A woman stands on a branch of the tallest tree in the Capital. Her black robes conceal her in the night. Her dark veil covers her lower face, only revealing her pair of phoenix eyes looking down. 

The heart of the United Empire of Amiharya is bustling with merchants, street performers, and festival goers. The cold breeze carries the scent of freshly picked flowers laid at the gates of the Imperial Palace, offerings to the upcoming Mirakan, the will-bearer of Mirakdun the Heartstone, who shall rise in the position this evening, along with the new set of State Pillars, guardians of the Mirakdun Shards.

Ascensions only happen once every thirty years, so this celebration is highly anticipated.

“Stop him before he fulfills the prophecy, even if it means killing him,” she remembers her master saying. “Do so, and you shall secure your place as the next Vow Keeper.”

Sael is one of the four head scholars of the renowned Obsidian Vow Academy.

But tonight, she is an assassin.

The master of their academy's Foreseer Class had a vision that the ascending Mirakan has the late Mirakan Aveshar's shadow and will reunite the Mirakdun Shards to gain immense power. 

The upcoming Mirakan, Asra, comes from the same homeland as her: The State of Ulayra, land of the Soulcallers. Perhaps the elder is just doubtful since Mirakan Aveshar was from Ulayra as well and claims it as a vision… but her master believes this old foreseer despite no other foreseers seeing the same vision. 

With that, Sael has been given a secret task by her master. A task not even the current Vow Keeper knows. And if she succeeds, she will get what she has been promised: to become the next Vow Keeper, a position equal in authority to a Mirakan.

Hesitation comes to her along with her restless heart, pulse threatening to burst. What if the old foreseer misinterprets the vision? What if she messes up and anger the Vow Keeper? She will not only be punished but will also be disqualified as one of the candidates to inherit the title, and all those years of hard work will go to waste. But she could not decline her master's order as well.

Sael leaps to the nearest roof eave. Years of training make her seem like an innate shadow assassin. She almost becomes one with the wind as she moves swiftly. While approaching the Imperial Palace, a thought refuses to get off her mind: It has been two hundred and ten years. Seven sovereigns have come and gone since Mirakan Aveshar's reign—the only Mirakan who got dethroned and later beheaded for attempting to reunite the Shards. Thus, the founding of Obsidian Vow Academy: A renewal of centuries-old vow not to make the Mirakdun whole again.

And only after two hundred and ten years did someone from Ulayra rise to the position again. Must she be worried?

***

The atmosphere in the Unity Hall of the Imperial Palace is completely different outside its walls. The noise is gone, and so is the bright celebration of the streets.  White stone columns rise toward the high vaulted ceiling. The flames on the braziers that should have given warmth only make the solemnity in the atmosphere feel heavier.

Sael observes the scenes unfold in the darkness of the uppermost circle of the hall. In her post, she is certain she would be unseen. Her eyes are fixed on the heart of the chamber where the four Mirakdun Shards float in the air. They say, when the Mirakdun broke, fear dominated the skies of the four great lands. 

During the ancient war that burned cities and cracked nations apart, the Mirakdun that was once whole, fractured into four pieces. Each piece is drawn to one of the four states, as if called by the tribe’s gifts. Every Shard carries a part of the empire’s power, pulsing light in different rhythms as if each has its own heartbeat.

Then the high priestesses begin to chant in chorus. Ancient languages intertwine into one harmonious sound. 

Wearing his deep blue and gold robes, Asra walks down the nave, passing through the witnesses towards the dais. Sweat beading on his temples, his hand looks pale, and his shoulders stiff as if afraid he will mess up this ceremony. He is now twenty years old. He spent the last ten years learning within the walls of the Imperial Academy alongside the upcoming State Pillars, sacrificing his childhood, as well as his next thirty years of living. All for the sake of balance among the four great lands of Amiharya.

The outgoing Mirakan Nakael watches his successor from his seat. This man is a native of Daganai State, the land of the Voiceweavers. At fifty, he still bears the intensity of his prime, though his eyes look more tired now. The kind of gaze that had seen the worst and endured them. For thirty years, he had dutifully kept the balance between the four states. Not without mistakes, but never without care. 

The Shards lower as Asra raises his hands to them when he gets on the dais. However, something unusual happens.

Sael’s eyes squint.

The Shards are drawing inward to each other, aligning to the real shape of Mirakdun. Threads of light form between them like the veins of lightning in the middle of a storm. Murmurs ripple through the gathered delegates, scholars, and scribes in the hall. The chant of the priestesses halts just a few moments after they started. Sael almost chokes, but she swallows back her racing heartbeat. Her hands slowly turn cold.

This is not a part of the rites. This is not what tradition demands. This is not what everyone expects to see. The Shards of the Mirakdun are converging. This has never happened before, not since the reign of Mirakan Aveshar. Their pulsing light matches one another. Four heartbeats falling into one.

Even Asra is dumbfounded. His breath hitches, eyes widening in surprise, yet he feels being called. Older. Stranger. Something that knows his name before he speaks of it.

From her dark post, Sael makes her first move. A decision without a second thought. A reflex born of training, warning, and fear.

She descends from the high circle like a hawk, her boots touch the cold marble floor soundlessly. With eyes burning with resolve, she closes the distance from Asra and takes her dagger underneath her sleeve. Its blade shines with the fire’s glow from the brazier.

​ “When the Shards become one again, the world will either bow or burn.” She can hear her master’s words louder than ever. She is seeing the prophecy unfold right here and now. And in her mind, there is only one truth: The Shards must never unite again. Not in the next hundreds of years. Not ever.

​Her foot reaches the dais just as Mirakan Nakael looks at Asra with disbelief. His confusion quickly hardens into protective instincts when he sees her: a threat. Sael charges with her dagger, aiming for Asra's heart. She sees no heir but only a vessel of disaster. And now, she must sever the greatest threat to peace with her sharp blade.

​Steel clashes against steel.

​Nakael manages to move with impossible speed, and his blade catches hers. However, the force he exerts is not enough to fully block the attack. Her blade cuts through Asra's left upper arm, causing blood to damp his ceremonial robe. Asra winces. Only by then did he realize someone is after his life.

​Mirakan Nakael's other hand shoves Asra behind him. “Assassin!” His voice pierces through the noise, summoning reinforcements. His swift hand grabs Sael's veil, exposing the sharp features of her face. “A woman…?” He mutters under his breath.

​The Shards refuse to be stopped despite their will-bearer almost getting assassinated. They draw in closer, mere inches from becoming one. Nakael grits his teeth.  “Recall spell, now!” His sacred gift of Voiceweaving immobilizes the four outgoing State Pillars before they realize it. Four voices chant the ancient words. The recall spell forces the fragments of the Heartstone apart and return to their respective guardians. And, strange enough, the Shards resist their calls for the first time. They only beam brighter, seemingly protesting their separation.

​From the crowd, four more figures make their way up front. These are the upcoming State Pillars. Young, skill sharpened through years of training. They surround Sael with their weapons and sacred gifts running through their blood.

​The young Pillar of Tayrangi strikes first. Sael deflects the attack, preventing the foreseer's vision of wounding her. She then dodges a low sweep from the upcoming Pillar of Ulayra, not any worse than Sael in combat instincts. Sael swings her dagger in a wide arc to get back at him but the Pillar of Lihawan blocks her counterattack with her staff of living vines.

Behind, the Pillar of Daganai catches her wrist and twists her. The pain makes her groan, but she uses that momentum, reversing the grip and breaking free. However, that move gives her opponents an opportunity to aim for her vitals. A sharp blow from the Pillar of Ulayra pierces her lung, making her gasp. She staggers backwards as he pulls out his blade. Despite the pain, Sael sways her blade in wild rhythm to ward them off. It is the only defense she can afford now.

​Nakael, on the other hand, remains in his post to protect Asra. His eyes are fixed on the intruder, but he does not bother to join the fight. With the young State Pillars’ skills and extraordinary coordination, it would only take them a moment or two to finish.

Sure, Sael is a better fighter than each of them, but their teamwork is relentless. 

​And in a short interval between strikes, Sael's eyes get lost to the figure on the dais. Her gaze catches Asra’s expression. He does not seem victorious, nor angry, nor frustrated, but rather… shocked, almost scared. That is when Sael realizes he is not commanding the Shards all along. It is the Shards that seem to command Asra to do something. Something beyond comprehension.

That split-second distraction costs her.

The staff of the Pillar of Lihawan hammers into her side. Strong enough to send her sliding across the floor. She hits the base of the dais, hard enough to cough blood. Sael loses her grasp on her dagger, sending it spinning on the cold marble. Crimson liquid warms her lips, giving a metallic taste on her tongue. ​The young Pillars approach, their weapons positioned for the final blow. From the looks of it, they will not spare Sael.

​Meanwhile, the recall spell gains the upper hand. Their bright beam gradually weakens, vein-like light subsides. At last, the Mirakdun Shards respond to their guardian's call. The Heartstone remains divided… for now. But what does it cost Sael? Her own life? Her ambition to be the next Vow Keeper? But she cannot die here. Not after seeing how the Shards reacted to the rising Mirakan. 

There is still one path left for her. The one she has sworn never to walk. Tath’van Keth: soul transference, a forbidden and forgotten spell of her home state. A soul leaving its vessel to inhabit another's flesh. It demands two things: a living body and the will to burn the bridge to reincarnation.

​Her gaze drifts over the crowd through the haze of pain, searching. Through the renowned scholars. Through the nobles. Through the scribes. 

And then she sees her.

​A healer’s apprentice. She is standing frozen near the far wall, clutching a leather satchel of herbs. She is untouched by battle, inexperienced in combat. However, her overflowing Lifesense is a burning torch in the darkness of death.

​Sael’s lips let the ancient words out. Blood drips from the edge of her lips, but she pays no mind. Then comes the painful tearing, not of flesh but of spirit though the sting mimics that of being skinned alive. It is unbearable, enough for her to shed tears, but Sael holds on to the ancient spell. Her soul flies free from the dying body before the Pillar of Tayrangi stabs her heart with her sharp blade. A split-second delay will end Sael, but she manages to enter a vessel not hers before it is too late. The original soul displaced into whatever void awaits her.

Sael’s body collapses, phoenix eyes stare sightless at the high-vaulted ceiling. Her chest does not rise again. ​But in the healer’s skin, a heart still beats. And it is hers now.