Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 165: Chapter 160: The Blood Oath

Location: Oceanus Domain - Council Chamber (Upper Realm)

Time: Day 214 (Doha Actual) - Dawn | Calendar: 5 Voidmarch, 9938 AZI

Takara hadn’t slept.

Oh, he’d tried. Collapsed in his den, closed his eyes, and attempted meditation. But every time his mind quieted, he saw that cocoon. Felt the weight of failure. Remembered watching helplessly while a fifteen-year-old fought planetary extinction alone.

And dreaded the coming dawn.

Every Lightning Panthera in Oceanus Domain. About to learn, I’ve been prancing around in kitten form. This is fine. Everything is fine.

The summons came before sunrise—Lord Fahmjir’s mental voice resonating through every Lightning Panthera simultaneously, impossible to ignore, carrying weight that made reality ripple.

[Council. Now. Emergency assembly. No exceptions. Every operative, every elder, every specialist. The throne chamber. Immediately.]

Takara dragged himself upright and padded toward the palace with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to execution.

***

The Council Chamber sprawled beneath the palace—a circular room carved from a single piece of volcanic stone, walls inscribed with every major battle the Lightning Panthera had fought across a hundred thousand years. Glow stones provided cold light. The floor bore massive rune circles for blood oaths and binding ceremonies.

When Takara arrived, the chamber was already filling.

Elders shuffled in first, ancient Lightning Panthera who’d served since before most current civilizations existed. Their fur bore silver of age, movements careful, eyes sharp despite millennia. They settled into designated positions around the perimeter, whispering among themselves with obvious concern.

When was the last time Lord Fahmjir called a full assembly?

Three thousand years? Maybe longer?

Has to be serious. Realm-level threat serious.

Master Kioshi sat near the chamber’s center, grey-furred and wearing reading spectacles even in beast form. Scrolls spread before him in perfect organization, communication crystals arranged in precise rows. The coordinator looked like he hadn’t slept, which made Takara feel marginally better about his own exhaustion.

Then familiar forms began arriving, and Takara’s stomach dropped.

Canirr padded in first—eleven feet of sleek silver Lightning Panthera, electric blue streaks running along her spine, pale silver eyes already scanning the room with analytical intensity. The scout moved with economical grace.

Suki materialized from shadows near the entrance—ten feet of midnight-black fur that drank light, deep purple eyes with gold flecks utterly unreadable. The assassin was silent, barely disturbing the air.

Prota lumbered up next—thirteen feet of golden-furred muscle and battle scars, amber eyes burning with warrior’s fire. Missing piece of his left ear. The largest of the elite guards radiated controlled violence.

Amaya bounded in last—grey-and-white Lightning Panthera with heterochromatic eyes, left silver and right gold, sniffing enthusiastically. The tracker was smaller but moved with boundless energy.

His four best operatives.

About to learn everything.

Those worms will pay. Slowly. Creatively. With maximum suffering.

More Lightning Panthera filed in. Guards, specialists, trackers, communications experts. Forty-seven individuals total—nearly half their remaining population in Oceanus Domain.

Canirr spotted Takara and padded over, whiskers twitching. ”Lord Takara. Full assembly. Any idea what prompted this?”

”You’ll find out soon enough,” Takara said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Suki drifted closer, purple eyes studying him. ”You look exhausted. Rough mission?”

”Catastrophically rough.”

”Exciting though, right?” Amaya’s enthusiasm was infectious. ”Lord Fahmjir doesn’t summon everyone unless something major happened. What was it?”

”Planetary extinction,” Takara said flatly.

The four elite guards went very still.

”You’re joking,” Prota rumbled.

”I wish I were.”

Before anyone could press further, reality rippled, and Lord Fahmjir materialized.

The sheer presence drove most attendees to the floor instinctively.

The Lord of Beasts stood before them in all his terrible glory. Stone and energy, solid and ephemeral, existence itself bending around his form. Those lightning eyes—white-blue and crackling—swept across the assembly with weight that crushed lesser wills.

His power filled the chamber like water filling a cup—overwhelming, inescapable, demanding submission.

Only the most experienced elders and elite guards managed to remain sitting. Everyone else showed their bellies or throats, acknowledging absolute authority.

Fahmjir’s lightning eyes swept across the assembly, and silence fell like a hammer.

”You’re here because Doha faces extinction.” His voice carried harmonics that made stone walls vibrate. ”Not potential extinction. Not a theoretical threat. Actual planetary death within years if we don’t act.”

Shocked gasps rippled through the chamber.

”Impossible,” one elder breathed.

”What could threaten the entire world?” another whispered.

Fahmjir’s form flickered between states. ”A day ago, a magic pulse rippled across all realms simultaneously. Every cultivator above Blazecrowned tier felt it. Many of you felt it.” His lightning eyes blazed. ”That pulse will draw investigation. Factions will search for the source. They’ll want to know what caused it. They cannot be allowed to find answers.”

The whispers intensified.

”The pulse originated from the Lower Realm,” Fahmjir continued. ”From a transformation event—bloodline metamorphosis triggered under extreme conditions. The details of that transformation are classified. What you need to know is this: multiple factions would kill to possess the individual undergoing that change. Our first priority is controlling information before investigation leads to discovery.”

Master Kioshi adjusted his spectacles. ”What’s our cover story, my lord?”

”Dimensional instability. Essence surge from the Sundering—aftershocks from events eleven thousand years past still occasionally manifest. Plausible, vague, unverifiable.” Fahmjir’s expression hardened. ”But that cover only works if we prevent anyone from getting close enough to investigate properly.”

An elder raised one paw hesitantly. ”My lord, forgive me, but why the emergency assembly? Why blood oaths? Dimensional instability doesn’t warrant—”

”Because the transformation is connected to the actual threat.” Fahmjir’s voice cracked like thunder. ”Demonic Nematomorpha. Parasitic organisms created by the Devourers during the War of the Gods. Supposedly eradicated by the Luminari over a million years ago.”

The temperature in the chamber dropped despite the volcanic heat outside.

”They’ve returned,” Fahmjir said flatly. ”Zartonesh planted a mating pair on Doha nine thousand years ago as slow-acting bioweapons. We have now confirmed that hundreds of breeding sites are scattered throughout the depths of the lower realm, draining planetary vitality and poisoning the world from within. We will need to investigate the Mid and High realms to confirm infestation.”

Absolute silence.

Then pandemonium.

”HUNDREDS?!”

”How is that possible?!”

”We’re all going to die!”

”Why didn’t anyone tell us?!”

”SILENCE!” Fahmjir’s roar shook the chamber, cracking glow stones and sending hairline fractures through the floor.

The noise cut off instantly.

Every Lightning Panthera either rolled onto their backs or lifted heads, showing throats.

Only when absolute quiet returned did Fahmjir continue.

”Ala knew. She’s been fighting them alone for thousands of years, but she underestimated the scale. She told me hundreds of colonies existed—I assumed small infestations. A few hundred parasites each. Manageable.” His lightning eyes blazed with barely contained fury. ”I was wrong. Takara, report the actual count.”

Takara stood, facing the assembly. ”A day ago, in the Dark Forest of the Lower Realm, I witnessed the elimination of one breeding colony.” He paused, letting tension build. ”Ten thousand seven hundred and forty-three Demonic Nematomorpha. Destroyed.”

The silence was deafening.

Then absolute chaos erupted.

Elders cried out in dismay. Guards snarled with fury. Questions flew from every direction, voices overlapping in panic.

”TEN THOUSAND?!”

”In ONE colony?!”

”If there are hundreds of colonies—”

”Millions of parasites total—”

”DOHA IS DOOMED!”

”ENOUGH!” Fahmjir’s power exploded outward, slamming everyone to the floor with overwhelming force. When they could breathe again, his voice was deadly calm. ”Panic accomplishes nothing. We have advantages.”

He waited until every eye focused on him.

”First: we know the threat exists. Second: we’ve confirmed elimination is possible. Third: we know how to destroy them permanently.” He paused. ”Ancient silver dragon purification magic. A spell capable of eliminating the parasites completely and irreversibly.”

Confusion rippled through the assembly.

”My lord,” Canirr said carefully, ”silver dragons have been extinct for eleven thousand years. The last true Silver Queen died before the Fourth Invasion. How can—”

”That’s what we thought.” Fahmjir’s expression was unreadable. ”We were wrong. A silver dragon exists. Living, breathing, and in possession of the purification technique our world desperately needs.”

The chamber exploded into shocked exclamations.

”IMPOSSIBLE!”

”Silver dragons were hunted to extinction!”

”The massacres—humans and dragons slaughtered them all!”

An ancient elder rose shakily. ”My lord, I was alive during the final hunts. I witnessed the slaughter. Queen Mulong and her daughter were the last confirmed survivors, and they disappeared over eleven thousand years ago. No one knows what happened to them. How can—”

”I don’t know how she survived,” Fahmjir admitted, and the confession clearly bothered him. ”The silver dragon currently in the Lower Realm is named Yinxin. She recently fled from another realm—Telia—seeking sanctuary here in Doha. She has three wyrmlings with her.”

The implications crashed over the assembly like a tidal wave.

”Three wyrmlings,” Suki whispered. ”Healthy births?”

”Thriving,” Fahmjir confirmed. ”First successful silver dragon births in eleven millennia.”

Master Kioshi’s paws trembled as he adjusted his spectacles. ”My lord, does she understand what she represents? Silver dragons aren’t just rare. They’re the reason dragonkind is dying.”

”Explain,” Fahmjir commanded, though his expression suggested he already knew.

”Without a Silver Queen, dragons cannot sustain their population.” The coordinator’s voice steadied as he fell into lecture mode. ”One egg in fifty hatches. One hatchling in ten survives to adulthood. The species has been in slow collapse since Queen Xueteng’s death. Most assume the Sundering caused the fertility crisis, but—”

”But it was the loss of the Silver Queen herself,” Fahmjir finished. ”The dragon elders know this. They’ve hidden it for eleven thousand years, maintained the lie that dimensional damage caused the decline.”

Understanding dawned across multiple faces.

”If the dragon elders learn a silver dragon exists...” Prota’s voice trailed off.

”They’ll hunt her,” Fahmjir said flatly. ”Capture her. Force breeding programs regardless of her will. Use the wyrmlings as political leverage against every other dragon clan. After what they did to Queen Xueteng—imprisoning her, exploiting her, driving her to choose death over submission—I will not allow them near Yinxin or her babies.”

His form solidified completely, power radiating outward in waves.

”Which brings me to operational security. Multiple factions pose threats to this dragon and her wyrmlings. We will discuss each.”

He began ticking points off on stone fingers.

”Dragons: Cannot learn she exists. They’d enslave her immediately. Absolute information lockdown on anything dragon-related.

”Humans: Led the silver dragon massacres eleven thousand years ago. The Radiant Realm cultivator sects would love nothing more than to control the only silver dragon in existence. They’d weaponize her, use her as leverage against every other race, and exploit her purification magic for political gain. They get no knowledge, no access, nothing.

”Demons: Withdrew to the Demon Realm after the Race Wars. Insular, xenophobic, but not stupid. If they learn about planetary-scale parasites, they’ll investigate. If they discover Yinxin, they’ll make moves to control her before humans do.

”Elves, Dwarves, Aetherwings, Titans: Suffered catastrophic losses during Race Wars. Most severed ties with other races entirely. Probably won’t investigate the magic pulse beyond cursory scans. But if any learn about Yinxin or discover what threatens Doha, they’ll act to protect their interests first.”

His lightning eyes swept the assembly.

”Every race, every faction, every power structure on Doha would move against this dragon if they knew she existed. Some out of greed. Some out of fear. Some out of desperation. The result is the same: Yinxin and her wyrmlings become targets, tools, or corpses.”

Silence.

”Therefore,” Fahmjir continued, ”comprehensive information security. No one outside this chamber learns about the dragon. No one learns about the worms. No one learns about the girl undergoing transformation. We control all information absolutely.”

”My lord,” an elder asked hesitantly, ”you mentioned a girl. Is she connected to the dragon?”

”She fought alongside Yinxin during the worm battle. Fifteen years old, human, but created deliberately by Pyratheon using Phoenix fire, Dragon resilience, and Luminari essence.” Fahmjir’s expression was grim. ”She coordinated the battle, maintained a defensive position for over an hour while thousands of worms attacked her mind. Nearly died from the effort. The transformation was triggered when Yinxin used silver dragon blood and tears to save her life.”

”Created by Pyratheon?” Master Kioshi’s eyes widened. ”A Luminari engineered—”

”Exactly. Which means she’s not just powerful. She’s designed for something specific. What exactly, I don’t know yet. But the pattern suggests purpose beyond normal cultivation.” Fahmjir’s form flickered. ”She matters. The dragon matters. The wyrmlings matter. All of them receive absolute protection.”

”What about Ala?” an elder asked quietly. ”Does she know we’re implementing these measures?”

Fahmjir’s expression darkened. ”Ala is dying. The parasites have been feeding on her planetary essence for thousands of years. She’s too weak to manifest for extended periods, too damaged to fight effectively. She hid the severity from me because she’s a scorching fool who thought she could handle planetary extinction alone.”

His voice cracked with barely suppressed rage and grief.

”My oldest friend is being consumed by the threat she’s trying to eliminate. And the only ones who can save her—who can save all of us—are one silver dragon and one engineered child. Both of whom multiple factions would kill to possess.”

The weight settled over the assembly like a physical force.

”My lord,” Canirr said carefully, ”what are our operational parameters?”

”Three primary objectives.” Fahmjir’s voice steadied into command mode. ”First: Systematic search of all three realms for additional worm colonies. We need locations, populations, and threat assessment. Coordinate through Master Kioshi, maintain absolute secrecy. If anyone asks, we’re investigating essence fluctuations from the Sundering.”

”Second: Protection detail for the dragon, the girl, and the three wyrmlings. They operate in the Lower Realm currently, based in the Dark Forest. Five-operative team provides comprehensive coverage.”

”Third: Information control. The magic pulse, the transformation, the worms, the dragon—all classified. Anyone who learns about any of these elements takes a blood oath or dies. No exceptions.”

He fixed the assembly with a burning stare.

”Which brings us to the oath itself. What you’ve heard in this chamber stays in this chamber. Forever. Blood oath of silence, enforced by my personal power. Violation means death—swift, certain, unavoidable. The magic will turn inward, destroying the oathbreaker from within.”

Takara felt tension spike. Blood oaths were serious business.

”Every Lightning Panthera in Oceanus Domain takes this oath,” Fahmjir continued. ”Not just elite guards. Everyone. Because if even one person leaks information, everything collapses. The dragon dies. The girl dies. The wyrmlings die. Doha dies.”

He paused, letting the weight settle.

”Do you understand what I’m asking?”

”Yes, my lord,” came the unanimous response.

”Then step into the circle. All of you.”

Forty-seven Lightning Panthera moved to the massive rune matrix carved into the floor. Ancient symbols began glowing faintly, responding to their presence and intent.

Takara found himself standing between Canirr and Suki, surrounded by his entire species’ Oceanus population. The weight of what they were about to do pressed down like mountains.

”This oath binds you to absolute silence regarding everything discussed in this chamber,” Fahmjir intoned, power building around him like a gathering storm. ”The worm count. The dragon’s existence. The girl’s nature. The wyrmlings. Transformation details. Mission parameters. Operational security. All of it remains secret until I decree otherwise.”

His lightning eyes blazed brighter.

”Violation means death. No exceptions. No mercy. No second chances. The magic will destroy you from within if you even attempt to speak of these matters to anyone not bound by this oath.”

He paused.

”Do you accept this oath willingly?”

”I accept,” Takara said immediately, and his voice joined forty-six others in a unanimous response.

”Then blood binds you.”

Fahmjir’s power erupted.

Lightning struck every Lightning Panthera simultaneously—not burning but marking. It seared through their essence, carved the oath into their very souls. The rune matrix blazed white-hot, symbols shifting, locking, sealing.

Takara felt it like a brand across his spirit. Not painful. But permanent. Absolute. If he tried to speak of this to anyone not bound by the oath, his cultivation would rebel, his power would turn inward, his life would end.

The lightning faded. The runes dimmed. Forty-seven Lightning Panthera stood marked, bound, sworn.