Voralith looked at her, Scathach... "Ah... seriously, nobody ever cos to get in this ss."
Then, like a roar, she scread to the heavens of the spirit world.
"KAZESS, YOU SHITTY KING, CO HERE. YOUR PRISON ISN’T A PRISON IF SOONE CAN FIND YOU!"
Less than three seconds passed... The tear expanded into a perfect circle, a portal whose edge seed made of impossible symbols that constantly rewrote themselves. The absolute light of that place wavered for a second as if sothing external had imposed authority.
And then he appeared.
Kazess crossed the portal as if entering an ordinary room, slightly adjusting the dark cloak that fell over his shoulders. He didn’t have Voralith’s overwhelming presence... but there was sothing ancient about him, sothing firm, sothing that couldn’t be ignored.
He looked around... Then sighed... Long... Tired. "You need to stop acting like a queen." Her voice was deep, controlled, carrying an almost rehearsed boredom. "You’re clearly a prisoner."
The air grew heavy... Voralith’s golden eyes narrowed dangerously... The throne behind her cracked.
She stepped forward. "I remain an Empress."
Kazess stared at her for a mont... Then looked away... As if she had decided not to engage in that battle.
His eyes then landed on Scáthach... He analyzed her from head to toe. There was no invasion here like Voralith’s, but there was recognition.
"Ah." He said simply. "You’re the other dragon who had the audacity to beco a spirit."
Scáthach felt her body tense... Another one?...
Kazess tilted her head slightly.
"Well..." he shrugged, almost casually. "You can stay close to this thing."
He made a vague gesture toward Voralith. "She needs soone to talk to."
The silence that followed was almost deadly. Voralith slowly turned her face toward him. "That thing?"
The gold in her eyes intensified.
The portal behind Kazess began to vibrate erratically.
He sighed again.
"You know exactly what I ant."
She crossed her arms.
The entire space seed undecided between exploding or kneeling.
Scáthach, still trying to regain her own stability in that imposed humanoid body, felt sothing strange.
It wasn’t fear.
It was... context.
She wasn’t facing a free goddess.
She was facing sothing contained.
Sothing powerful enough to crush worlds—yet still contained.
Imprisoned.
Kazess looked back at her.
"Just keep this ill-mannered child company until I find a vessel for her," he explained bluntly. "She’s troubleso."
Kazess didn’t respond to the sharp look Voralith gave him. He simply maintained a weary expression, like soone who had had this discussion too many tis to bother repeating it. The portal behind him continued to vibrate, its edges made of impossible symbols spinning and rearranging like conceptual gears, awaiting his decision to leave.
"Just keep this ill-mannered child company until I find a vessel for her," he said bluntly, almost bureaucratically. "She’s troubleso."
Voralith arched an eyebrow, the gold of her eyes glistening with sothing dangerously close to offense.
"Troubleso?" she repeated, with cutting softness.
Kazess didn’t bother to elaborate. He simply turned his body toward the portal, the dark cloak following the movent with a heavy fluidity, as if it carried more than just fabric. He paused for a second, as if to add sothing, but decided against it. There was no farewell, no warning.
He simply passed through.
The portal closed behind him with a sound that wasn’t sound, but an abrupt reorganization of reality. The absolute light of that space returned to its stable state, although sothing had changed. The masculine presence, firm and ancient, had disappeared, leaving only the denser and vaster weight of Voralith.
The silence that remained was different from before.
Now it was intimate.
Voralith slowly uncrossed her arms and turned her full attention to Scáthach. Without Kazess there to share the space, her presence seed to expand again, filling every inch of that luminous prison.
"So..." she began, walking a few steps ahead. Her feet didn’t quite touch the ground, but the concept of ground seed to accept her nonetheless. "Which sector do you co from?"
Scáthach blinked.
Sector?
The word sounded strange, out of place.
She frowned slightly, her long red hair sliding over her shoulders as she tried to understand what it ant.
"Sector?" she repeated, confused. "What is a sector?"
For a mont, Voralith stood absolutely still.
There was no imdiate change in her expression, but the golden glint in her eyes intensified almost imperceptibly. She tilted her head slightly, observing Scáthach as if analyzing sothing that had just shattered her expectations.
"You..." her voice ca out slower now. "Beca a spirit... without knowing about the sectors?"
Scáthach kept her gaze steady, though internally she felt the discomfort growing. It wasn’t weakness, it was the unsettling feeling of realizing there was much more to that plane than she had imagined.
"I died." She answered simply. "I woke up here."
Voralith remained silent for a few seconds.
Then, suddenly, sothing appeared beside her.
It wasn’t conjured with words.
There was no elaborate gesture.
It simply appeared.
An interface.
Translucent.
Geotric.
Made of thin lines of golden light that arranged themselves into squares, symbols, and texts that rewrote themselves. It didn’t seem like magic in the traditional sense, but it wasn’t ordinary technology either. It was a hybrid structure, sothing that mixed concept and chanism.
Scáthach felt the air around her beco denser.
Voralith raised her hand and slid her fingers into the void.
The interface reacted instantly.
A tab expanded before her.
At the top, a word stood out in clear, stable characters:
"Let’s search." Scáthach’s heart tightened. Voralith glanced at her briefly, almost amused. "Let’s confirm."
She pointed.
There was no spell.
There was no visible energy.
But the interface responded to the gesture as if recognizing the target.
A subtle beam of light traveled the short distance between Voralith and Scáthach, touching her without actually touching her.
And then, a new tab opened.
Information began to appear.
[Na: Scathach.]
[Species: Demon Dragon]
[Current State: Spirit]
[Origin: Sector 0988139]
[Cause of Death: Progressive organic collapse – rare pathology aggravated by childbirth]
[Registered Anomalies: Rare disease not registered by the System.]
Voralith read the information with absolute tranquility, her golden eyes scanning each line like soone reviewing a trivial report.
"Interesting..." she murmured. "You’re from a very distant sector, how funny."
The panel continued to expand data, showing fragnts of past battles, power levels prior to death, aura variations, probabilities of spiritual evolution.
Scáthach took an involuntary step back.
"This..." Scáthach’s voice ca out lower than she intended, not out of weakness, but because sothing within her recognized that she was facing a chanism that shouldn’t exist there. Her green eyes remained fixed on the suspended interface, on the golden lines that still pulsed with data about its own essence. "What is this?"
Voralith smiled.
It wasn’t a broad, ostentatious smile. It was small, almost intimate, as if sharing a secret too ancient to be called a discovery.
"Well, I just call it the System." She replied softly, her fingers gliding through the air like soone touching the surface of an invisible lake. "But what you’re seeing is only the base."
With a slight movent of her hand, the partially expanded tab began to retract. The lines obediently rearranged themselves, columns rged, categories disappeared, and the entire structure assud a simpler, cleaner form, as if it had been compressed to fit within smaller limits.
The interface did not hesitate.
She recognized authority.
"I created this version using what little authority I still have left." Voralith continued, resting her chin on her hand as she observed Scáthach’s reaction. "A reduced replica. Limited. An echo of the real system."
Her golden eyes glead slightly.
"Very few have access to the true structure."
Scáthach swallowed hard.
"The real system..." she repeated, almost to herself.
Voralith nodded.
"I used my master’s authority to structure this interface." She explained naturally, as if speaking of sothing trivial, not of a power that seed to transcend universes.
Scáthach imdiately looked up.
"Master?" The word sounded incredulous. "Soone like you... has a master?"
The question wasn’t challenging.
It was genuinely confused.
Voralith showed no offense. On the contrary, her smile widened slightly, as if she found the reaction predictable.
"Yes." She replied without hesitation. "My master."
The gold in her eyes deepened, not in submission, but in rembrance.
"The Progenitor of the Demon Dragons."
There was a brief pause before the na was pronounced.
"Azi Dahaka."
The sound of that na did not echo in the space, but the interface itself trembled slightly, as if recognizing the reference. Symbols on the edges of the screen flickered for an instant before stabilizing again.
Scáthach repeated the na in a low voice.
"Azi Dahaka..."
There was no recognition.
No ancestral mory stirred.
No ancient history surfaced.
She had never heard that na.
And she never would have, if she weren’t there.
Voralith realized this imdiately.
"Ah." She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Don’t worry. He doesn’t belong to your universe."
She leaned back on the throne, crossing her legs with relaxed elegance.
"He existed in another world. Another stream. Another sector."
Scáthach frowned again.
"Sector Pri..." she murmured, rembering the previous ntion.
Voralith tilted her head.
"Yes."
Her fingers touched the interface once more, and a new line appeared briefly before disappearing, as if it had been displayed only on a whim.
Pri Sector — Status: Destroyed.
"He’s dead." Voralith said with almost disconcerting calmness. "Well... I think so."
The corner of her lips curved into sothing that wasn’t exactly humor.
"When the Pri Sector was destroyed, most of the core entities were erased. Or fragnted. Or dispersed."
She shrugged elegantly.
"It’s hard to say."
Scáthach felt her head grow heavy.
Destroyed.
Sector.
Progenitor.
Authority.
Royal System.
Each term was a piece of a puzzle too large for her mind to fit together all at once.
She had died.
Awakened.
Flowed by the River of Souls.
Heard a roar.
And now she was learning that there were structural divisions in the spirit world, hierarchical authorities, extraplanar systems, and destroyed sectors.
She closed her eyes for a brief mont.
Where.
When.
Who.
What.
The questions piled up in her mind like a contained storm.
When she opened her eyes again, Voralith was still watching her.
But there was sothing different there.
It wasn’t just curiosity.
It was assessnt.
"You’re trying to organize the information," Voralith comnted softly. "I can see that."
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