Ayes thought about the ancient palace he had seen. In the blink of an eye, towering stone pillars rose from the void. The pillars were unusually large, as if they had been built not for humans—but for some ancient, extinct race of giants. Carved into each pillar were unfamiliar symbols, lines, and markings—ones that escaped the eye upon first glance, yet left a deep impression on the mind.
A wide dome slowly emerged above the pillarsThe dome was as high as the sky, but not the sky.
Inside it shone lights like stars, but they were not part of any known constellation. The lights were not stationary—they turned silently, like the invisible wheels of a cosmic clock.
The entire structure stood together like a palace,
Which does not exist in human history—only whispered about in legends.
This was not a palace for kings. It was a meeting place where truth, not rules,,,,
Just below the dome, where the gray fog was thickest, a long bronze table slowly emerged.
The table was extremely long—the end of it disappeared into the mist. Its surface was smooth, yet to the touch it felt as if it had borne the weight of countless ages.
Ten high-backed chairs on either side of the table.
And two more in front and behind.
A dark yellow light was shining on the backs of the chairs. The light combined to create a strange constellation pattern—one that didn't match any sky in the real world.
It's like a sky that never existed, yet has always existed.
Chiara and Funch sat down without realizing it.
They didn't sit down—
They were seated.
The silence deepened again under the dome of gray-purple fog.
This silence was creating pressure—
Even though there were no words, it seemed as if countless questions were breathing together.
Ayes was still floating in his purple fog. He didn't know where they had come from. The girl had asked him questions he had no idea about. He didn't know what to do now. Should he act like a god in front of them or like them? What if he could act both ways?
He had seen his past in this purple mist before, and if he could bring his past self back, he would. He saw the grayish purple mists in front of him begin to react. He saw his past self in front of him.
But this past being didn't behave in front of him. So he tried to move the man like his puppet. It didn't work. He calmed his mind and tried to move the puppet made of fog. The puppet moved. Then he pushed the puppet towards the two people in front of him. It reacted immediately.
He controlled the puppet as he did. The puppet said to the two people in front of him, "Where is this, and how did I get here?"
The other two did not doubt anything. They also accepted the doll as one of them. The doll went and sat down on the chair like the other two.
Ayes emerged from the mist and sat down. His posture was relaxed, but not careless. One hand rested on the bronze table, the other slowly fading into the light of the invisible mist.
He wasn't speaking—but the entire meeting place seemed to breathe to the rhythm of his presence.
Chiara sat up straight. Her shoulders were stiff, her fingers involuntarily intertwined. There was no fear in her eyes—rather, a kind of bright interest.
He wanted to paint this scene. This moment, this light, this unknown divine being—everything stirred his artist's heart.
But when his voice came out, it still had a human fragility to it—
"Your Excellency…"
He used the word carefully.
"Is this… a gathering? Or are we just here—by chance?" As his question ended, the fog trembled slightly.
Ayes raised her eyes. As her gaze fell on Chiara, the light around her steadied slightly—as if time itself had stopped and listened.
"You didn't come here by chance," Ayes said calmly.
There is no pressure in his voice, no command.
Yet every word seemed to be carved into reality.
Chiara's breath caught at these words.
Funch spoke immediately. His voice was deep, steady—but with a clear calculating caution.
"I was called—why?" He narrowed his eyes and looked at Ayes.
"And the most important question—who called?"
Immediately after this question, the red constellation light on the bronze table flashed once.
Ayes smiled slightly. It wasn't a smile of joy. It was the kind of smile that came when someone was getting closer to the truth.
"I called," he said.
A calculating light flashed in Funch's eyes.
"But you didn't understand how,"
Ayes added. "Just like I didn't understand—how could I."
This confession surprised Chiara.
"I mean..." he said slowly, "You don't know everything yourself?"
Ayes's gaze now went to the void. Numerous fine lines floated through the fog—timelines, possibilities.
And a broken future.
"I know," he said,
"That this place respects me. And I know—this respect is not permanent."
Funch fell silent. He didn't find the pride of power in these words—
The limit has been recognized.
Ayes stood up slowly
At the same time, the meeting place moved slightly, the stone pillars seemed to grow taller, the light in the dome deeper.
"Today," he said, "this is not a contract. This is not an order." His eyes passed over Chiara and Funch. "It is just—an introduction." Pausing for a moment, he added—"You know now—this world is bigger than you.
And I know—I'm not alone."
The doll was still sitting quietly, laughing at their words.
The fog moved again.
The girl looked left and right, and couldn't help but mutter,
"What is the climber..."
Truly a climber... Ayes extended his right hand and gently rubbed it against the edge of the long bronze table, his expression unfazed.
Fanch Abysson looked around. After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke, answering Chiara's question on behalf of Ayes.
"Where are you from...?"
"From Maryland...."
"If you want to become an Ascendant, join any one of the various churches. For example, Church of the Silent Cosmos, Church of the Pale Epoch, Church of the Forgotten Orbit, The Celestial Covenant of Ash,...you can join any one Sthese."
"Although most people never see an Ascendant in their entire lives, even if they doubt whether there is such a thing as an Ascendant, and many clergymen in the main church have similar thoughts, I can tell you unequivocally that the Ascendant still exists in the arbitration tribunals, tribunals, and execution offices. They are still fighting the dangers that grow in the darkness, but their numbers are much smaller than in the early Iron Age."
Ayes was listening attentively, but from the movements of his body it seemed that he didn't mind listening to a child's story.
Chiara sat in silence for a long time.
There was no echo of words in the purple mist, yet she felt—Fanch's every word was being embedded somewhere. Not in her chest, not in her memory—deeper.
She let out an unconscious sigh.
"Your Majesty," she said slowly,
"What you say… is not unfamiliar to me."
There was gentleness in her voice, but beneath it was a suppressed fear.
"The Night Watchers—whom humans call the Veilbound Sentinels. Those who punish in the name of law—the Edict Bearers. And the group that seeks divinity within machines and reason—the Iron Synod…"
The mist trembled slightly with each name, as if the very place disliked these ideas.
"I know what they do," Chiara whispered.
"I know what they protect. But… I don't want to be like them."
She raised her eyes. "I don't want to bury my thoughts, my fears, my curiosity—
under some oath."
There was a moment of complete silence.
Then Funch laughed.
The laugh was low, vague—as if he had asked himself the question years ago,
and had never really laughed since.
"Being an Ascendant," he said, "always means losing something. If you go to the Church, you give yourself. If you go to the Veilbound Sentinels, you give your sleep. If you go to the Edict Bearers, you give your mercy."
He took a deep breath. "And if you don't want these—
then there are only two kinds of people before you." "One group are the families,
who knew the name of the Pathway even before the kings were born.
And the other group—" He paused. "Those who have forgotten themselves are the people."
Chiara puffed out her cheeks involuntarily, looking around.
He wanted to be sure—that being sitting deep in the purple mist
didn't see his moment of weakness, did he?
Then he asked very slowly—"So… there really is no other way?"
Funch didn't answer. Time seemed to stop for a moment.
He turned his head and looked in the direction—where Ayes was sitting. He didn't move. He didn't speak. But the mist grew thicker around him, as if the place itself was acknowledging his presence.
Funch looked at Chiara again.
"There are," he said.
"Three." Chiara's heartbeat stopped.
"Three…?"
"Yes," Funch said.
"Three Sequence Nine."
As soon as these words were uttered,
Ayes' consciousness had a strange echo—
as if time itself had recognized this level.
Funch began to speak slowly, almost like a priest speaking of a religion whose gods cannot see men.
"The first—Sea-Blessed Wanderer."
"It is the pathway of the sea. The path of storms, depths, and salty darkness."
"You will be able to stand where men fall. You will be able to breathe underwater,
and your body will slowly remind you—you are not a child of the land."
Chiara's fingers tightened.
"The second—The Observer of Stillness."
Funch's voice dropped even lower here.
"It is the pathway of consciousness. You will no longer be a part of the flow of events—
You will be a witness. People will laugh—you will see the reason. People will cry—you will catch the lie.
And one day you will understand—you can no longer stand by anyone."
The fog trembled silently.
"And the third…"
Fanch paused. The pause was uncomfortable.
"Verdant Listener."
"Nature's pathways. Trees, soil, decay, birth—
The memories of everything are here. You will hear the language of the roots.
Recognize old names in the air." He added slowly—but remember—nature is neither good nor evil."
"She only wants balance. And if you go out of that balance—
nature will fix you."
Silence fell.
Three paths. Three doors. And beyond each—
a form of non-man.
In the center of the purple mist, Ayes sat silently.
He said nothing. But in that moment Chiara realized—
This man was not just a witness. These pathways…
Somewhere, somewhere, he knew him.