Elias found the room on the second floor without much difficulty.
It was the third door along the corridor, facing the street. When he pushed it open, the hinges gave a soft, well-oiled creak—just enough to announce its use without being intrusive.
He stepped inside.
The room was modest, much like the rest of the townhouse. A single bed rested against the far wall, neatly made with dark sheets trimmed in faint crimson. A wardrobe stood to the left, polished wood with simple brass handles. There was a desk beneath the window, bare except for a small ink set and parchment, as though expecting to be used but not yet claimed.
The late afternoon light filtered through the thin curtains, casting the space in shades of gold and shadow as the curtains themselves stirred gently with the breeze.
Elias took a slow look around.
It wasn't Blackwood.
But it wasn't uncomfortable either.
"Yep, this will do."
He set his things down on the bed, then moved to the wardrobe, opening it and beginning to hang his clothes with quiet efficiency.
"Elias."
He paused mid-motion.
His father stood at the doorway.
Elias turned slightly. "Father?"
Alaric stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His expression was calm, as always—but there was a faint tightness around his eyes. Not stress.
"I forgot to mention but we will be having visitors tommorow. Since I wont be around you will have to stay and attend to them," he said.
Elias raised a brow slightly.
"I won't begoing with you to the council tommorow?"
"No, after my trial." He said with an amused chuckle.
Elias considered this briefly then nodded.
"Okay. But who are these visitors."
"Your aunt and maybe your cousin."
Elias stilled for a moment.
"My aunt…and cousin...?" he repeated slowly.
"Yes," Alaric said. "You know our tradition. My cousin, basically my sister. She is married to Lord Kingsley Amberose."
There was a subtle shift in his tone when he said the name.
Fondness—when referring to her.
Something colder—when referring to him.
"Her name is Araba." Alaric added, the fondness returning.
Elias nodded once, absorbing that.
"…I see."
"Amberose himself may come later, after the Council reconvenes tommorow." Alaric added.
"So brace yourself."
Elias's expression didn't change—but there was a faint pause before he asked,
"Which house does Amberose live in?"
Alaric glanced at him.
"Why?"
Elias shrugged slightly, returning to placing his clothes in the wardrobe.
"So I can avoid it. Dealing with this person seems like stress. I don't like stress."
There was no hesitation. No shame.
Just practicality.
Alaric stared at him for a second—
Then exhaled softly, something almost like amusement flickering across his face.
"…fair enough."
"Aunt Araba seems like a nice person though."
"She is. It's jus how Amberose managed to-" He glanced at Elias and cleared his throat.
"Never mind."
He stepped toward the window, glancing out briefly.
"The house directly opposite ours," he said.
Elias followed his gaze.
Across the street—larger, more ornate, with visible staff moving about.
It was the same house Jamie had pointed at earlier.
"That one?"
"That one."
"Do not be rude when they arrive," he said, tone calm but firm.
"I won't be."
"That is not the same as being polite."
Elias didn't respond to that.
Alaric watched him for a moment longer, then nodded once.
Ortis let himself in.
The front door opened without a knock, without a bell, without any announcement beyond the soft click of the latch. Elias heard it from the top of the stairs and descended to find his uncle lounging on the sitting room sofa, his legs dangling over one armrest, his head resting on the other like he had done this a hundred times before.
Which, judging by Alaric's expression—
He probably had.
He stretched like a cat claiming its territory and turned to them.
"Yo," Ortis said.
Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I know it's pointless to ask but what are you doing here?"
"Visiting." Ortis yawned. "What's for dinner?"
Alaric's eye twitched.
"Your first concern is food?"
"Also naps," Ortis added. "But food comes first."
"You have your own house."
"Next door." Ortis waved a hand. "Same difference."
"It is not the same difference."
"It's close enough."
Elias watched the exchange from the stairs. There was something almost routine about it—the bickering, the exasperation, the complete lack of respect for personal space. It reminded him of something.
Jamie.
He glanced toward the kitchen.
Jamie had followed Gyan the moment she disappeared through its swinging doors. Her intent was sharp, focused, locked onto the maid like a hawk tracking prey. Gyan, for her part, seemed utterly unbothered. She moved through the kitchen with practiced efficiency, fetching ingredients, checking stores, preparing the evening meal.
Jamie stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching.
She did not help.
She did not speak.
She simply watched.
Gyan ignored her and continued her work.
Alaric sighed.
"You cannot keep doing this."
"Doing what?" Ortis asked, not moving.
"Entering my home uninvited."
"You left the door unlocked."
"That is not permission."
"It is an opportunity."
Alaric stared at him.
Ortis stared at the ceiling.
"Tch."
Dinner was a tense affair.
The four of them sat around the modest dining table—Alaric at the head, Ortis sprawled in the chair to his right, Elias to his left, Jamie across from him. Gyan had served the meal and retreated to the kitchen, citing the need to "prepare the guest rooms."
There were no guests.
Ortis ate with his elbows on the table. Alaric did not correct him.
"So," Ortis said, chewing, "tomorrow."
Alaric's fork paused mid-air.
"Tomorrow." He took a bite.
"Amberose is going to push."
"He always pushes."
"Harder this time."
Alaric set down his fork.
"I'm aware."
Ortis shrugged and took another bite.
"I won't help you if things get heated."
"I never asked in the first place. Besides, this will all turn out to be a foolish case."
"Hehehe. Hope you can back those words up. Otherwise you'll be the foolish one"
After the meal, the two men stepped aside. Their voices were low, too low for Elias to catch more than fragments. Gyan and Jamie had already gone back to the kitchen to do the dishes.
Elias then got up and made his way upstairs.
The room was as he had left it.
Quiet.
Still.
He closed the door behind him, then moved to the bed and sat down.
For a moment, he just… sat there.
Then he leaned back, resting his head against the pillow.
"…alright," he murmured.
His eyes closed.
And the world shifted.
He stood beneath an infinite sky.
Stars stretched endlessly in every direction, constellations unfamiliar yet instinctively understood. Nebulae drifted like slow-moving oceans of light, colors bleeding into one another in impossible gradients.
Below him—
Water.
Perfectly still.
Perfectly reflective.
His Spirit Domain.
"About time."
The voice came from someplace close by. Elias blinked and looked around, seeing no one.
"Down here."
The voice came from below. He looked down and blinked.
She was… small.
Tamamo stood on the water at his feet. Her features were the same—the dark skin, the golden eyes, the white hair—but her proportions had shifted. She looked his age. His height. His size.
Her four tails waved behind her, unchanged. Her ears twitched atop her head.
Elias stared.
"Is this a joke?"
Tamamo's ear twitched.
"It is not a joke!"
Her voice echoed across the domain, sharp with irritation.
"It's all your fault!"
"My fault?"
She crossed her arms, huffing.
She looked down at her body, her face flushed with indignation.
"I shouldn't have tried to alter the pact—"
She stopped. Her hand clapped over her mouth.
Elias's eyes narrowed.
"Huh, what was that?"
"N-nothing."
There was a pause. Then the water beneath her gave way.
"—!"
She sank instantly, the surface swallowing her like it had been waiting. Not slowly—not like something drowning. Like something pulled. The surface closed over her head in an instant, and she scrabbled at the water, her fingers clawing for purchase, her tails thrashing.
Elias watched calmly.
Tamamo struggled, her movements frantic now as the invisible force dragged her further into the abyss beneath the surface.
"—!"
Her voice was muffled, distorted.
Her hand broke the surface once—
Then vanished again.
'Weird though, she should be a supper strong entity right? Then why is she struggling? Ver weird.' He thought, releasing his hold on her.
She shot upward, breaking through the surface with a gasp, coughing as water spilled from her lips. She dragged herself onto the surface, bending over slightly, breathing hard, water dripping from her hair and her robes.
"…that," she coughed, "is a breach of contract…"
The water beneath her rippled again.
She sank slightly.
"Okay, okay, I'll talk!"
She scrambled upright. Elias folded his arms.
"Explain."
Tamamo took a breath. Her composure returned—slowly, piece by piece. She smoothed her robes, adjusted her sleeves, tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear.
"When two parties form a pact," she began, "both are bound equally. Accountability flows both ways."
Elias nodded slightly.
"But," she continued, glaring at him, "I attempted to… adjust that balance."
"Adjust?"
"I tried to impose my authority as the superior being," she said bluntly.
"Make you subservient."
Elias blinked once.
"Hmm, yeah. That seems like something you would do."
"Of course it is!"
She threw her hands up.
"I'm the Maker of Discord, a lair and a deciever! That's how its bsupposed to work!"
"Hmm…clearly not."
Tamamo scowled.
"I miscalculated."
"How?"
"I did not account for three things. "
She ticked them off on her fingers.
"One—you're stubborn."
"Accurate."
"Two—I'm not at full power."
Elias nodded.
"And three—" she paused, glaring at him, "you have Infinite Flow."
There was a brief silence.
"And that matters because?"
"It means you overwhelmed the balance," she snapped. "The pact adjusted itself."
Elias tilted his head slightly.
"Adjusted how?"
"The weaker party in a pact takes attributes from the dominant one." Tamamo gestured at herself.
"Meaning this."
A look of realization then appeared on Elias' face.
"Oh,so that's why you're short."
Her expression cracked.
"I AM NOT JUST SHORT!"
She pointed at him dramatically, tears welling up.
"I have been reduced! Diminished! Forced to take on traits of a lesser being!"
Elias stared.
"…so yes. You're short."
"…you are the worst."
She sniffed dramatically, wiping imaginary tears.
"The humiliation…I couldn't even break out of a simple attempt to drown me."
She hugged herself.
"Now I am at the mercy of this man. He will have his way with me and do what he likes with my body but alas, what can I do."
"Did you call me here for semantics?"
The drama vanished.
Tamamo produced her kiseru from somewhere within her robes. It was comically large in her small hands. She snapped her fingers—a spark of golden flame—and took a long, slow puff.
"You're no fun," she said, exhaling.
Smoke curled outward, forming a stylized cloud beneath them.
It lifted them both into the air.
Elias sat down on it instinctively.
It was soft. Warmer than he expected. He had always wanted to sit on a cloud—back when he was Ethan, back when clouds were just vapor and dreams.
She took another puff.
"While you were training, I stayed out of your way," she said. "I needed to grow strong enough to uphold your end of our agreement."
"And you have," she continued. "Your understanding of Flow has deepened."
A pause.
"But you are nowhere near strong enough."
Elias's gaze shifted to her.
"For what?"
She exhaled slowly.
"For what's coming."
The cloud drifted higher.
"The pieces are already set in array."
"What are you talking about?"
Tamamo's eyes met his.
"One of my tails," she said.
"And a fragment of the Oblivion Cube are hear in this city."
The words landed like stones in still water.
Silence.
Elias leaned back slightly on the cloud.
"I haven't heard anything about that."
"Of course you haven't," she said.
"You're not meant to."
"Then how can you see the pieces being moved when i cant, you don't even have all your tails."
Tamamo took another slow puff.
Then exhaled, looking up at the stylized moon that had appeared behind her palace.
"It's time," she said turning back to him.
"I explained how the world works."