist. They believe they were simply ‘blessed’ at birth.” A soft laugh resonated through the void. “If only they knew.”

Silence fell. Tsuki took it in piece by piece, the weight of it grounding her.

Slowly, her voice softened.
“What’s your name?”

The flame swelled, illuminating the figure fully—a tall, elegant silhouette draped in flowing shadow. “Chiumali.”

Tsuki repeated it under her breath, letting it settle inside her.
“Chiumali…”

She lifted her gaze.

“Alright. How do I reach you—from my realm I mean?”

Chiumali closed her eyes, folding her hands before her. The void seemed to listen.

“Your shadows,” she answered.

Tsuki stared. “…My shadows?”

“Yes,” Chiumali said gently. “Enter through them. Focus your Solena. Calm your mind. Speak my name. From there—” her eyes opened, bright and steady, “—you’ll find your way to me.”

Tsuki crossed her arms, trying to sound confident.
“…That sounds easy enough.”

Chiumali’s eyes opened with a knowing, amused flicker.
“Do not be cocky. Balancing Solena is not like flexing a muscle. It is meditation. Discipline and intention. You will likely fail… at first.”

Tsuki exhaled sharply. “Great. Very encouraging.”

“It is necessary,” Chiumali replied, voice gentle and unyielding. “If you wish to rise above the enemies you face… if you wish to protect those around you… our bond must deepen.”

Tsuki stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her heartbeat felt louder than her footsteps.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “When we leave this place, I’ll train. I’ll reach you. No matter how long it takes.”

Chiumali’s expression softened—not with warmth, but recognition. Respect. Her form faded slowly back into the darkness, her final words folding gently through the void.

“So be it. Prove yourself worthy, Tsuki… my chosen one.”

The shadows around them peeled away like smoke unraveling under a rising sun. Chiumali’s black flame dimmed to a quiet ember behind Tsuki—still present, but resting.

Light returned to the world again.
Soft threads of stardust wove themselves back into the vast celestial tapestry.
Shapes, colors, stars—everything reformed.

One by one, the others drifted back toward Tsuki—not pulled by gravity, but by instinct.

Geo stretched, rubbing the back of his neck as though waking from a long sleep.
“Damn, Tsuki. You took forever. Did you have to sign a contract or something?”

Tsuki blinked, still catching her breath.
“Maybe. Felt like I got interviewed and recruited for a job I didn’t know I applied for.”

She let out a slow exhale and steadied herself.

“But—I learned how to commune with my spirit.”

Tona hovered lazily a few feet away, arms behind his head, a proud grin spreading across his face.
“There we go. That’s the first step. Talking with Severus is how I figured out what I was really capable of.”

Hatori shot him a flat look. Arms crossed.
“Right. You talk about this Severus guy like he’s royalty. Why didn’t you visit him while we were with our spirits?”

Tona laughed and rolled backward into a slow midair flip.
“He’s not exactly the little flame you’re imagining. Severus is the Keeper of the Celestial Realm. Big guy. Likes theatrics. Giant celestial dragon, actually.”

He raised a brow.
“Though I doubt he’s gonna sho—”

A roar tore across the realm.

Not loud in sound—but loud in everything other aspect. The stars themselves shook. Spirits began circling, escaping from the approaching presence. A wave of Solena blasted outward like a celestial shockwave.

The squad recoiled, shielding their eyes.

Tona winced.
“…Spoke too soon.”

Beyond drifting clusters of souls, Tsuki saw something moving.

What in the hell...

A form parted the constellations as easily as a hand parting water. Trails of radiant violet energy streamed behind it—long, fluid, glowing like rivers of starlight.

The creature descended.

A scaled and serpentine figure. Divine in its existence.

Severus.

His body wound effortlessly among the stars—silent and enormous. Horns arced like scythes of hollow moonlight. His violet, ancient eyes settled upon them with the weight of galaxies.

His voice rumbled through the realm, deeper than thunder, older than memory:

“Tona… you bring guests into my domain?”

The squad instinctively drifted back—Knoxx’s jaw dropped, Azumi’s breath caught, even Geo’s usual confidence faltered.

Tona didn’t move at all.

He just floated there, hands behind his head, relaxed.
“They wanted to learn to commune. Figured I’d show them the ropes.”

Severus’s gaze narrowed.

“Next time, I would appreciate being asked.”

Tona smirked. “Come on. You love surprises.”

A low growl rolled from Severus, curling into mist that steamed across the realm like fog on a battlefield.

The cosmos itself seemed to hold its breath.

Severus’s great head lowered, violet eyes narrowing.
“I will end you,” he rumbled.

Tona’s smirk didn’t waver.
“If you do, you die too, buddy. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Severus exhaled like a volcano preparing to blow.
“Every day, I ask myself why I chose you.”

“Because I’m charming,” Tona said, tapping his chest. “And you’re secretly sentimental.”

The dragon let out a groan like stone collapsing under its own weight. Yet, despite himself, he leaned down. Tona reached up and rubbed a scale right between his eyes with casual affection—as if greeting an old friend.

The rest of the squad simply stared.

Azumi was first to speak—voice soft, threaded with awe.
“If I can ask… why isn’t Severus a flame like the others?”

Knoxx nodded vigorously, glancing between the countless drifting soul-lights and the massive dragon.
“Yeah, what the hell? I feel like I got scammed.”

The glow in Severus’s chest deepened, his tone shifting—solemn and immense.

“I am the Keeper of the Celestial Realm,” he said. “I watch over the spirits of this plane. I guide them. It is my duty to protect the very essence of the Celestial Realm and reality's balance."

He circled them slowly, his size bending the space around him, his gaze ancient and knowing.

“If a bond between spirit and host grows unstable… dangerous… I can sever it. I can unmake the connection before it destroys both.”

The air chilled. Even the stars seemed to fall silent.

“Spirits cannot abandon their hosts of their own accord,” Severus continued. “Not without consequence. But I—”

A low growl rumbled through him.

“—I can.”

Knoxx threw his arms up.
“That’s badass!”

A deep rumbling laugh rolled from the dragon.
“Oh, stop the praise…”

Tsuki couldn’t help but think on the scene. If Tona has that thing bound to him... I’ve really got a long way to go.

The distant laughter faded, as Tsuki refocused. Everything was replaced by stillness—vast and heavy as the cosmos itself.

Tona broke it, casual as ever.
“We should probably get going.”

Severus huffed.
“Yes. Yes, please do.”

Tona opened a warp with a flick of his hand.
“Relax. I won’t push you guys this time.”

Tsuki and Geo stepped through first, Knoxx tumbling in after them. Azumi and Hatori followed. Tona gave Severus a two-finger salute before slipping through the gate. Severus bowed his head in respect, before twisting away.

In an instant, stars and spirits dissolved into stone and night air. The squad landed softly on the courtyard of the Solen training temple—boots touching the ground like feathers settling.

A cool mountain breeze swept past. The sky above was a dusky purple, early starlight peeking between high stone walls.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then—

Knoxx exhaled dramatically.
“…Okay. That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Not even exaggerating.”

Azumi rubbed her arms. “I still feel like I’m floating.”

Geo turned to Tsuki, arms crossed but grinning.
“So, Shadow Girl… feel like some kind of divine prodigy now?”

Tsuki brushed a loose strand of hair aside, a small smile forming.
“I feel… connected. Like something deep finally made sense.”

Hatori nodded once in agreement.
Tona slipped his hands into his pockets, watching them with a quiet pride that didn’t need words.
“And that understanding?” he said. “That’s only the beginning. Talk to your spirits. Learn who they are. When your bond is real—your power is truly yours.”

Conversation rose again—laughter, wonder, the soft spark of possibility. For the first time in a long while, the war felt distant. They walked back across the courtyard together, the night warm around them, spirits high.

Later that night, the courtyard had fallen into silence. Moonlight spilled through the lattice windows of Tsuki’s tent, casting soft shadows across the stone floor.

Tsuki sat cross-legged in the center, her breathing steady… but her heart uncertain.

A flicker of doubt tugged at her.

She rested her hands on her knees.
Closed her eyes.

And reached inward—toward the shadows.

Toward Chiumali.

Tsuki exhaled slowly.
“…Okay. Let’s try this.”

She lowered two fingers to the floor beside her, where her shadow pooled like a still lake beneath the moonlight. Drawing Solena into her fingertips, she whispered.

“Chiumali.”

Silence. Nothing stirred.

She tried again, slower this time—breathing deep, grounding herself, guiding her Solena like water flowing into stillness.

“Chiumali.”

The shadows remained unchanged. Time and time again, she failed—but her prevalent personality wouldn't let her quit.

She simply inhaled again, her eyes closed. She wasn’t forcing herself to focus this time—she was giving herself time to settle. She let her thoughts fall away and her heartbeat quiet.
Let her soul go still.

When she spoke again, it was not strained. It was certain.

“Chiumali.”

The air shifted around her.

The shadows beneath her rippled—gently, like water disturbed by a breeze. A soft violet glow emerged from the darkness. Two eyes opened, serene and luminous.

“You’re persistent,” Chiumali murmured, her voice a soft vibration through the room. “I like that.”

Tsuki opened her eyes and released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Relief bloomed across her face, small and warm.

“Took me long enough,” she said with a quiet laugh.

“Most would have quit after the third attempt,” Chiumali replied. “You reached me on the sixth.”

Tsuki’s expression softened with quiet resolve.
“I said I’d do it. No matter how long it takes.”

Chiumali’s form rose slowly from the shadow—shaped, but not solid, as if sculpted from moonlight and night.

“Then we begin.”

Tsuki straightened her posture, her voice steady.

“Teach me. Everything. I want to grow.”

A shadowed hand, cool and gentle, rested on her shoulder.

“In time,” Chiumali said. “Growth is not force. It is listening. First, you must learn to hear me.”

The shadows widened—soft and encompassing—forming a ring around them. The inside of the tent faded, replaced by the deep communion space of the Tsuki's shadows, where only spirit and host existed.

Elsewhere, the council chamber of Alden Central was lit by tall iron torches, their flames bending in the draft like uneasy witnesses. Nine figures sat around the circular stone table, robes heavy, expressions colder than the marble beneath their feet.

Hoshuro placed a scroll at the center.

“Zimala is lost,” he said. “Jon grows restless. Memento gains momentum.”

A few councilors scoffed.

“Let them. A rabble with stolen weapons,” one muttered.

“Children playing at rebellion,” another added.

Hoshuro did not join them. He unrolled a second scroll — its edges burnt, the ink smeared as though written by shaking hands. “…But this,” he said, “is not a child’s doing.”

The others leaned in.

Drawn in black ink was a tall silhouette in a white coat, scarf trailing, violet aura rising like flame. The sketch was rough, frantic.

“He wiped that fort in Galion,” one councilor whispered.

“Rumor,” another snapped, though his voice wavered.

Hoshuro produced another parchment, stained with dried blood.

“A stalker’s account. He wrote that the man’s Solena ‘distorted the air’… and that even trained elites struggled to breathe in his presence.”

Silence thickened like fog. “This is no ordinary unnatural,” Hoshuro said quietly. “Three companies withdrew the instant he stepped forward.”

A councilor shifted uncomfortably.
“What… what do they call him?”

Hoshuro looked up. “The Ghost of Alden.”

That name made the torches tremble. Another voice broke the stillness, low and hesitant:

“…We should raise his classification.”

“To what?” someone asked. “High threat? Overlord?”

“No.” Hoshuro’s gaze was steady. “Something higher. A tier used for catastrophes, not men.”

The chamber felt suddenly colder.

“And what shall we call it?” another whispered.

Hoshuro lowered his voice.

“World Threat.”

No one spoke. Not out of disagreement, but because they all understood in silence. They had something to fear.
Not the rebellion. Not Memento. An unpredictable man.

Outside the chamber, the bells of Alden Central tolled — slow and hollow, as if warning the nation of what truly walked Alden.