As the years passed, half a century unfolding like the pages of a book, King Zarius watched with unwavering pride as Cyra and Lloyd grew stronger, their abilities blossoming like flowers in spring. 50 years had transformed the once-young pair into formidable individuals, with Cyra, now 55 and Lloyd, 60, standing as testaments to their dedication and perseverance. Despite their seemingly old ages, they were very young in the Immortal point of view.
Cyra's appearance reflected her remarkable growth. Her white hair cascaded down her back like a river of moonlight, the tips gently brushing against her waist. Her long bangs framed her face, sweeping across her forehead and hovering above her striking heterochromatic eyes. The black horns on either side of her head had grown longer and more majestic, complementing her golden Halo, which shone brighter than ever.
Her wings, once a stark black and white, had transformed into a vibrant red and golden hue, a symbol of her progress. The left wing, once a symbol of darkness, now burned with a fiery red, while the right wing shone with a brilliant golden light, indicating her attainment of the Cherub rank. Her tail, a majestic extension of her being, flowed behind her like a river of night.
Cyra's height had increased, her head now reaching just below Lloyd's neck, but her presence seemed to command even more attention. With her right side, she could soar through the skies with incredible speed and balance, her golden wing beating powerfully. Her healing abilities had also advanced, allowing her to mend wounds with a mere touch of her right hand.
However, mastering her Life Eye remained an ongoing challenge, one she tackled with determination and focus. Conversely, her left side, the embodiment of destruction, had granted her the power of disintegration. With a mere touch, she could reduce objects or even people to nothingness, a formidable ability that demanded great responsibility.
Cyra's teleportation skills had also improved, enabling her to traverse vast distances in an instant. She had become proficient in wielding various weapons, including a sword, an energy-filled bow and arrow, daggers, and her beloved double-edged scythe. The scythe, a dark and foreboding instrument, seemed to embody her Devil side, its black blade etched with intricate, crimson runes that pulsed with an inner fire. The scythe's handle, wrapped in a strange, scale-like material, fit perfectly in her hand, as if an extension of her own being.
As she continued her training, Cyra worked to master her Death Eye, a power that held the potential to reshape reality. She also learned to switch between the complete versions of her sides, hiding her Devil aura and features to appear as a full Angel, or vice versa, with ease. This chameleon-like ability would prove invaluable in the trials to come, as Cyra navigated the complex web of alliances and rivalries between Angels and Devils.
Lloyd, as well, had undergone a remarkable transformation, his growth mirroring Cyra's in both magnitude and majesty. His black hair, once short and unruly, now fell just short of his shoulders, with a striking white streak running along the right side, from his forehead to his temple. The streak seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if infused with the essence of the stars.
His horns, once small and fledgling, had grown into majestic, curved appendages, reminiscent of his father's regal features. Two large black horns rose from the sides of his head, while two more smaller horns adorned his forehead, forming a formidable quartet that commanded respect. Lloyd's eyes, burning with an intense, fiery red, seemed to pierce through the veil of reality, as if fueled by an unyielding determination.
Teleportation, once a challenging feat, had become second nature to Lloyd. He could now traverse vast distances with ease, his ability to transport himself to far-off places surpassing even Cyra's. His mastery of this skill was a testament to his dedication and focus.
In combat, Lloyd had become a formidable opponent, his arsenal of skills and weapons expanding exponentially. He wielded a variety of deadly instruments with precision and finesse, including a razor-sharp sword with a blade etched in silver runes, an energy-filled bow that fired arrows of pure light, and a pair of daggers forged from a mysterious, otherworldly metal. Each weapon seemed to hum with power, as if attuned to Lloyd's unique energy.
However, Lloyd's most devastating asset remained his Death Eye, a power he had now fully mastered. With a mere glance, he could disintegrate or destroy objects, or even beings, reducing them to naught but memories. The weight of this responsibility was not lost on Lloyd, who wielded his Death Eye with caution and restraint, ever mindful of the delicate balance between life and death.
As he stood watch over Cyra, Lloyd's gaze seemed to hold a deeper wisdom, a sense of understanding that transcended his years. His growth, both physical and metaphysical, had forged him into a powerful guardian, a champion of justice and righteousness. Together, Lloyd and Cyra formed an unstoppable duo, their bond and abilities a beacon of hope in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
In the opulent depths of his private chambers, King Zarius sat ensconced, surrounded by the trappings of power and the shadows that danced upon the walls. His expression was a masterful blend of satisfaction and restraint, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he contemplated the next phase of his plan. Yet, beneath the surface, a simmering impatience threatened to boil over, like a pot left unattended on a fiery stove. The anticipation had been building for so long, and he could hardly wait to unveil the true purpose behind his machinations.
As he gazed upon a mental image of Cyra, his eyes gleamed with a knowing intensity, for she remained blissfully unaware of the role he had ordained for her. Her innocence was almost palpable, a delicate flower waiting to be plucked from the garden of ignorance. But Lloyd, on the other hand, presented a different scenario altogether.
Though Lloyd's face remained a mask of stoic loyalty, King Zarius detected a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a whispered doubt that only a keen observer could discern. It was a tiny crack in the facade, a hairline fracture that, if left unchecked, could spread and shatter the entire edifice of his plan.
King Zarius's mind whirred with calculation, weighing the risks and consequences of Lloyd's potential discovery. He knew that Cyra's trust in her brother ran deeper than her trust in him, and if Lloyd were to uncover the truth, she would undoubtedly follow his lead, embarking on her own investigation. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine, for he had carefully woven a tapestry of deception, and the slightest tug could unravel the entire fabric.
Yet, he reassured himself, the likelihood of discovery was slim. His plan had been crafted with precision, each thread carefully intertwined to ensure maximum secrecy. Still, the nagging sense of unease lingered, a persistent whisper in the darkness, reminding him that even the most meticulously laid plans can go awry.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
In the grand library, where shadows danced upon the walls, a single candle-lit chandelier cast a warm, golden glow, complementing the soft light emanating from Cyra's right wing. The wing, a radiant gold, illuminated the surrounding rows of shelves, laden with tomes bound in worn leather and adorned with mysterious symbols. Amidst this sea of knowledge, Cyra sat enthroned, her white hair a stark contrast to the dark, wooden chair beside the circular desk. Her heterochromatic eyes devoured the words within a book titled "Xeris: The Dawn of Chaos," a tale of the first Nephalem and the turmoil she unleashed upon the celestial world.
"I knew you'd be here," a deep voice resonated from behind her, but Cyra didn't flinch, her focus unwavering.
"Where else would I be? Clearly, I'm a bookworm now," she replied with a hint of sarcasm, her eyes never leaving the page.
Lloyd, the black-haired Devil, chuckled, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. "You really seem to like this book, always reading it."
Cyra looked up, a smirk spreading across her face. "Yeah, yeah. But you're the one who influenced me. So, you should be happy."
Lloyd grinned, his expression a picture of satisfaction. "Hmm... Fair enough." He had dragged her to the library years ago, and since then, she'd developed a passion for reading about the supernatural, particularly Angels and Devils.
This book, however, held a special significance. Cyra felt an inexplicable connection to Xeris, and the mention of the first Nephalem's true form left her perplexed. She'd always believed her current form was her final one, but the book hinted otherwise. Determined to uncover the truth, Cyra had pored over the pages, searching for a detail she might have missed. Yet, the answer remained elusive.
With slight devastation, Cyra closed the book and stood up. "I'll be off to my quarters now..."
Lloyd hummed, following her. "Sure. Just remember, you're going to battle father in a few hours."
Cyra's footsteps halted, her eyes widening in alarm. "I totally forgot about that!"
Lloyd snickered, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Of course, you did."
Cyra glared at him, her teeth gritted. "Not helping."
"Oh well!" Lloyd exclaimed, his hands raised in mock innocence. "I'll be off as well. Good luck, mini-lem!"
With a teleportation, Lloyd vanished, leaving Cyra fuming. She detested that nickname, a constant reminder of her height. Lloyd had started calling her "mini-lem" a few years ago, a joke that had become a recurring theme. Though she knew he meant no harm, the nickname still grated on her nerves.
With a hand running through her hair, Cyra continued on her way, her mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming battle and the secrets hidden within the pages of "Xeris: The Dawn of Chaos."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
As Cyra strolled down the corridor, she found herself drawn to the familiar paintings that adorned the walls. Despite having seen them countless times, she never grew tired of their beauty. However, her attention was soon diverted as she approached her father's chambers. The sound of hushed voices wafted through the air, and her curiosity was piqued. She had often heard murmurs from within, but this time, the words seemed to be about her.
With caution, Cyra tiptoed to the door, mindful of her father's acute senses. She pressed her left ear against the large black door, straining to listen. The voices of King Zarius and Alpert, one of his most trusted allies, grew clearer. Though she couldn't discern the entire conversation, snippets caught her attention: "Cyra," "Nephalem," "Heaven," "mortals," and "Angels." Confusion clouded her mind.
"What's that about?" she wondered, her mind racing with possibilities.
Just as she tried to listen more, the voices ceased, and the door creaked open. Alpert stood before her, his eyes flashing with surprise before he composed himself. King Zarius, seated in a large chair, gazed at her with an unreadable expression, making Cyra feel slightly nervous.
"Greetings, father," she said, her face neutral.
"Hello, Alpert," she added, receiving a nod from the ally.
"What are you doing here, Your Highness?" Alpert asked, his tone polite but inquisitive.
"Am I not allowed to be here anymore?" Cyra replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice.
King Zarius intervened, his voice firm. "You should leave."
Alpert opened his mouth to speak, but the king's authoritative tone cut him off. "Now."
Cyra's lips snapped shut, and she teleported to her room without another word.
As the door closed behind her, King Zarius addressed Alpert. "Your Majesty-"
"That's enough for now," he interrupted, his tone unyielding. "Thank you for your suggestions. I'll be sure to send for you when I need you again."
Alpert bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty."
With a nod, he teleported away, leaving King Zarius to ponder the weight of his decisions. Meanwhile, Cyra slumped into her chair, her head resting on the white desk as she tried to make sense of the encounter.
"Maybe he's just discussing ways to improve my power... or something else related to that," she thought, attempting to reassure herself. "I mean, I am the rarest species of the Supernatural of all time... And there's clearly not going to be a spar lesson anymore."
A sigh would've escaped her lips, if she could, as she raised her head, her eyes drifting shut in a futile attempt at rest. "Yeah, I think there's nothing to worry about..."
But little did she know, the shadows of uncertainty were only beginning to unfold, and her world was about to be turned upside down.
»»—————- ♔ —————-««
Alpert: "Your Majesty, are you certain this is the right path? Cyra's powers are growing stronger by the day, and keeping her in the dark may only lead to more problems down the line."
King Zarius: "I've made my decision, Alpert. Don't question me again. Now, leave me; I have much to consider... like how to keep Cyra from turning the castle into a giant game of Jenga."
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Cyra: "I'm going to find out what's going on, even if it kills me."
Lloyd: "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. I don't think father would appreciate having to explain your death to the rest of the family."
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[A/N]: Yes! Cyra's finally gotten a hint! But ofc, she can be very dense...
Thank you for reading! ^^
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