Centuries slipped by like the turning pages of an endless book. In the immortal world, time moved differently โ quietly, patiently โ while power, strength, and knowledge grew.
King Zarius watched with silent pride as Cyra and Lloyd blossomed into formidable beings. The once-young siblings had transformed into something far greater, their abilities honed through tireless years of training.
Cyra had grown into a striking vision of power and grace. Her long white hair flowed like moonlight down her back, its silky strands brushing her waist. Two elegant black horns now framed her face, curving proudly beside her glowing golden Halo, which shone brighter with each passing year. But it was her wings that revealed just how far she had come: her left wing burned with a brilliant red fire, while her right gleamed with radiant gold โ the unmistakable mark of her rise to the Cherub rank.
Her presence commanded attention. Though she still stood slightly shorter than Lloyd, she now carried herself with unshakable confidence. Her powers had flourished alongside her growth. With her golden right hand, she could heal any wound with ease. But her left hand โ the hand of destruction โ wielded terrifying disintegration, turning anything she touched into nothingness. It was a power that demanded constant discipline.
Cyraโs teleportation had also become effortless, allowing her to move across vast distances in an instant. Her mastery over weapons had expanded: swords, energy-charged bows, daggers, and most notably, her double-edged scythe โ a dark, elegant weapon that pulsed with crimson runes along its black blade. The handle, wrapped in a scaled material, fit perfectly in her hand, as if born from her own essence.
And yet, her greatest challenge remained her Life Eye โ a power capable of rewriting reality itself. Every day she pushed herself, inching closer to complete control.
She had also developed a rare skill: the ability to fully shift between her Angelic and Devilish forms. With a thought, she could mask one side or the other, appearing as a pure Angel or a full Devil whenever needed โ a gift that would surely become vital in the dangerous future that awaited her.
Lloyd had changed just as remarkably as his sister. His black hair, once wild and short, now reached his shoulders, sleek and heavy, with a single white streak cutting down the right side from forehead to temple. The streak shimmered faintly, as if holding starlight within its threads.
His horns, once small nubs, had grown into four imposing curves. Two large, black horns rose from the sides of his head, arching like a crown, while two smaller ones marked his brow โ a reflection of his royal blood and growing power. And his eyesโthose fiery crimson eyesโburned with a steady, intense light, as if they could see through everything before him.
Teleportation had become second nature to him. Where once he struggled to control it, now he could vanish and reappear anywhere with little thought โ even further and faster than Cyra. His mastery spoke of endless practice and unyielding discipline.
In battle, Lloyd was unstoppable. His weapon collection had grown along with his skill: a razor-sharp sword etched with glowing silver runes, an energy bow firing arrows of pure light, and a set of daggers crafted from strange metals unknown to mortal worlds. Each weapon seemed alive in his hands, as though connected to his very essence.
But his most fearsome power was his Death Eye โ fully mastered. With a single glance, he could erase matter, dissolve beings into nothing. The power was absolute, and yet, Lloyd carried it with great caution, never allowing arrogance to blind him to its dangers. Every use of it was a reminder of how easily life and death could tip into chaos.
Standing beside Cyra, Lloyd radiated an older-brother calm, a watchful strength. His wisdom ran deep, well beyond his years. Together, they were a force few could rival โ a perfect balance of light and shadow, of hope and danger. As the world around them continued to shift in secret, they stood ready to face whatever storm would come.
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Deep within his private chambers, King Zarius sat in silent command, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candlelight. Shadows danced along the ornate walls, their movements weaving with the restless thoughts that occupied his mind. A faint smile tugged at his lips โ not of joy, but of satisfaction carefully controlled.
He had waited for this moment for centuries. His plan was finally taking shape, every piece moving exactly where he intended. But beneath the calm surface, a simmering impatience stirred like a restless flame. The long wait gnawed at him; the urge to unveil the truth clawed at the edges of his restraint.
His gaze shifted inward, picturing Cyra. She remained oblivious โ sweet, loyal, and so painfully naive. She was the centerpiece of it all, unknowingly walking toward the role he had written for her. In his mindโs eye, she was a flower in full bloom, just waiting to be plucked.
But then there was Lloyd.
Lloyd was different.
Though his son wore the mask of dutiful loyalty, Zarius had seen it โ the flicker of doubt, a hesitation buried deep in his eyes. A small crack, barely noticeable. But even the tiniest fracture could splinter the entire foundation if left unchecked. And that concerned him far more than Cyraโs innocence.
He weighed the risks. Cyra trusted Lloyd deeply โ far more than she trusted him. If Lloyd ever unraveled even a piece of the truth, Cyra would follow without hesitation. The mere thought of them turning against him sent a cold ripple through his spine.
Still, he reassured himself: everything was in place. Every detail accounted for. His web of secrets was woven tightly. But even so, the whisper of doubt remained, a quiet voice reminding him that even the most perfect plans can fall apart.
And when they doโฆ they fall fast.
โโโ โโ โโ โ โโโ
In the grand library, where ancient shadows danced across marble floors, a single candle-lit chandelier bathed the room in a warm golden glow. That light blended with the soft radiance of Cyraโs right wing โ her golden feathers casting gentle beams across towering shelves lined with worn tomes and symbols long forgotten by mortals.
Seated at a circular desk, Cyra was completely absorbed, her white hair flowing like silk against the dark wood of the chair. Her heterochromatic eyes scanned each page with intense focus as she devoured the book in her hands: Xeris: The Dawn of Chaos โ the story of the first Nephalem, whose existence had once shaken both Heaven and Hell.
"I knew I'd find you here," a familiar voice echoed from behind.
Cyra didnโt even blink. "Where else would I be? I guess Iโm officially a bookworm now," she said with dry sarcasm, eyes still glued to the page.
Lloyd chuckled as he stepped closer, his red eyes glinting with amusement. "You really are obsessed with that book. Iโve lost count how many times youโve read it."
Looking up at last, Cyra flashed a small smirk. "Well, you're the one who dragged me in here all those years ago. You should be proud."
"Hmmโฆ fair point," Lloyd replied, his grin widening. It had started as his idea โ getting her to study more about the supernatural world they both belonged to. But now, she had grown genuinely curious. Especially with this book.
Because Xeris was different.
Cyra couldnโt explain it, but every word about the first Nephalem pulled at something deep inside her. The mention of Xerisโs true form stirred an uncomfortable question โ was Cyraโs own form truly complete? She had always believed her current state was her final oneโฆ but this book suggested otherwise.
She had read it again and again, hoping to uncover a hidden clue โ something she might have missed before.
But so far, the truth remained just out of reach.
With a small groan of frustration, Cyra finally closed the book and stood, her fingers lingering on the worn leather cover. "I'll head back to my quarters now..." she muttered, her mind still spinning.
Lloyd followed after her with an amused hum. "Sure. Just rememberโyouโre supposed to spar with Father in a few hours."
Cyra froze mid-step, her heterochromatic eyes snapping wide. "I completely forgot about that!"
Lloyd grinned, the mischief practically radiating from him. "Naturally."
She shot him a glare, grinding her teeth. "You're not helping."
"Oh well!" Lloyd threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Good luck, mini-lem!"
With that, he vanished in a flash of teleportation, leaving only the echo of her frustration behind.
Cyra rolled her eyes. She hated that nickname. "Mini-lem" โ short for mini Nephalem โ was Lloydโs favorite way of poking fun at her height. He'd started using it years ago, and despite her constant protests, it had stuck. Of course, she knew he meant it affectionatelyโฆ but that didnโt make it any less annoying.
Running a hand through her long white hair, Cyra continued walking, her thoughts swirling between the looming battle with her father and the lingering questions the book had stirred.
'Thereโs definitely more to this... I just have to figure it out.'
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As Cyra strolled through the quiet corridor, her gaze wandered to the familiar paintings lining the grand hall. Despite having walked this path more times than she could count, their intricate beauty still held her attention. Each canvas told a story โ of Angels, Devils, battles, and peace โ but today, her mind was far too restless to linger.
Her steps slowed as she neared her fatherโs chambers.
Faint voices drifted from behind the thick black doors. She paused, her ears instinctively tuning to the low murmur of conversation. Normally, she would have continued on without a second thought. But this time, something was different.
They were talking about her.
Curiosity sparked like a flame. Carefully, she crept closer, mindful of her fatherโs heightened senses. With delicate precision, she pressed her ear against the cold surface of the door. The muffled voices grew clearer.
"...Cyra..."
"...Nephalem..."
"...Heaven..."
"...mortals..."
"...Angels..."
Each word landed like a weight in her chest, tightening the knot of confusion twisting in her gut. She strained to catch more, but the rest was too faint, too carefully spoken to decipher.
'What are they discussing?' she wondered, her thoughts swirling with unease. 'Why would they be talking about me like this?'
The unease in her stomach only deepened.
Just as Cyra leaned in, eager to catch more of the conversation, the voices inside abruptly fell silent.
The door creaked open.
Standing before her was Alpert, his eyes flashing with brief surprise before settling into a calm, composed stare. Behind him, King Zarius sat in his grand chair, his face unreadable, every inch the ruler accustomed to control.
Cyra straightened instinctively, forcing her expression into one of cool neutrality. โGreetings, Father,โ she said smoothly, masking the nervous twinge in her chest. โHello, Alpert.โ
Alpert offered a polite nod, though his eyes lingered on her with faint suspicion. โYour Highness, what brings you here?โ
โAm I not allowed to walk these halls anymore?โ she replied lightly, though her voice carried a trace of defensiveness.
King Zariusโs voice cut through the air, firm and unyielding. โYou should leave.โ
Cyra blinked, her lips parting slightly. The sudden dismissal stung more than she expected. โI was justโโ
โNow,โ Zarius added, his tone brooking no argument.
Her jaw tightened. She gave a short, silent nod, then teleported away without another word, disappearing into thin air.
Alpert shifted, as if preparing to speak, but the king raised a hand, silencing him. โThatโs enough for now,โ Zarius said, his voice low but absolute. โIโll call on you when I require your counsel again.โ
Alpert bowed respectfully. โOf course, Your Majesty.โ With a flicker of light, he too vanished.
Alone once more, King Zarius leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes narrowing in thought.
Meanwhile, Cyra reappeared in her quarters. She slumped into her chair, leaning against the cool surface of her obsidian desk, head spinning.
'Maybe they were just talking about improving my power...' she tried to convince herself. 'I mean, I am one of the rarest species of the Supernatural, after all...'
She closed her eyes, attempting to calm her mind. 'Yeah, thereโs nothing to worry about... probably.'
A moment of silence passed.ย
'Wait- does this mean Iโm not sparring with Father anymore or...?'
ยปยปโโโโโโโ-ใโใโโโโโโโ-ยซยซ
Lloyd: "You really don't like me calling you Mini-lem, do you?"
Cyra: "Next time you call me that, I will disintegrate your shoes."
Lloyd: "Jokeโs on you. I donโt wear shoes half the time."
80Please respect copyright.๏ผฐ๏ผฅ๏ผฎ๏ผก๏ผฎ๏ผกdsKg9xA8IJ
[A/N]: Yes! Cyra's finally gotten a hint! But ofc, she can be very... Cyraey.
Thank you for reading! ^^
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