Everything was dark, an absolute black.

In the middle of nowhere, I could hear the rhythmic sound of water drops falling, one by one. I heard soft footsteps dragging across the floor, steady breathing, and even the faint flutter of an eyelid near me. Even with my eyes glued shut by the crushing exhaustion, the temperature of the air told me it was that gentle transition between morning and afternoon. A mild heat bathed my eyelids, as if the sun were giving me a wake-up call. Day... daytime?

"Stella! Ahria! Yae!" I yelled, my eyes snapping open in sudden desperation.

With my vision still blurry, I tried to process my surroundings. I quickly realized I was in a place far too lavish, detailed, and privileged, even by Hyperion's standards. The pristine white walls, the vaulted ceiling... It was the palace of Hyperion.

I pushed myself up from the soft bed. The furniture was carved with solid gold ornaments, the sheets were pure white, and the room was incredibly spacious.

Still trying to piece together what had happened in the square and how I had ended up here, I noticed I was wearing a long, simple white robe. I hurriedly lifted the fabric to check on my body. The vast majority of the cuts I had suffered in the clash against the dragon were completely healed; only a few scales on my shoulders and legs still stung, and certain areas of my ribs were mottled with painful, dark bruises.

I ran my fingertips over my sides, feeling the tender texture of each wound still in the process of mending.

"I left those clothes for you on the armchair," a voice said from the balcony.

The sudden intrusion caught me off guard, making me cross my arms over my chest in an instinctive reflex to protect myself. I glanced around and thought I saw the silhouette of a figure hidden behind the sheer curtains. I decided to approach slowly to see who was out there. I grabbed the thin fabric and pulled the curtain aside in one swift motion, opening up the view to the outside. No one was there. Just a light breeze and the warm, comforting sun shining over the horizon of Hyperion.

I turned back to the armchair and checked the clothes left for me. It was a sleek dress in shades of silver, white, and navy blue—stunning, voluminous, and tailored with rare elegance. Whoever the mysterious person was that had picked out this outfit, they knew my tastes perfectly.

Three consecutive, rhythmic knocks echoed against the heavy wooden door of the bedroom.

"You are requested to attend the Illuminus meeting as soon as you finish dressing," a formal, impassive voice announced from the hallway.

I walked over to the entrance, opened the door as carefully as I could, and peeked through the crack. The corridor was empty. I had always believed the palace of Hyperion was a vibrant place, brimming with gods constantly mingling, even if many of them were snobs or arrogant. Yet, the building seemed deserted. Curiously, though, I felt intensely watched. Every step I took on the polished stone floor, every anxious breath I exhaled, felt like a monitored spectacle for whatever was hiding within those walls.

I finished putting on the exquisite dress with utmost care, trying to avoid tearing it, before venturing out into the palace's immense corridors. Everything was so formidable, so divinely rich and meticulously detailed. The spaces were colossal and wide, filled with tapestries and decorations that couldn't be found in any other celestial district. Clouds didn't just make up Hyperion's exterior landscape; here, they were an integral part of the columns and the very walls of the palace itself. The click of my high heels echoed down the empty halls, and my dress, even dragging across the gleaming stone, remained spotless. I felt light, and in a way, dangerously elegant for someone who had just barely escaped death.

"Here," a voice whispered from a large double door up ahead.

I immediately turned my head toward the sound. Once again, there was no one in sight, not a single sign of movement. This time, the spectral voice had been feminine and incredibly sweet.

I approached the massive doors, and before my fingers could even touch the golden handle, they swung inward on their own, as if the room itself were inviting me in.

When the doors opened fully, I saw what awaited me. It was a vast, circular room dominated by a round table with a hollow center, flanked by several high-backed chairs. The walls of the hall were made of a magical, translucent glass that showed us the entirety of Hyperion from above, like a living star map. Inside, several deities were gathered. Seven chairs were already occupied by faces I either knew or vaguely recognized, while two imposing entities stood in the empty space in the center of the table.

"Take a seat, Neiva. Make yourself at home," welcomed the deity dressed in white, with a tone of voice that left no room for refusal.

I walked in silence and sat down in the mahogany chair left available for me.

"Hey! Neiva! Pssst!" someone whispered softly to my right.

I quickly scanned the figures seated around the round table, and my heart skipped a beat. I saw Ahria. She was sitting right there. Completely unharmed, bearing only a few faint marks on her neck and arms that were still scabbing over. She looked... healthy. Even after that traumatic hell, the sphere of fire, and the blood, it was an overwhelming relief to see her breathing and smiling in front of me. My heart hammered in my chest, and my lips moved involuntarily, breaking into a radiant smile that pushed back the tears pooling in my eyes.

"Ahria! You... you're okay!" I blurted out aloud, shattering the ceremonial tension of the room.

Ignoring the rules and divine decorum, I shoved my chair back with a loud screech and ran to her, wrapping her in a tight hug as if I hadn't seen her in years.

"You're really okay," I murmured against her silver hair, the most genuine smile plastered on my face.

"Neiva..." Ahria whispered, visibly moved and caught off guard by the intensity of my reaction.

I doubt she had ever realized just how vital her presence was to us until that exact moment. Ahria's face showed contained surprise, but more than the surprise, I could feel the brutal tightness in her chest. It was an emotion so strong and pure that I could almost hear the erratic beating of her heart. Our goddess of the wind tried desperately to hold back her tears, overwhelmed by the living proof that she was unconditionally loved.

Looking deep into her eyes, pale as snow, I stroked her cheek. Her skin was incredibly warm and soft. Ahria returned my gaze with a heated shine, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it as her smile widened.

"We ask that you maintain the required cordiality and decorum while we are in this meeting!" reprimanded the deity dressed in black, standing in the center of the table, her cold voice cutting through any human emotion.

"Careful. Sit down before they get seriously mad at us," Ahria murmured, letting out a soft chuckle to hide her glossy eyes.

"Neiva!" Yae called out in a whisper, waving at me discreetly from a chair on the other side of the circle.

She was sitting right next to Stella. Both of my friends were perfectly intact and their clothes were clean. Knowing that my entire group had survived that apocalypse of scales and fire lifted a universe-sized weight off my shoulders. But the calm of that reunion dragged my mind back to the square. If they were all alive, and Ahria had recovered from certain death... whose massive white light-sword had fallen from the sky to stop us from being carbonized and eaten by the dragon?

"Neiva, we request that you return to your seat immediately," the white-clad deity repeated, now staring at me with a look that promised severity.

As I walked back to my chair and straightened it, my eyes swept the room one more time, and I noticed a detail that sent shivers down my spine. Absolutely all the deities sitting in those chairs shared the exact same genetic trait as me, Stella, Ahria, and Yae. Every single one of them had a pointed, slit pupil. The unmistakable feline eyes that defined the Primordials. It was true that there were other entities scattered across Hyperion who carried vaguely similar traits, but those deities usually had bestial auras or horns that distinguished them from us. Here, however, that wasn't the case. We were the pure group. Just us. The original Nine Primordials sitting at the same table.

"It is a pleasure to welcome you to the palace. My name is Arendelle. I am the Overseer of Triumph, and I will be one of your tutors starting today, alongside Ellednera," the god dressed in white introduced himself, flashing a diplomatic smile completely devoid of warmth.

"Condolences to you all, Primordials. My name is Ellednera. I am the Overseer of Tragedy, and I will be your other tutor, working in conjunction with Arendelle," the goddess dressed in black finished, her voice sounding like a cutting sentence.

"I apologize for interrupting the formalities, but I believe that all of us, who were nearly reduced to ash out there, deserve concrete answers," Yae cut in, fed up with the fog of secrets.

"We understand your agitation," Arendelle nodded, lowering his chin slightly.

The white god made a graceful gesture with his hand, drawing immaterial figures of light in the empty air above the center of the table. Ellednera raised her black-gloved hand right after, painting the air to give shadows and context to her partner's illusions.

"Following the brutal invasion of the dragons that breached the sacred border, our elder palace forces intervened the second we were alerted to the cataclysm. Our gods drove off the invading horde and sealed the rift to ensure the fabric of reality would not give way again," Arendelle explained. "After the square was secured, most of you, due to the extreme magical exhaustion you suffered, were placed into a forced healing sleep. You slept for six days so we could guarantee you would recover to one hundred percent and be safe."

"If that's true and the threat was neutralized, then what is the exact reason we are gathered here? From what I can see around this round table, only we... the Primordials, were summoned," a girl questioned, breaking protocol. She was sitting on the opposite side, and her aura spat heat. She had intensely tanned skin, an insolent smile, and short, unruly hair as red as live coals. Her anxiety was palpable, and her fingers drummed against the table in an impatient, continuous rhythm.

"The breach of the border and the invasion from the lands of Primitia was a highly... unpredictable event for our defenses," Arendelle justified. "We had clear knowledge that those creatures existed beyond Primitia, but never, under any circumstances, did we expect them to be able to locate or invade us. We believed that the dense illusory barrier that God, our Creator, wove around Primitia would be enough to hide us from the eyes of those creatures, and that the border dividing Primitia and Hyperion was strong enough to prevent any forced invasion."

"And where does our humble existence fit into this failed fairytale of yours?" demanded an entity cloaked in darkness.

The goddess stood up slowly, revealing herself from one of the chairs most engulfed by the room's lack of light. The chaos and the attack didn't seem to have shaken her in the slightest. Her long silver hair, tinted with purplish highlights, cascaded over her black garments. Her demeanor sharply contrasted with our recent panic; she exhibited a purely analytical and terrifyingly cynical calm. There was something wicked about the smile resting on the corner of her lips. The half-closed way those feline eyes inspected us, one by one, gave me goosebumps. That woman wasn't acting like a worried summon. She was acting like a calculating player, aware of rules the rest of us still didn't know.

"The Elder Gods of this palace suffer from a... specific condition. A very severe existential limitation," Arendelle admitted, a hint of frustration bleeding into his perfect voice.

"Ah! The border is your unbreakable limit, isn't it?" The girl with silver and purple hair let out a contained laugh and dragged her chair out to shamelessly prop her heavy black boots onto the ceremonial table. "That is exactly why you, the almighty rulers of Hyperion, are forced to use mere mortal priests and priestesses to profess your divinity and influence in the lands below."

"The dimensional border prevents us from descending to Primitia without sacrificing our own divinity. Existing materially on a mortal plane carries a spiritual toll that we are not obliged to pay as long as we remain here, in the pure domains of the sky," Arendelle confirmed, lacing his hands behind his back.

"Alright, fine. And what's our role in all this?" intervened a woman with robust features.

She was seated to my left. She had short, rich, earth-brown hair, muscles defined like a seasoned warrior, and sun-kissed skin. The way she sat in her chair projected an undeniable weight of safety and solidity. Sitting beside her, I felt like an army couldn't knock me down, but there was also a naked promise of pure destruction in those stone-hard eyes.

"The situation changes with you. You, Primordials, as anomalous entities, do not suffer from the same cosmic penalty. In other words, you do not pay the price of mortal existence," Ellednera's voice took over, cutting and icy. "You nine will have the honor of being the deities sent down to Primitia to drive out the dragon threat and purge the heretics who indirectly threaten our ecosystem."