𝗖𝘆𝗿𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱: 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗺 - •°Chapter 12: The (not) Unseen Observer°•

As the centuries passed, Queen Zoya’s hope of finding Nadia withered into the cold corners of memory. One thousand, one hundred and fifteen years had slipped by since her friend vanished, and despite all her tireless efforts, not a single lead had surfaced. No clues. No whispers. Only silence. The duties of the Realm of Eternal Reckoning weighed heavier than ever, and every spirit she judged was a quiet reminder of her failure—a failure not as a Queen, but as a friend.

She had asked King Zarius, and met only dismissive words. She had scoured Heaven itself, but Nadia remained lost. As for Hell—it was never an option. Sending Angels into its depths was a risk too great, a danger she could never justify.

Now, standing alone in her chambers, Queen Zoya faced a truth she had avoided for too long: she had reached the end of her search. Hope had long since turned to ache—a quiet, constant presence at the edge of her existence.

Her fingers traced the air, as if brushing unseen threads of old memories. She whispered no words; she didn’t need to. Her silent plea traveled outward, as though the cosmos itself might hear: Wherever you are, Nadia... let there be peace.

Her gaze drifted to the delicate locket around her neck. Inside, Nadia’s soft smile remained frozen in time—unchanged, untouched by the centuries. Once, it had been a symbol of hope. Now, it served only as a quiet relic of a friendship that had defied even the passage of time. A bittersweet comfort. A weight she carried still.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Cyra sat still, her thoughts spinning like a storm. As a Supernatural, sleep wasn’t a necessity. She had long since given it up, though once, she used to enjoy it—a brief escape, a false sense of peace. But that habit had been crushed beneath her father's harsh lessons.

"Sleep is a weakness, Cyra," he had said. "You lower your guard. You become prey. And you're a heavy sleeper—easy to strike."

The words had stayed with her, cold and sharp. So she adapted. Always alert. Always ready. It had become her way of life.

But tonight—or whatever this hour was—something gnawed at her. A creeping unease. A voice whispering in her mind: 'Watch him. Watch them'. She had never doubted her father before. Never questioned the world he built around her. But now, she couldn't stop the growing suspicion that his carefully spoken words, his careful smiles, masked something deeper.

The more she tried to dismiss it, the stronger the feeling grew.

In the end, her resolve cracked. If her instincts screamed at her to watch him, then she would listen. She would observe. Quietly. Carefully. Even if it meant stepping into dangerous shadows.

A heavy decision—but her eyes gleamed with quiet fire. The path forward was set.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The grand Throne Room of King Zarius loomed like a silent monument, its towering ceiling swallowed in darkness. The walls were lined with frescoes, each one chronicling the long, bloody history of the Supernaturals. At the far end, King Zarius sat upon his massive throne, radiating authority. At his side stood Alpert, his most trusted servant, posture rigid, voice lowered.

Their conversation was quiet, but the tension crackled beneath it.

"Cyra’s... distractions are becoming persistent," King Zarius said flatly. "Certain attachments continue to shift her focus in ways I do not find favorable."

Hidden far above, Cyra clenched her jaw. She didn’t need to guess who he meant. 'Of course he’s blaming Lloyd', she thought bitterly.

Alpert dipped his head, cautious. "I understand, my Lord. But… how much longer must we wait to proceed?"

King Zarius’ eyes gleamed. Calculating. Cold. "When the celestial alignments shift in our favor," he answered. "Until then, we keep the distractions firmly in place."

Unseen, Cyra remained perched high in the shadows, her aura masked—her father’s own technique, turned against him. Floating close to the ceiling, she strained to catch every word. The risk was enormous, but the pull of truth was stronger.

She wouldn’t stop. Not now.

Before Alpert could answer, a knock echoed against the tall double doors. King Zarius spoke, voice steady and low. “Enter.”

The door creaked open. Lloyd strode in, his sharp eyes sweeping across the room like a predator scanning its territory. High above, concealed in the ceiling’s shadows, Cyra remained perfectly still. She couldn’t teleport while suspended in mid-air. Quickly and silently, she adjusted her wings, gliding higher into the dark recess. The faint glow from her right wing and halo faded entirely, rendering her almost invisible.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as she watched Lloyd. 'Seriously? Right now?'

Lloyd’s eyes twitched upward for a brief moment, sensing something — a subtle instinct, but seeing nothing, he let it pass.

“Father. Alpert,” Lloyd greeted, bowing with calm confidence.

King Zarius returned a curt nod, annoyance simmering beneath his composed exterior. “Speak quickly. Why are you here?”

Lloyd met his father’s eyes directly. “It’s about Cyra. Her confinement. When will she be allowed to leave the palace?”

Alpert shifted slightly but remained silent. King Zarius simply waited, expression unreadable.

“She’s been within these walls her entire existence,” Lloyd continued. “She has learned to fully conceal her nature — even the highest Angels wouldn’t detect her. Why continue to restrict her? Why not permit her to explore the lower realms of Hell?”

The King’s eyes narrowed faintly, amusement flickering in their depths. “Very well.”

Lloyd paused, momentarily thrown off. “You’re… allowing it?”

A slow smile crept across King Zarius’ lips. “You heard me. She may leave. Now go.”

Lloyd bowed again, briefly stumbling over his words in surprise. “Thank you— of course, Father.” He turned and exited, entirely unaware of Cyra’s silent presence above.

Cyra's thoughts spun wildly. Gratitude toward Lloyd mixed with unease. Freedom beyond the palace walls was something she'd only imagined — exciting, yet foreign.

But now was not the time to dwell. She had to escape unseen.

At last, King Zarius dismissed Alpert. The servant vanished, leaving Cyra watching silently, waiting for her father to leave as well. But instead, he stood from his throne…

…and looked directly at her.

Their eyes locked. The weight of his stare pressed into her, a silent force far heavier than words.

A long pause followed before King Zarius finally spoke, his voice cold and steady. "Why are you here?"

Cyra descended slowly, her wings adjusting with precise, silent control. Landing before him, she forced a cheerful grin. “Hello, Father! I, uh… I just made a breakthrough! I teleported mid-air! Isn’t that… awesome?”

King Zarius’ expression didn’t shift. “And you chose to teleport here. Why?”

The fake enthusiasm in her voice wavered. “I… was thinking about you. Thought I’d surprise you. See your reaction…” She forced another strained smile.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar, Cyra.”

Her grin slipped. The familiar phrase stung; Lloyd had said the same countless times. She opened her mouth to defend herself—

“Get out.”

The command cut her off entirely. She didn’t hesitate. Without another word, Cyra spun around and bolted from the throne room, teleporting directly to her quarters the moment she cleared the door.

Her quarters were a sanctuary, a quiet reflection of her Nephalem heritage. The spacious chamber stretched high into a vaulted ceiling, giving her room to soar freely. Intricate frescoes lined the stone walls, depicting the ancient history of her kind. The polished obsidian floor reflected the flickering light of countless candles arranged carefully throughout the room, their flames dancing silently in the stillness.

At the center stood a towering forge, its flames burning with a steady, pale glow — the only source of true magic in the room. The forge pulsed faintly, its fire an ancient symbol of the power that ran through her veins.

Landing beside it, Cyra folded her wings and closed her eyes. She drew in her focus, centering her energy as she worked to master the teleportation technique that continued to defy her. Power coiled around her, swirling and tightening with each moment of intense concentration.

After repeated failures, she ascended into the air again, hovering as she tried to teleport mid-flight. Still nothing. Frustration burned inside her. She descended and, instead, teleported to the library.

Standing in the vast, silent chamber, she looked around. "Wait... why did I come here again?”

With a brief shrug, she teleported to Lloyd’s quarters.

He stood on a crimson rug, casually disintegrating old items with a flick of his wrist. Without turning, he acknowledged her presence. “Hello, Cyra.”

His flat tone caught her off guard; she had expected at least a trace of excitement. Or perhaps he was simply playing it cool.

Curious, she asked, “So... what’s the project?” Her eyes followed the drifting remnants of a disintegrated dagger.

Lloyd turned, his expression resting between mild amusement and annoyance. “You think I’m just destroying things for fun?”

She grinned. “Hehe... got anything for me?”

He studied her for a moment before answering. “Oh yeah, you’re going out of the palace.” His voice was laced with a hint of teasing.

Cyra's excitement sparked, but Lloyd quickly extinguished it. “No, I’m not going with you.” He rolled his eyes.

Undeterred, Cyra offered, “Want to quiz me instead?” The mischief glittered in her gaze.

Lloyd stared at her, bewildered. “What?”

Before he could react further, Cyra grabbed his hand and teleported them both to the library. She led him to a shelf, pulled out a thick tome, and dropped into a chair. Lloyd sat across from her, glaring.

“This is how you’re celebrating your freedom?” he asked, exasperation mixing with reluctant amusement.

Cyra’s smile was steady. “Yep.”

Lloyd gave her a long, unimpressed stare. “Ehh. Whatever.”

»»———————-　♔　———————-««

Cyra: "Technically, I wasn’t caught. I just… stopped hiding."

King Zarius: "You were floating directly above me."

Cyra: "Semantics."

62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdiMAg4qVro

And ofc, featuring our fav siblings:

Cyra: "You ruined my spy mission!"

Lloyd: "I didn’t know you were spying."

Cyra: "Exactly. That means I was doing it right!"

62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAwkH6nzmQF

[A/N]: Thanks for reading! ^^

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