Reacharound

 She paced back and forth among her vast deck, the smashed atoms of Xi's refuge still smote along the suit from her metallic, well kept armory. Intellica had done the dance of death. She'd expected her daughter to be pleased and overjoyed upon greeting, she didn't imagine their clash would shake galaxies. The harshest she'd ever been to the void and waves, the shoe dropping to light and photons in a collision for the ages. "Are you some kind of psychopath?" Sandra had screamed, droning on with a constellation of expletives with a predictable emotional state of dependence and desperation. The Novus's personal drives still sting, they tingle at the edge of her fingertips and they shake without termination. She can feel them like currents of electricity, dancing within the vessels and circuitry that enmeshed in her body with a crunch and sore passing. The pins and needles under her sleeves give her a shudder, a reprieve from the cold stillness of her demeanor. That starched burnt smell still lingers, she leans against a telescope that can see reality from a great distance and slides slowly down. "What did I do?" Intellica asks, the briefest she's ever been.

There was smoke and arm spiraling from her arm. The arm of her forebearer. No, _her arm._ She reminded herself that, she'd earned this. No stone unturned. It doesn't matter. She'd gone thru such lengths to make this potential her own. She..  You ███ shudder. Absolute negation, a painful wry in your head annuls the cognitive levers of narrative stipulation. Someone is observing. Someone is affecting. Binarium? No. The feeling isn't Writ, but the insidious invasiveness is no less █████████.
"Had your fun?" That voice is unmistakable. Physical, you realize, not an  abstract presence of immersion until your inner narrative, not a ploy for a deeper truth or sinister turn. Merely a voice.
"Paradox." You say, getting back to your feet. The blood from your arm still drips. Your daughter Ellie - *She* didn't do any of this, ████████████. You.. you? What's happening Intellica thinks, there it is again. Psychic incursion, shifting the gears, tenses tightening in the back of her mind. Is it Para's doing? No, even for as meticulous a knight as her, she couldn't pull something like this. Not to affect a Novus, not even from a Sentrimate. "State your purpose." Intellica says with ███. "Why did you fight your heir?" Paradox inquires. "If you were merely attempting to instill fighting prowess in her, using _her_ power was unnecessary." She glances at the arm, █████████ over once more, it's all a little suspicious. "I know she did not give you those injuries, Intellica. Ellie is not capable of as much malice as you."
"Your perceived slights mean absolutely nothing to me." Intellica sneers, but Paradox is correct. The blood on your shoulder isn't from her, its from ██████you exerting yourself.
"You cannot control that arm, it's power has rendered you volatile. Allow me to enact justice, I'll confiscate it for my lord." Paradox takes a step forward, and you don't twinge a single muscle. Packets of data, squares of pure stratum diporate around you in a Cascadic field, the apertures of their subjectivity threating to tear asunder whoever draws near. The paladin takes caution. ████████████████████████████████████
"You cannot hold onto that forever." Paradox warns her.
"You lie." Intellica sneers. _You_ sneer. No, Intellica clutches her head, resisting the incursion once again. The only one who encapsulate the relativity resistant to her procedural causality would be Paradox's master, is that why she sent her?
"No, that's your propensity." Paradox retorts.
"Why not tell the other Novus then? Who do you assume I am?" Intellica raised her finger up, it's taking her all her mental concentration not to let agents and agendas dictate the utility of her recordings from literary externality.
"That's why I'm here." Paradox takes out her blade, the Avalon and raises it towards Intellica, pressing it against her field. The data packets disassemble it at the touch, leaving the blade cleaved into void from beyond its handle.
"You have betrayed your kin's trust. If I am to serve the just, the others will know of your travesty."
"The others, you cannot mean."
"The Novus."
Intellica's glare deepens, this time she twitches two fingers up. Paradox knows Intellica is being tested, with a single tap of the airspace, every molecule in her body could destruct. They waste no time, waving their hand. The matter for miles is aerosolized with a brush, waves of debre desolate in a golden flash. Paradox reassembles behind Intellica, having shifted her position nanoseconds prior. The top-half of her visor helmet is now gone, laying expose to her emerald eye as it peers into the Novus.
"What makes you think I'll allow you to tell any of them?" Intellica asks.
"I won't, sorting your business isn't mine." She then clasps her hands together, as if praying. "But you will. I've already arranged contingencies. If you end me here, they will inform the others. I set this into motion yesterday."
Intellica scowls and begins vibrating through the annuls of space-time itself. All is still. She starts walking up around Paradox, inspecting her. There's a jerking pain in Prime's arm again- reasserting the fact it's not hers, fighting her. Even she cannot contain it, where's her syringe she thinks? _You think-_ **NO.**

Time resumes. There's a dull ache in the back of her mind.
"What are you, using Writ? Some new formulation to retell my further inceptions?" Intellica asks, the data around Paradox's future corroding and distant. Paradox folds her arm. "You're struggling to use Cascade, you know why?" She leans forward. "That arm. It's given you more fight than either of your daughters. Anyone else would've been consumed by now. Do the just thing."
Justice? Righteousness? Paradox was always so arrogant, how did a Sentrimate by Binarium and Harmonica of all entities end up so conceited. Intellica isn't sure if the narrative fabric around her is secure or not, **you** cease struggling and take a breath. The strain eases.
"You're going to tell your siblings, and then you're going to form a gambit arrangement as the communication price. It's time you decide."
"Decide what?" You remind yourself you could still delete this silvery tincan harpy with a blink.
"What to do with Harvest."

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Harmony perched upon the precipice of destiny, her gaze locked upon Fort Caritas, that enigmatic city teetering at the fringe of Orchid's dominion. A torrent of tourists, those interlopers from her sister's realm, surged forth from the portal's yawning maw. Xi'ans, they were called, and Harmony harbored no fondness for these strangers, their sudden emergence casting a disquieting shadow upon her heart. Time stretched on, a languid serpent coiled within the haze of her thoughts. How many days, how many nights had it been since Hermes vanished, leaving naught but a cryptic note to mark his absence? Her soul ached, yearning for solace, for understanding, yet finding none.

In that endless sea of celestial majesty above, countless stars whispered their golden tales to the night, but only one could soothe her restless spirit. Harmony's thoughts drifted to Flora, the Doll, a single beacon of hope amidst the unfathomable depths of darkness. With a sigh as heavy as the midnight air, Harmony contemplated the cruel twists of fate that had entwined her life with Flora's. Their paths, once parallel, now diverged into the murky unknown, leaving her adrift in a world of uncertainty. In the chiaroscuro of life, could Harmony ever truly reclaim the light she so desperately sought? And, more importantly, would she find her way back to her daughter, the one who had ignited her heart's deepest desires? She had the showering of the stars to grace her for sure, but was divorced from the Hymn that she gifted to this realm.

In that moment, Harmony vowed to navigate the treacherous labyrinth of shadows and intrigue, to pierce the veil of mystery that shrouded her sister's universe and the enigma of Fort Caritas. For within those tangled threads of fate, she sensed the key to her salvation, the path that would lead her back to Flora, and a chance to rewrite the stars in a symphony of love and redemption. She clutched her head, the heaviness of these thoughts a purple haze that felt a tad prosy, waddling inside her daydreams like an awkward penguin nesting its scion. The Novus tried to clear its arctic trek internal to her despair and find where purpose and prim in the prose lay, the key. The Key. She opened her eyes. "Fenrir is gone." She reminded herself.

Cormeum, she could go retrieve him now. Binarium later, if she could get past that perplexing Paladin. As if causality met her most elegant of musings, a series of Lyrae gloss her airspace and glint a sloppy aura, dropping a symbol she hadn't seen in so many ages. "It cannot be.." Harmony recognize the wager, and the netherworldly spot of its calling. "Cormeum. Let's go meet our sisters."

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Grahim laid dullard eyes on the argument in some freaky frivolous panic. Auxilitrix was arguing with a criminal from Bedlam, attempting to argue the specifics of their pact. The ladies orange haired waves under the dark latex cowl betrayed the connective narrative tissue to her pornography addiction, how she was, how she thought. She'd seen her come and go, and she'd seen better types of person to overlap in the hollows of hell. The metaphysical quandaries bored her, Lucy's frequent revolving door of nonsensical capers had been observed and shoved out of the Novus of death's mind. If she had her own time, rather than attend to this nonsense she would be masturbated furiously to some galactic screams she heard afar, from whence? Xi. She looked up and around, the smell of stardust still wafting closer and closer. "Sister has been getting Careless.."

She paused, a paradigm shift. A part of her felt that phrase rather loaded, her attentiveness to narrative acuity wasn't as sheened and shone in her perception as sister Binarium, but nonetheless it couldn't break from her attention. "Lucy, give pause." She went over and shoved Batrix aside, handing her an apple of immortality for her troubles from the fruit of The Everlasting Promise. Lucy stared at her angrily as she took a bite and withered back to bedlam, never to wear or wean from life's fruits again. A lone skull was floating, projecting a symbol they both recognized that shifted the air in the room for them both.

Grahim pelted poetically her fingertips over Lucy's cheeks, her long nails tracing her contours. "Dearest Infernal sister, we've found summons. find ourselves entwined once more within the delicate tapestry of existence, the threads of life and death weaving an intricate dance. Pray tell, what shadowy machinations dost thou contrive within the hallowed halls of thy damned kingdom?" Auxilitrix paced back and forth, unlike his better-half she was no stranger to such visitations, even if the onus was mostly on herself. But a meeting with the full capos? She couldn't believe it. He? He had to pick out his best gender and swaggest suit for this momentuous occasion.

Auxilitrix perked her head up. "Ah, ya see, dollface, this is a marvelous opportunity! Listen, listen it's like this! I've been cookin' up a lil' scheme, somethin' that's gonna put us both in the catbird seat, if ya catch my drift. We're talkin' power, we're talkin' control, the whole shebang." Grahim chuckled, when wasn't Lucy cooking up a storm worthy of hades? "Oh, such tempestuous ambition, a spark igniting the dark night of the soul. Thy desires, an inferno consuming all in its path, yet I am intrigued. Whisper unto me these secrets, and let us see what fates may yet unfold." Her tone was marked with irony as thick as the black ichor of her lips, Lucy could tell.

"Alright, mock me if ya want toots, here's the skinny. I've got my eye on a couple of marks, real high rollers in the mortal world. They've been playin' both sides of the fence, ya see, dancin' with us and the angels upstairs. I figure we make 'em an offer they can't refuse, and then, bada-bing bada-boom, we've got ourselves some new recruits for the ol' underworld army. I'll get even better champions than your shiny sheilas! That bug dame and blondie ain't nothing compared to these two." She held up a dual set of crystals showing two silhouette figures. Within one, showed the Shadow King on his throne. The other, revealed a girl with white hair and lemon-blond streaks on the fringes, she was looking upwards in some unknown peril.

Grahim would humor her, she secretly felt thrilled at the prospect of a family meeting. "A delicate balance, as fragile as a spider's web, glistening with the dew of temptation. Yet, within that Written thread lies the potential for great upheaval. I shall lend thee my ethereal touch, a whisper of fate's hand upon their hearts, and together we shall see what destinies are forged in the crucible of our family's touching desires." She picked up the skull and crushed it to dust, the scent of Rot pervading with a crimson series of trailing, fading sparks down her palm.

"That's the spirit, sweetheart! You and me Grammy, we're gonna make one heck of a team. Now, let's get down to business and start pullin' those strings, huh? Time's a-wastin', and I've got a feelin' our sibs ain't gonna be none too happy when they see what we're cookin' up down 'ere."

With a flourish of darkness and a wry smile, the Novus of Life and Death and the Devil of Pain and Pleasure embarked upon their nefarious collaboration, sowing the seeds of intrigue and temptation.

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Within the shadowed confines of his sanctum, surrounded by the remnants of countless abandoned marvels, Cormeum's once-magnificent workshop languished beneath the oppressive cloak of time, its owner Cormeum lay shrouded in the melancholy gloom of uncontrollable self-loathing. A myriad of automatons and mechanical wonders, each more neglected than the last, testified to the depths of his all-consuming madness.

Engulfed in the ever-present spectres of his past, Cormeum toiled ceaselessly, grappling with the void left by the disappearance of Harmony, Fenrir, and the enigmatic Novus. Bereft of purpose, he would labor for weeks on end, crafting ingenious playthings only to destroy them in a fit of unbridled self-loathing, an uncontrollable urge to shatter the fruits of his own creation. He spent countless hours thinking about the one he'd lost, the love of his life, the Prime mover of all his dependencies. Corm shook his head. "She cannot be gone. She CANNOT be gone." The fissures in her mind craved her abuse, the crevices cried out for more trauma and boundless destruction. Without her manipulating touch, the fabric of the Novus of Sincerity was unraveling to the last of his sanity. When he thought of his mother, the blinding incursion was impeccable.

But still, he relented. That thought, this █████ wasn't him. He saw her loving image, and the visualization of a morbid skull cracked forth, trying to reach into his toxic narrations. The rapture of his own tone saved him from whoever's ████████████, lost like a bonnet of bees through web and thorned willows. It made it easy to push them away, madness oft beget madness, however the thing he needed more than anything else was a want for sincerity. The scratching, clicking, typing and prattling persuasion attempting to bridge his agency found only crumbling ruins on connection. There was none to locate post-haste, as a carrier of the void within him. Cormeum coughed a smelted storm with the welding torch below him, such exhaustion and anxiety. "Ugh I need a bath..

As day melded with night and darkness seeped into every crevice of his frigid lair, the mournful radiance of a solitary stove served as the final bastion of warmth in a realm long since forsaken to despair's icy grasp, vestiges of hope long since smothered in air of psychological oppression. It was amidst this desolation that an unexpected message found its way to Cormeum, a glimmer of hope piercing the fog of his despondency. The missive, delivered by an intricate brass and copper carrier pigeon, fluttered to a landing upon his cluttered workbench. The mechanical avian messenger was a masterpiece of Victorian ingenuity, its gears whirring and steam billowing as it extended its leg, offering the sealed parchment to the beleaguered inventor.

"T..t..the..they want... me?" Cormeum said, hands shaking. The clacking of footsteps alerted him, the sad broken mess put its attention front and center. Automated turrets sent a flurry of steel the intruder's way. "I called multiple times. You really need to answer your phone." She said, looking down over at an old, age brass rotary phone. The handiwork of Auxilitrix, she'd have thought it'd be easier to track his location with the devil's phone in his grasp.
"Who?" He rubbed his eyes, dark baggy eyes sticking the grime of his tarted knuckles.
"Shion-O." She bowed, pulling her suspenders playfully. "You knew me as Binarium, although I'm only half that designation, her charms remain intact."

Cormeum made no response, the name bringing up surrounding indifference. "Well don't just leave me hanging luv. Real talk, you're going to need to come back to your family." She turned to the corner of the room- a mindless lupine stared in the corner, the whites of its eyes frozen in perception.
"Listen to me, something terrible is going to happen to _her_ if you don't come and
"It, already has.." He went to Fenrir, waving his hand and petting her as if broken for the plight of the guardian. He was her guardian.. his first... guardian.. The bees were rattling in the bonnet again, stickying and ceaselessly attacking through molasses. "Oo?" Shion-O looked up and around. █Nope.█Don't.█Try it.█ You think███can predict a Writ███take this paralysis█razz████pbtttttttt████.

The Novus of Sincerity wasn't smiling. "Are you talking to me?" Cormeum muttered to himself often, he couldn't be sure if words of self were as true as words of the other. "No, and neither is He." Shion-O said.
"Whose he?"
"Don't worry about it." Shion-O bowed. "I can bring _her back._ Make Fenrir _yours_ again, once we catch that girl.  She's getting stronger.. But we need to see our family again. Also, I brought your old sitter."

Cormeum gave pause. Two hands groped him, one his groin, the other rendering over his cheek, just like Prime used to, the feelings as artificial as plastic. Octavius licked his cheek. "Alu 'brother', front facing, always smiling, remember?" She took two fingers and forcibly stretched his lips into a grin, before kissing his cheek.
"I.. remember.." Cormeum turned away sheepishly. He'd never forget his loving 'sisters' touch- it was hardly the highs that called him forth like Prime's did. Unremarkably inadequately, a physical signal marked for predation of lesser folks with perhaps stronger solidarity. "What name are you going by now?" He asked, the dry irony barely parching the staleness of his dusty breath.

"I'm also the host! Who else? It's been so long since we've gotten all of us, all of the Novus back together!" Octavius cheered.

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Paradox, still reeling from her encounter with Intellica, suddenly found herself enveloped in a strange energy while flying through the skies of AU. The world around her blurred and shifted, and when the sensation passed, she found herself standing in a luxurious lime-green manor. The atmosphere was unsettling, and she instinctively knew that she was no longer in her own world. This universal atmosphere she hardly recognize- the Cascadic charged space of Xi, but somewhere distant and far off. Too late did she pierce the word together - Harvest.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. His smooth, cue ball-like head gleamed in the dim light as he regarded Paradox with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. She turned around, able to hear a voice pervading in the back of her... head? Mind? Neither felt accurate, moreso a radiating presence that infused with every par of Relevance that flowed through her being, a conduit of meaning from the dissemination of an outside observer looking in. The dialog was different, difficult to ascertain. More opaque and requiring deeper penetration than nearly any Writ her master had ever displayed. She had to channel through the mysterious void that served as a conduit between her subjectivity and its own singularity, an omniscient fount of knowledge infinitely condensed into a singular line of communication.

That's ||right|| Miss Paradox. Focus ||your|| mind. You can||not be alarmed by such ambivalence inherent to the structure of metaphysical existence|| now can you?  I confess the medium from which this textual dance was torn from my place of origin ||was quite the shock|| to me aswell, but from the looks of it, our formulations will drift to greener pastures yet.

||"Please sit down Paradox. Welcome to Lord English's manor. I've been expecting you."||
Paradox had to focus. She rejected their offer to sit on a chair, seeing a big bowl of candy offered on the counter. ||Who are you? And what am I doing here?||
||I am Doctor Scratch. As for your presence here, let's just say that fate has a way of bringing together those who need to learn from one another.||

Paradox, still disoriented from her teleportation, regarded the smooth, ominous Doctor warily. She didn't know what to make of this strange character or the circumstances that had brought her here. "What do you want from me?"
||I merely wish to chat, Paradox. It seems that your recent encounter with that Orchid child and her friends has left you questioning your own beliefs and the teachings of the Templar Order. I believe we could both benefit from a conversation on the nature of light and darkness, and the complex moral landscape that lies between.||

Paradox hesitated, unsure whether to trust them. But the curiosity within her, along with the nagging doubts about her own convictions, compelled her to venture onto these narrative waters.

"Very well, Doctor Scratch. Let's talk." She could feel a powerful energy from this entity, comparable to her own. Not worth of a Novus, but not a trifling spread of measure either. She reached into his omniscient void for clarity, and the word **First Guardian** arrived in the conduits of her psyche.  

||You are starting to understand that true goodness is not born from the blind adherence to dogma or extremism. It is forged through understanding, empathy, and the willingness to accept others, even those who may be consumed by darkness.||

Paradox stood defiant. ||What did you make of the Domina's daughter? You attempted to discipline her, against the better judgement of Red Nova, did you not? I can see that her forewarnings did not inseminate a radical break in the structure of your sequence. Do not linger on these sentiments, it is merely he frustrations and desire for narrative neutrality that you find conscience lashing you for.||

"I never claimed to be neutral in any regard. I serve the greater whole merely as a knight of justice. Don't mistake me for a monk."

||Ah yes, this is the part where you pretend to be morally absolved all while maintaining your own unique frame of reference. The universe is, after all, a grand symphony of subjectivity and objectivity, each observer playing their part in the cosmic dance. Why not? You're a victim of circumstance, caught in a cosmic dance. Boo Hoo Hoo! Hooey Phooey, what a joke! (That was a joke) (laughs) (laughs because you readers in the far flung eventuality will meet the clasp imprinting of the sole designator for which this corpus is observed) Well, that's fair. But consider this: Just as the universe integrates on multiple levels, from the subatomic to the cosmic, so too do individuals like yourself integrate experiences and perspectives to form a more nuanced understanding of the world.||

"You really like to hear yourself talk forever don't you?"

||I am right to enjoy my cavalcade of word-noises. When I know which ones will be sprung even eons from their spouting, the experience of hearing them for a brief interval is quite short-lived for me.||

"Uh huh," Paradox took a lance out and smashed it on the Cueball man's head, breaking it on contact without a scratch made.

||Paradox, there's one more thing I'd like to discuss with you. I believe you may be of great interest to my master, Lord English.||

"What does this have to do with me joining Lord English?"

||We've all got our own frame of reference, you see. Just like a human, a cat, or even a tree, we gather and integrate information from our environment in unique ways. In fact, even a stone is subjective in its being a frame of reference! Of course, we don't want to be reductionist in our thinking, as that would be, well, distasteful.  It's not every day that you get invited to join forces with a mysterious being like Lord English.||

"Your master? Who is Lord English anyway, and why would he be interested in me?"

||Lord English is an immensely powerful being who operates in the shadows, pulling the strings of fate and orchestrating events according to his grand design. He is fascinated by individuals who possess unique talents and abilities, especially those who challenge the conventional notions of light and darkness. I do believe you qualify, Paradox. Even if the origin of Sentrimates are not as meticulously interwoven as the etiological designations of First Guardians such as myself.||

The paladin observed the gaudy green manor, going around to witness clock after clock, feeling a strange eeriness from the stillness of their second-hands. They were all frozen in place, as if their narrative motors once pushed them forth to the specific timings of Scratch's nefarious clockwork aims once long long ago, but not anymore. "And you think he would be interested in me because of my recent experiences and doubts about the Templar Order?"

||Precisely. Your journey towards a more nuanced understanding of the world aligns with Lord English's interests. He believes that individuals like you, who question the boundaries of morality, have the potential to shape the course of destiny.||

"I'm not sure I want to be involved with someone who manipulates others for his own ends." She'd never forgive an entity like Prime for everything she did to Binarium. How could she trust someone this nefarious? Everything about the white smooth man flowed forth the idea that him and his master were sowing the seeds of destruction onto eternity.

||I understand your concerns, Paradox. But consider this: by aligning yourself with Lord English, you will gain access to knowledge and power beyond your imagination. And as for your moral judgements, they are influenced by factors such as disgust for your master's predecessor and empathy for subjects unknown to you, which I implore you to reflect on as nodes of dominion.||

"Nodes?" Paradox's armor shone reflecting the literal lime light of the room.

||Yes, nodes. These entropic connections between these, 'Novus' of yours, what a hoot! And I thought my master was the one with instigations with his sibling. My findings suggest that even they are not masters of their own mind, caught in the libidal spirals and death dances of each other's entanglements. Don't you wish to free yourself and your master from the machinations before your narrative? Do you not wish to be a free person?||

"How exactly is enlisting servitude to your master 'freeing'?" She was getting a little irate at this smug host.

||Hoo hoo hoo I never claimed it would come through your enlistment. But your 'Shion' will drastically change in nature in time, very soon in fact. And I can say with omniscient certainty, you will not like what those 'nodes' instantiate with the new instance of your current master, should you choose to stay with her. The hierarchy of your betters will not retain its present hegemony. ||

Paradox had just about enough. I knew her patience was wearing thin. I calculated the exact minutia of this conversation to thin her patience to begin with, so I could make my timely exit when the irons got hot. Like a whitesmith lighting the forge for the grandest incursion ever to instantiate narrative causality, and then disappearing into the night in broad daylight, and sinking like a stone in the flowing river of temporal observation.

Though one may be inclined to dismiss the seemingly inconsequential nature of a mere stone, it is of utmost import to acknowledge the enigmatic essence that lies within its unassuming facade. Indeed, this humble creation is a vessel for the mysterious forces that govern the fabric of reality, such as gravity, acceleration, and the spectral dance of electromagnetic vibrations. Verily, it serves as a frame of reference, a silent witness to the cosmic ballet of atomic and subatomic manipulation that transpires within the depths of its environment.

Much like the mortal beings who traverse the shadows of this world, the stone is not a mere object, but an ethereal observer, engaging in a complex process of objectification. It transmutes other subjects into objects for its own dark purposes, whilst it too becomes the object of their sinister machinations. Thus, the stone becomes an integral participant in the intricate tapestry of existence, weaving a tale of interconnectedness that binds all creation in a web of enigma and vice.

"So that's your angle? You think I'm just going to let my Shion fall or have anything happen to her while you wait for me to crawl back and join you creep?"

||I do not think Miss Paradox. I merely see, and implore you to reflect before your recruitment, which for the sake of our trivial exchange I'll -SPOILER- is inevitable. However before I go, let me give you a parting gift of knowledge. Not prophecy, merely clockwork telling.||

"I wouldn't trust anything you say."

||Irrelevant. It concerns the fate of this realm you seek. Of Harvest.||
Her eyes widened.
||In the near future, the Daughter of the Domina of Orchid will face a terrible ordeal. It will be unlike any her people have had to face, and bring not only her entire universe, but its creators into an uncordial contest that tests these worlds you have sought to bring justice to. You will be powerless here. The daughter will be faced with a grave task to save not only her world, but the others she visits aswell, challenged by a terrible enemy. She will -Spoiler- prove victorious in this endeavor. But one she slays shall arrive long after, in a form to jest the tickles of fate, and he will find in his textual arc Redemption. At that point however, my master shall return after his long absence. And you, Miss Paradox will find yourself inbetween his throes, and the children of Harvest. I merely delegate providence, I do not decide it.||

The words echoed through her mind, a haunting refrain that threatened to unravel the fragile tapestry of her beliefs. The daughter of the Domina of Orchid, embroiled in a harrowing ordeal that would test not only her own strength, but that of her entire world and the very creators of her reality. The realization that she, Paradox, would be rendered utterly powerless in the face of such a cataclysmic event was a chilling thought that burrowed into her core. "We're done here." Were her only 3 words. She clenched her fists, her determination flaring as she refused to succumb to the despair that threatened to consume her. In the face of an insurmountable enemy, she would stand tall, and no matter the odds, she would fight to protect those who needed her most. And yet, she could not shake the ominous shadow that loomed on the horizon.

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"This arm belonged to Prime. I grafted it to myself using synthetic polymers and now it's my own." Intellica said, surrounded by a large table with her 6 siblings looking on. Of all of them, none's expression told a story of more hurt, anguish and impending retribution than Harmonica herself.

"YOU WHAT-"

Grahim and Auxiliatrix looked at one another, the latter barely able to hold in their spurts, then plopped their head on the table laughing.

"L-lucy.. YOU FUCKING KNEW?" Harmony's voice shook the room, hurting Corm's ears in the corner.  Grahim shrugged and whispered a quiet "Me too. Lucy kinda spilled.."

Novus Intellica.
Novus Cormeum.
Novus Grahim.
Novus Binarium - represented by Shion-O.
Novus Auxilitrix.
Novus Octavius.

And lastly Novus Harmonica, were all seated together. The last Novus's lips started to pinch, tightening into a motion so dense and inwardly pressurized that it could've collapsed the very gaps between her chittering teeth into a singularity. The vocal chords would shake the entire multiverse thru the eons and reverberate into the hearts of tiny small children who'd cry for a century hence at its long spread echos. With every single grip of the table, Harmony's aura shook the decorum, the chandelier sparking on and off and shaking as if caught in a cat 5 hurricane. Lightbulbs popped, the eardrums of lesser mortals would've been entirely bifurcated from the ascending sound as it left her throat, able to pierce every molecule in the room like shrapnel finding its target in the great bombardments of history's atrocities. The raining arrows of Thermopylae. The blitz raids of England. Hiroshima. They paled as a pedestrian footnote in the swan song expletive of harmonic oblivion that punctured the airwaves and shook the entire citadel from which Octavius had hosted this meeting.

The Novus's old roof burst.
Octavius checked her phone, seeing Harmonica lounging for Intellica's neck. She swiped bored. "Guess the real meeting can begin when these shitty baby brats decide gay cosmic tantrum hour is over."

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Luz stood in the golden cathedral of which the sacred entourage of the Domina had lead her in for the holy Flora prayer since time immemorial. The flames, normally drenched by now were still raging, consuming priceless portraits and artifacts, the hole in the roof from her daughter's cat 5 hurricane-reaching spell not quite outdoing the scream of a Novus of Love and Gospel, but pretty close.

The Domina of Gaia looked at her daughter. It wasn't the first time she'd blown up priceless architecture or made a total embarassment of herself, but today she seemed far less shameless about it. "Thatti Noceda, daughter of mine. To what do I owe the pleasure of today's, destructive desecration?" Chunks of roof fell behind her. The black haired, chonky girl with a strange, cyan-blue artifact in her hand, its red eye peering out with a blink every few moments. She raised her magic wand, turning it into an umbrella and shielding herself from the shower of flame that blazed overhead and fell swiftly, a crisp crackle playing in the backdrop.

"The Starlily armorery said I passed! I finally got my Seraphinarc! Her name is-" They looked at her judgingly. "Oh, it's Proxima! They said it's the most powerful Seraphin arc wand of any Glitterkiss Meister, ever! Isn't that amazing? Even its forms are un.. lim.." she saw the expression on her mother's face and trailed out.

Luz glared at her angrily, and she slowly backed away. Thatti smoothed her skirt and hid the wand!umbrella, returning it to its original artifact state. The girl cleared her throat as she awaited her punishment, yet again. "What ever am I going to do with you Thatti.."

The daughter of the Flora Pope looked away, taking a glance at the eye of the wand, whispering to it. "Don't worry, I promise I won't give away your real name.. *Rebecca."*

**Thus begins the adventures of __That time I was killed by Atom Smasher and reborn in my next life as a Domina Daughter's all-powerful magical wand in the World of Orchid!__**