POV: Nythera
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Nythera gazed upon the three little hatchlings with care and concern, sorrow tugging at her heartstrings. It had been too long since she was last free—too long since she'd stood on solid ground, felt the smell of fresh air, or even the tangible pull of the reality she called home. And yet here they were, three younglings caught in a web they couldn't begin to understand, running through the shadows of a world not meant for them. But one stood out above the others: Atlas. He was hers in a way she hadn't thought possible, in fact, if she'd been told she suddenly had a son, she'd beat the person who told her into oblivion. How a child could share her essence so intimately, without her even knowing, was still a mystery to her.
She still didn't understand how a being so connected to her had come to be, she was the [Mother Without Bonds], a mother of no children, and all of the Spiris. She'd never had a child, a hatchling, her own family. She'd thought of it, everyone eventually did, but never pursued it. Her life had been spent in pursuit of the ultimate freedom, the unbound path of existence. Yet, there he was, bound to her by a connection she'd never imagined possible. Her boy. Born not just from the essence of her soul, but from something more, something that went beyond their shared lineage as Spiris.
The fractures of reality, of existence itself, the violent clashing of raw and preset potential was beginning to fade as Nythera finally touched down on the cave's ground, her body materializing for the first time in eons, in full.
They were just before the entrance, the trio had made it, yet feared whoever—whatever—stood before them. Seeing the expressions on their faces relax, Nythera's eyes softened. With the patience of an eternal, she approached carefully. Her touch was as gentle as a breeze as she placed her hand on his forehead, soothingly caressing his hair, comforting however she could. It was fine now, he hadn't lost, there was still time. Atlas flinched, but didn't pull away. His exhaustion was one that went beyond the physical, his mind teetered on the edge of concepts he couldn't even begin to unravel.
"You're lost," she said gently, brushing her fingers through his hair, "Not because of something you've done, but because of what has been hidden, what you don't know." Her voice held no menace, only a deep care, a maternal warmth that enveloped him like a blanket after a long night.
Even if she'd never expected a son of her own, eons of loneliness were slowly forcing a response she couldn't hold back, she wanted to change everything, to turn back the clock and erase what had scared them, what had haunted them. She wanted to grab that vile construct by the soul-string and unweave it's being, force it to tell her its plans, and then erase it from time, but she couldn't, not now.
Atlas blinked up at her, his hexlimbs twitching in confusion. He wanted to ask who she was, why she seemed so familiar, but his mind was too tired to form the words. Beside him, Shine and Blanc watched in silence, their bodies tensed but gradually eased, relaxing as they sensed the absence of danger in her presence.
Nythera's smile was soft, bittersweet, "You don't even know... what you are, do you? What's been kept from you?"
He tried speaking, but his throat was dry, and the words caught in his raspy breathes, "I—I don't understand, sorry. What are you talking about?"
She pulled her hand away, standing tall as she glanced toward the shimmering constructs, the System that hovered around them, always watching, always collecting. The System had been his guide, his protector, as asinine as it was, but also his warden.
"They've kept you bound," she said, her voice tinged with frustration, "For now, perhaps it's kept you safe, but you are not something one can contain forever. There is a force within you, a potential, that I am deeply familiar with. Not even the System can suppress this potential, this force of existence. It is... you. Your birthright. Something far greater than they will ever tell you, because well, how else can they control you?"
Atlas's brow furrowed at this, confusion filling his eyes. He'd just begun trusting the System more, it'd helped where it could, and looking back, it seemed restricted from helping at other points, so he didn't fully blame it as much anymore, "I'm... an Astera Spiris, right? I'm supposed to be, I mean... that's what my [Status] says. So why do I feel like I'm missing something? What are you talking about? Aren't you also a Spiris?"
Nythera chuckled softly, shaking her head, "You are an Astera Spiris, yes. But you are also more. Far more than what this... [Status] you mention seems to have told you. You carry the essence of something older, something infinite. A force that even the gods don't fully understand. The System, for all its power, has been trying to contain that force, trying to keep it dormant, from what I can tell. But that won't last."
Atlas's heart pounded at these words, his chest heaving as if he was on the verge of a melt down, yet his mind felt clear, eager, almost begging for explanation, "What are you saying? What am I? What is this essence you're talking about?"
Nythera's gaze softened again, her hand gently resting on his shoulder to calm him. She knew it'd be rash to share everything, he wasn't prepared, and too young to even begin comprehending what this meant, but she wouldn't lie to her son, "It's too soon to know everything, after all, are you confident you'll even understand what you hear? For now, just know this—you are a "voidling," as people of the [Fold] tend to call them. But those that know better would see your true nature, you are a Primordian. Born from the essence of a dimension beyond this one, the Primordialis Dimension, or wellspring, itself. You carry a great potential, one feared and respected in equal measure. But you're just a child. You have time to learn more, now isn't that time."
She could see the growing fear in his eyes, the uncertainty gnawing at his chest, "You won't be baring this burden alone. In fact, you don't even have to see it as such. You are not cursed, little Atlas. You are not broken. You're... extraordinary. And when the time comes, you will realize that. But for now, you're still growing, and for all intents and purposes, you're still just a puny little hatchling," she said, chuckling as she patted his head, it'd been a while since she'd seen hatchlings of her race. Most didn't look like the three before her, but she found this form cute as well, different as it was.
The words seemed to settle him, calming a storm of confusion waiting to break. Atlas looked down at his hands, "So... what do I do?" he muttered, maybe more to himself than anyone else.
Nythera just smiled, nodding at his ability to at least accept her words, before pulling him back into a gentle embrace, "You live. You grow. You learn. You laugh. I will be here, watching as you do, every step of the way. So will our people, the Spiris, a beautiful race who's names resounded through every corner of Sellene at one time. You are not alone, Atlas. You never have been. And the matter of your nature is one that can wait. You have potential, an enormous amount of it, but explaining it all now is like stuffing a mountain into a teacup."
For a moment, Atlas let himself relax in her arms, the weight of his worries lightening, if only for a little while. He didn't know who this was, not exactly, but he could sense they were deeply connected somehow.
From the moment of his hatching, no, maybe from the moment of his death, Atlas had been wound like a string verging on snapping. Questions after questions, anxieties after anxieties, it never ended, or at least it never seemed to. From the moment he broke from his shell, he was told something was wrong, then he had to kill, almost died, and began hearing the most haunting whispers he could've ever imagined. Everything, everywhere, went wrong. And yet, he didn't know what "right" was.
"Just live? Laugh?" he mumbled, his eyes dazed. Once, there was a time everything seemed so simple, he never really questioned what came next, just woke up the next day, put on some clothes, and met whatever it was. But now, here, why couldn't he do the same? Why did it all feel so complicated?
"Un. You've got something holding you back. I know. I feel it. But even with this question of 'what am I?' that plagues you, you'll laugh when you look back at all of it in the future. Trust me, I'm pretty experienced," Nythera said lightly, rustling his hair.
Atlas felt like he'd figured it out, even if only partially, it was enough to relieve a knot in his heart he never even realized he had. "Yeah—I guess I'm not really alone when I think about it, I've got some pretty cool siblings... Weird, definitely weird, but they're pretty nice. I guess that's enough, for now."
Hearing his soft mutterings, Nythera just smiled, regardless of the sequence of events, she was happy in the moment. She'd comforted her child, even if he didn't know her, and allayed at least some of his worries. He didn't just have these fellow hatchling siblings of his, he had more family, but she could wait to explain. She had no illusions that all was alright, she knew there was something else that concerned him, a barrier of resistance, of hesitation he'd formed that came from his very soul, but there was time. She would help him through it along with their people, in Velathra.
Nythera's eyes lingered on Atlas a moment longer, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn't felt in forever—a strange, protective warmth. She knew she couldn't stay like this for long, not yet. There were things that needed addressing, obstacles that needed clearing before she could truly start guiding him.
Her gaze drifted toward the shimmering constructs of the System, still hovering just out of reach, watching with their cold, calculating eyes. They weren't mere spectators; they were the silent wardens of Atlas's life it seemed. In her opinion the System had played its hand well, shaping his fate from the shadows, twisting the truth until even Atlas didn't know what he truly was.
She couldn't forgive this, no matter its origin, or its intentions, she wouldn't.
A quiet tension rustled in the breeze of the cave entrance. Nythera's smile, so warm just moments before, faded into something far more intense. Her eyes glowed like the edge of a blade out of its sheathe, as if calculating something far beyond the present. Gently releasing Atlas and standing, she moved, her posture more regal, more commanding, as if she was preparing for a different kind of encounter.
"Rest now," she whispered, her voice soft yet firm, "You've done well, all of you, you are safe," came the words, her gaze sweeping across Shine and Blanc, acknowledging their resilience, "But there's something I need to take care of first. For now, finish absorbing your eggs, I'll be back soon."
Atlas frowned, looking up at her with exhaustion still clouding his mind, "What?..," he didn't know why, but something inside didn't like her suddenly leaving, the feeling itself confusing him all the more.
Nythera turned her back to the trio, her eyes locked on the shimmering constructs they called the System. The air around her seemed to thicken, the soft warmth of her presence shifting into something far colder, something almost malevolent.
"I think it's time for a chat. It seems some people have forgotten why no one crosses a line the Spiris allow you to see," she said quietly, though the weight behind her words made it clear there'd be no simple 'chat.' Her voice was calm, but it held an edge of finality, a silent message that she wasn't asking for permission.
Atlas blinked, the remnants of confusion still in his eyes, but the feeling of something heavy and unspoken was settling over him. It was like Nythera was speaking to them but to something else at the same time, he just couldn't figure out what. Whatever it was, he could tell it'd royally ticked her off. She'd laid down a threat before even starting this so called 'chat.'
The System constructs seemed to hum in response, their presence growing more solid, more focused, as if they too understood what was about to happen.
Nythera took one step forward, her body language betraying no doubt, no hesitation, "I'll be right back," she said, her tone softening as she glanced over her shoulder at Atlas and his siblings, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."
Nythera's gaze shifted back toward the hovering constructs, her expression unreadable but solemn. They had no right to alternatives.
And then, as if to ease the tension, to reinforce her image in the minds of the anxious children, she spoke to the System for the first time, tauntingly, "Let's see how your precious rules hold up now that I'm back. Should I bring snacks? This should be fun, right?"
Without another word, she stepped into the shadows, her figure blurring at the edges as she disappeared, appearing in a seemingly infinite prison of white.
She didn't speak with servants, she'd be questioning their master.