[Suzerain of Sheol]

The turgid silence of the Isle held them fast, disturbed only by their footfalls through the foliage. They had left the shore behind hours ago, the trees drawing in to swallow them. Fog still hung in the canopy.

How long, since any had walked beneath these boughs? Set foot in this forgotten world? The Isle waited, timeless in abidance, but what of its Dreamer? Xavier had told her little of what he sought here, of the secrets he had descried from the Lost Lore, what the Ancients had named the Lexicon of the Stars.

He led them on, and they followed, trusting in his wisdom, in the grace that kept his steps from disturbing the sand. This jungle was no challenge to him; the road he walked was preordained. Salvation lay just ahead, awaiting only his hand to claim it.

As the path cleared before them, the trees receding to open on what must have been the Isle's heart, the vision suddenly broke, receding like a wave. Amilia faltered, letting out a soft gasp at the sight that greeted her. The Isle, its flora, the very earth, were gone. Only a star-filled void remained, stretching in all directions, enough to swallow all the world, all her fears and hopes, her love and life, until nothing was left but the gleaming.

They stood upon a bridge, stretching over the vast well of night, and through it, Amilia could see the distant, shifting lights like fires on a dark horizon. The edge was close, perilous, but the sight was so beautiful that she didn't care. She could not help kneeling down to touch the gray glass, marveling at swirling patterns as she ran her fingers over its cold, sheening surface.

“By the Mothers' blood...” she heard Ziethal breathe beside her.

“Amazing,” Amilia caught herself murmur. Looking up, she saw that Xavier had continued on ahead of them, making his way further into the serene black, his gaze affixed ahead. Drawing up a ways beyond, he spread his arms and called back to them.

“Behold, the Temple of the Akasha! The last, hallowed refuge of the Ancients.”

And it was there, revealed with his words, its crystal edifice rising from the very floor of the abyss. Spires like the countless facets of some other-worldly gem reared into the ether. It could have served as the very keystone of Heaven.

Coming up behind him, Amilia leaned against her brother, a sudden weakness stealing through her at the sight.

“Such was the splendor of old,” she heard him whisper. “Such is the power of gods.” He felt warm, indomitable with quiet strength This was not discovery; no miraculous happening for which to offer thanks to providence. This was an inheritance. Xavier belonged to this.

“Come,” he said, taking her by the hand. “The Dreamers await.”