Complete conversion-
The ability to turn ash back into cosmic energy— a miracle achieved by only one sorcerer in recorded history.
Saint Argala.
They say she travelled every corner of earth chasing the idea of perfect conversion and true sorcery. She studied under dynasties older than civilization, imitating others' divines using purely conversion. Eventually her wandering brought her to Shia, Homeland to the Hanazaki dynasty who had an affinity for the light.
Many logs of her stay were recorded. But the story that became more famous than any others was a feat no since has ever replicated:
She separated a young princess' soul from ashes possession.
Ezra's thoughts harboured on that story the entire flight. If Shia housed such a miracle… perhaps the knowledge he is desperately seeking for will be within reach. Perhaps he could save hers
Lyla…
The crew stepped out of the airport and into Shias open air. For all the talk of civil strife and rising in distortions, the atmosphere was startlingly clean— crisp enough to sting the lungs of city people. The sky had that impossible shade of blue children drew before they outgrew their ignorance and learnt cynicism. Greeny shimmered untouched by industrial smoke. A land of earth tones stubbornly refusing the metal age.
A sleek elongated car waited for them— big enough to carry their entire squad and the two men standing beside it. One man radiated quiet authority, reminding Ezra faintly of Sonny. He wore kendogi and hakama, a sword resting at his hip. His hair was tied perfectly back, his face bare. A camera hung from neck and a military cap sat on top of his head.
He bowed.
"Welcome to Shia. I'm Omi Hanazaki. I hope the trip treated you kindly."
Ciro stepped forward dragging the clearly jet lagged kids with him, forcing Re and Gias heads down mid bow. Ezra followed, offering his own polite nod.
"It's our pleasure. I'm Ciro, Pale meridian squad leader. And these gremlins behind me are my young fellow exorcist."
Omi covered a soft laugh behind his hand.
"Please come inside. I'll explain the reason I requested your aid. The situation… you've stepped into."
Ezra had never stepped inside a vehicle this luxurious. The seats felt like they had been stitched from clouds. Gia's eyes glittered as she scanned every polished surface.
"I didn't know they had cars like this in Shia." She said , awestruck.
Omi exchanged a few quiet words with the guard before sliding into the back seat despite the guard's visible disapproval.
"This island is small. Most people prefer traditional travel but we need to be discreet."
Ezra leaned closer to Ciro, lowering his voice.
"Why ain't Dex getting in with us?"
"Handlers role. He's not divine, so it's safer for him to monitor us remotely. Eyes from afar, hands off danger." Ciro replied.
The car drifted slowly through Shia's streets. The island looked nothing like the rumours— people moved with calm purpose, faces soft, the air almost humming with a grounded kind of peace. Even with war scars, craters, collapsed buildings sat like healed wounds rather than open injuries.
Omi watched the city through the tinted window.
"The war reached a stalemate a little under half a decade ago. Our people learned to quiet their emotions to keep the ash from rising. Even so, distortions still appear every day."
Ciro's expressions sharpened.
"You wouldn't request the SOL unless something major was happening. And we both know the organisation isn't exactly popular on this side of the globe."
Omi's eyes met Ciro's
"Sorcers are forbidden from mass combat and guerilla warfare. Violations are considered war crimes. Instead the divine most fight against others of divinity. The Hanazaki have lost most of our trained sorcerers. And the clans once stood with us… don't anymore."
His voice thickened, drawing everyone's attention.
"Large scale battles are over, but tension never does. The cosmos doesn't allow it. Ash continues to swell. Distortions continue to be born. And we no longer have enough sorcerers to handle them."
Ciro leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"The reports mentioned distortions appearing in unnatural places. Staying open for too long.,. Then vanishing while taking people with them."
Gias raised her hand as if she was in a classroom.
"Isn't that just what distortions do…? Pop in… grab souls, pop out."
"You're correct. But these act differently. They register as low level below neg-2. Yet they're consuming sorcerers far above that threshold." Omi replied.
Ezra hesitated before finally speaking.
"I've read that ashkin can reopen distortions after escaping their original one they were born in. If they out pour enough ash, they can force a new distortion open…"
Re suddenly cut in without looking up from his phone:
"And if the ashkin exceeds the distortion's integrity, they can break free instantly."
Everyone turned towards him, surprised. Re simply scrolled again with a blank expression.
A small smile flickered across Omi's face.
"Yes those theories align with our own. That's why I requested the SOL. These distortions are deliberate… Or orchasted… And our numbers are low, the dynasty is close to collapse."
Then Omi did something none of them expected. He bowed, deeper than before, forehead nearly brushing his knees.
The car rolled to a stop before the Hanazaki estate. Less a residence, more a quiet kingdom carved from old stone and older faith.
The front gate alone could have sheltered a village. A fox statue guarded the entrance, vines tangled around its limbs like a warm embrace. Not from neglect, not decoration— just nature deciding it belonged there.
As they stepped inside the estate opened like a sunlit courtyard full of history. Buildings lined the ground in perfect harmony, all dwarfed by the castle rising in the centre. Regal and still, like a watchful elder.
Every passerby bowed to Omi, their smiles softening as if his presence untied something inside them. He didn't command allegiance, he inspired affection.
"This place… it's beautiful." Gia breathed, her voice barely containing the awe stretching across her face.
Omi pointed towards the looming castle.
"Fighting rarely reached these grounds. No matter alliances, every clan respects this place. It existed longer than any dynasty standing today."
Ciro drifted closer, lowering his voice, hand shielding his mouth.
"What about the ash? Distortions don't open up inside the estate…?"
Omi's eyes flickered towards the small bar in Ciro's ear.
"No. We have powerful Reikin protecting the land and watching over us. Strong enough to suppress every trace of ash. You're aware of the significance of that, yes…?"
They reached the base of the central castle— fifty metres tall, shimmering in black, gold and whites. Another fox statue waited at its steps, this one surrounded by nine smaller companions.
A line of servants welcomed them inside, but the man in the centre stole their attention: older, hair and beard whitened, robes sharply pressed, expression carved stern in disappointment.
Omi bowed.
"Takeo, these are the sorcerers sent by the SOL. They've travelled far to help us. Please welcome them kindly."
Takeo's gaze swept the group, lingering hardest on Ciro. Measuring him, judging him, peeling him apart without words.
"You do not need my permission. You are the prince. I am only an advisor." He offered a stiff bow and left with a swish of his robes.
Omi continued guiding them deeper into the castle, the air growing cooler as stone walls closed around them.
"I apologise for his demeanor. As you said earlier… the SOL is not beloved here. Recently many eastern nations have chosen to align with the organisation. Our people fear the SOL intends to spread their influence into Shia as well. Especially now, when our dynasty is weakened."
There was no anger in Omi's tone. Only sorrow, and the weight of someone who had inherited a problem centuries old.
A guard slipped in front of him, bowed low and whispered. Omi's expression tightened.
"Multiple…?" His voice barely rose above the dim lateen glow.
"Yes, but only one remains open. It's… neg-4."
The air in the hall thinned.