Even though I didn’t know much about virtues—or the exact conditions that could drain their energy—I could still understand, at least in part, that there were two reasons why a virtue’s “Energy” might disappear.
The first, and by far the least likely, was when a virtue died. And why do I consider that the least likely? Well... just ask any of them what it really ans to die.
Surprisingly, the answers can vary—but in the end, they all point to the sa conclusion. So won’t know what to say; others will spiral into overthought reflections, trying to grasp the ungraspable. After all, Virtues don’t understand the concept of “death”
How could they? They are beings who have never borne the burden of ti—entities that simply are: immutable, unshakable, eternal. Saying there’s a way to “kill” them is almost a cosmic joke. And if you look closely enough, you’ll realize that this idea—that pretentious possibility—is nothing more than an absurd illusion, a disguised impossibility.
Take Althea, for example: the only way to destroy her would be to erase every creation she’s ever made in the universe—and even then, it wouldn’t be death in the human sense. You would have to completely eradicate the concept from which Althea was born; only then would she cease to act.
But even that wouldn’t make her "die"—at least not in the literal sense. Instead, she would enter a sort of deep hibernation, a cosmic sleep lasting eons. During that ti, her mories and fragnts of power would recede almost to the point of vanishing, waiting like seeds beneath ice for the next life cycle that might soday awaken her again.
All the other virtues are similar—each with conditions even more absurd than the last. In short, sothing extrely unlikely to happen.
The second? Even if soone sohow managed to kill them, bypassing all these conditions, there would still be an unsolvable problem: nothing can surpass the Virtues... except “Her”—the one who created them... who created us.
The one who gave us form, purpose, and existence. The one we, the Virtues, call “Mother” The Creator—not just of us, but of everything that ca after.
Either way, the second reason remained—the one I was most betting on, precisely because it seed the most plausible given the current situation. Still, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine a concrete reason why Chronas would resort to this second thod.
After all, from the beginning, she had been “asleep”—there was no way she could have done sothing like this on her own... unless sothing—or soone—had awakened her before .
So, amidst the confused expressions staring at , I turned my gaze toward Chronas and held her eyes for a few seconds. My face remained expressionless, but inside, a whirlwind of uncertainty gnawed at : (Why... can’t I feel her authority?)
My thoughts focused specifically on Chronas. Yet, it seed my sisters had sohow picked up on my words—for seconds after my silent question, all of them turned their gaze toward her. Victor, Emily, and Laura, who were standing a bit farther away, also reacted; even without hearing my internal conversation with Chronas, they seed to sense the subtle shift in the air.
Chronas, who had been motionless until then, heard my thoughts and, for a brief mont, sothing broke the rigidity of her usually emotionless expression. First, a shadow of confusion crossed her face—light, almost imperceptible—but within seconds, it gave way to sudden clarity.
Her eyes seed to gain depth, reflecting a newly awakened understanding. Chronas’ lips parted, and a single word escaped, almost like a whispered sigh: “Ah...” she murmured softly, laden with comprehension.
Then, she lifted her hand in a subtle gesture—almost casual—and in that exact mont, I felt a dense force begin to condense above her palm. The air around her trembled, warping like a veil about to tear. The lines of space curved in on themselves, bending reality under invisible pressure.
Dust particles, once suspended like tiny motionless stars, began moving in opposite directions. So surged forward at impossible speed, stretching until they dissolved into the flow of ti itself; others recoiled, unraveling the mont, briefly restoring their original forms before vanishing completely, as if the air itself swallowed them back into eternity.
Behind her, space began to distort—interwoven lines appeared out of nowhere, golden, silver, and black strands twisting around her body like living ribbons, each dancing to its own rhythm. I couldn’t describe what I saw—or maybe there was really nothing to see. Yet, I could feel it.
It was as if sothing invisible flowed around her, retreating and advancing at the sa ti, spinning in perfect harmony—none of the currents dominating the other, just coexisting, balanced in a silence that seed to fold ti itself.
As I watched the spectacle, the strands slowly converged toward her raised hand—as if ti itself, in reverence, awaited her command. The orders of her mother and creator.
Chronas remained still, observing the phenonon with her cold, unwavering expression, her eyes fixed on the dance of lines entwining over her palm. The air around her seed to vibrate, distorted by the presence of that ancient power. But then, sothing began to change.
Chronas’ pupils glowed with intertwined shades of gold and blue, like two celestial clocks spinning in opposite directions, reflecting the ebb and flow of ti itself. Around her raised hand, tiny cracks of light began to form, cutting through the air like fractures in reality.
From within them, fragnts of condensed ti sparkled—golden and bluish particles pulsing like the hearts of past and future, coexisting for an impossible instant before dissipating into luminous echoes.
But the demonstration lasted only a few seconds. Soon, the skin on her hand began to crack—like aged porcelain giving way under the weight of sothing it should never have contained. The fissures slowly opened, revealing a pure, white light, pulsating, alive.
It escaped through the cracks in irregular vibrations, as if ti itself were screaming. The air around rang out—the sound like a thousand clocks breaking at once.
Chronas frowned, and with a calm—almost lazy—movent, she lowered her hand. The distortion vanished instantly. Ti, obedient to her will, resud its flow as if nothing had disturbed it. The air regained its sound, suspended echoes returned to the world, and the silence that had dominated shattered with a nearly imperceptible sigh.
Within seconds, everything was exactly as before—unchanged, still in its normalcy—as if Chronas’s demonstration had been nothing more than a simple illusion trick.
The last shards of light hovering around her hand dissipated slowly, like glowing ashes carried away by a silent breeze. For a mont, only the faint echo of the power that had just manifested remained.
Then Chronas turned her gaze to —a cold, distant look, almost void of any emotion. Her lips moved slowly before her voice, calm and devoid of warmth, broke the silence: “For now, that's all I can do without tearing this body apart in the process. It's... far too weak to bear the weight of my authority”
She paused briefly, looking at her own hand, which still trembled slightly, before continuing in the sa apathetic tone as one comnting on sothing mundane: "I'm compressing it as much as I can. Right now, the only thing I can do is predict a few seconds into the future. If I try to go beyond that... my body will fall apart"
I listened to Chronas’s words in silence. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say. I an... after so much mystery, the answer seed strangely simple—almost anticlimactic.
Still, I kept my face impassive, hiding the whirlwind of thoughts boiling inside . Then a soft laugh echoed in the background, gentle as distant bells. I turned and saw Althea.
She floated a few inches above the ground, her bare feet touching only air, her body moving with an ethereal grace as she tilted her head slightly to the side, watching with that knowing look that revealed more than it showed.
Even without seeing her face clearly, the slight tremor in her body and the way she struggled to contain the sound of her own breathing already told her state. Well... I admit, I worried for nothing. But honestly, I couldn’t help it—Chronas is my little sister, my family. What kind of older brother would I be if I didn’t worry about her health?
My other sisters reacted in their own ways as well. Nekra, as usual, stayed quiet, watching everything from the back of the room. Her expression barely changed, but I could sense, between the lines of her steady gaze, a subtle curiosity.
Eryanis, on the other hand, kept that proud deanor that was so typical of her. She didn’t show the slightest sign of worry—no anxiety, no doubt. On the contrary, the look she gave ... was calm, almost serene.
No matter how I try to analyze it, for so reason she really seems to trust . Or maybe she just believes I know what I’m doing. Spoiler: I don’t.
At least, not as much as she seems to think I do. Nyara remained seated on the bed, legs crossed, hugging her knees, watching everything with that sa shy and gentle air as always.
(Well, at least it seems easy enough to fix...) I thought, letting out a silent sigh of relief: (I just need to free you from the container I made. That’s it... right?)
The mont my words reached Chronas, her normally cold and expressionless gaze flickered. The change was minimal, imperceptible to any ordinary human. But I wasn’t ordinary. Not even human. I noticed every nuance, every almost mathematical variation in her features.
For a brief mont, the mask of indifference cracked, revealing sothing rare in Chronas: anxiety... maybe even worry. Her eyes, once fixed on , subtly shifted toward Victor, who remained just behind, observing everything with his usual analytical gaze.
Victor seed to notice Chronas’s glance. His expression tensed for a mont—his eyes narrowed, his head tilted slightly, as if trying to understand the reason for that look. Confusion was evident on his face.
I didn’t need words to understand what was happening; from my perspective, everything was as clear as daylight on a Monday morning, when the sun insists on shining despite the gray routine.
(Are you worried?) I asked, making Chronas lean toward . Her eyes—red as embers, with bluish pupils glinting in the light—locked onto mine: (Do you... think he’ll stop liking you if he sees your true form? If he realizes you aren’t really the Sara he knows... the one he thought he knew?)
Chronas seed to ponder my words for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on Victor’s profile. Then she nodded slowly, a silent gesture of agreent.
All I could do was sigh inwardly, trying to contain the fatigue threatening to overflow. I extended my hand and placed it under “Sara’s” head. She closed her eyes for a brief mont, savoring the touch, letting out a small sigh.
(Well, what kind of older brother would I be if I didn’t ease my little sisters’ worries?) I thought, a faint, almost invisible smile forming on my lips as I rembered them.
I glanced briefly at the rest of my sisters—and I swear I saw their faces twist in jealousy and envy. Yet, the mont they noticed my gaze, their expressions returned to their usual serenity, as if nothing had happened. For a brief mont, I doubted myself. Was it just my imagination? Maybe... but the feeling lingered.
Regardless, I set those thoughts aside and removed my hand from Chronas’s head. Then, I turned my gaze to Victor. He seed to notice, shifting his look between and Chronas; his brow raised, revealing a subtle confusion at the sudden attention.
I then walked slowly toward Victor. Behind , Emily and Laura also seed to realize sothing was happening. Neither said a word—they only watched silently, attentive to how things unfolded.
(Victor, I need to speak with you) I projected the thought without focusing on anyone in particular—just letting my mind send it into the air.
Victor, still confused by my words, eventually nodded slowly in agreent. Seeing that, I briefly glanced at Chronas, who remained still a few ters away, watching in silence. A subtle thought crossed my mind at that mont: (Alright... ti to resolve Chronas’s worries once and for all)
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