Parchment filled with notes lay flat before Celestia, scattered across the worn wooden surface. She sat at the nearby table, legs crossed, body angled slightly as if shielding herself from distractions.
Not far from her, the trio remained by the couch—silent, unmoving.
Her pen hovered over the pages, the weight of unanswered questions pressing into her thoughts.
Rows of notes lined the surface. Patterns. Observations. Fragmented answers waiting to be linked.
She bit down on the end of her pen, arms folded as her eyes closed once more. Images flickered behind her lids, pulling her into a memory—one she hadn't thought about in weeks.
The school café. The group surrounding the table.
The news announcement on the screen.
The comet.
Live footage flared through her memory—a celestial body streaking across the distant sky. A moment she had dismissed. A spectacle she had believed was nothing more than a passing event.
But now, staring at her notes, tracing every anomaly, every shift in their abilities—she knew that moment had never been insignificant.
The comet had altered something. Changed them.
Her breath slowed. Then—
A quiet inhale.
The memory sharpened.
Celestial embers rained from the sky—blue dust cascading in waves, dissolving into the night.
And in that instant—
The realization struck.
Celestia shot up from her seat, the force of her movement jolting the table backward, papers scattering across the wooden surface.
Her back faced the trio—their stunned, confused gazes burned into her shoulders.
Her breath hitched, chest tightening as the revelation crashed into her mind all at once.
"The comet!" she declared, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Absynthe blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "What does the comet have to do with this?" Her voice held doubt, but also a sliver of curiosity—a need to understand.
She gestured toward Obsidion's altered form, still motionless, still shifting in ways that defied logic. "How does this connect?"
Celestia spun, her energy sharp, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
"It has everything to do with this! And that!"
Her hand swept across the notes before her, mind racing as she prepared to unravel her calculations—to make them see what she had just realized.
Celestia straightened, her gaze sharp as she faced them directly. "Tell me—when was the first time you noticed these oddities? The changes in skin, form...?"
Synthena hummed, tapping her index finger against her lip. "Now that I think about it..."
Her glowing patterns pulsed in rhythmic beauty, a subtle yet mesmerizing cycle. A faint glow of blue flickered across her right hand—a signal of her blue dust power, pulsing gently as she recalculated her recent experiences.
Absynthe lifted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
Celestia inhaled, grounding herself. "Think about it—comet? Dust?"
Both Synthena and Absynthe exchanged skeptical glances, brows furrowing, still not fully processing the connection.
Celestia sighed, pressing a hand to her face. "How did the dinosaurs not survive the comet... but somehow, we're still in one piece?"****Her brow lifted, hoping—praying—they'd finally understand.
Synthena gasped. "Omg, you're so right! How are we even still alive?!"
Then, she leaned in, lowering her voice in mock secrecy, hand pressed to her side like she was about to spill the greatest revelation in existence.
"Are we... like, immortal or something?" Her chuckle carried playful absurdity, half-joking, half-seriously considering the possibility.
Absynthe let out a small scoff before reaching over and landing a light slap against the back of Synthena's head.
"Ouch!" Synthena yelped, rubbing the spot dramatically.
Absynthe smirked. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
Synthena pouted in exaggerated defeat. "Noted."
Absynthe fixed her gaze on Celestia, voice edged with skepticism. "So what you're saying is... this comet, this celestial body—a rock from space—actually caused our drastic transformations?"
She straightened, crossing one arm over her chest while the other rested behind her head. Her fingers curled slightly, gesturing as she continued.
"But if that's true—which I'm not denying—where are the rest of the humans of Geneara? Why aren't crowds of them walking around, wielding abilities like ours?"
Celestia froze. Stunned.
Absynthe's words hung in the air, pressing into her like a heavy weight.
She wasn't wrong.
Celestia exhaled sharply, resting her cheek against her palm, tilting her head downward. She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus.
Absynthe waited, watching, her stance unwavering. Meanwhile, Synthena sat beside Obsidion's unconscious form, lightly running her fingers over his skin.
A small flinch.
His body radiated heat—too much heat.
Synthena frowned, pressing her hand against his forehead. Her glowing blue dust swirled to form a bowl in her palm—a makeshift vessel. Without hesitation, she stood, heading outside to collect water from the nearby stream to cool him down.
Celestia's focus deepened.
She retraced Absynthe's question, threading possibilities together like an intricate puzzle. Her mind reeled—visions of Obsidion's mutated form resurfaced, the eerie tar slick across his skin, shifting unnaturally.
Her second pair of eyes blinked open.
Patterns sharpened. The pieces slotted together.
Her breath hitched—a sudden, burning certainty flooded her thoughts.
Her main eyes shot open. The second pair remained wide, glowing.
"I've got it!"
Absynthe glanced at her, curiosity flickering across her expression.
Celestia turned to her notes, hand moving at a rapid, frantic pace.
"When was the last time you encountered—" she muttered, voice quiet, thoughts racing faster than she could articulate.
Her glowing eyes pulsed.
Her movements blurred—writing at near inhuman speed.
Then—she snatched up a bottle of water, flipping through pages until she revealed a drawing.
A tar-like creature, humanoid in shape, its form twisted and unnatural.
Synthena jogged back inside, bowl in hand, her eyes locking onto Celestia's artwork. She stopped, studying it closely.
Her expression shifted.
"Oh wow," she murmured in awe, holding the water carefully. "That's... really good, Celestia."
absynthe moved forward in a good enough distance for her to grab the
Synthena stepped forward just enough to grab the paper, then backed away, giving Absynthe room. She reversed her pace, turning toward Obsidion.
Absynthe held the paper in her hand, her mind racing, memories unraveling like fragments of a forgotten dream.
The squirrel from the forest. The office incident.
Then—a flicker. A face in her memory.
The creature—the one that had gifted her the stone.
Something clicked.
"Wait."
Without hesitation, Absynthe jogged toward the drawers in the cabin, rifling through their contents. Days ago—after Obsidion's first encounter—she had placed the stone here, tucked away, forgotten.
She pulled it out, the cool weight of it pressing into her palm, and turned back toward Celestia.
Holding it at arm's length, she showed Celestia. "That shadowy being—it was calmer, less threatening after our battle... after..."
She gestured toward Celestia's drawing.
"After this. And that squirrel in the forest."
Celestia took the stone carefully, fingers curling around its surface as she examined it. Her breath hitched. Her mind reeled.
"Is this... what I think it is?"
A piece of the comet?
But how?
Only someone of high stature could have access to something like this.
Her fingers traced the shimmering blue hue—the way it sparkled, flickering like a dying star. The core was exposed, if only slightly—a fractured opening, revealing a unique formation beneath its surface.
Moon rock.
Celestia's voice dropped to a whisper. "Who was that person?"
Absynthe's gaze flickered with curiosity—an unsettling familiarity, an answer just beyond reach.
Then—
*******************************************************************
The tall, black figure stood miles from the fortress, bathed in an eerie glow—peaceful, yet utterly unnatural.
Despite its surroundings, its form remained nothing but shifting black mist—a presence that felt less like a being and more like an absence, a void in the landscape.
Yet its existence was anything but comforting.
It faced the distant mountains, the silhouette of a high-security structure looming in the haze— A fortress. A prison. A place of untold significance.
Massive. Guarded.
A structure that held secrets.
Then, slowly—deliberately—the shadowed being turned away.
Its form shifted like smoke, dissolving into the air as it moved—a creeping specter, gliding as though it existed outside the laws of motion, beyond the natural rhythm of the world.