The massive obsidian doors of the Serpent Palace groaned open, revealing an interior that was a jarring contrast to the jagged, toxic exterior of the islands. Instead of damp stone and swamp, the air was scented with expensive sandalwood and chilled by ancient magic. The floors were polished marble the color of dried blood, reflecting the dim glow of floating, emerald-colored lanterns.
At the end of the long hall, seated on a throne carved from the skeletal remains of a leviathan, was the King of the Snake Islands.
He did not look like a monster. He looked like a man in his late fifties, his hair a sleek silver, wearing robes of deep forest green that shimmered with actual serpent scales. His eyes, however, were horizontal slits of liquid gold that didn't blink as Riha and Tinker approached.
"Lower your weapons," the King said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that carried no trace of the guard's rasp. He stood up, spreading his hands in a gesture of peace. "I must offer my deepest apologies, Empress Riha. My border guards are... overzealous. In these dark times, they often mistake honored guests for common invaders."
Riha kept her hand on the hilt of the Echo of the Abyss, her eyes narrowed. "Invaders don't usually knock on the front door with a Sovereign's seal, King Malakor. Your people were trying to kill us."
Malakor chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering on stone. "A misunderstanding, I assure you. To make amends, I insist you stay with us for a few days. You have traveled far through the Viper's Breath; your spirit needs rest before we discuss the 'matters of state' you mentioned in your letters."
The Normalcy of Nalani
"And as for your concern for my daughter," Malakor continued, "see for yourself. Nalani?"
From behind a curtain of beaded jade, a figure stepped out. Riha's heart skipped a beat. It was Nalani. She was dressed in traditional silk robes, her movements fluid and graceful. She didn't look like a prisoner, and she didn't look like a sacrifice.
"Riha!" Nalani smiled, and for a second, it was the same girl from the Jubilee. She walked forward and took Riha's hands. Her skin was warm, not cold like the guards. "I heard there was trouble at the gates. I'm so glad you're safe. What are you doing here?"
Riha searched Nalani's eyes for any sign of the "puppet strings" she had sensed before. But Nalani seemed... normal. Perfectly, unnervingly normal. She spoke of the palace gardens, of the tea they must try, and of how much she had missed their conversations.
Tinker shifted uncomfortably behind Riha, his nose twitching. He leaned in and whispered, "Noona... she smells like Nalani, but the air around her is too still. It's like the wind is afraid to touch her."
The Warning of the Eclipse
That night, Riha was shown to a guest suite that overlooked the churning, misty sea. The room was luxurious, but Riha didn't sit on the silk-covered bed. She stood on the balcony, watching the moon.
"Do not be fooled by the tea and the smiles, Riha."
The First Sovereign's voice was a cold blade in her mind. Riha closed her eyes, entering her inner consciousness. The Ancestor stood there, her starry robes billowing in a wind that didn't exist.
"They seem harmless," Riha noted. "Nalani is herself. Malakor is polite."
"Nalani is a shell," the Ancestor hissed. "The King is a liar. He is stalling. In three days, a Total Lunar Eclipse will occur. It is the 'Night of the Blood Moon,' the only time in a century when the dark forces of the Abyssal core and the Serpent's gene can align perfectly. That is when they will attempt the resurrection."
"Three days," Riha whispered. "The King wants me here so he can keep an eye on me while he prepares."
"Exactly. Use these three days. Do not fight them yet. Observe. Find the ritual site. And most importantly, track the flow of their mana."
The Spirit of the Shells
Riha opened her eyes and looked down at the Echo of the Abyss on her wrist.
"You heard her," Riha whispered to the weapon.
She channeled her Mental Power into the conch handle, but instead of a combat frequency, she used a subtle, subsonic vibration. A faint, translucent wisp of energy—the Weapon Spirit of the shells—emerged. It looked like a tiny, spectral jellyfish made of obsidian shards.
"Go," Riha commanded. "Infest the shadows of this palace. Follow the King. Follow Nalani. Record every whisper, every ritual chant, and every movement of mana. Be my eyes where I cannot see."
The spirit vanished into the floorboards, its presence undetectable to anyone without Galaxy-level mental sensitivity.
The Three-Day Watch
"I'll stay," Riha told King Malakor the next morning at breakfast. "The islands are... fascinating. I'd like to see your archives and the gardens Nalani mentioned."
Malakor's smile didn't reach his golden eyes. "Splendid. We shall have a feast on the third night to celebrate our renewed friendship."
For the next forty-eight hours, Riha played the role of the curious guest. She walked the gardens with Nalani, listening to her talk about the beauty of the sea. She shared wine with Malakor, discussing "trade routes" and "alliances."
But through the link with her Weapon Spirit, Riha saw a different reality.
Beneath the palace, in a chamber carved into the very roots of the island, the Weapon Spirit watched as the Serpent Guards sacrificed great beasts to a pool of boiling green venom. It saw Malakor chanting over a set of ancient, rusted armor that pulsed with a heartbeat. And it saw Nalani—not the girl laughing in the garden, but a spectral double of her, bound in chains of soul-fire, screaming in a silent, psychic void.
"They're not just resurrecting him," Riha whispered to Tinker as they sat in the library on the final afternoon. "They're using Nalani's life force as the anchor. If the Emperor wakes, Nalani dies."
Tinker's claws elongated, digging into the mahogany table. "Then we end this tonight, Noona?"
Riha looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, and a strange, reddish tint was creeping into the clouds. The three days were up.
"Tonight," Riha said, her voice hard as diamond. "Tonight, the Shadow Sovereign stops being a guest."