A/N: Thank you Anonymous, Elise142, NewCanvas, anon, and lexifrank221 for your reviews last chapter. I'm glad this story is still being read. Thank you for your encouraging words and corrections. Real life is coming down on me and I find I have less time to write and edit, so I actually appreciate anything you take the time to say.

It seems FFN's issues have been fixed...for now. Even so, I have an AO3 account: WaterSolace. Same name, no spaces. I'm slowly transferring SotW and DitS over there.

::XX::

lords and kings

Pitch black eyes stared down at the papers on a spacious ebony wood desk. Black letters spanned on white parchment like a thousand marching ants, the words and their meanings being pulled into the twin black holes that regarded them.

Nirva of the Colony closed those tired black eyes, only to reopen them and continue reading the papers that had the heading of:

Dexné, Nulla of Organization XIII
Confirmed Voidling
Suspected Shadowking

Nirva leaned back in her office chair, the expansive back and thick arms and legs of it able to bare her even when her density increased, as it was wont to do when…

CaN yOu fEel thE PuLL, the pUll, the PuLL of—

Slender fingers threaded through thick and wavy black hair, pushing the weight back from a pale, weary face. Though tired, Nirva kept her appearance up despite long and sleepless nights. Her eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow were carefully applied (and didn't have to be perfect because smoky was allowed to be a little messy; a tip which Beah had given her) and her dark crimson lipstick kept anyone from seeing how colorless her lips really were. Her husband Benjamin helped her get at least some sleep and was always quick to ask if she'd eaten lately. And she was okay. She was stable.

But lately…

The sleepless nights went on a little too long, even with her love's arms around her.

And it was because of Dexné.

The reports on her had grown…

…beyond concerning.

I'm not dealing with an ordinary Voidling, Nirva thought ruefully, tapping her pearl pen against the papers laid in front of her. I'm possibly dealing with another Jago. Only Jago was more stable. This situation is rapidly going from bad to worse.

Dexné was officially considered semi-feral, in danger of going full-feral. Feral Voidlings were the ones the legends spoke of: those Voidlings who did not see or hear or speak—only devour.

That's what she will become if something is not done, Nirva thought while sighing deeply. Her black eyes glanced at the grandfather clock ticking from where it sat in the center of the wall to her right. They were late. She hated when they were late. It made her antsy.

Nirva distracted herself by glancing all round her, at the dark teal walls, at all the bookshelves filled with literature and research on Voidlings. She had done everything she could to help her people and those that loved them. She claimed this entire world for them, made a home for them. Her little sister was the co-founder of The Voidling Colony. Together, they ran everything. Together, they helped all those who—

Feel the PULL, feel the ℙ𝕌𝕃𝕃, the 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟—

A knock came from the dark double doors of the grand office.

Finally.

"Enter," Nirva called. "Why do you all always make me wait?"

Five people walked into the room, four of which many denizens of the worlds would not call "people" at all.

Many beings thought of Voidlings as nothing but monsters.

And unfortunately, Axel, Number VIII of Organization XIII—one of Dexné's strongest Tethers—was one of those beings.

"Report," Nirva commanded, loath to waste any time.

"So nice to see you, too," responded a tall, slender man with short dark gray hair, combed neatly back from his wrinkled forehead. He did not quite look to be in his mid-sixties, but he was. He carried himself well, with the confidence of a man who knew his strength and intelligence. He raised his brows, creasing his forehead more, and peered over the rim of his orange-tinted glasses. "And here I thought we were all going to get a chance to catch up."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated today, Lord Milo," Nirva said dryly, as Milo took a seat on one of the dark fabric couches. "This situation has become dire."

"Then let's not waste time, I agree." A woman, precisely the age of fifty, but didn't look a day over forty, marched up to the ebony wood desk. Her loose brown hair was streaked with blonde, and flared out as she approached. She placed a thick folder on Nirva's desk. "We're here to report all the intel we've managed to gather on Dexné, so let's get to it."

"Lord Marissi," Nirva acknowledged her. "Thank you. At least one person here understands."

"We all understand," said Lord Ethan, three years older than his wife Marissi. He was a little taller than her and broad of shoulder. He had given up on his receding hairline long ago and kept his head completely shaved. His dear wife insisted his blue eyes were brought out even more because of it. "But it's a heavy atmosphere in here. Let Milo lighten it up a bit, huh?"

The one among them who was not a Voidling said nothing. She was tall and big-boned, with warm brown skin and eyes. Her short-buzzed hair paired well with her strong features, her gold hoop earrings and big golden square glasses completed her put-together look. Silently she walked to a small chair placed near Nirva's desk and sat. Nirva watched her from the corner of her eye. You know it's bad, thought Nirva, when Henrika has no words of comfort to say.

Lord Fitzger, the last of the Voidlings in the room to speak, crossed his arms. He was a man with light brown skin and black hair braided close to his skull in small, tight rows. "You can change that report there on your desk." He lifted one of his hands to stroke his goatee. "Dexné is no longer a suspected Shadowking."

Nirva almost allowed herself to sigh in relief. Almost. But she knew Fitz wasn't done, and so held her breath.

"She is a confirmed Shadowking," Fitz finished quietly.

Nirva closed her eyes and let her breath out slowly, trying to stay as calm as possible. "You're sure?"

"Oh yeah," said Ethan. "Observed her moving when pulling some Neoshadows into the Black Void. We've been watching her for a long time. Usually she doesn't move, so we had no idea. But then Maris caught her just barely shuffling her feet once, and we've watched her for movement like hawks during the black hole's use ever since." Ethan put his hands on his hips, the motion pushing back his thigh-length black jacket, something all the Investigators wore, so that it looked like little back wings spreading out. "And there's no denying it now. She moved so much this time it was like she was almost dancing."

"Something has her agitated," Marissi added. "She's been restless. Not sleeping."

Nirva opened her eyes, bringing her hand to lightly trace the darkening bags under her eyes that she made sure no one could see. "Insomnia," she said softly, "is when the worst symptoms begin to come out…" A sense of despair was creeping up in her chest. "And her Tethers…? Without Tethers, Dexné will be…"

"Lost forever," Milo said solemnly, all traces of joking sarcasm gone. "Retrievable only by God. Along with whatever world she's in when it happens. And worse, as a Shadowking, she can move when using the Black Void. A feral Shadowlord is immobile, able to devour everything—but only in one spot. A Shadowking—"

"Can move from world to world, devouring more than just one," Nirva finished for him, voice on the verge of trembling. "Their movements unpredictable, we would never be able to evacuate the denizens."

"Let's not cross that bridge until—or even if—we get to it," Fitzger said. "Dexné still has Tethers. She still has connections in this life. She won't go feral unless she loses them."

"And the status of her Tethers?" Nirva asked, nearly daring to hope there had been improvement.

That hope was dashed when Ethan smiled, a common smile of his when talking of unpleasant things: sharp and unfriendly. "Both are still considered hostile at this time. Who knows which direction they'll go. Organization XIII's Numbers VII and VIII, Saïx and Axel, the Luna Diviner and the Flurry of Dancing Flames respectively."

"They're both bad news," said Marissi. "The redheaded one especially. From what I've managed to overhear and see, he hates Voidlings."

"Hate is a strong word for a Nobody," Milo put in wryly, casually spreading his arms out on the back of the couch.

"He has consistently referred to Dexné," Marissi continued unfazed, "as an 'it' or a 'thing' or just in general refers to her as if she's some sort of…of eldritch horror."

"A lot of people see us that way," muttered Fitz, rubbing his facial hair.

"And let's mention what happened in Castle Oblivion!" Marissi slapped her palm on the desk, temper flaring. "This Axel guy incinerated one of his colleagues like it was nothing, got another one killed"—the female Shadowlord waved her hand in the air, like she could pull the words she was looking for down into her grasp—"using this being called a 'replica' by goading and manipulating it—him, I don't know—into absorbing the last of the guy's…what was his name?"

"Zexion," Ethan supplied.

"Right. The last of Zexion's power."

Ethan smirked. "I guess the dude who got immolated doesn't matter? His name was Vexen."

Maris brushed off her husband's comment. "And he indirectly got others killed by manipulating behind the scenes. I mean, Axel was the only one of the Organization's members to walk away from that castle! He's extremely dangerous."

Fitz sighed. "He's also warned the members known as Roxas and Xion away from Dexné. They're young—in their teens—but they looked like they could be potential new Tethers. They seem to like Dexné, from what I can tell. No way Axel will let that happen, though."

"And what of the other?" Nirva asked.

Milo answered. "Saïx doesn't seem to have much of an opinion on Dexné. He only seems interested in how he could use her. Good news: he does refer to her like she's a human being. So…" He sucked in air through his teeth in an exaggerated display of consternation. "…not so much 'hostile.' More like 'unfriendly' with a side of 'grumpy' and 'constipated.' Bad news: he's definitely in cahoots with Axel."

Nirva grit her teeth, then slumped back in her chair in dismay. "How are they her Tethers at all?"

"It's hard to get a read on Dexné," Ethan said quietly. "We've been trailing her for months now. Like us, she's good at staying hidden—just not as good as we are. It's obvious she's never been taught by a fellow Voidling. Although she did almost catch me once in Halloween Town, but I was saved by a black cat coming out of nowhere and distracting—"

Nirva frowned. "Back on topic, Lord Ethan."

"Uh, yeah. Anyway, she follows and stares after Axel and Saïx like they're her only lifelines. We can't infer anything else. Maris is the one who got a good look at 'er face because she almost never takes off that damn coat and hood outside 'er room. Hid in her closet like a creeper—"

"Shut up! What else was I supposed to do?"

"—and tried to learn what she could."

"Which was next to nothing!" Marissi threw up her hands. "I barely managed to get a picture of her with the spy camera before she put her hood up. You'll find it in the file. I searched her room. Found nothing but random books. No pictures, no trinkets. There was a journal, but it was completely blank. She doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't hang out with anyone. This is the hardest investigation I've ever had to do. She's just like her empty journal: Blank."

Anmesia…? Nirva wondered. Many Voidlings pulled memories into their center, "crushing" them and leaving the pieces scattered. But what was in a black hole could never escape; it belonged to the black hole forever. Memories, though in fragments, could never be forgotten by a Voidling. Not truly. Not forever. Not unless the Voidling actively avoided piecing anything back together.

How many memories had Dexné crushed at her center?

"Not much from the other members either," said Fitz. "We've been through all their texts and Lord Jay helped hack into their computer files, so we've at least seen all the logged reports. Dexné said nothing about Axel's actions at Castle Oblivion. I get the gist he wasn't supposed to be killing his comrades off like a complete sociopath. She's protecting both him and Saïx. They're definitely Tethers. Just can't deduce how. The few reports from the other members that mention Dexné don't say much about her. They know pretty much nothing about Voidlings."

"She's just a tool to them," Milo said grimly, his relaxed posture at odds with his tone. "Only two Tethers, both hostile, nothing stable, and an organization that couldn't care less. She needs help. And soon."

Suddenly the quiet figure of the non-Voidling sitting by Nirva's desk sat straight, gripping her knees tightly. "Bring her to me," Doctor Henrika said, deep but feminine voice full of empathy and conviction. "Bring her to me and I will do everything in my power to help her. She needs stable Tethers. She needs them now."

Shadowlord Marissi, a Lord regardless of gender, stared into Nirva's black eyes intently. "What would you have us do?"

"Yes," said Lord Milo. "The decision is yours," he turned his head to properly regard her, "…King Nirva."

Nirva breathed deeply, then leaned forward, jaw set.

The others watched her raptly.

"A Shadowking can only be subdued by another Shadowking. I will be accompanying you on this mission. We cannot afford any more caution," said Nirva, her black eyes cutting up to behold her Investigator Squadron sharply. "We make contact."

A/N: The Other Voidlings make their appearance.

Thank you for reading!