[Within the Veil of Time]
Raiking and Ezmelral observed as the scene below transformed. The Healer's panic blurred in the swift passage of time, with the sun and moon rapidly cycling until history's flow steadied once more.
They witnessed the aftermath.
The body of the fallen Patroller lay in the private sanctum of the Elders. Elder Mushai stood over the corpse. As a cultivator at the Divine Stage, he needed no tools to discern the crime's nature.
He hovered his hand above the hollowed chest. The residue stung his palm.
It was Light Magic.
"Only the Generals of the Divine Realm wield such an element," Ezmelral remarked quietly.
The projection displayed the Elders in heated debate. They faced two impossible choices: suppress the truth to prevent widespread panic or disclose the horror and risk igniting a war they were unprepared for.
"Which choice would you make?" Ezmelral asked, turning to her master.
Raiking glanced at Faye, who slept peacefully in his arms. The mere thought of anyone daring to harm her caused the ambient temperature around him to drop.
"I would destroy them," he stated simply.
"Naturally, you possess the power to do so," Ezmelral replied with a wry smile, gesturing to the troubled Elders below. "But what of them? They are sheep realizing the wolves have breached the pen."
Raiking stared intensely at the Elders.
"Silence breeds fear," Raiking said. "If you conceal the threat, people will conjure their own monsters in the dark. But if you reveal the injustice..."
He watched Elder Mushai step out of the sanctum to address the gathering crowd.
"...you give them a target."
And that is precisely what transpired.
The Elders chose the path of truth. They did not hide the body. They brought their fallen kin to the center of the plaza. They revealed the hole. They explained the theft.
The revelation sent a shockwave through the Phoenix Kin. Initially, there was terror. Mothers clutched their children; men gazed at the sky with dread.
But as they beheld the indignity of their fallen brother—a warrior hollowed out like livestock—the fear began to ferment.
Fear became grief. Grief became hate. And hate is a fuel that burns hotter than any Phoenix flame.
The Elders did not stop there. They knew the Azure Feather Tribe could not stand alone against the Heavens.
Messengers were dispatched to the four neighboring peaks. Beacons were lit. For the first time since the Great Demon War millennia ago, the leaders of the Five Tribes were summoned to convene under one roof.
The Veil of Time descended, pulling the perspective down from the clouds into the tension-filled hall of the leadership.
---
Elder Mushai sat alone at the far end of the main hall, occupying the elevated Head Seat. This grand chair, crafted from ancient Iron-Wood, faced the double doors at the opposite side of the room.
From this vantage point, he gazed down the central aisle, lost in contemplation.
However, part of his attention inevitably drifted to the festival preparations taking place outside. The voices of the Phoenix Kin were unmistakable and hard to ignore since the "Pearl Incident".
Though the people appeared joyful, the tone of their laughter had changed. It seemed less like the culmination of a year's happiness converging in celebration and more like the relief of having survived another winter without being harvested.
This isn't the true purpose of our festivals, Mushai pondered, gripping the armrest.
Yet, what could he do about it?
That was the looming question hovering over the meeting in the hall.
Below his dais, the leaders of the other four tribes were seated in two rows along the left and right sides of the hall.
To his left was Venae, leader of the Golden Feather Tribe. His short golden hair matched the luxurious, thick golden-feathered cloak draped over his black robes.
Further down the left row was Neihina of the Red Feather Tribe. Her fiery red hair was tied back in a warrior's knot, and her red-feathered cloak seemed to crackle with static energy, mirroring her fiery temper. She wasn't sitting; she paced back and forth in front of her chair, her hand hovering near the hilt of her sword.
To his right sat Ellomon of the Black Feather Tribe. He was like a shadow in the room. His jet-black hair blended seamlessly with his dark feathered cloak and black robes. He sat perfectly still, his sharp eyes observing every micro-expression across the aisle, calculating not just the next move, but the next three.
Seated farther down the row was Ragina of the Purple Feather Tribe. Her long violet hair cascaded elegantly over her purple cloak. Her beauty, only matched by that of Libinea, was mesmerizing, and combined with her calm demeanor, it had the ability to momentarily ease the burdens of the heart.
"I propose we fight," Neihina declared, her voice echoing through the hall.
"And leave our borders undefended?" Ellomon retorted from across the room, his voice a deep rumble. "Deserting our posts would place us between two foes: the Divine Realm above and the Dragon King below."
"Are we just to sit here and await our doom?" Neihina shot back, turning to confront him. "Are we to simply surrender our pearls?"
"Patience might offer us the best solution," Ragina interjected smoothly, lifting a porcelain cup from her side table.
"I concur with Ragina," Venae nodded slowly. "In the Crystal Mines, we adhere to a simple rule: take your time. Swing your axe with precision. Consider those around you, for one false move can bring the entire tunnel down."
Neihina scoffed. "Spare me the lecture about your mines, Venae. Within their walls, you have all the time you need. But on a battlefield, death arrives as swiftly as a heartbeat."
Silence descended once more, the wide central aisle symbolizing their philosophical chasm; Some were ready to die fighting, while others hoped for a glimmer of salvation. Ultimately, this decision wouldn't be made by a vote—it would be dictated by power.
"Elder Mushai," Ragina inquired softly, looking towards the dais. "What is your perspective on this matter?"
All eyes turned to the Head Seat. As the most powerful cultivator present, everyone knew that if he decided to charge into battle, the tribes would follow. But if he opted to wait for hope, who could still believe that victory was attainable?
Mushai leaned forward, surveying the four leaders before him.
"Before I answer," Mushai began, his voice imbued with a somber gravity, "there's something I must disclose first."
"Speak," Ragina replied, reclining in her chair.
"Are you aware of which technique the Queen is practicing?"
The leaders exchanged uncertain glances. Understandably so, as only the Elders had access to the Queen's Shrine. All they—or any other Phoenix Kin—knew about Libinea was the portrait of her that adorned this very hall.
Seeing their uncertainty, Mushai revealed the answer.
"The Sun Absorption Technique."
Shock rippled through the room, wiping away the leaders' composed expressions. Venae stopped his rhythmic finger tapping, and Neihina halted her pacing.
"Impossible!" Ellomon exclaimed, his typically shadowy demeanor cracking. "That is an advanced Fire Magic technique that even most veterans aren't prepared to learn!"
"I speak the truth," Mushai affirmed calmly. "Though she is young, she has already reached the Third Stage."
"Third?!" Neihina gasped.
"If what you say is true," Ragina murmured, her violet eyes widening, "then she is more gifted than even her mother."
Mushai nodded gravely.
"So, you've chosen to wait?" Ragina surmised, piecing the situation together. "You're buying her time."
"Not just wait," Mushai clarified. "But to rebuild."
"Rebuild?" Venae asked, puzzled. "Our structures are intact, Mushai."
"I refer to our strength," Mushai explained. "While this situation is tragic, it presents a unique opportunity."
"And what is that?"
"We are all gathered under one roof," Mushai said, gesturing towards them. "Communicating. Collaborating to avert disaster. What if we took it further?"
He reached into his sleeve and withdrew a scroll, pulsating with ancient Qi.
"Contained here are Elder Wenya's secret Grand Formation Techniques. We are willing to share them with all of you."
The room fell silent. Wenya's formations were legendary, fiercely guarded by the Azure Feather Tribe for generations.
"In exchange for our resources, I assume?" Ellomon inquired, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the value.
"Naturally," Mushai replied. "Has this incident not revealed that our greatest weakness lies in our division?"
The logic hung heavily in the air. As the four Tribe Leaders pondered it, the truth was undeniable. Had the fallen patrol been equipped with the unique knowledge, resources, and techniques each tribe possessed, perhaps they could have survived.
Perhaps the Divine Realm wouldn't view them as easy prey.
"I see your intention," Ellomon said, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Care to enlighten the rest of us?" Neihina asked, her hand finally releasing her sword hilt.
"What does every army need?" Ragina asked rhetorically, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Warriors, Lieutenants, Generals, and..." Neihina paused as realization dawned. "...a Commander."
"Precisely," Ellomon confirmed. "We pool our resources to build a resistance. We train the soldiers. We fortify the borders. And by the time the resistance is strong enough to fight..."
"...the Queen will be ready to lead it," Mushai concluded.
The plan was set. It was a gamble on the future, placing the fate of their entire race on the shoulders of a girl who was burning herself alive to become their savior.
Yet, history had shown the risk was worth it; The Ancestral Phoenix had once been the second strongest in the entire Skyward region, and Libinea's mother had once slain a Demon General to thwart an invasion.
The real question was not whether she would become strong enough, but whether her heart could endure long enough before her mind broke.