The name of a new world

As Gilly sat with the large, odd book on her lap, every second stretched into eternity. Time around her began to crawl—voices became muffled, gestures slowed to a crawl, and the world seemed distant, dulled. The chains on the book didn't just bind it—they bound her. Her body refused to move, and when she tried to scream, nothing came out. Gradually, her vision faded, and with it, her consciousness.

She awoke in the familiar white void. It was vast, endless, and quiet—yet something was missing. The other version of herself, the one she had encountered before, was nowhere in sight. Alone and suspended in a place with no floor, ceiling, or walls, she screamed for hours, but only silence answered, devouring her voice.

Then, a flat, monotonic—yet oddly familiar—voice echoed in her head:

+"Analysis complete. Connection with unknown object established."

"Unknown object?" she thought. The book? But something told her the form it had taken was just a shell.

+"Attempting core-level link. Artifact classification in progress… Range: Unknown. Classification: Inapplicable. Object exceeds established parameters."

The voice sounded almost curious, like a machine poking at something too strange to categorize. Gilly remained still, heart pounding. Then came the words that shook her:

+"Handshake complete. Initiating metamorphosis…"

A blinding light exploded before her. When her vision returned, a massive crystal—wrapped in ancient chains—stood tall in front of her, its surface glowing. Inside it, curled like a fetus, was a dormant figure.

Panic welled up inside her, but the voice continued, unfazed.

+"I will now enter the artifact to initiate awakening. This will take time. Remain safe. Temporary skill sets have been embedded for phased release. Soul-bind in progress…"

She didn't understand. Soul bind? Her mouth moved, but no sound came. Her protest was crushed before it could rise.

A ghostly figure—an ethereal version of herself—rose out of her body. It looked familiar, like a character from a painting in Seras's office. The phantom smiled, then drifted into the crystal.

The translucent crystal shimmered and became clear. The figure within—now fully visible—was radiant. Seras-like, but more divine, more complete. Gilly heard a heartbeat… No—felt it. It resonated within her chest, like her own.

Then came the searing light.

Chains coiled around her arms. Power surged through her body. She struggled, then faded into unconsciousness.

Back in the library, Seras watched Gilly slump forward. At first, she assumed it was just a trance. But then her eyes fully closed, and her breathing changed. She wasn't simply meditating—she was out cold.

"Are they present?" she asked calmly.

Zin hesitated, then pointed to the tome.

Seras didn't fully trust the answer. "Some can mask even divine senses," she muttered.

Across from Gilly, Ephini watched with unease. "Mental exhaustion," she suggested.

Seras shook her head. "No, something else…"

She reached to lift the book from Gilly's lap—and was flung backward by a burst of invisible force. Zin was knocked into the shelves beside her. Books scattered. Seras hit the ground hard.

Her hand blistered where she'd touched the tome—healing slowly, unnaturally slowly, even for her. She frowned. Her instincts screamed.

I let my guard down, she thought, and a child may pay the price.

The room grew tense. Ephini erected a barrier just in case. Valmor burst in, drawn by the sudden waves of mana and force. Then it happened:

A pulse—like a divine heartbeat—shook the room.

The books on the forbidden shelf, sealed long ago by Seras herself, began to vibrate violently. Power, pure and ancient, surged from the tome.

Then a flash of light. Blinding. And when it cleared, the chains around both Gilly's hands and the tome had vanished.

Gilly gasped awake, drenched in sweat, panting like someone waking from a drowning dream. Inscribed chains—faintly glowing—now wrapped around her arms like tattoos.

The room was silent.

Seras exhaled slowly. "Ephini, take her to her room."

Ephini nodded, gently guiding Gilly away, who still hadn't processed what had just happened.

Now alone with Zin and Valmor, Seras let her frustration show.

"…Was that—Creation's Heartbeat?" she asked, her voice sharp.

The room stiffened. Valmor said nothing. That level of power was beyond even the Divine Council's ranking system—magic that defied classification.

Zin whispered, "God's artifact…"

Seras was unconvinced. "If it were a god's artifact, an angel would've descended to retrieve it. They didn't. Which means…"

She paused. Her tone changed.

"…Only those with divine blessings and demigod potential can trigger a heartbeat like that."

After a beat, she made her decision.

"I'm visiting Katharine in the capital," she said. "Then I'll find Cyx. And if necessary… the Dark One."

Zin froze.

Valmor's eyes widened. These weren't just names. These were legends—especially the last two. Dragons.

Seras smiled faintly. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it." She bowed—and vanished in a shimmer of light.

Far away, in a realm lush with greenery, a towering figure sat upon a throne of roots and silver branches. Her presence radiated majesty, elegance, and authority. Winged creatures and noble beasts stood in reverent silence before her.

Her eyes—closed for what seemed like centuries—fluttered open.

Something… had stirred her awake.

She scanned the mortal world. Her gaze locked onto a lone figure in golden armor standing below.

"Shall I descend and retrieve it, my lady?" the armored being asked.

She didn't move her lips, yet her voice thundered through the realm, shaking even the leaves:

"I would love to send you, but that vixen is involved. Go. Observe. When the time comes, I will intervene myself."

Her gaze passed over the assembly again. Then, with a casual flick of her hand:

"Send word to the Seven Pedestals. Let them know… things are about to get interesting."

With that, the beings vanished.

Only the great figure remained, eyes slowly closing again as the wind whispered through the realm—bringing with it the scent of change.