TO Rewrite: B3 — 43. Epilogue

PoV:

1. Nilly (Our Chaotic Dead-Beat Mother of Cats!)

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A black cat sat curled at Rachel’s side as she dozed in an armchair. The feline had always been there, yet would never be noticed—no dramatic entrance needed for a being that existed in all states simultaneously.

Twin golden earrings linked together swayed from the cat’s ears, catching the dim light of the hallway filtering through the cracked door. A small bell around her ankle jingled softly, more like a memory of sound than actual noise.

The cat’s golden eyes flicked upward, peering past the ceiling, past the sky, directly at…you.

“Oh my…look who’s peering in again. The watchers beyond the page. How fascinating you all are, huddled there, following a little rabbit’s tale with such…dedication, or should I call this little story a hare’s tail? Not like Nilly’s little fox’s fluffy and snuggly tails. Shame.”

Without motion, without fanfare, suddenly she was standing—an elegant woman with black hair brushing her shoulders, golden eyes gleaming with sly knowledge. Eight gold earrings now swayed gently from her feline ears, and she carried a paper fan lazily across her shoulder—stolen, of course, from a vexed purple-eyed deity who held an Existence worth of evil.

Her transformation hadn’t disturbed a single dust mote; reality simply accepted both states of her existence as equally valid. Such was the life of our First Generation Founder of the Cats.

Nilly stepped sideways, not within the room but somehow between the very pages you’re reading, her form half-visible as if she’d walked partially out of the story right into your mind.

“Tsk… What a cluttered place you live in, perhaps some dusting? It may help keep these little pictures you have of our hare clearer. In any case, are we watching from windows not meant for the little mice? How rude. How delicious. Very well—if you insist, I’ll show you more of how this world unravels when one little hare hops too high.”

Nilly’s fan snapped open, revealing an intricate pattern of creepy eyes, scanning for her, yet never quite able to grasp a glimpse of the truth behind the veil—unable to see you.

She gestured broadly, inviting you closer.

“Don’t be scared! Our funny mob-capped artificial Primordial can’t quite see this high. So many threads in this tapestry, yes? So easy to lose sight of one when another glitters more brightly,” she noted, brandishing the fan to stare into its void-like interior, filled with nameless nightmares.

“So let me be your guide through these quantum possibilities as we come to the close of this volume. After all,” She winked, her golden eyes flashing, “I’m already in all places at once, including your very mind at this moment.”

Nilly’s golden gaze swept across the room you are now in, taking in each exhausted figure.

Nam’s charred skin still glowed with divine embers as he slept in his borrowed bed, the remnants of his shattered Lesser Seed pulsing beneath his scorched flesh. Occasional sparks of celestial fire escaped his lips—a man who had touched divinity.

“Our little prince of fire,” Nilly murmured, circling Nam’s chair without seeming to move at all. “Sacrificed himself to save his angel, broke dimensional barriers to find a host that is no longer there, and caught the attention of those outside yet fundamentally connected to this spiraling Red Sea.” She leaned closer to examine the divine burns covering his body. “Now, his soul grows something new—neither Seed nor Legend, but something…unprecedented.”

Across from him was his sister, Rachel being lost in a blissful dream about running a marathon. Yet, Nilly wasn’t focused on that now. The cat glanced up again, straight at you.

“You remember when Nam was merely Rachel’s worried brother? How far we’ve come in these last three volumes, little mice. How far indeed.”

Nilly’s attention shifted to Alexa, who curled on the attached bed, her physically regressed form a stark reminder of her angelic magical girl transformation. Golden light occasionally flickered beneath her eyelids, halo ablaze with light, a sign of the celestial power struggling to stabilize within her human vessel.

“The little angel whose childish form belies the power she now wields,” Nilly commented, crouching beside Alexa with catlike grace. “A Dormant Greater Seed, touched by a divine entity not meant for the Red Sea… What could that conspiracy be about? That involves our little Lich Empress, though. Not quite for this story.”

She lightly touched Alexa’s silver hair, causing the sleeping girl to mumble something about stars and songs she should have never been opened up to, except a certain hearth-loving mother decided to intervene—Molly.

“Alexa’s connection to the Children of the Sun will grow by the day, though she doesn’t yet comprehend the breadth of the path stretching before her, the vast host awaiting beyond the Maelstrom…or where it leads.”

Nilly stepped fully out of the narrative again, leaning against the edge of reality as if it were a convenient wall, flipping between pages.

“Our angelic Seed here was meant for her husband, you know—Seeds have preferences and are drawn in like gravity. But Molly decided she was going to have none of that! Quite rude of her, really… Selfish. Also, quite…interesting with where these little strings of Fate and Destiny can lead. Where could that plotline go? Not a tragedy, I hope!”

She scratched out a few words you couldn’t get a glimpse at before examining her ink-stained nails. “The universe corrects such imbalances eventually, no matter what our cooking mother determines. She may have some pull, but not that much pull. I wonder if you’ve been paying attention to the signs?”

She slipped back into the scene with practiced ease, moving toward Aella, the harpy who laid awkwardly on a sofa by the window. Her wings twitched with dreams of flight, her wrapped talons occasionally threatening to poke a hole through the furniture as she was drawn into another nightmarish battle against a certain hare—the poor bird.

“Rachel’s newest recruit, or so she thought,” Nilly observed. “Prideful, reckless, humbled by defeat. She tries to escape, but is now bound to Omen through shame and fascination. She has her own path to fly, but resists being a part of the main flock.”

She circled Aella, examining the harpy’s feathers and the subtle glow of her amber eyes beneath closed lids. “She dreams of forming her own flock, of following the example our scrapy hare set. Little does she know that her misfortune and karma hasn’t been equalized yet…”

Nilly’s form shimmered, and suddenly she stood beside Scarlet—dear, sweet, terrifying Scarlet—who rested against the wall, her preternatural stillness a reminder of the Vespertine Reaper’s true nature. Even in sleep, Scarlet’s fingertips occasionally leaked dark crimson energy, staining the floorboards with patterns that resembled ancient glyphs—a response from a certain song our angel resonated with.

“The little bat is still spreading her wings,” Nilly mused, her fingers hovering just above Scarlet’s shoulder, never quite making contact. “First seal broken, but six more chains still bind the keeper of the Red Sea.”

She tilted her head, studying Scarlet with scientific curiosity. “For being the epicenter of everything involving this tale, she certainly hides her true nature well. How fascinating to watch you dance between who you were and what you’ve become—a girl who killed her father to save herself, a tainted divine vessel for cosmic horror that even Primordials fear, a keeper of the void between realities.”

She cast a sly glance toward Alexa before stepping halfway out of the narrative again to look up into your bright eyes.

“Did you notice, clever ones? How our little bat and angel share certain…resonances? Maybe you should go back and look at volume two!” Nilly’s fan tapped against her chin. “Both vessels for powers beyond their comprehension. Both transformed against their will. Both fighting to remain human while housing divinity.. Of course, Alexa is on a far smaller scale. That can expand, though…”

She slipped fully back into the scene, adding with a secretive smile, “They’re much more connected than either realizes. But that’s a tale for another volume, isn’t it?”

Nilly tilted her head, as if listening to a distant conversation. Through the window, Maria could be seen in the backyard, bathing in starlight beneath several industrial heat lamps. The unicorn mythickin sat cross-legged, her horn occasionally flashing with prismatic light as she rested from an exhaustive exchange.

“Outside, our unicorn bathes in starlight, hoping when she wakes up the whole world isn’t collapsing around her…again,” Nilly observed. “Poor Maria…seeing her saint sacrifice herself shook foundations she thought unmovable. Ever since meeting Rachel, she’s been the most pivotal force keeping her thrashed soul stitched together. That’s a lot of pressure.”

Nilly stepped closer to the window, examining Maria more carefully. “Little does she know that our hare didn’t pull her into her vicinity for no reason. She touches divinity through her horn, channels it through her healing—yet she refuses to acknowledge what she’s becoming.

“A saint in gangster’s clothing, clinging to profanity and violence to mask her growing holiness.” A smile curved Nilly’s lips. “The irony isn’t lost on me—nor on the Vatican, who watch her with growing interest,” she noted, her shimmering gaze lifting to the sky, where watchers kept tabs on the unicorn. “This world is vast with so many moving pieces.”

The cat-woman’s attention drifted to the armchair nearby, lingering on Rachel, the so-called Lunar Hare who had become something far beyond a mere Mythickin. Of course, her mother knew that. Molly knows much more than even the deities that have unknowingly been drawn to the Korean young woman like bees to honey.

Nilly circled her chair, her movements fluid like water or shadow. “Such a journey you’ve had, little rabbit—oops! Wrong word,” she whispered with a snicker. “From a disciplined fighter training in your gym, to the Mythickin Lunar Hare who first tasted true power during The Oscillation… Or is that the start of your story? Hmm. Questions. Always questions.”

Nilly’s form split briefly—one version remained by Rachel’s side while another leaned against the fourth wall, addressing you directly.

“Let me remind you how our tale began, shall we? Our adorable self-absorbed protagonist was merely a college student with anger issues and family drama.” She chuckled softly. “A disciplined fighter with suppressed rage and unresolved trauma—fertile ground for chaos, indeed. Yet, as we’ve continued to learn, there is far more to Rachel’s past and family than you were first led to believe. Oh, but how much deeper can we go?”

The two Nillys merged back into one as she continued her reminiscence, “How quickly you adapted, dear hare, gathering allies like Elizabeth and Jeanne… Drawing Zoe and even me into your little balancing act. Like a colossal scale, adding pieces here and there to keep things from total collapse…

“You’ve sucked Anthony into your game, knowing something about him and Fiona that would eventually come about… Something you needed. But before that, you faced down the Cartel and Scarlet Hand. Killing for the first time—how easily it came to you when those goblin necks were held inside your grip under that Azure Moon, little protector. How naturally you slipped into the role of predator rather than prey… Isn’t that worthy of a note? Our harpy realized it. Did you, dear mice?”

Her golden eyes gleamed with amusement. “Then came the Legend Quest—facing Dionysus, that pompous fool. You embraced the Black Moon, the Hell Moon, becoming something that even gods feared. And Izanami—oh, how she played you beautifully, setting you up as her champion while putting your ego against her little Princess of Hell… What a conspiracy Izanami has painted with that game.”

Nilly’s form fuzzed slightly as she continued, “Getting in bed with the US government and forcing them to rely on you. Unknowingly building your strength inside the masquerade at Elizabeth’s castle for Fate’s machinations. Was it really Twilight doing the manipulating? I wonder,” the cat hummed, split-ended tail weaving behind her with ghostly flames.

“Scarlet broke her first seal. The formation of Omen, your private military company filled with monsters and myths. Alexa’s monumental change that unravelled plots involving your mother. Your battles with the Forty Thieves and the Sultan in Ali Baba’s realm, where you challenged Fate’s design at its core.”

She leaned closer to Rachel’s ear, her voice dropping to a whisper, “Breaking Fate’s strings and glimpsing Neil’scera, the City of Eternal Reflections, where you faced your greatest opponent…yourself. The release of Melishna, touching the power beyond the 7th Wall. Meeting Black Hat of the Crawling Chaos, learning of the war between The Crimson Tide and The Ever-Shifting Mists. Now we have a depowered solar-system-level djinn and a fallen princess with some dark, hidden agent within her in custody.”

She pulled back, stepping entirely out of the narrative to address you directly.

“Are you keeping up, little mice? So many plots, so many players. It’s rather dizzying, isn’t it? Even for me, who exists in all states simultaneously.” Nilly winked. “Of course, I understand it perfectly. Even the part left unspoken. But do you? Let’s continue our tour, shall we? I promise to explicitly clarify…some things, so keep up!”

She stepped back into the scene, adding, “And now, little hare, you’ve sparked a Second Oscillation after rendering a hole in the 7th Wall, just as the Montana Crystal prepares to open. Where the Spirit of Conquest prepares her grand entrance with the Primal Goddess of Chains hovering in the background. Such delicious chaos you’ve sown.

“Ah, but why speak only of the past when the present unravels so beautifully? Let me show you how the world changes while our lunar hare sleeps…”

Nilly vanished—and suddenly you both stand in a lavish villa in Èze, France, overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of cypress and salt, a deceptively peaceful backdrop for the chaos unfolding globally. Zoe sat on a terrace, scrolling through her phone with casual disinterest that belied the cosmic changes occurring within her.

Her transformation had progressed subtly—her cat ears more pronounced, her tail longer, puffier, like Nilly liked it, and now recoloring to white. But the most significant changes were invisible to mundane eyes—the quantum fluctuations surrounding her, the way reality itself seemed uncertain in her presence.

“My little kitten here within this storm is safe…for now,” Nilly murmured, her sharp gaze catching the shadows moving among distant trees. “Though the fledglings roost, hawks already circle the nest.”

She could see them clearly—three Imperial Sun agents from Japan, posing as Thailanese tourists. A woman with a camera that never actually took photos. A man whose sunglasses concealed eyes that never blinked. A teenager whose casual posture couldn’t hide the military precision of his movements. They watched the villa with calculated patience, unaware that what they hunted was becoming something beyond their comprehension.

Nilly slipped between pages again, addressing you conspiratorially.

“You remember Zoe, yes? Our nervous little cat-girl gamer who once cowered behind Rachel? Look at her now—housing a quantum impossibility within her soul. Terrifying the Scarlet Hand and even Hell’s royalty…

“And who gave her such a dangerous thing? Oh, that would be me! Of course, she is my kitten, so it’s only natural,” Nilly boasted, flicking back her hair with pride. “My gift to her was possibility itself—Schrödinger’s uncertainty made flesh. Not that Schrödinger invented something that existed long before his theory. Obviously not a theory in my world.”

She glanced back at Zoe, adding, “She exists in all states until observed. Dead and alive. Human and beast. Past and future. All realities condensed into one trembling, tiny vessel. Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Nilly’s lips curled into a smile that never quite reached her eyes as she slipped back into the narrative. Rachel’s parents moved about inside the villa, blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking just beyond their sanctuary.

Molly Park chopped vegetables with practiced precision, occasionally glancing out the window at Zoe with motherly concern. Sam pored over financial reports, his brow furrowed with worry over his daughter’s growing notoriety. His own business partners were starting to discuss her, and there were tensions rising between Alexa’s father and him.

“How amusing that Rachel hoped distance could protect them from the cosmic forces she’d unleashed… Not that Molly is blind to the dangers. Quite the opposite,” Nilly observed, moving unseen through the villa. “Our devoted mother hides dark secrets. Whose blood to spill? Whose side is she on? Two armies that come to her, their flags and weapons look the same. One tells the truth…one lies. Villainess or heroine? No one ever starts that way…”

A blink—and Nilly stood in a marble hallway of the Japanese Embassy in Washington D.C. Erika, the foxy friend of Fiona, smiled diplomatically at a Japanese envoy, steaming teacups between them. She wore an elegant burgundy dress that complemented her bright orange hair, her posture perfect, her smile precisely calibrated to be pleasant without revealing anything.

“Foxes and snakes often sip from the same cup…at least until the venom sets in.”

Erika’s transformation had been standard—no outward beastkin features marked her as changed, excluding her tail and fox ears. But there was a second spirit within her no one had noticed yet.

“You see, dear reader, the question isn’t where it comes from. I think we both know where such fox spirits originate. What you should be asking is if Erika knows it is there or not. Hmm? Nine tails hidden,” Nilly observed, circling the diplomatic pair unseen.

“The power may be dormant but its origins weren’t The Oscillation. Not everything originated from that moment, as we’ve seen hints of from the Scarlet Hand and all their preparations… As we know, certain deities have also been active for quite a while after The Convergence.”

She noted how the Japanese envoy’s hand trembled slightly when Erika smiled, how perspiration beaded on his forehead despite the controlled temperature. Why was the spokesperson of Omen there? On official business for Rachel? Maybe. Maybe not.

Nilly stepped between worlds again, her form partially visible as she addressed you.

“Threading so many needles, telling so many lies—I do appreciate a good trickster. Fiona’s manager and old friend has a more colorful past than our fairy queen knows.” She flicked her fan open, adding a grin, “Though no one can rival my mystery, of course—the Founder Cat Mother who died nine times in the Founder and Primordial War yet didn’t die. Not that that has much to do with this story.”

The embassy scene dissolved as Nilly snapped the fan closed and clapped her hands once. Reality flickered, and suddenly stars rained down like petals—the Second Oscillation rippling across the world.

“And it begins! When the Seventh Wall cracked… Oh, how the restricted Seeds scattered.”

Nilly watched as one in every twenty-five humans awakened new Seeds—dormant potential stirring to life. Animals transformed into mythic beasts, plants twisted into magical forms. A tiger in a Brazilian zoo grew six legs and began speaking in Sanskrit. A rosebush in Central Park bloomed flowers that sang melancholy ballads about lost love. A subway train in Tokyo derailed into another dimension, returning five minutes later with all passengers transformed into variations of their true selves—or were they themselves at all?

Entire landscapes warped under the sudden influx of supernatural energy—the Grand Canyon filled with glowing blue water that flowed upward, Mount Fuji exhaled plumes of butterflies instead of smoke, the Sahara bloomed with crystal trees for twenty-three minutes before reverting to crimson sand, the forest now growing below its glossy surface.

Cosmic rifts appeared briefly in major cities—Moscow, Beijing, London, New York—before sealing themselves, leaving behind changed realities. Eldritch creatures slithered through these cracks, unnoticed by most but felt by all as a collective shiver down humanity’s spine.

A Greater Seed, vast and incomprehensible, quietly embedded itself into Earth’s core—silently, irrevocably altering the planet’s very nature. That was no accident, but a plot by who? And far beneath England, the World Tree stirred, its roots already spreading unseen beneath London, Paris, and Berlin, connecting realities never meant to touch and a certain dragon fed off those energies.

Nilly stood amid this planetary transformation, her typically unstable form firm despite the chaos surrounding her. She turned to face you directly, stepping completely out of the narrative, her golden eyes gleaming with mischief and wisdom beyond foresight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? The transformation of more than an entire world. So much potential, so much delicious uncertainty. Rachel may have started this by breaking Fate’s string, but she doesn’t comprehend the tapestry now being woven.” The cat leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “The Oscillation was merely a prologue. The Second Oscillation? Still just setting the stage. The true performance that stirs beneath the waves which will bring about evolution… Oh, my bad! That’s yet to come.”

She stepped back into the unfolding chaos, adding a satisfied smile:

“Mmm. The world isn’t broken, little mice… It’s simply…growing teeth. But for what?”

As Nilly savored the chaos of the Second Oscillation, chains of starlight suddenly laced across the space before her—delicate and humming with cosmic power. A figure stepped through the chains (or perhaps had always been there): violet-haired, haloed in floating cosmic restraints that moved around her like living jewelry. Her eyes contained galaxies, her skin shimmered with the light of distant omniverses, and her movements left traces of multiversal nebulae in the air.

Nungal.

Nilly twirled her fan, unimpressed but undeniably amused by the unexpected visitor.

“Breaking quarantine, dear Jailor? What might your brother and mother think?” she asked, her tone light but edged with caution.

Nungal smiled with mysterious warmth, her chains floating around her like ornaments rather than restraints. When she spoke, her voice echoed as if coming from multiple dimensions simultaneously.

“And you, dear Cat, weaving too many fates into one yarn ball. Tsk-tsk. A visitor from some distant place, no doubt. I see your single thread woven into that tiny cat…and how powerful it is.”

A delicate tap of a chain against Nilly’s fan. Nilly stepped sideways, bringing you into their conversation with a flourish.

“Allow me to introduce Nungal, dear watchers. You’ve briefly met her. The Jailor. The Chain-Bearer. Daughter of ancient Sumerian gods, yet something far more than the deities you’ve been acquainted with.”

Nilly’s fan gestured elegantly toward the violet-haired entity as the young woman watched her with calculated intrigue. “She binds that which should not be free…or perhaps frees that which should not be bound. Semantics are so tedious at our level, aren’t they, dear? And don’t mind me, I’m just talking to myself!”

Nungal’s gaze shifted briefly before returning to the cat. She spoke as if across eons: “Oh, I highly doubt that, mysterious cat. Even heavier chains now tighten around your precious hare. Pray she can handle Butter correctly or else Earth may be in real trouble.”

Her chains rattled softly, forming patterns that resembled mathematical equations in the air between them. “The Quarantine weakens, and despite the assaults of the Crimson Tide, we will be ready. The rules change.” Her cosmic eyes narrowed slightly. “But you would likely know that better than most with what I sense. You play dangerous games, Schrodinger’s Cat.”

Before Nilly could respond, Nungal was gone—leaving only the faint scent of stardust and the rattle of chains.

“Some links…are best left unraveled, Daughter of the Underworld,” Nilly mused to herself, before turning back to you with a sly smile. “It seems I’m causing too many ripples in the pond. Cryptic, isn’t she? Always speaking in riddles and portents.

“But that’s cosmic entities for you—we do love our mysteries, even when they involve those we do not know. Game recognizes game.” Her fan snapped open, revealing entranced, deadly nightmares forming within its folds. “Let us dance across the transforming world, shall we? So many pieces in play, so many delightful disasters unfolding.”

Nilly weaved through Earth’s changes with ghost-steps—not traveling but observing from all points simultaneously, a true creature of quantum possibility.

In France, Jeanne d’Arc and Charlemagne rallied hidden orders against Hell’s new advances. Not that a certain Princess of Hell was their opponent, just a quiet observer.

The saint stood atop Notre Dame’s roof, her armor gleaming with divine light as she addressed her knights—both blessed and cursed with eternal reincarnation in fire. Charlemagne’s massive form cast long shadows as he outlined battle plans with France’s prime minister, his tactical genius undimmed by centuries of rebirth while plotting his own agenda between the lines.

Meanwhile, Wolfgang’s infection of the WHO spread like a virus, with Yseress—that manipulative Nephilim of Yomi—pulling strings from the shadows. There was a plan. A plan aligned with The Tower.

Wolfgang’s humane mask occasionally slipped during high-level meetings, revealing glimpsed horrors beneath his handsome features. Yseress worked through proxies, her half-angelic, half-demonic influence corrupting even the most dedicated health officials. Their plots extended beyond Europe, mixing with small threads that delved into Ireland, Cuba, and South America.

“Old swords drawn anew…but the strings are not in their hands anymore.”

Nilly glanced at you, stepping partially out of the narrative.

“The game grows more complex with each passing hour. Heaven, Hell, and Earth—all pieces on the board. Jeanne fights for human survival while Yseress seeks to drag us all into Yomi’s darkness…but is that truely what her mistress desires? And who benefits from their conflict? Neither side, I suspect. Izanami is a crafty animal, indeed…longing for the light that rejected her.”

Russia presented its own chaotic tableau as Astra and Eden (Aurora's true identity as Eris’ mystic) stirred the sleeping USSR relics. Astra’s mechanical form shifted between male and female presentations as they infiltrated Moscow’s power centers, while Eden danced through security checkpoints, her chaotic influence causing systems to fail and guards to ignore obvious breaches.

Nilly’s claws retracted and extended rhythmically as she shifted her focus to one of Eden’s other hidden allegiances. Few knew that the Mystic of Eris played multiple sides like a virtuoso violinist—strings and all.

“Our little chaos agent has more masters than she lets on,” Nilly purred, golden eyes gleaming. “The cosmic chess board has many players, but Neo Daemon prefers to flip the table entirely. They’re quite entertaining that way. Not that you, dear mice, have seen much of them other than background noise… Maria certainly owes them a thank you.”

A blink—and you stood with Nilly outside an abandoned Soviet research facility deep in the Siberian wilderness. The complex appeared derelict, a relic of the Cold War, but beneath the crumbling exterior lay a labyrinth of cutting-edge research facilities and arcane chambers where science and mysticism melded into something beyond comprehension.

Eden—no longer wearing Aurora’s skin but a sleek, almost liquid metallic suit that shifted colors with her movements—walked through scanners that rippled like water at her touch. The mask of frivolity she wore around Astra was gone, replaced by calculated focus.

“Neo Daemon isn’t built on a Tower like Babel, you see,” Nilly explained, walking alongside Eden without being perceived. “Where Babel seeks to reach the heavens through rigid structure and ambition, Neo Daemon burrows into the foundations of reality itself, creating controlled collapse since…well, they operate for deities already! The organization of Mystics. I wonder how the Crow fit into that picture,” she winked.

As if to illustrate her point, Eden passed a massive chamber where scientists in hazmat suits containing their shifting forms induced controlled fractures in what appeared to be a miniature version of the Montana Crystal.

“They were the ones who intervened during Elizabeth’s masquerade—not out of kindness to Rachel, but to deny Babel’s Vollstrecker from acquiring the Thorns of Christ and Catherine’s legacy,” Nilly whispered. “A calculated move in a much larger game… At least, that’s what it appears on the surface. You never quite know with our elusive drama succubus!”

Eden entered a circular room where twelve figures waited around a table of swirling mercury. Their shapes constantly morphed—sometimes human, sometimes bestial, sometimes geometric patterns that defied biological categorization.

“The Disruptors,” Nilly named them. “Neo Daemon’s answer to Babel’s Spire Heads. In fact, they’re polar opposites! Less rigid, more…adaptable.”

One figure separated from the others—a woman whose skin appeared to be made of obsidian glass with fracture lines of molten gold. They all wanted anonymity, of course. When she spoke, her voice harmonized with itself across multiple octaves.

“Report on Project Quicksilver,” the woman commanded.

Eden bowed slightly, showing Astra a small smirk. “Phase One complete. Astra has been extracted from the Scarlet Hand’s network and we are redirected toward Russia… Which is why we are here.”

“Don’t be smart with us, Eris… And the Montana Crystal?”

“Oh, no need to be so stiff. Chaos is what you wanted. Don’t tell me you can no longer handle me?”

“Eris…”

“Fine, fine. How boring… Rachel has unwittingly created the perfect conditions for its awakening. When the Spirit of Conquest arrives, the entire board will shift in just the way you expected. I just hope there isn’t any hiccups! Misfortune has its way of tangling carefully laid strings.”

The woman’s fractured face shifted into something approximating a smile. “I’m sure it does. You seem to have taken quite the interest in our enigmatic hare. And the other variable?”

“Zoe’s transformation into…whatever she is is not something we should approach. She exists in multiple states simultaneously now—the ideal vector for what comes next but not something to get near.”

Nilly chuckled, and for just a moment, Eris’s head snapped toward the sound, her eyes narrowing as if sensing something beyond perception.

“Oh my,” Nilly whispers to you. “The chaos agent almost caught us watching. I’m being a bit too careless. Isn’t that delicious? She’ll wonder who infiltrated this meeting and it will buzz in her mind for months!”

The obsidian woman approached Eris with narrowed eyes. “Your work with Eden continues to serve our needs…but do not allow her to become more bold with her independent actions. The Tower wishes to build and absorb us; we wish to transform and elevate to our true order. When the Spirit of Conquest arrives, the game truly begins.”

Eris took a deliberate step back, head tilting somewhat defiantly. “I’m not here to be your pet, Ate. I’m here for moral support and solidarity. Don’t mistake my action for acceptance of your cause.”

“Of course not…Agent of Chaos. Until the Inverse Oscillation.”

The meeting continued, discussing operations across six continents and preparations for that ominous event.

“The grand ballet continues, and what could that be about? Inverse Oscillation? Curious!” Nilly observed as the scene began to shift once more. “Babel builds its Tower of ambition, Neo Daemon orchestrates controlled collapse for perhaps an even greater hubris than the Tower itself, the Scarlet Hand weaves its fingers into cosmic tapestries, and Fable’s White learns how to rewrite the narrative itself. Such delightful chaos for our little hare to navigate.”

She leaned closer, eyes glittering with mischief. “And all of them—every single faction—underestimate what Rachel Park truly is. Oh, but you see it, don’t you, clever mice? She’s no mere Mythickin, no simple vessel for the Lunar Goddesses. She is Misfortune incarnate, the thread that unravels Fate’s grand design, not because she wishes to, but because it is her nature. But is that her only nature, hmm?”

Nilly’s form shimmered as she guided you away from Neo Daemon’s secret council, her tails flicking with satisfaction. “Now, shall we check on our cosmic chess players? Meanwhile, Baba Yaga’s chicken-legged hut soundlessly moved between trees, occasionally stopping to allow the ancient crone to gather herbs or speak to animals who brought her news.”

Unbeknownst to most, the witches and hags of the world were gathering to her call, preparing for what was to come—the evolution.

“Oh-ho… Grandmothers with chicken legs and crooked smiles. Never trust a house that walks away when you’re not looking,” Nilly advised with a sly smirk. “The old woman will give you everything…yet, in the end, while you gained the world…you lost what you care for most.”

Nilly watched with particular interest as Baba Yaga secured divine fragments from Rachel’s misfortune—each carefully preserved in mystic containers, paving roads to destinations unknown to any but the Eldritch themselves. Well, and Nilly, of course.

“Russia fragments into competing factions, you see,” Nilly explained, fully stepping out of the words on the page to dangle her tail in front of your face. “The old, great bear of the north split into many wolves—each hungry for power, territory, divine influence. Yet, in the end, only one can devour the others to become the powerful mother bear again. And Baba Yaga? She benefits no matter who wins, collecting fragments of the Eldritch, Fate, Destiny, Karma, Luck, and Misfortune like a child gathers pretty stones. For what end?”

She shifted her attention to Montana, where Grace Alexander slumped over a bar counter—hatless and vulnerable. The loss of her mother’s hat seemed to weigh on her more than all the horrors she’d witnessed in Ali Baba’s realm. Her silver pistol lay beside her untouched whiskey, and her spectral horse, Jim, occasionally materialized to nuzzle her hair before fading back into the ether when chased out by the barkeep.

“A cowgirl without her hat is like a star without her sky… Eden knew this. Why take our Calamity Jane’s hat, leaving our cowgirl with a head full of demons? What chaos will this bring, I wonder? Her visit with the Crow should be intriguing.”

Nilly’s gaze shimmered—no longer tethered to the sleeping body in Rachel’s room, but instead fixed upon a ghostlight echo: Alexa’s astral silhouette stood beneath a sky steeped in blood-slicked moonlight. Scarlet hovered above her like a drowned seraph, wreathed in stillness. A vision. Or perhaps a memory that had yet to happen.

The girl’s transformation twisted anew—no longer merely magical nor innocent. Something liminal stirred. Her childlike form, too small for what it contained, reached toward the hemorrhaging moon—toward Scarlet—drinking in its ruinous light. Behind her, the shadow she cast fractured, lengthened, bloomed into wings that did not belong to her flesh.

“The Blood Moon murmurs secrets in tongues older than Transcendent thrones,” Nilly whispered, her ears flicking. “She remembers now—a vow of fate, to rise higher than despair’s last breath. The moon wept to bear her through the veil. Winter howls cold, but with the Lord of Heaven…”

Her tails curled, ears stilling. “She will prevail.”

In England, the Scarlet Hand tempted Fiona with her sister’s life, while Anthony prepared to breach Balor’s cursed Ireland. Fiona’s tiny fairy form hovered uncertainly near the World Tree’s roots, her prismatic wings changing color with her emotions—currently a troubled violet tinged with desperate red. Anthony studied maps of Ireland, provided by the knights, his spear occasionally flaring with divine fire as his rage built.

“Red strings bind hearts…and sometimes snap spines. Love can be the greatest gift, and the heaviest burden.”

Nilly’s cosmic gaze caught Tyreese—Rock—Rachel’s old trainer, alone in his gym in Florida. He moved through forms with silent intensity, something ancient beginning to stir beneath his skin—a Seed awakening long after the initial Oscillation. With each punch thrown, his skin briefly hardened to granite before reverting to flesh, a transformation he hadn’t yet noticed but would soon be unable to ignore as dead titans fell from beyond the 7th Wall.

“Even old wolves find new fangs when the hunt grows crueler. The massacre hidden behind the protective curtain of the 7th Wall reveals broken vessels, waiting to be filled.”

Disembarking from a ship off the coast of Madagascar, Relica plotted her next move—meeting with an old friend, an authoritarian queen, some would say. What happened in this island’s terrible past that would awaken such a legend? The mystic terrorist may have survived Rachel’s wrath—survived Karma with divine support—but for how much longer?

Ravilla bowed insincerely before Ranavalona, the cruel queen whose influence now extended beyond her island nation. The queen’s chains—magical restraints that bound both body and soul—hung from her throne, each link representing a captured myth or legend. Relica’s eyes betrayed her true feelings despite her subservient posture, a fact not lost on the watchful queen.

“Friends who smile with sharpened teeth make for delightful betrayals. Snakes may sleep…but the threat comes not from the bite itself, but what creeps in after. So what happens when two snakes coil each other?”

Erika, elegant and poised, smiled sweetly across embassy tables—papers passing hands. The fox spirit within her grew stronger with each deception, each successful manipulation adding power to her hidden tails.

“Some masks wear faces better than faces themselves.”

Mei, Chang’e’s assistant, stood on the lunar surface, her traditional Chinese robes billowing in an atmosphere that shouldn’t exist. She seethes politely as Moongmor, the excitable lunar rabbit, presented her with yet another inappropriate gift—this time a thigh-high stocking embroidered with anime characters.

“Moonlight dances differently on fools and kings. Which one, little rabbits, are you?”

Above all this mortal scrambling, a shimmering cosmic web trembled as Twilight wove new rules into the fabric of reality, while Fate moved new threads into place to keep pace with the game she’d once controlled absolutely.

“Now, why would Destiny empower Twilight to face her sister instead of doing it herself? There’s an intriguing question!”

The two entities faced each other across a multidimensional chessboard, moving pieces that represented entire civilizations, divine bloodlines, cosmic forces—each move altering history and future simultaneously.

“The game is no longer Fate’s alone. Shall we see who else joins the dance, hmm? Or…perhaps this was the plan all along? There are forces moving beyond Fate and Destiny that must be checked, after all. Who are they? Well, have you been paying attention, little mice?” Nilly asked with a small smirk, attention drifting off into the void beyond the Maelstrom before returning to the center, below the glass wall below the Red Sea. “I’ve been there, you know. So has a certain fox I know, but only a few of you will likely know that story.”

Nilly stepped fully out of the narrative again, circling around you as if examining an interesting specimen.

“Are you beginning to see the pattern, my curious little mice? The connections between seemingly disparate events? Rachel breaking her own first seal through the Black Moon, which led to Scarlet breaking hers, which led to the shattering of Fate’s string, which allowed Twilight to gain power through Destiny, which triggered the Second Oscillation and so, so much more.”

She smiled, revealing slightly pointed canines. “Cause and effect, rippling across Existences and narratives. Beautiful chaos with exquisite design hidden within.”

In China, warring Emperors clashed unseen; Empress Wu rose amid the ashes, her power growing daily. Her court assassins eliminated rivals silently, her diplomats secured alliances cautiously, and her mystics worked ancient magic purposefully—all serving her vision of a unified Middle Kingdom under supernatural rule.

Both the Tower of Babel and the Scarlet Hand wove plans around the World Tree’s expanding influence, their agents clashing in shadow wars that the public never witnessed.

“Dragons snarl over broken kingdoms…but the real prize lies underground.”

Ireland remained sealed by Balor’s curse, the country bleeding into mystical isolation. Green mist surrounded its shores, turning back all who attempted entry—except for those with ancient ties to the land. A caveat few had realized yet.

Unfortunately for Balor, our demon spurred the table of someone who takes such actions quite seriously… Izanami’s quiet invasion inched closer to breaching those ancient barriers, her yokai scouts testing weaknesses, her divine influence seeking cracks in the defenses. The meltdown was inevitable, but the outcome uncertain.

“Storms hide many ships… Pirate Lords gather, and more knives hide ready to be planted in every back. So many threads, so many puppets dancing on strings they cannot see. But the true performance is yet to begin. So let’s fast forward to give you a little sneak peek.”

Nilly holds out an arm to link with your own, flashing sharp, feline fangs. “Shall we?”

Dozens of pages flip and two days pass in the blink of an eye, the Second Oscillation still directly on the minds of the whole world. Yet, certain events required immediate attention, even if the world had been turned upside down…such as a Crystal Break.

The cat leans against your side, pressing in close to whisper into your ear. “I’ll take you directly to the anticipated scene. Where Conquest arrives. Fate, the Scarlet Hand, Babel—everyone involved in the previous narrative wanted certain individuals gone the moment The Oscillation occurred.

“Well…Fate’s string broke. And one of those deadly individuals has returned. Rachel is just waking up, Scarlet watching from beside our hare, but she’ll need to intervene soon. Because our golden twin has arrived. Twins with a colorful past, a war that spans ten thousand lives.

“Welcome back to Earth the Spirit of Conquest Ashrit—oh, wrong name! Wait, there are so many people here to greet our High Queen. Quick, here’s a sign. Hold it up! Welcome home, Butter! Not that you’ve really ever lived on Earth since, you know, your big sister murdured you in the womb!”

The Montana Crystal shattered with a sound that transcended mere noise—a multidimensional fracture that registered as pressure rather than sound. Soft amber light poured forth like liquid gold, coalescing into shapes that defied natural law. Military personnel snapped into defensive formations, their weapons trained on the breach while myths and legends gathered in silent anticipation.

El Santo stepped forward, his silver mask gleaming in the ethereal light. His massive frame cast a long shadow as he positioned himself at the front line, muscles coiled with tension beneath his wrestling attire. The Legend of the Silver Mask had faced countless opponents in his divine battles, but something in the energy emanating from the Crystal made even his steadfast heart quicken.

“Prepare yourselves,” he called to those behind him. “Whatever comes, we stand together.”

Behind him, General Tom Dallas barked orders into his radio, coordinating a perimeter that everyone knew would be useless if what emerged proved hostile. Red’s crimson cloak billowed in an impossible wind as she drew her axe, its edge gleaming. Black whispered to Gray, their expressions grim as they flanked Green, whose turtle shell shimmered with protective enchantments.

Grace Alexander checked her silver pistols, her new black hat pulled low over her eyes—temporary until she found her mother’s. “Jim doesn’t like this,” she muttered to no one in particular as her spectral horse materialized briefly beside her, pawing nervously at the ground before moving a distance away in case she needed a quick escape. “Sucks the boss isn’t here yet.”

From within the fractured Crystal stepped a figure of pristine white—Snow White, the leader of Fable, her legendary beauty unmarred despite the delicate chains binding her wrists. She moved with measured grace despite her restraints, her eyes scanning the assembled forces with calculated intelligence.

Behind her emerged a slender figure with dark hair tied in a practical braid. Her blue eyes alert and watchful, carried an iron club at her side—a weapon that seemed at odds with her small, delicate frame. She held an almost artificial beauty, appearing to be Latino. Her movements were fluid and precise as she scanned the gathered forces, vision narrowing.

Nilly leaned in to whisper in your ear. “That’s Adoncia, personal maid to the High Queen of Nethermore. Shh. Things are going to get interesting. Here comes Butter…and Rachel just woke up.”

Then, radiating power that made the very air shimmer, an almost celestial beauty stepped through:

She emerged through the light with a transcendent presence, her liquid golden hair flowing around a face of impossible perfection. Gleaming, flawless sunkissed skin showed something out of fantasy. Slightly pointed ears were reminiscent of elves.

Her aquamarine eyes glowed with gentle power, surveying the gathered forces with amused interest. Her white, shimmering gown rippled around her like water, giving her the appearance of royalty incarnate—sweet, warm, yet utterly commanding.

Adoncia immediately moved to Butter’s side, her posture shifting to a protective stance as her icy eyes flickered briefly with gold.

Snow White leaned close to Butter, her whisper carrying only to Butter and your ear. “Was it necessary to chain me? To play the antagonist this way, High Queen?”

Butter giggled—a sound like silver bells that somehow made the armed forces step backward despite themselves, her radiance brightening with the glorious, rainbow pendant she wore. Paul Bunyan moved to stand beside El Santo with his ox, which immediately caught Butter’s attention.

“This speeds up the process,” she replied, her voice musical and light. “A formal introduction would take weeks of diplomatic nonsense. This way,” she gestured toward the defensive line, “,we get right to the fun part. And what a divine creature that is. I want one.”

Snow’s lips curved in a barely perceptible smile. “Of course you do. As you wish, Highness. I have faith in your process and powers but please don’t take it too far.”

El Santo moved forward with a ceremonial grace. His voice carried across the parking lot, resonant and commanding: “En el nombre de la justicia, ¡alto ahí!” He planted his feet firmly, hands raised in a stance that invited neither aggression nor submission as “Identify yourselves and state your purpose on Earth.”

“White?” Green called out, flexing her fingers and looking nervous while staring at her chains. “What’s the situation?”

The soldiers tightened their formation as Butter took another step forward, her bare feet leaving golden footprints that shimmered briefly before fading into the earth. Piles of what remained of the snow that had been piled in the parking lot began to melt, running in streams toward her. The legends, myths, and Crow mystics tensed, diverse power radiating from them in waves.

Adoncia’s grip tightened on her club, her eyes carefully tracking every potential threat to her queen. The maid’s skin began to color crimson, an aura beginning to radiate around her as energy-like horns grew.

Red’s fingers tightened around her axe handle, her voice low as she addressed El Santo. “A heads up, the Wolf is telling me we’re at a disadvantage… She smells like divinity and blood. If she attacks, we may need to draw it out into a battle of attrition.”

Butter’s gaze swept across the assembled forces before settling on El Santo. “A battle of attrition, Little Red? Darling, you’d lose that in spades. And what a fine specimen of a man you are, man in the mask, and you, with the ax and bull,” she said, her voice carrying an impossible melody. “I think this is going to be fun!”

El Santo remained unmoved, his posture solid as stone. “What is your story, Señorita? Why is White bound? I ask again—who are you to enter our world with such…theatrical flair? Not that I do not appreciate your sense of style!”

“Perfect,” Butter whispered, almost to herself. “A challenge. I love challenges. Red has sharp instincts.”

She raised her delicate hands, and the chains binding Snow White dissolved into golden butterflies that scattered on the wind. The water flowing around her turned to liquid gold, shimmering as if polished jewels.

With that simple gesture, every weapon trained on her hummed with sudden warning—the metal growing hot, technologies failing, enchantments flickering unstably. The buzz of the Mexican airship descended from the sky, preparing to engage.

Tom Dallas stepped forward, his military authority pushing through his instinctive fear. “That’s close enough, Ma’am.”

Grace chambered a round with an audible click before pressing the radio to connect to the rest of Omen. “Pretty sure we’ve got a situation here, folks. White came through with chains but I don’t know what the hell this golden-haired lady is up to.”

A young soldier, wide-eyed and trembling, stammered something incoherent as he stared at the divine being. His superior barked at him to hold position even as his own rifle grew too hot to hold.

Butter’s smile remained unchanged as she spoke, her voice carrying effortlessly across the field: “Why don’t we get better acquainted, and by that, I’ve always felt that conflict tends to reveal more than pure words. Adoncia, show me how far you’ve come from our conquest of those insects.”

The maid twisted her club in a circle, and stepped out of the golden bubble of transparent liquid that surrounded Snow and Butter. Every soldier, mercenary, and military contractor knew exactly what this meant: a fight.

“And so our stage is set,” Nilly whispers to you, her form beginning to fade back into her cat shape as the future scene faded away. “The pieces are positioned, the pawns prepared to fall. Butter’s entrance marks the end of one tale and the beginning of another.

“Who will win this cosmic game—the Lunar Hare who broke Fate’s string, or the Spirit of Conquest who transcends even death as the Fountain of Life? The chessboard is ready. The Earth has teeth now…and it’s learning how to bite.”

The cat’s golden eyes close, the bell on her ankle jingling one final time as reality settles into new patterns, the pages flip, and the book closes.

“Perhaps I’ll see you in the tale of a certain sixteen year old fox girl. Nilly hopes you’ve been entertained. Until next time, little mice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to battle the sardine armada! Nom-nom-nom.”

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