"Akulas, we apologize for our lacking hospitality. We hope that you will absolve us of our mistake," the Elven King said, his voice soft yet dignified.

"Your majesty, it is us who should seek your forgiveness. We trespass into your kingdom and bring unnecessary complications. Royal Father sends his regard to you and condolence to your loss. Unfortunately, his health has prevented him from coming in person."

"We understand your predicament. Let us not talk about the discouraging matter no more. Allow us a chance to make up for our inadequate service."

"Your majesty is too soft. I don't mind at all. You shouldn't concern yourself with an insignificant matter like this."

"How could we ignore special guest like you? Akulas, will you accompany us to our seats? We plan to discuss something with you. They have been troubling us for some times. We hope you won't mind our request."

Akulas, the Crown Prince, nodded before he dismissed Specria, who stood beside him. She bowed to the Elven King and went to check on her subordinates. As the Elven King and Akulas went away, Specria found herself surveying the mystical surrounding.

Though she stood on the solid ground, she could see a sea of clouds beneath her feet flowing with the motion of the wind. It enclosed her view with paleness from above and below. In the sky, countless vapours of colourful Fons weaved in the air, moving according to the gigantic formation which powered the floating island.

Despite the great height of the Holyground of the Origin, the tips of the colossal trees peeked through the clouds and stood tall, opposing the deadly wind of the sky. Around them, Spirits and Elven vessels patrolled the horizon, preparing for every scenario.

As Specria filled her memory with the mystical scenery, a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned around to face Ocupas, who donned in the Elven official uniform.

"Specria, how is the view?" he said.

"I would believe it if you told me I was dreaming. Ocupas, why are you here? I don't believe you would abandon your duty to come to see me."

"Right now, his majesty is within the safe zone. More importantly, I've come here to ask you one question. Please answer it truthfully."

Specria grabbed Ocupas's hand, which tapped her shoulder, and sent a wisp of Fons to it. In that instant, she spoke as an invisible forcefield emerged and dissipated. Her words echoed and disappeared, leaving no trace behind.

"She is fine." The words lingered not in the world and seeped into Ocupas's mind, endlessly echoing the truth which he sought.

Ocupas looked down and smiled, his body moving away from Specria. His movement created a quiet ripple in the air, which blew the fragments of the barrier in every direction.

"Thank you," he said, swallowing his profound emotions and questions. Before long, his expressions returned fresh. "How are the others?"

"They'll come soon enough. Medoria decides to remain at The Empire, though." Specria raised her finger and stopped Ocupas from saying anything. "The injury she sustained isn't fatal."

"I'm sorry. She has gone through too much."

"We have gone through too much. It's why we're still here, to share the burden and sorrow."

"If only I could help you." Ocupas clenched his fist. "As long as it's possible, I'll do everything for you."

"Just do your task and wait. Soon, she'll come."

A translucent screen manifested in front of Ocupas, detailing the schedule and the preparation of the Root Ceremony. He stared at the content and sighed, his eyes shifting to Specria.

"Sorry, I have to go," he said as his expression darkened. "His majesty wants to meet her highness Consimia. I have to secure the surrounding for them."

Specria paused after hearing the name. Consimia, the good-for-nothing Seventh Princess of the Elven Kingdom. Without any interest in politic, she spent her day sightseeing and playing. If not for Princess who captured her, her name would never enter into the circle of the upper-echelons.

"So she is here," Specria said.

"If there is an opportunity, I'll avenge her."

Ocupas turned around and walked away, but Specria caught his hand, forcing him to turn back. He saw her softly shook her head.

"There is no need to do anything. Let Fate takes its course," she said.

Ocupas stared at her, his eyes revealing confusion. He closed them for a moment before walking away. His shaky footsteps faded as the surrounding turned lively.

"I've tried my best. Please let us succeed, no matter what," Specria muttered.

As she adjusted her uniform, a strong wind blew across her body. She glanced at a fleet of the imperial vessels descending onto the Holyground. In a moment, a line of soldiers formed in front of the main ship, saluting a group of seven figures, who donned in luxurious attires with strange symbols embedded on them.

Specria narrowed her eyes and went to greet the Board of Science. As she saluted, her gaze swept through the cast, landing on the Founder of Bureau of Fons and Myths. He smiled at her and nodded to express his interest in her, who met Princess and survived.

"My apology for the late welcome, Your Honours," Specria said.

"We merely come ahead of schedule. After all, who would want to miss the chance to see the Originator?" the Founder of Bureau of Fons and Myths said. Behind him, two emotionless androids stared at Specria, their eyes searching for any potential harm.

"Immodulus, your toys are giving me a creep. Get them out of my sight," a lady in tight black dresses said. She shook her head and turned to Specria, eyes gazing from her feet to her eyes. "Girl, we should talk sometimes. Even if you don't want to talk about the Fallen Princess, we can have fun together, lady to lady."

"Don't play around, Permotir. We are in the domain of Gods. You beg me to let you tag along, so remain obedient," the leader of the group said. He stared at Immodulus and Permotir with his pair of midnight black pupils. His presence instantly dominated the atmosphere.

Specria shivered under his gaze. Her Fons faintly stirred as his impression weighed onto her. He was an Authority, one stronger than any other Authorities she had ever seen. When his shadow cast over her, she sidestepped to make way, allowing him to walk past.

"I'm sorry for their uncultured behaviour, young miss," he said. His smile radiated warmth, dispersing the heavy pressure into a breeze. "I hope your ascension goes well."

Immodulus gestured for the androids to stop and slightly nodded at Specria. "I apologize for my androids. They're too stupid to know the etiquette."

"Sadly, this sister needs to go now, but after the ceremony, you can come to me any time," Permotir said as she slipped her business card to Specria, winking in the process.

Specria watched them disappearing into their exclusive lounge before she sighed and shredded the card into pieces. She placed her hand on her chest and relaxed her body, shaking the unforgettable impression out of her mind.

Despite not backing by the main group of Authorities, the Board of Science remained one of the strongest forces of the Human Empire, alongside the Imperial Court and the Noble Parliament. They were a formidable opponent.

"Lady Specria, your friends are coming," an officer walked up to her and said.

"They are early, as expected. When they dock, tell them to come find me." Specria tossed a key to the officer before walking towards the entrance of the Root Ceremony, where everything would take place.

...

Cyania touched her blindfold and poked its soft fabric. Her finger pushed it into her empty eye socket, replicating the suffocating sensation she felt when Princess gouged her eyes.

"Mistress, please don't hurt yourself," Suria said as she hugged Cyania from behind. Her hand slowly moved Cyania's finger away from the blindfold.

"As long as I still feel this pain, I won't give up." Cyania turned to Suria. "Promise me: no matter what the outcome is, you will live on."

"Mistress, why do you sound like you're going into a battlefield?"

"Stay here and watch me. You'll understand soon." Cyania grabbed Suria's hand and placed a gem in it. She folded her hand and pushed it to Suria faster than she could refuse. "Keep it. It's a good-luck charm."

"Thank you, Mistress." Suria shyly accepted the gift and led Cyania to the stage.

As Cyania passed through the curtain, the sunlight landed on her purple mantle and warmed her skin. Despite lacking eyes, she knew the crowd was staring at her and the other six Saintesses.

The prayers and the chors echoed throughout the gigantic dome of transparent crystals which amplified the majestic atmosphere. With every step Cyania took, the carpet beneath her feet turned softer as if she was walking on a path of feathers. The world quietened as she reached the end of her track, standing in front of an altar.

Beside her, two assistant Elves stepped forth and brought the ceremonial equipment to her. They donned her in a beautiful jewellery crown and handed her a golden staff.

"May your voice reaches Heaven," they said in a courteous, faithful voice.

Cyania held the staff to the sky, singing the holy hymn. The surrounding Fons vibrated with her voice and swam around her, creating countless rings of faint, golden light. They formed a whirlpool of Faith which gathered above her and shot towards Heaven.

Seven pillars of light passed through the dome of crystals and twisted the space above Holyground. The sky creaked and shattered into the rift which revealed the other side of the world, Heaven.

In blinding light, the kingdom of Heaven stood tall, its golden surface radiating the majestic holiness. It dispelled the darkness and blew the clouds out of the horizon, filling the sky with warm, gentle weather. The violent wind of high altitude ceased its flow and filled the world with a mellow breeze.

As the golden gate creaked open, countless Spirits flowed out of the sky and enveloped the Holyground. They revealed their petite yet elegant figures and moved around the crystal dome, blessing the believers with Fons. Their movement synced with the holy hymn.

The crowds gradually stood up and sang their prayers, their voice echoing throughout the Holyground, which reverberated in an orchestral tone. Cyania listened to their song of devotion and slowly drew her staff back. Her hand waved in the air before resting on her chest, feeling her calm heartbeat.

She saw the holy light shining upon her soul, filling her body with the warm yet bitter feeling. She raised her head and stared at the five figures descending from the kingdom of Heaven. They lightly stepped on the air and walked down to the ground, their movement prompting Divine Fons to spread outwards.

Cyania let go of her staff. Her hands formed a prayer gesture as she knelt onto the ground, her mantle spreading outwards.

"May Heaven reign eternally," she said, her voice hoarse.

The crowd repeated her line, their voice shaking the world. Their devotion weaved Fons into beautiful imagery, filling the atmosphere with bliss. The God and Goddesses stood in silent, their gaze resting on the Seven Saintesses whom they chose individually.

"Dear children of the world, we have heard your call," the God of Light said. He reached out in front of him and clasped the air. A miniature star manifested in his hand. "Your Faith has created this sphere of Divinity. As long as you believe in us, we shall bring prosperity and peace."

Behind him, the Goddess of Winter and the Goddess of Nature waved their hand, creating golden snowflake and golden flower respectively. God and Goddesses revealed their Domains and ignited the zealous of their believers.

From a distance, Specria and her friends stood on an observatory, watching the scene unfolded with their eyes narrowed. They monitored every movement inside the dome as well as surrounding the Holyground.

"Are you sure, Specria?" her friend said.

"Don't worry. Just wait here," Specria said, her eyes staring at the horizon. "She will eventually reveal herself."