I stayed just outside, one hand against the bark of an UvoSath tree, grounding myself. It should have been a good moment. A beautiful one. But the weight of too many watching eyes had turned the day into glass, and I could already feel the fractures.

  I held Ume's gaze. "And what do you see?"

  "Strained unity. A borrowed peace. You're shouldering too much of it alone," she said, tilting her head. "But you do it anyway. And that's precisely why I wanted to speak to you."

  "I've noticed," I said, thinking of Biscuit and Whirlkool. "They answer her quicker than they do Jalkra."

  "Diantha," Ume's fingers gently plucked a loose thread from her sleeve, almost absently. "She trusts you. That's why I'm here. To understand you beyond titles and power levels. She believes you're more than a fluke in the monster hierarchy."

  I shifted my weight. "And what do you believe?"

  "I believe…" Ume's voice thinned, "that you're dangerous. In ways even you don't fully understand."

  I arched a brow, unsure whether to be flattered or worried. "Go on."

  Ume glanced back toward the clinic before continuing, her voice dropping just above a whisper. "Diantha is… fragile. Not weak, but exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. She carries the hopes of an empire on her spine, and Jalkra expects her to wear motherhood like a crown."

  Her gaze returned to me, more piercing now. "You've given her sanctuary. I know it wasn't part of any deal, and I know you're not doing it to curry favor. That's… rare."

  "She needed help," I said simply.

  Ume nodded. "And so you helped. That's why I wanted to warn you."

  I tensed. "About what?"

  "About him." Her voice hardened beneath its softness. "You think Jalkra’s absence is strange? It's deliberate. You were allowed to see us. But not him."

  "I figured."

  Ume's expression darkened. "He trusts his pillars. He trusts me, even though I shouldn't be trusted. Not fully. He believes we'll honor the peace while Denji sleeps in his mother’s arms. And he's right, for now. But it won't last."

  I folded my arms, my tone sharpening. "Then why are you here, Ume? Why talk to me if you're just going to follow his orders later?"

  She blinked slowly, her voice dipping low.

  "Because I want to see what you'll do. Not as a spy. Not as a puppet. I want to know who you really are before the storm breaks. If there's even a chance you can change the flow of this… I need to understand where your heart truly lies."

  "That's a lot of weight to put on someone you just met."

  "No," she said, "it's not. Because it's not just your weight. It's ours too. Biscuit plays at war and Whirlkool scoffs at diplomacy, but we're still Diantha's protectors. We will not let her fall prey to her husband's ambitions, no matter how much she still loves him."

  That last part hit like a stone skipping across glass.

  "Wait," I said, trying to decipher the subtext. "Are you saying—?"

  "I'm saying that your base is a nursery and a battleground both. And when Jalkra returns, he will expect something in exchange for his restraint."

  Ume stepped past me, slowly. "The Jalkras builds legacies through fear and structure. You build them through connection. That's harder to control."

  I turned to follow her gaze. She was watching Liozel and Denji through the trees. Two children born into wildly different bloodlines, now playing beneath a string of paper lanterns. Around them, the Osseods gathered in excitement, resembling an animated, sentient crystal-henge.

  I stared at her. "You think he'll try to take Denji?"

  "Not just him," Ume said, eyes glinting. "He'll try to take you all."

  A cold silence fell between us.

  Then her voice softened again, almost wistful. "He always wants the thing he didn't create but thinks he deserves. And from what I've seen, he believes you're already part of his world. He just hasn't decided how to name you yet: ally, pawn, or threat."

  "Why tell me this?" I asked.

  "Because I don't want what happened to my people to happen again." Her voice trembled—barely, but it was there. "And because I see something in you that could either unify monsters… or fracture everything beyond repair."

  I swallowed, hard. "I'm not here to tear the world apart."

  "Good," she said. "Then start acting like a ruler instead of a guest in your own home."

  That stung, but not unfairly.

  Ume turned, her limbs folding back into an elegant posture. "We'll be watching, KiAera. Not with suspicion. With… curiosity."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Then be curious. But tell me. What happens to us… if we fail?"

  "Then you become part of his empire," she said simply. "Or a memory under its heel."

  She walked away without another word, her bells chiming faintly in her wake. And I stood there, spine bristling with dread. Not because I was afraid of failing. But because I wasn't sure… which future I was leaning toward.

  ??? ??? // ??? ???

  Once I returned to the glades. The bells from Ume's hair had barely faded when I heard a quieter one, chiming from within the clinic.

  Diantha stood near the doorway, cradling Denji, her expression warm but tinged with something… perceptive. Her gaze flicked to where Ume had walked off.

  "She speaks in layers, doesn't she?" Diantha asked.

  I nodded. "And every one feels like it cuts deeper than the last."

  She motioned for me to join her in the quieter corner of the clinic. Mellow was nearby, helping Loa wash herbs in a basin, and Perl was teaching Denji's cradle how to sing. But Diantha carved out space for us like it was instinctual.

  "She means well," she said gently. "Ume's lived more lives in her short years than many of the Pillars combined. She's been tested by Jalkra's ambitions. And survived by keeping her heart just hidden enough."

  "She thinks I'm dangerous."

  "She's right," Diantha said without hesitation. "But that's not a condemnation, KiAera. Power is dangerous. Especially power that doesn't come with a script."

  "I'm not trying to challenge Jalkra."

  Diantha's laugh was soft but knowing. "Then why are you building something he didn't authorize? Why do you gather others under a shared banner of protection and warmth, instead of obedience?"

  I looked down at Denji, his tiny hand curled around her pinky.

  "You love him," I said.

  "More than life," she whispered.

  “So why stay with someone like Jalkra?"

  Diantha hesitated, it seemed not out of fear, but out of pain.

  "Because when the world falls apart, KiAera, even tyrants get to claim part of the wreckage." Her voice softened further. "But you… you're offering something different. Not control. Belonging. And that scares people far more than cruelty does."

  Then she smiled, faintly. "Ume believes you might be the beginning of something bigger. That's why she spoke to you alone."

  "And what do you believe?"

  She placed a kiss on Denji's forehead. "I believe my son should grow up in a world where his power isn't measured in how many people kneel."

  Then, without another word, she let me go, back into the light. And as I turned to leave Diantha in peace with her child, I caught sight of Mina lingering by the doorway. Diantha noticed her, of course. She adjusted Denji on her shoulder and offered a tentative smile. "You don't have to hover like a winded hawk. He's asleep, not under siege."

  Mina rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted. "I wasn't hovering. I was… monitoring subtly."

  "Your subtlety involves glowering at floor tiles?"

  "I don't glower."

  "You do. Like Mortiz used to."

  Mina bristled at that, just enough for me to catch it.

  "Don't compare me to him," she said as her voice tightened.

  Diantha's smile faded, but she nodded. "Sorry. That was unfair."

  They didn't say anything long enough that I could hear the whisper of leaves outside, the quiet murmur of Mellow and Perl's lullaby drifting in the background.

  Mina stepped forward, eyes flicking toward Denji, then back to Diantha. "Cute kid."

  Diantha nodded. "He's… everything."

  "I didn't come to talk pleasantries," Mina resumed.

  "You came because you wanted to make sure I was okay," Diantha said gently. "That he was okay." She brushed Denji's hair with her fingers. "You always show up when it matters. Even if you won't say it out loud."

  Mina looked away. "And you always talk like that. You raised me afterwards, Diantha. Not him. You. You don't get to play the tragic matriarch now."

  Diantha's shoulders lowered. She looked worn, but not weak. "And you don't get to pretend your anger protects you. You think I don't see how much it costs you to carry it? That guilt, that weight of not being able to save Kaliza or Tailza's childhood—"

  "Don't."

  The word cracked from Mina like a whip.

  Diantha didn't flinch. She just stepped closer, close enough that they stood with barely a breath between them.

  "I don't say it to wound you, Minako. I say it because I remember who you were before he turned you into someone who measured worth in blood."

  Mina's hands curled into fists at her sides. "You should've taken me with you. You should've—”

  "I tried!" Diantha snapped, a rare flash of fire behind her eyes. "I begged Jalkra to let me take you! But he wouldn't. You were his leverage. And I—I was just the wife he kept on display."

  Her gaze fell on Denji, who stirred in Diantha's arms, letting out a soft hiccup. The spell broke.

  Diantha bounced him gently, her voice shifting into a lullaby.

  Mina's voice dropped. "He taught me to hurt people. And I was good at it."

  "You were a child," Diantha said, softer now. "You survived. That isn't shameful. It's proof you're stronger than he ever deserved."

  Mina cleared her throat. "He has your eyes."

  "I was thinking he had yours," Diantha said. "You always did glare brighter than anyone."

  "Tch. Don't make this weird."

  Diantha laughed in response. "It's already weird. You're my sister. That's a permanent condition."

  Mina glanced sideways, her expression hard to read. "You ever think we could… do something different? With all this?"

  "Different how?"

  "I don't know. Raise them without making them hate themselves."

  Diantha looked down at Denji. "I think that's the plan."

  Mina finally cracked a smile. "Then I guess I'll stick around. Make sure you're not being too noble."

  "I welcome the oversight," Diantha said with mock formality. Then, carefully, she extended the bundle toward her. "Would you like to hold him?"

  Mina's hesitation was apparent in the usual sense as she eyed Denji.

  "I'm not…" Mina began, then stopped. Her voice dropped. "I don't want to drop him."

  Diantha's smile didn't waver. "Then don't."

  With stiff arms and a furrowed brow, Mina stepped forward. Diantha shifted Denji gently into her arms, adjusting her sister's grip with patient fingers. For a moment, Mina looked down at him as though he was a puzzle she didn't have the pieces for.

  “He's… warm.”

  Diantha nodded.

  "I didn't think he would be," Mina added. "Is that stupid?"

  "No," Diantha whispered. "Not at all."

  Denji made a soft little noise and shifted in her arms. Mina stiffened, but she didn’t flinch. Her fingers slowly curled protectively around the child. Her whole body became still like something sacred had been placed inside her armor, and she didn't know how to take it off without breaking both.

  "He's so small," Mina said. "So fragile. How do you carry that?"

  "Some days, I don't."

  I could see something flicker behind Mina's eyes. It wasn't pity, guilt, but something lonelier.

  "You look like her," Diantha said. "Kaliza. Especially when you frown like that."

  Mina didn't look up. "You sound like her."

  "She would've loved him too."

  Mina nodded, her arms tightening a little. "She would've told me to stop pretending I wasn't terrified."

  "She would've told you you're doing fine."

  The two stood there like that for a long moment as I watched. Neither did Mellow or Perl or Loa. Even the clinic itself seemed to go still. Then Denji gurgled, a tiny sound that broke the stillness.

  Mina blinked and almost smiled. "He drooled on me."

  Diantha laughed gently. "Consider it his blessing."

  The muffled thump of little claws preceded the voice that chirped up from below:

  "Miss Diantha. Can I see Denji again?"