The Divine Skiff cut a precise wake through the dawn ether. Along its hull, silver-steel runes pulsed cerulean, siphoning mana from the high atmosphere. Below, the spires of Atlantis receded into the haze, the Imperial Palace dissolving into a geometric abstraction of marble and distance.
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.
Null sat by the viewport, hands loose in his lap. His posture suggested ease, but it was undercut by a profound withdrawal—as though he was merely accompanying his own existence
Beside him, the reinforced glasteel shimmered with warding spells, dampening the slipstream's roar to a faint vibration. Beyond the glass, clouds tumbled like slow, indifferent tides across an endless sapphire sea.
Across from him sat Sora.
She had traded her ceremonial mantle for a traveling vest emblazoned with the Divine Sanctum's sigil. She sat rigid, her features masked by the impenetrable calm of a Saintess.
For a long interval, the only sound was the skiff's low thrum.
"You are taking this with remarkable composure," Sora said, breaking the silence.
Null didn't start. He tilted his head, his gaze drifting from the clouds to her. There was no surprise in his dark red eyes—only a thin curiosity.
"Am I?" His tone was airy, edged with a humor she couldn't place.
Sora studied him like sacred scripture, searching for fractures beneath his surface. "Most summoned entities are volatile," she stated. "Anger, fear. Some beg. Others demand answers they don't yet understand."
Null looked back to the horizon. "I have no standing to demand anything here."
Sora's brows knit faintly, "That isn't true."
He offered a fluid shrug. "It feels like the only truth available."
The skiff pierced a thin cloudbank, scattering light across the cabin. In that fleeting glow, Sora saw it clearly—not weakness, but a staggering metaphysical distance. As though Null stood half a step outside the world's weave, observing it from an impossible angle.
"May I pose a question?" he asked.
She inclined her head. "Within reason."
"Why did you volunteer to escort me?"
The question settled between them.
Sora didn't rush to answer. When she spoke, her voice had lost its crystalline edge. "Because when you stood before the Emperor, you did not ask for power. Or protection. Or purpose." She met his gaze. "You asked for permission to return your home world."
"Did that frighten you?" Null's tore carried gentle curiosity.
"No," she replied, her honesty startling even herself. "It unsettled me."
She paused, her tone regaining its equilibrium. "And because, I have seen what happens when the sanctum leaves anomalies to political ambition."
"Then I suppose." Null leaned back, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, as though he found something ironic in this situation. "I am fortunate it was you."
The words carried a quiet sincerity wrapped in distant humor. Sora looked away first, a faint warmth climbing her neck. "Do not misinterpret our arrangement," she said, her distant armor snapping back. "This is simply observation. Nothing more."
"Naturally," Null replied.
"Enough of my mysteries." He shifted, his gaze returning to her, knowing and almost playful. "Tell me of yours."
Sora stiffened. "There is nothing of significance. My life is dedicated to the Sanctum. It is neither unique nor irrelevant"
"That wasn't an answer," Null hummed, as if considering a riddle.
"It was an adequate response."
"For a ledger, perhaps. Not for a conversation."
Sora turned fully toward him. "You are remarkably bold for someone in ecclesiastical supervision."
"And you are exceptionally evasive for someone who chose to be sequestered alone with me in the sky." he countered, almost amused.
She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, genuinely disarmed.
"This is a matter of sacred duty," she said, reclaiming her posture.
"Is that all?" He simply asked.
Sora looked away, fingers tightening together in her lap. "…Yes."
Null tilted his head. "You hesitated."
"You are imagining things."
"Perhaps," he added. "But you didn't deny it."
Silence stretched, delicate as spun glass.
"What is it you wish to know?" she gave in at last, her voice a whisper.
Null's smile widened. "Anything. What you like. What you hate. What makes you forget you're a Saintess for five minutes."
"That is an inappropriate line of inquiry."
"Ah," he nodded solemnly. "Then it is definitely the right question."
Sora stared at him. Then—against her will—a small, incredulous laugh escaped her.
Null's expression softened. "There she is."
"There is nothing," she said, her cheeks flushing. "You heard nothing."
"Of course. My mistake."
She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "I used to find solace in the night sky,"
Null blinked.
She opened her eyes again, clearly surprised at herself—but the words had already left her.
"I used to sneak out at night." She continued, her tone reminent. "I loved watching the stars shimmer in the void. They felt… unclaimed. As though the universe hadn't yet decided what kind of wondrous shape it wanted to take."
"Used to?"
"Yes, in my childhood days…" A faint pain laced her voice, gone an instant later. "Back when my world was still intact."
She glanced at him, then away, unsettled by her own vulnerability.
Uncomfortable with the openness, Sora changed the subject. "And you? What did you like? Before… all this."
"I also like the night sky, especially the moon," Null said, his gaze drifting.
"You do?" She properly looked at him.
"There is a peculiar comfort in it. It is a constant illumination. No matter how many times I look up, it remains mystical, pristine. A quiet anchor even in unbearable darkness."
"I used to spend nights just watching it," he lightly added. "Not out of wonder. Not for meaning. Just because… it made me feel tethered to the world."
"That's—"
Sora stared. "I thought I was the only one."
Null glanced at her, "Really?"
"Most crave the sun. Glory. Certainty of light." Her lips curved before she could stop them.
"The night is for those who don't quite belong where they're placed." Null nodded.
A shared silence settled between them.
Null chuckled softly. "It seems we have better taste than most."
"You shouldn't say things like that." Sora huffed
"Why?" he asked, amusement deepening. "Are you afraid someone might discover you're human?"
Her pulse quickened. "I am human."
"Certainly. But you rarely allow yourself to sound like one."
Sora went to retort, then stopped. She was smiling—genuinely. The realization was jarring.
"This conversation is inappropriate," she said, turning away.
"And yet," Null said lightly, a mischievous lilt in his voice, "you don't seem particularly eager to end it."
Sora flushed deeply. She gripped the fabric of her skirt, her heart beating slightly faster for reasons she couldn't define nor suppress.
***
※ Sora's Perspective ※
'I shouldn't feel like this.' The thought was a jagged reflex.
A Saintess does not lose composure. A Saintess does not drift. And yet… my heart hadn't obeyed.
I kept my head lowered, hands clenched in my lap far tighter than necessary, as if gripping fabric could anchor the quiet tremor inside my chest. My face was warm. Embarrassingly so. I could still feel the phantom echo of my own smile—uninvited and unguarded.
When was the last time I smiled like that?
Not the practiced curve meant for society. A real one.
I told myself it was fatigue. Emotional residue from the audience and the aftershocks of the mortal summoning ritual.
But the lie rang hollow.
Because the truth was far more unsettling.
I felt… comfortable.
It wasn't relaxation—that wasn't it.
It was more profound, more serene, as if a deeply buried chamber within me had been gently unlocked, allowing a soulful breath to enter. It was as if the very essence of my existence had been touched by his mysterious presence, awakening feelings and thoughts that had long been discontinued.
Soul-deep quiver. That was the only way to articulate it.
Null neither pressed nor pried. He simply asked—with that infuriatingly mild tone, his unreadable amusement that made it impossible to tell whether he was teasing me or simply… unraveling.
And somehow, in his orbit, my distant composure kept softening.
That frightened me more than hostility ever could.
I had spent years perfecting distance. Years ensuring that my voice remained steady, my thoughts aligned, my emotions neatly folded away where they could not interfere with my personal goal.
Yet just being in his presence, I felt alive in a way I'd forgotten was possible.
I am vexed how, when he spoke of the moon—so simply, so earnestly—it felt as though he had reached into a memory I hadn't dared touch since childhood. Those nights when the sky felt vast and mystical, when I wasn't yet a Saintess, when the one precious to me was still in this world. When everything was perfect.
I told myself it was coincidence. Shared sentiment. Nothing more.
But coincidences did not unsettle the soul. I lifted my gaze just enough to glimpse his reflection in the viewport—calm, detached, quietly amused. As if he were aware of something I wasn't. Or worse. As if he were perfectly aware of me.
'This is dangerous,' I thought.
Not because of him, but because of what stirs when I am near him. And the most harrowing part? A unknown, treacherous part of my heart and soul whispered—
'I don't want it to stop.'
Just then—
The cabin door slid open with a soft hiss of displaced mana. I straightened instantly, posture snapping back into practiced composure as Elder Ozag stepped inside.
The senior priest moved with measured calm, his long grey hair bound at the nape of his neck, his robes marked with layered sigils of warding and authority. His presence alone shifted the air, grounding the cabin in solemn reality.
"Saintess," he said, his voice a dry rasp. "We are approaching the Divine Sanctum. Descent begins in ten minutes."
"I understand," I replied, my voice an icy chime.
Ozag's gaze flicked between us, His eyes lingered for half a heartbeat longer than necessary—on the ambiguous atmosphere between Null and myself. On the subtle tension that had nothing to do with mana flow.
He noticed. But he said nothing.
He offered a curt nod to Null. "Prepare yourself. There will be formalities."
Null nodded with easy grace. "I'll try not to trip over destiny."
Ozag paused, Then exited without comment.
The door sealed, and I finally released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.