The space between realms was not a void.
It was a cradle.
A hush.
A moment outside time, held together by threads of magic too old to name.
And in that silence, where no god dared tread without permission, the Guardians of Nythera gathered.
They stood at the Crossway...the intersection of soul and starlight. Pillars of fire and crystal surrounded the quiet pool where Rhiannan's unconscious form floated, her hair fanned like ink in water, her body weightless and suspended.
"She is not awake," Serelion said softly, his sword humming at his side.
"She does not need to be," whispered Veyra, her eyes glowing pale blue. "Only her soul."
"Then we begin," said Orin, slamming his staff to the stone.
The circle pulsed.
And the goddess came.
Nythera appeared like a nova collapsing inward, her light dim, her body weak, her face soft and lined with sorrow. Wings drooped behind her, no longer made of flame but of ash and memory. She knelt beside the pool and placed her trembling hand on her daughter's chest.
"Bring her to me," she said.
The Guardians obeyed.
Magic flowed, not like lightning, but like a river made of lullabies and ancient warmth. It wrapped around Rhiannan's soul and slowly, gently, lifted.
Her eyes opened.
Not her physical ones, but the ones beyond flesh, the soul eyes, bright and curious and wild, staring into a realm she didn't recognize.
Nythera gasped as their gazes met.
"Hi, my little star," she whispered.
Rhiannan blinked, confused. Her brow furrowed. "Where am I?"
"You are safe," Nythera said, tears already slipping down her face. "Just for a moment."
"I… I don't know who you are." Rhiannan's voice was small. Honest. Innocent.
Nythera broke.
She cupped her daughter's face in shaking hands and smiled through the grief. "That's okay. I do. I know you, little light. I've known you since you first kicked inside me. Since you breathed your first breath wrapped in gold silk. Since you laughed at the stars and cried when the ocean touched your feet."
Rhiannan stilled. Some part of her felt it. The truth humming in her bones. But it didn't rise to the surface. It couldn't.
Nythera pulled her close.
"In our first life, you were born in the sacred groves beneath the Singing Mountains. The fae came with flower crowns and the phoenixes circled overhead. You were wrapped in my hair as I sang you lullabies of the old realm. Your father carved your name in the Moonstone Tree before he sold his soul."
Rhiannan's breath caught.Tears shimmered in her eyes.
"Before you were taken from me," Nythera said, voice cracking, "before they ripped you away and sealed you in time, I used every drop of my divinity to anchor a thread between us. Even if you forgot me. Even if you became someone new."
"I don't remember," Rhiannan whispered, voice thick with something like guilt.
Nythera smiled, and it hurt. "I know, baby. That's why I had to see you now. Before the next storm. Before you wake in a strange place with another mate beside you. I had to hold you. One more time."
Rhiannan let herself be pulled closer, her soul settling into her mother's arms like it had always belonged there.
Nythera cradled her.
Hummed.
Stroked her hair.
"You were born under a blood moon," she murmured, swaying. "The winds howled and the wolves sang your name. You screamed so loud they said the stars shivered. I told them you'd be strong. I knew you would be strong."
"I'm scared," Rhiannan admitted softly, pressing her forehead to her mother's shoulder.
"I know," Nythera replied. "But you are never alone."
Rhiannan's form began to flicker.
She panicked, eyes wild, "What do I do? How do I do this!? I can't even control my powers!"
Their time was ending. Nythera smiled softly. "You'll know exactly what to do when the time is right my child. Follow your heart, always."
"I love you," Nythera said, voice shaking with holy grief. "Even if you never remember me… I will always love you. Across every lifetime. In every world."
"I believe you," Rhiannan whispered. She embraced her mother tightly, holding on as long as she could.
And then her soul shimmered, beginning to descend back to her body.
Nythera wept, unrestrained, undignified, like a mother robbed of a thousand years.
She kissed her daughter's brow one last time and said....
"Let her forget."
Veyra stepped forward and touched Rhiannan's temple with silver light. The memory dissolved. The warmth remained, buried somewhere deep. A phantom comfort.
And then Rhiannan was gone.
Returned to her body.
Nythera collapsed.
Her Guardians caught her.
"She will not remember," Serelion said softly.
"No," Nythera whispered, voice faded, "but I will. And it was worth every drop of power I had left."
She stared at the empty pool.
"My daughter lives. That is enough." Her Guardians held her close as they all watched Rhiannan wake up in the mirror realm.