From within the infinite tapestry of Light, Carmen watched. A quiet observer, her presence blended with the luminosity around her, vast and formless. The glow stretched endlessly, reaching far beyond the bounds of space and time, casting long, soft shadows over the countless threads of existence. In this boundless expanse, her gaze focused on Zwillingstürme, a city now teetering on the edge of cataclysm.
The air there was heavy, saturated with an aura of instability. It felt as though the city itself had drawn in a deep breath, holding it in suspense as events unfolded, each moment more precarious than the last. Through her many faceted perception, Carmen could feel the tension building, each ripple in the grand web of reality vibrating with potential. The unfolding drama felt like the crescendo of an intricate symphony—one where the final note could shatter everything.
And at the heart of this symphony was Arturia, a bright, burning star amidst the chaos. Every note seemed to pull at the city, unraveling the boundaries between what was real and what was imagined. Carmen observed with quiet intrigue, her consciousness floating effortlessly through the chaos. Perhaps this Sankta would succeed where others had failed. Where Argalia had failed. The thought lingered in Carmen's mind, and she let it roll over her like a wave before dissipating into the vast ocean of Light around her. There was always another attempt, another possibility.
Ah, and Roland. She could feel the weight of his madness, the deep scar his grief had carved into his mind. His current state was a symphony of rage and loss, each note of violence echoing in time with his fractured heart. His E.G.O, corroded by his weapon was a hollow thing—powerful, yes, but empty, driven only by the raw instinct to destroy. Yet, Carmen couldn't help but admire his resilience. There was a grotesque beauty to it, the way his hatred kept him standing, kept him moving even as his body should have long since collapsed under the weight of his own power.
Carmen's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as she observed the carnage. Is this what you wanted, Roland? She wondered, though she already knew the answer. To be nothing but fury? As twisted as it was, his violence served as a catalyst, stirring the delicate web of events Carmen had been observing from her perch in the Light. His actions sent ripples through the city, disrupting plans, forcing hands. Every swing of his blade brought her closer to seeing how this particular play would unfold.
But there was one thing that tugged at the edges of her thoughts, a curiosity that lingered despite herself. How much longer could he sustain this? The tar that bled from his wounds, the shattered bones and torn muscles—these were signs of a man burning too brightly, too quickly. His body was breaking down, his mind fraying at the edges.
He can't last much longer, not like this.
Then, something shifted. Carmen's awareness flickered—no, something in the city below shifted. Her junior, who had been engaged in their tireless, ceaseless argument with her, suddenly turned their attention elsewhere. Their voice, always so insistent, faded into the background as the flow of events carried them away.
And that's when it happened.
Carmen felt it long before it took shape—a presence gathering in the luminous expanse beside her. It began as a vibration, a tiny point of awareness that slowly grew, swelling like a ripple in a still pond. Then, with a whisper that carried the weight of countless echoes, they began to arrive. Faces blurred and indistinct at first, but soon clarifying into familiar forms. Abel, Abram, Adam, and X—all of them at once, overlapping yet distinct, each representing a fragment of the same fractured soul.
They coalesced in the air beside her, swirling and folding into one another until a singular shape emerged. The familiar form of Ayin stepped forward from the Light, his face shadowed by the weight of past regrets and untold tragedies. He moved with a quiet determination. But there was something different about him now, something altered by his time spent under the watch of their Angela. His time as a librarian had certainly changed him, for him to intervene directly.
In his hand, a page of Light. Carmen's eyes, glowing softly in the infinite brightness, narrowed ever so slightly. She recognized it immediately—the memory contained within, the Blue Reverberation.
Was this the work of the Purple Tear? Carmen wondered. It had to be. The touch of that woman was unmistakable, her meddling always subtle yet undeniable. Carmen's awareness stretched outward, probing the edges of reality until she found her—the Purple Tear, watching from a distance, her attention sharp and focused, as if waiting for the perfect moment to intervene.
But she wasn't the only one watching.
The Beholder's gaze, cold and unblinking, loomed over the city like a silent storm. The agent of The Head, ever watchful, ever judging, hovered just beyond the veil, their presence palpable even through the layers of Light. They were aware of everything unfolding here, though their interest was not in the minutiae of the struggle. No, their attention was on the outcome, the ripples that would spread outward from this point.
And then it happened. The Light faltered—just for a moment. A flicker, a tremor, but it was enough. Carmen felt it deep within her, a shudder that ran through the very core of her being. Something had touched the Light. Something from beyond.
Her focus sharpened, and in the distance, from the edges of the records of Originium, a realm of eternal standstill, something reached out, brushing against the Light. It was a presence—ancient, cold, and filled with static energy. It moved like a ghost, a shadow caught between dimensions, its form wavering as it stepped into the Light.
And then she appeared.
Priestess. She was no more than a whisper at first, a faint silhouette framed in the soft glow of the Light. But as she moved closer, her form solidified, taking on a ghostly yet unmistakable shape. Her eyes, cold and sharp, bore into Carmen, filled with a strange mixture of curiosity and accusation.
"Who… and what are you?" Priestess asked, her voice crackling like shattered glass in the stillness. "To place Oracle in such peril… and interfere with the plans of those far greater than you?"
Carmen's smile widened.