Two days later, a steam carriage hissed to a halt before the Stargate. The guards moved at once, pulling the great doors wide as pressure bled from iron valves. Leroy stepped down from the carriage, dressed in a dark green suit, his beret settled neatly as he adjusted his collar. Black glasses hid his eyes, giving him the quiet severity befitting a council leader.
Starmist was already waiting on the front terrace.
She wore a pale blue gown with long sleeves, the fabric light enough to move with the wind. Blue lenses shaped like stars rested over her eyes, catching the afternoon light in sharp glints. Against the stone and steel of the Stargate, she looked almost unreal.
Leroy offered her a small box of sweets from District Three, something to accompany the journey. A second box followed, wrapped more carefully.
“For Starlax,” he said. “When she wakes.”
A faint smile touched Starmist’s lips as she accepted them.
“Where is Lord Star?” Leroy asked.
“He is finishing a few matters,” Starmist replied, holding the box close. “Go ahead to the landing platform.”
Before Leroy could answer, a deep roar erupted from the steam carriage behind them. Metal shuddered. Heavy footsteps followed.
Professor Bjorn emerged, yawning broadly as he stretched his back, clearly dragged from a pleasant dream. He wore his familiar bear fur coat, vest, and red bow tie. His prized steel gloves were still in place. This time, however, he had abandoned the Cogworks goggles in favor of plain black glasses. A leather satchel heavy with documents hung from his shoulder.
He approached them casually, lighting a cigar as he walked.
“You brought Bjorn,” Starmist said, mildly surprised.
“He told me yesterday that Cogworks found a small solution,” Leroy replied. “I thought it best to bring him along. He also has matters to raise with King Darkon.”
Starmist nodded. Bjorn stopped beside them, exhaling smoke with satisfaction.
“So,” Bjorn said, glancing around, “I heard you will be traveling with Princess Samartian. Where is she.”
“She should arrive shortly,” Starmist answered.
Leroy removed his beret, holding it at his side. “Starmist, why not meet directly in the east. The distance from there to here is not short.”
“King Darkon wishes his daughter to grow closer to me,” Starmist said evenly. “He claims it is because of her temperament. You both know what that means.”
Bjorn laughed under his breath. “In my opinion, he is pushing it too far.”
The three of them spoke quietly for a moment longer before the sound of wheels announced another arrival. A black abyssal carriage rolled to a stop, its surface swallowing the light around it. The door opened, and Princess Samartian stepped down.
This time, there was no intimidating paint upon her face. No sharp bone ornaments, no jagged jewelry carved to inspire fear. Her nails were trimmed, no longer talons. She wore only a long sleeved black gown and high boots. Stripped of the abyssal pageantry, she looked simply like a young woman of noble blood, not unlike any princess of the upper realms.
She inclined her head politely before the three council members.
“Lady Starmist,” she said with a gentle smile. Then her gaze shifted to the two men. “Lord Leroy, Professor Bjorn. I did not expect to find two other council members here.”
“We are on our way to see your father, Princess,” Bjorn replied. “You have surely heard as well.”
“Of course, Professor,” Samartian said. “The abyss will be honored to welcome you again.”
She turned back to Starmist. “Lady Starmist, if you will allow me, I would like to board the ship first. The journey here was long, and I wish to rest before we depart.”
Starmist nodded and asked her to consult the guards regarding her transport aboard. The princess bowed once more, composed and courteous, before taking her leave.
“I think she will be just fine,” Bjorn said with a grin.
A guard approached and informed them that Lord Star was waiting for Leroy and Bjorn, and that Starmist’s vessel was ready as well. The three walked together toward the landing platform, then parted ways there, each bound for a different passage through the widening gate.
The journey to the abyss took nearly seven hours. By contrast, the voyage east, the route taken by Starmist and Princess Samartian, lasted barely three.
Their ship descended onto a wide stretch of green grassland. Steam carriages followed, unloading crates of aid sent by the council through Sevenstar. Supplies were stacked in neat rows, metal still warm from travel.
The commonfolk gathered quickly, impatience rippling through the crowd. At first the guards struggled to maintain order. Then Starmist stepped down from the vessel.
The change was immediate.
People noticed her without knowing why. Smiles spread. Voices softened. The line straightened. Order returned without a single command spoken. The guards felt their burden lighten, as if the air itself had shifted to carry it for them.
The atmosphere always changed when she arrived. Her presence alone told people how they were meant to behave.
Princess Samartian slowed her steps, falling a short distance behind Starmist. Her purple eyes focused, not on faces, but on souls. What she saw made her breath still.
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A white aura flowed from Starmist’s body, luminous and calm, wrapping her entirely. There was no turbulence within it, no violent surge of intent. As Starmist approached the commonfolk, the restless colors around them softened. Their agitation drained away. Samartian even saw threads of that white light cling to a few children, easing them into quiet patience.
“No wonder she is the face of the council,” Samartian murmured with a faint smile.
She moved closer again. “Lady Starmist, I can oversee the distribution. You may remain here.”
Starmist nodded. She trusted that Samartian understood exactly what needed to be done.
She turned instead to the people.
“Lady Starmist, it is good to see you here again,” said an elderly woman. “A year feels far too long.”
“May abundance always follow you and the council,” a young woman added.
“We wait for your visits,” said a man, bowing his head.
Children gathered near her feet, speaking over one another. They spoke of dreams of the Mainland, of becoming weapon masters, sorcerers, or Cogworks. They asked about Leroy, about Lucretius, about Amaterasu. What were they like. How strong were they really.
From a distance, Samartian watched the warmth unfold. Even without her sight, she knew nothing here would go wrong.
“Leroy is disciplined beyond measure,” Starmist told the children. “He guards the unity of the council with his life. Lucretius is so powerful that enemies retreat at the sound of his name alone. And Amaterasu is the bravest woman in all the All Realm.”
Their eyes shone as they listened. Parents did not pull their children away. They trusted her without question.
Starmist spoke of the factions, of their wonders. Of the Temple of Morsalem, fortress of the Sorcerer Supreme. Of Takamagahara, its castles shaped by art and nature entwined.
Then a disturbance broke the calm.
A group of men stumbled toward the tents, drunk, shoving aside those who had waited patiently. Bottles dangled from their hands, sloshing and half empty.
Starmist heard the noise and moved at once, leaving the children behind.
“Give us our part now,” one of the men slurred.
The guards ordered them to return to the line. They were ignored.
Nearby, Samartian’s patience thinned. She stepped forward.
“Queue at the back,” she said coldly. “Do the commonfolk not know the rules.”
The drunkards hurled their bottles to the ground, glass shattering as a threat. One pointed directly at her.
“Do not lecture us, little whore.”
Samartian’s purple eyes flared.
She caught the pointing finger, twisted, and snapped it cleanly. Her kick followed instantly, lifting the others from the ground and hurling them through the tent roof. Canvas tore. Poles collapsed. They did not land gently, nor did they strike back.
Everything was resolved swiftly, and without harm to anyone except the drunkards themselves. The surrounding commonfolk swallowed hard, only now realizing that Princess Samartian was a superhuman, regardless of how much she resembled an ordinary young woman.
“If you can behave yourselves,” she shouted, “then return to the line.”
“Princess,” Starmist called out, alarmed by the fury still burning in Samartian’s expression.
But instead of fear, cheers rose from the crowd. Applause followed, loud and unrestrained. The sudden approval caught Samartian off guard. The sharpness on her face faded, replaced by a flush of embarrassment.
“Well done, young lady,” someone shouted. “People like that deserve a lesson.”
Samartian, who had not smiled in a long time, found her cheeks stiff and uncooperative. She avoided their gazes and walked back toward Starmist. The line resumed its orderly flow as if nothing had happened.
“Lady Starmist,” she said quietly, “forgive me. I went too far.”
“I will check on their condition,” Starmist replied.
“Wait.” Samartian’s voice stopped her.
“Why would you still help them,” she asked. “They clearly broke the rules and caused harm.”
Starmist stepped closer to the abyssal princess. “Yes. But people like them exist in every land.”
“I do not mean to offend you,” Samartian said carefully, her tone sharp yet restrained. “But is this compassion part of your duty as a foundation leader, or is it simply who you are.”
As always, Starmist smiled before answering. “I understand what you are asking. Many here lived through harsh years after the war. Strength must be used wisely.”
Samartian nodded faintly. Together, they moved away from the tents to check on those who had been thrown aside. None were dead. Broken bones, bruises, pain enough to remember. When the men sobered, remorse came quickly, thick and genuine.
“Princess,” Starmist asked gently, “would you allow me to introduce you to the children around here.”
“I do not think that is necessary,” Samartian replied. “I am only accompanying you this once. Even that is at my father’s request.”
“It is not about whether you will come again,” Starmist said. “You know how hard your father is fighting to cleanse the abyss’s name. I want you to hear their voices directly.”
Samartian fell silent, resting her chin in her hand. What if the abyss was never accepted. What if her father was wrong. What if she was not ready to hear the truth. Doubt crowded her thoughts.
“If you are not ready,” Starmist added softly, “but still wish to hear them, I can bring you another time.”
Samartian straightened. “It is fine, Lady Starmist. We can do it now. After all, I am the daughter of the bones.”
They entered the play hall together, a vast indoor space shaped like a village assembly house. Guards and parents allowed their children to approach, keeping watch only from a distance. Starmist blended in almost at once, kneeling, listening, answering softly. Samartian, by contrast, stood rigid at her side. She did not smile. Her eyes tracked every corner of the hall, the posture of someone long accustomed to expecting danger.
An elderly woman approached from behind and took Samartian’s hand. The skin was rough and wrinkled, its grip firm. Samartian froze, the sensation foreign, her voice caught somewhere between instinct and restraint.
“You are a pretty girl,” the old woman said kindly. “Why the frown. Are you uncomfortable here?”
Samartian faltered, unable to answer.
Starmist cleared her throat and gently stepped in, introducing the girl beside her. Princess Samartian, eldest daughter of King Darkon of the Great Empire of the Abyss.
At those words, several faces stiffened. Those who had lived through the war widened their eyes. Others simply fell silent. No greetings followed. No words of welcome.
Then a young boy stepped forward, looking up at Samartian with open curiosity.
“You do not look like the abyss.”
Samartian tried to smile, but her face would not obey. Starmist answered for her. “The abyss has many races. The royal line, called Descendants, merely resembles humans more closely.”
What came next startled her even more.
“I thought the abyss was full of monsters,” another child said. “But there is this sister too.”
“Does that mean we could live in the abyss one day?”
“Big sister, can you control monsters?”
The questions came without malice, without fear. Samartian stood silent, listening as the children spoke freely, their words tumbling over one another.
Starmist moved closer and whispered, “Princess, not all hatred is inherited whole. Look at them. Their reactions are nothing like their parents’. They are the generation your father and the council are fighting for. The ones who may yet accept you.”
Slowly, almost painfully, Samartian felt her expression soften. A faint smile appeared, one that had not touched her face in many years.
She remained unaccustomed to such warmth. Mostly she watched as Starmist spoke with the children, answering gently. When questions came to her, Samartian replied briefly, cautiously. Trust did not come easily. Still, the parents did not pull their children away. Samartian posed no threat, and she stood beside Starmist, whom they trusted.
As night approached, the two representatives of Sevenstar took their leave. The tents were dismantled. Steam carriages departed one by one, their lights fading into the dark.
“We will stay in a nearby kingdom tonight before moving on tomorrow,” Starmist said.
Samartian nodded. They walked beneath the night sky toward the ship prepared to carry them onward.
“So,” Starmist asked gently, “how do you feel about today.”
“I think the abyss still has much to do before it can be accepted by the All Realm,” Samartian replied. “My father and the council alone are not enough.”
Starmist remained quiet, letting her walk ahead for a moment. Then Samartian glanced back, a small smile forming.
“But I am curious,” she added. “What do the commonfolk think in other kingdoms.”
Starmist laughed softly, her eyes narrowing with warmth. “I am glad you are thinking that way. I will introduce you to them, just as I did today.”
Together they boarded the ship. It lifted into the night, carrying them away from the quiet field and toward the next task awaiting them at dawn.
