Ashes Of Exiles

‘Do you think something is amiss with the current leader?’ one Neutral whispered, their tone low and careful, barely disturbing the soft hum of the palace.

‘Perhaps... or perhaps it is merely precaution. Reclamation must always be,’ replied the other. ‘I wonder how they selected those who were sacrificed during the ritual.’

Tyane’s presence, radiant even in infancy, was the result of such choices. The palace itself seemed to acknowledge her significance: the halls stretched in precise, measured lines, and the polished floors caught the faint moss-green glow of energy pulsing through its inhabitants. Every table, every lattice along the walls, spoke of purpose and intent. In the quiet corridors, the royal household moved with careful composure, each step deliberate, each gesture exact, as if even the smallest misalignment might ripple across the cosmos.

In the central chamber, Tyane rested, a subtle but unmistakable radiance emanating from her small form. Her parents attended her with meticulous care, neither rushed nor affectionate—only precise, as befitted the guardians of one destined for a place above all others. Advisors and attendants passed by, their movements like clockwork, their exchanges brief but heavy with meaning, all part of the order that bound this world.

Tyane’s energy pulsed softly, a quiet note within the harmony of the palace. Even among the most disciplined of Neutrals, such power drew attention, measured and noted with practiced calm. She was not merely a child; she was destined to rise above all others, to hold one day the authority of the Order of the Order itself—the supreme arbiter above every realm and every law.

Though the palace offered no fanfare for her arrival, subtle currents of the world shifted ever so slightly, as if already acknowledging the weight she would one day carry. A faint tension lingered in the air—whispers of decisions made, of lives given, and of the burdens yet to come.

A sudden clatter echoed through the chamber, shattering the careful rhythm of the palace. The doors burst open, and a woman strode in, her presence impossible to ignore. The usual white and moss-green of a Neutral tunic had been replaced by deep, black fabric tinged with rust-red at the lower hem, the colours creeping like a stain up the edges of her robes. Her hair, streaked with red clumps on the right side, framed a face set in rigid anger. Even her nails, slightly elongated, carried the quiet suggestion of latent power.

‘Where is my brother?!’ she demanded, her voice cutting across the polished floors like a blade. Every step she took seemed to press against the measured order of the palace, leaving a subtle ripple in the otherwise unbroken calm.

A minister, composed as ever, stepped forward, bowing formally though with an edge of coldness. ‘My lady,’ he began, his tone precise, ‘all those who were selected for reclamation as part of the ceremony for the new Neutral, according to our files, had no remaining relatives. The risk of corruption through attachment was minimal. The decision—’

Before his words could fully register, the woman’s right hand rose. Rust-red energy, mingling with flickers of moss-green, coiled around her fingers like living fire. The air thickened, charged with tension, the faint hum of the palace warping around her raw presence.

The minister did not flinch. Rapidly, deliberately, he extended his hand forward, then flexed his wrist and pointed downward with two fingers. The motion was absolute, every inch imbued with the quiet authority that came only from years of mastery.

In an instant, the woman vanished. The energy collapsed inward, leaving behind a thin veil of laminar smoke, curling in gentle green tendrils, the faint scent of neutral power lingering in its wake. Silence reclaimed the chamber, heavier now, as if the walls themselves had held their breath, and even Tyane’s infant radiance flickered in response to the brief surge of chaos.

The minister lowered his hand, voice calm, measured, almost indifferent, and then turned to the assembled figures in the chamber. ‘I apologise for the disturbance,’ he said, his words precise, deliberate. ‘The woman was undoubtedly under the influence of a dark entity. This is precisely why we must remain neutral, impartial, and serene in all matters of judgement.’

He paused, sweeping his gaze over the attendants, advisors, and observers, each of whom nodded with disciplined composure. ‘As is protocol, anyone who is selected for reclamation has no living relatives. This measure is designed to minimise negative emotional impact and prevent situations such as the one just witnessed.’

A quiet tension lingered, like the last echo of a struck bell. Gradually, the assembled Neutrals departed, their robes rustling softly against the polished floors, leaving the palace calm once more. Only the faint traces of green laminar smoke curled in the corners, a silent reminder of the raw power that had briefly disrupted their ordered world.

Once the chamber emptied, the minister approached the supreme leader, Tyane’s father, whose eyes, though composed, betrayed a shadow of concern. ‘Supreme,’ the minister began, ‘I will investigate the woman’s claims. Should they prove true, it would indicate falsification of internal records—someone from within the Order tampered with the files and documentation I personally reviewed.’

The leader’s gaze was steady, yet the faint tightening around his mouth suggested unease. ‘Proceed with discretion,’ he said, voice measured as always. ‘If corruption exists among us, it must be rooted out quietly, and without alerting those who would see the Order destabilised.’

The minister inclined his head, the weight of duty heavy but familiar upon his shoulders. ‘Of course. I will ensure no trace of this reaches beyond these walls.’ He hesitated, lowering his voice slightly, ‘And... regarding Tyane—witnessing such raw transformations, even from a single Neutral, carries a risk for her as well.’

The supreme leader’s eyes narrowed, following the minister’s line of thought. ‘Elaborate.’

‘Infants born as Neutrals are born balanced, yet their essence is malleable,’ the minister said carefully. ‘If they observe or experience the transformation of a Neutral into other forms—through emotion or conviction—they may inadvertently absorb that potential. The process is subtle, often unconscious, but it can provoke emotional trauma and awaken tendencies that destabilise their core neutrality. Should Tyane be drawn toward becoming a Dark entity, her powers as a Neutral would naturally deteriorate, for Dark ones are lesser beings—though she would still emerge as a formidable force. In such a case, she would be sent directly to the Dark realm, just as the woman who burst into the palace, to prevent the spread of corruption. Such a transformation would not only threaten her own balance but could spread dark corruption among other Neutrals and even seep into other realms, disrupting the delicate order we strive to maintain.’

The leader’s gaze softened ever so slightly, though the tension remained. ‘I see. Then we must safeguard not only her body, but her perception, her experiences. Her early observations must remain... controlled.’

‘Precisely,’ the minister replied, inclining his head once more. ‘If Tyane were to internalise even a fragment of such disruption, the consequences could ripple far beyond her alone. Order itself would be at stake.’

The leader considered for a long moment, then spoke with deliberate authority. ‘Take her to the Isolation Chamber immediately. She will remain in complete sensorial isolation until we are certain her health and balance are secure.’

‘Of course,’ the minister said, bowing deeply. ‘And...?’

‘Assign Vashar, her sister, to guard her continuously for three days. Only she may have access.’

The minister inclined his head once more, already calculating logistics. ‘It will be done as you command.’

Before departing, he approached a general nearby, his voice lowered. ‘In addition, review—closely and with upmost discretion—the documents regarding all reclaimed Neutrals involved in Tyane’s birth. We must verify every record, every selection, to ensure nothing was falsified.’

The general’s eyes widened slightly at the gravity of the task, but he inclined in acknowledgment. The minister then turned and left the chamber, each step precise, leaving the supreme leader alone, the faint hum of neutral energy whispering across the polished floors like a subtle echo of the immense responsibility he now bore.

The minister departed with purpose, his steps echoing softly against the polished floors. Within minutes, a figure appeared at the entrance to the inner chambers—Vashar, Tyane’s elder sister, called forth by the supreme leader’s command.

Vashar’s presence immediately commanded attention. Her black-and-white hair framed her face in a sassy, textured pixie cut, sharp and deliberate, reflecting both confidence and a subtle defiance. She wore the finely tailored robes of a Neutral royal, white and moss-green flowing fabric adorned with intricate embroidery, the patterns denoting her high station and discipline. Every movement she made carried precision, yet a hint of youthful sass lingered in the tilt of her head and the sharp glance she cast at the minister.

‘You will accompany me to the Isolation Chamber,’ the minister said, his tone formal. ‘Your sister’s wellbeing and balance are to be maintained without fail.’

Vashar inclined her head, eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and determination. ‘I understand,’ she replied, voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of protective fire. ‘No harm will come to her while I am here.’

The chamber itself was austere, the walls lined with smooth, polished stone that absorbed light and muffled sound. It was designed for complete sensorial isolation, a space where even the smallest disruption could not penetrate. The crib prepared for Tyane sat in the centre, surrounded by subtle glyphs that glowed faintly, their energy harmonising with the room to maintain her nascent Neutral balance.

Vashar approached the crib with careful steps, her fingers brushing the edge as if testing the energy flows. The infant, radiant even in her brief existence, stirred slightly, sensing the presence of her sister. Though too young to comprehend fully, a subtle resonance passed between them, a quiet acknowledgment of protection.

The minister stepped back, nodding to Vashar. ‘She is entrusted to you completely. Do not leave her side for the duration of the three days. Only upon my return, or by direct order of the supreme leader, may you relinquish this duty.’

Vashar’s eyes softened for the briefest moment, then returned to their usual sharp composure. ‘I will not fail,’ she said, voice firm.

As the minister left to fulfil his other duties, Vashar remained beside the crib, her gaze vigilant and unwavering. The Isolation Chamber, silent and shielded, seemed to hum faintly in response, as if acknowledging that Tyane’s earliest moments were now guarded against the uncertainties of a world filled with power, transformation, and the ever-present threat of imbalance.