From above, the central Sage rose slowly to his feet, emitting a light of resigned gray.“We would be here precisely to understand that ourselves, if you would only allow us,” the Sage replied with infinite patience. “Do you wish to join us, stay silent, and listen, or do you intend to waste more of our time with your... colorful excmations?”Liyr-Vahn, flushing visibly, along with Zeryth and Moko (who had deactivated her third eye and returned to a patronizing standby mode), made their way toward the living wood throne. They sat on the ground beside Etan and Tsuki, while the Council attempted to regain its dignity.The atmosphere grew suddenly more rexed, almost convivial, despite the still-confused guards on the floor and the echo of Liyr-Vahn’s profanity which seemed to linger among the leafy rafters.One of the Thirty, a being with skin like silvery bark, leaned from his stall, looking at Liyr-Vahn and Zeryth with an indulgent smile. “We praise your loyalty and the protective spirit toward your friends,” he said in a melodic voice. “But I assure you, it would have been enough to knock and ask. You are welcome to preside over this session; we are not here to issue a judgment, much less a sentence. Asha welcomes what the world does not understand.”The "Us" looked down at their companions sitting on the floor: Zeryth pying with mercury to stave off boredom, Liyr-Vahn trying to recover a regal poise, and Moko, who with her two standby eyes looked like a bizarre luxury ornament. For the first time since the awakening, Etan and Tsuki felt a different kind of warmth—a stability that didn't come from the gloves, but from feeling part of a group.Another resident, a figure wrapped in a silk tunic that changed color with every breath, stood up on the second tier, staring at the living wood throne.“But now, back to the beginning!” he excimed, spreading his arms. “Tell us first: what drove you here? What force, or destiny, guided two such different souls into a single shell to the gates of Asha? And if it is true that some of you hail from another world...”The "Us" took a deep breath. Etan drew from his memory to structure the facts logically, while Tsuki sought the images and emotions needed to give the tale substance. Their voices began to weave into a fluid, steady narrative, retracing every step of that absurd journey.As the words flowed, the hall seemed to shrink around them. The expressions of the Thirty shifted from skepticism to pure wonder as the details of their bond and the challenges they faced emerged one after the other. Liyr-Vahn nodded solemnly at every crucial passage, his gaze underscoring the gravity of certain events, while Zeryth toyed with his mercury, listening with an attention he tried to hide behind an air of boredom.The story sted a long time—a tapestry of fragmented memories and hard-to-accept truths—until the st word faded into the solemn silence of the hall, leaving the Council in deep reflection. And everyone remained in a reverent hush when they spoke of the guild and of Marcus at the ga, where it all began.The silence that followed the tale was thick, almost solid. The Thirty exchanged gnces heavy with suspicion—not toward the "Us," but toward the logical gaps in a story that seemed to miss a fundamental piece.One of the residents, a being with long, tapering fingers like roots, stood abruptly from the upper stall. “Something does not add up in your account,” he decred, his voice vibrating with academic skepticism. “How could you have saved yourselves from Marcus during the ga? He is a man who leaves no witnesses. And how did you reach the forest adjacent to Aokheaven starting from so far away? The distance is insurmountable for two refugees in such a state.”Another of the Thirty interrupted, spping his palm against the stone of his stall. “It is obvious! There was an external agent. Someone else was the architect—someone who pulled the strings from the shadows to make you, or you in this case, arrive there. You could not have done this alone.”Before Etan or Tsuki could attempt a defense, the Three Sages rose as one. The movement was so solemn that even Zeryth stopped pying with his mercury and Liyr-Vahn straightened his back.The light in the hall seemed to concentrate on them as they uttered firm, decisive words, their voices blending into a single chorus of authority:“What we know for certain,” the central Sage began, “is that this Marcus works for the Empire of Kaelos. And we know that Kaelos possesses a weapon so powerful it can undo matter itself, reducing creation to absolute nothingness.” A shiver ran through the rows of residents. The Sage continued: “But we also know that, fortunately for us, this weapon is still incomplete—or perhaps not yet manageable for those who wield it. This gives us a temporal advantage. A window of opportunity we must exploit before the Empire learns to tame the void.”Moko, hearing mention of a weapon capable of undoing matter, suddenly snapped eight eyes wide open across her face. The signal was clear: the chimera had just sensed that the threat was no longer a political theory, but an imminent danger to reality itself.Another resident stood up—a distinguished-looking man wearing a tunic woven from fibers that seemed to catch the very light of the hall. He took a step forward, looking at the "Us" with an expression of quiet defiance.“Do not let yourselves be overcome by fear,” he began firmly. “We know well that Kaelos possesses technology and resources far beyond the imagination of most, but the Empire makes a fatal mistake: it believes it is the only one to hold the power of those who hail from other worlds.”He gestured toward the seats of the Thirty.“Look around you. Asha is not just a refuge; it is a collection of miracles. Citizen Gingo, present here,” he pointed to an individual with ethereal features who seemed surrounded by a slight visual distortion, “can manipute the density of air molecules at will. He can make it as hot as a volcano’s breath, as cold as the sidereal void, or so thin as to prevent a fire from ever igniting.”Gingo offered a slight wave, and for an instant, the air around the throne of the "Us" became pleasantly cool.“And Citizen Pampare,” the resident continued, pointing to a massive figure with calloused hands and a deep gaze, “can tame and communicate with any animal creature, from the fierce beasts of the dark valleys to the shyest birds of the peaks. And there are many others, as you can see. Here in Asha, peace is ensured by the fact that every single anomaly bances another. For a while, at least, you are safe.”Zeryth, hearing of molecur air manipution, raised an eyebrow and shot a gnce at Moko. The chimera, who still had eight eyes open in arm, began to close a few, shifting to a configuration more curious than defensive. The idea that the "Us" wasn't the only mispced piece on the chessboard seemed to have calmed even the tensest companions.The moment of solemnity in the Hall of the Thirty was abruptly interrupted by a sudden movement. Moko, the little chimera, scrambled to her feet on her webbed paws, totally ignoring the Council's protocol.With an air of extreme, almost ceremonial importance, she marched up to Pampare, the man who tamed beasts. Her eight eyes glowed in unison—a sign that her mind was working at a prodigious speed. She then unched into a rapid-fire monologue, gesturing frantically with her small arms.From her mouth came a series of metallic squeaks, rhythmic clicks, hisses, and guttural grunts. Although the sounds were entirely incomprehensible to human ears, the tone was unmistakable: Moko was ying out a complex thesis, likely a combination of molecur analysis, a philosophical critique of the "Us's" nature, and tactical suggestions for the city's defense. Her face was a mask of rational concentration, her gremlin ears vibrating for emphasis; reaching the end of her speech, she pointed both tiny arms at Pampare, as if she had just thrown down a gauntlet or delivered a universal truth.Pampare, who had remained motionless, listening with a furrowed brow and almost touching attention—a trait typical of those who know how to listen to the silence of animals—waited a few moments after Moko had finished.The silence in the hall became absolute. Even the Sages leaned forward, convinced the tamer had grasped some profound meaning in that animal code.Pampare rose slowly to his feet, looked the little chimera straight in the eyes, and with a deep, steady, and absolutely serious voice, decred:“I didn’t understand a single word.”The anticlimax was total. Zeryth cpped a hand to his forehead, trying not to burst out ughing, while Moko remained with her arms outstretched in mid-air, her third eye pulsing a wounded purple.“Look, I talk to animals, not to crazed furballs,” Pampare added, spreading his arms to the Council with a shrug.The moment of comedy vanished instantly, repced by a solemnity that made the very roots of the throne quiver. The Three Sages rose as one—a fluid movement that seemed to pull the entire hall with it. The Thirty stood in turn, creating a wall of gazes and authority that enveloped the group.The Sages’ voice rang out not as a command, but as a universal w:“Let our guests be protected. Let them be fed. Let them be educated,” they said, the final word accompanied by a knowing look toward Liyr-Vahn, as if acknowledging her task as the guide for these turbulent souls. “Let our secrets be shared, for the advancing darkness no longer allows us to keep the gates closed.”Then, the Three Sages fixed their eyes—made of light, of void, and of time—directly upon the face of the "Us."“Etan and Tsuki, you shall visit the Caverns of the Thinking Fungi. There, in the silence of millennial mycelia, your mind will have no mirrors to lie to. They will help you find yourselves and reach an equilibrium between the two forces that inhabit you.”The central Sage spread his arms, including Zeryth, Moko, and Liyr-Vahn in the circle of his blessing. “Each of you shall have a pce in this, your new home. Asha does not ask you to be normal; it only asks you to be ready.”Moko, still stung by the communication failure with Pampare, lowered her ears and deactivated her extra eyes, sensing that the "sentence" was actually an invitation to a greater power. Zeryth rexed, realizing that perhaps in those caverns, he would find something more interesting than mere mercury.Before being separated, the central Sage gathered them in the stone garden at the foot of the great dome. There were no ceremonies—only the haste of those who know that time is running out.“You have seven days,” the Sage said, looking at them one by one. “Not one more. In a week's time, Asha’s protection may no longer be enough to hide your trail. If you wish to survive Marcus, you must stop being victims of your power and become its masters.”He approached Etan and Tsuki. “You will go below. Your goal is Shared Silence. If by the seventh day you cannot transmute matter without one of you crushing the other, your mind will be extinguished forever in the caverns. You must learn to move as a single thought.”Then he turned to Zeryth. “Your objective is Free Flow. If you depend on a lever or a button to fight, you are already dead. In seven days, the mercury must be an extension of your nerves, not a liquid inside a vial. If you do not succeed, you will remain nothing but a mechanic without tools.”Finally, he looked at Moko and Liyr-Vahn. “You are our sight and our shield. Moko, you must learn to project what you see, or your intelligence will be useless to us. Liyr-Vahn, you must learn to focus your strength into a single point. If you continue to strike aimlessly, you will destroy your friends before your enemies.”The Sage gave a nod, and the guards stepped forward. “In seven days, we shall meet here again. Those who have not reached the goal will not be able to come with us toward the capital. To stay behind means waiting for Kaelos to find you.”Zeryth spat on the ground, nervous. Etan and Tsuki squeezed their hands (or rather, the fingers of their single body). The atmosphere had shifted: it was no longer an invitation; it was a challenge for survival.The Sage was about to dismiss them, but Zeryth took a step forward, crossing his arms. The mercury in the vial at his side seethed with his nervousness.“Seven days to become legends? And who decided that?” Zeryth huffed. “We just wanted a pce where people weren't shooting at us. We aren't your champions, and we aren't warriors. As soon as the guards turn around, I’m taking my gear and vanishing into the woods.”Liyr-Vahn nodded, her silvery aura flickering with resentment. “Asha is magnificent, but this isn't my war. Why should I risk cracking my skull on some spire for a city I’ve only just met?”The Sage of Light took no offense. He simply sighed, a sound like wind through dry leaves. He turned toward them, but this time he did not look down from above. He met them at their level.“You are right. You could run. You could hide in the deepest holes of the earth and perhaps, for a few months, Marcus would not find you,” the Sage began, his voice growing warm and resonant. “But look at yourselves. Look at what you carry within. It was not given to you by mistake, even if it feels like a curse. You are the exception to a cruel rule.”He made a gesture toward the valley beyond the walls, where thousands lived ordinary lives, oblivious to the shadow of Kaelos.“Fighting does not mean loving war. It means loving what war might destroy. Outside these walls, there are millions of people who do not have bodies that transmute, who do not have mercury for blood, who do not hold the strength of light. They cannot choose to run, because they have nowhere to go. If you fall, if you hide, their light will be extinguished in the silence.”He stopped before Etan and Tsuki, resting a hand—weightless, made of pure energy—upon their shoulder.“I am not asking you to fight for Asha. I am asking you to fight so that what happened to you—being torn from your lives, fused together, hunted like beasts—never happens to anyone else. Be the shield for those who cannot even raise their arms. This is not an order. It is an appeal to your own dignity. If it is not you who stops Marcus and the void of Kaelos, who else can?”The silence that followed was not one of submission, but of understanding. Zeryth lowered his gaze, clenching his fists. Llyr-Vahn stopped shimmering with anger and stood still, as if a weight, invisible yet noble, had just settled upon her shoulders.“Seven days,” the Sage repeated, this time with gentleness. “Not for us. For all those who have no voice.”Moko emitted a single, brief metallic sound. It wasn't a funny squeak; it was a solemn chord. She understood. They all did.