Preparations

  The General's deliberate stride contrasts with her anxious steps as they proceed down the dimly lit corridor. The grand architecture of the military base encases them, its imposing beauty setting a somber stage for their journey. The hallways echo with distant conversations and the soft rustle of fabric as others prepare for the ceremony.

  Her hand nervously grips the folds of her gown, the silky material cool against her skin. She glances at the General, his presence both reassuring and daunting.

  When they reach the entrance to the ceremonial chamber, the General opens the heavy door with a practiced motion. The chamber is filled with reverence, as if the walls absorb the collective grief of those present.

  She steps into the room, her heart pounding with every footstep. The people of Noxits and the mourners are gathering, their solemn expressions reflecting the gravity of the ceremony. Her eyes scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of strangers, every face scarred with grief and respect.

  The General stands beside her, his presence a steady anchor amidst the sea of emotions, a rare gesture of kindness radiating from him. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a silent token of solidarity as she faces the gathering. "Remember, you're not alone in this," he whispers, conveying strength and comfort.

  As she moves forward, she notices a large, ornate pedestal draped in deep purple fabric at the center of the room, resembling the Poxitarium planet. A beautifully crafted urn rests on it, its surface intricately carved with symbols of the Queen's reign. A sea of candles surrounds the urn, their flickering flames moving along with their grief.

  The ceremony begins with a solemn procession, and she follows the General's lead, her heart heavy with the weight of the occasion. Every step she takes seems to echo her emotions— sadness, confusion, and a profound sense of duty. As she approaches the pedestal, the room falls into a hushed reverence, the collective breath of the assembly held in anticipation of the rituals to come.

  The people of Noxits gather solemnly before their deceased Queen. Her once vibrant veins, which carried the translucent Noxit blood, are now invisible beneath her pale blue skin, which remains the last vestige of her royal essence. The King, seated among his people, gazes down with somber eyes, clutching a delicate, white silk handkerchief. He has reverted to his original form, and his elongated arms and legs are a testament to his mourning.

  "I... I can't be this strong..." the King murmurs, his eyes glistening with crystalline tears that trace a shimmering path down his cheeks. His grip on the handkerchief is tight as if trying to anchor himself amidst the overwhelming sorrow. As he collapses, a deep purple lightning bolt streaks across the sky, its flash echoing his immense power and sorrow. "My queen..." At these words, the Noxit people break, their cries growing louder in the wake of the King's despair.

  Whispers circulate among the gathered Noxits, recounting tales of the Queen's remarkable deeds and her profound impact on her people—their sorrow and reverence center on her legacy, a blend of compassion and strength.

  As the ceremony continues, she sheds a few tears despite briefly seeing the Queen. The moment's gravity stirs her emotions even though she doesn't know the Queen personally. Tolius and Fereyan, now dressed in somber grey uniforms, stand nearby.

  They both take their places on two ornate chairs crafted with intricate designs. She feels a deep blush creeping across her cheeks. Her gaze often drifts to Tolius, whose black hair is immaculately styled and adorned with a single red rose pinned to his chest. White marbles embellish his suit, mirroring the elegance of her attire. The sight of him, which evokes a sense of admiration and affection she has felt since their first meeting, momentarily makes her forget the events of the past days. She focuses solely on the present moment, her heart warmed by the connection she feels.

  Fereyan stands on the other side, his blonde hair and azure eyes contrasting Tolius's darker features. His serene expression and angelic gaze add to the ambiance of the ceremony. As she takes in the scene, her cheeks flush with a deeper hue, her emotions a blend of awe and admiration.

  Observing the interactions between the three, the General allows a subtle, knowing smile to play on his lips. His eyes reflect a mix of amusement and satisfaction at the dynamics unfolding before him.

  The General makes a deliberate gesture, signaling for Tolius and Fereyan to position themselves on either side of the ornate chairs, ready to guard them against any potential disturbance.

  She feels a constriction in her chest, a sensation that defies easy description. She presses her hand lightly against her sternum, her breathing slightly uneven. The General, observing her closely, notices the rapid thudding of her heart, visible beneath her delicate attire.

  The people of Noxits chant in unison, "And now the ritual begins." They start the ceremonial rites by gently applying an urn of Noxit water to the Queen's skin, their voices resonating with the rhythmic chant in their native tongue. The King, overcome with emotion, struggles to maintain his composure. Tears stream down his face as he reminisces about the times spent with the Queen—ruling, fighting, sharing meals, and cherishing moments of affection and joy. His grief is palpable, a poignant reminder of the depth of their shared history.

  As the General rises, the rest of the assembly follows suit, all standing in reverence as the burial ritual commences. An elderly Noxit priest with pale blue skin, his long white beard brushing the floor and leaning heavily on an ancient cane, approaches the podium near the coffin. With a voice that cracks with age, "Where is that Axar?" His high-pitched, raspy tone elicits a ripple of laughter, easing the tension in the room. The Queen responds to the humor as if her presence is felt in the shared moment of levity.

  The Priest continues, "Why are we so glum?" He addresses the crowd, attempting to lift their spirits. "Our gods, especially our Queen, would not wish us to part with sorrowful faces, and they would have a lot to say if they saw us moping around. Imagine her looking down and thinking, "I did not spend all those years running this Noxit planet just to have you all sit around like it's the end of the world!" he says, his kind and compassionate energy spreading throughout the room. His celestial aura marks him as a unique presence among those gathered. "General, what do you think? Haven't we already experienced enough loss?"

  The General regards the Priest with a look of deep reflection, his eyes revealing a tinge of melancholy. "Indeed, Priest, we have lost many. And many have moved on to the Poxit Underworld or a place of greater peace," he replies, his voice carrying a subtle note of consolation.

  The Priest continues his eulogy, saying, "In death, we do not surrender, for death is merely a gateway to another time." His words resonate with some of the audience, offering a glimmer of hope. The thought that death is not an end but a transition brings her a renewed sense of comfort, easing her long-held fears.

  "We wouldn't want the Queen of Noxits to embark on her journey to another world burdened with sorrow, would we? Her spirit still lingers among us," the Priest asserts, though his words evoke a calming and enlightening presence that only he seems to perceive fully. "And she is at peace, having been a part of all of you. Though she might seek retribution, as I sense," he adds, glancing at the General idly manipulating his hypercube. The General's detached demeanor contrasts with the Priest's emotional plea, marking a moment of introspective reflection amid the ritual.

  He chuckles, his jovial energy a stark contrast to the somber mood. "So let's put a little cheer in our hearts! Remember, our dear Queen would want us to remember the good times and not dwell too much on the sorrow. After all, if she could, she'd probably join us for a laugh and maybe even give us a witty comment about how serious we're all being. So let's lighten up a bit, shall we?"

  The Priest continues chanting, his voice resonating with a mystical quality that seems to heal and soothe the soul. His melodious incantations, blending with the soft hums of the other attending priests, create an atmosphere of reverence and calm. The General and everyone present are visibly moved, their eyes welling up with tears as the Priest's voice touches deep, unspoken parts of their hearts.

  "Isn't he something else?" the General murmurs to those near him, astonished and wiping away his tears. The profound effect of the Priest's voice feels like a gentle awakening, stirring emotions that had lain dormant. The woman, seated beside the General, feels a profound stirring within her. It's as though her soul is awakening, coming to life in a way it hasn't. She closes her eyes, trying to find solace, but the sensation is overwhelming. Her heartbeat quickens, and she presses her hand against her chest, struggling to steady herself.

  As the Priest continues, his chants become a delicate symphony of vibrational sounds. He guides the gathered souls through the ritual, his words weaving a path for the Queen's spirit to journey to the afterlife. "And now, the soul of our queen shall depart into the afterlife," he announces, sensing the ethereal presence of the Queen's spirit through his shamanic abilities.

  Flower petals and ceremonial Noxit attire are carefully placed around her, marking the final respects. Despite the serene surroundings, she feels sorrow, the silence punctuated by soft whimpers as her heart aches.

  The Priest's eyes are fixed on a point that seems invisible to everyone else. With a sudden gesture, he points towards the rising blue hue of the Queen's spirit—a spectral vision that only he appears to perceive. With his deep understanding of such matters, the General recognizes this as the Queen's soul. He points towards a spot in the air, but to most, it seems empty.

  Surprisingly, the Priest points directly at her, the woman quietly observing. She gasps in shock, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks as she turns to the General, stammering, "I'm sorry, sir… Didn't mean to—" she starts, but her voice trails off. Her eyes, now glowing a vibrant blue, appear to be in the process of resetting themselves. "Embarrass you…" she finishes, her words tinged with confusion.

  As the Priest points out, he observes her with growing concern. She gasps for air, her face pale with fear, as if her chest might explode from the overwhelming sensations. Her turmoil is visible and unsettling. The Priest's brows furrow in confusion and worry as he takes in her distress, the turmoil evident in her labored breaths and the terrified expression on her face.

  The Priest, still somewhat bewildered, addresses the assembly quizzically. "The queen did not depart, but… is housed by you?" he says, pointing directly at her. His words leave everyone in the room in a state of puzzled curiosity.

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  The General, usually reserved in his demeanor, raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, weren't you joking today that you feel like a queen?" he says, his attempt at humor bringing an awkward laugh from her. Her shyness is evident, and the room's focus shifts towards her.

  The Priest's pointing and the Queen's sudden visible distress spark murmurs among the attendees. Whispers spread through the room, each person speculating about the extraordinary sight. "Could she be the queen's new vessel?" one Noxit murmurs. "Is it possible she's connected to the queen's spirit?" another voice questions. The room buzzes with speculation, each rumor adding to the collective uncertainty. The woman, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in attention and the rising rumors, yelps in agony, her distress echoing through the chamber. Her cry is short-lived but intense, her body trembling as she struggles to process the influx of emotions and the weight of the situation. Then, as quickly as it began, the turmoil pauses, leaving her momentarily silent and still. Her eyes dart around the room, her usual anxiety mingling with a deep calmity and balance.

  Meanwhile, Tolius silently observed the unfolding events with a growing sense of awe and disbelief. The ceremony had taken an unexpected turn, something none of them could have predicted. His gaze followed the Priest of Noxits, who was staring at something—something none of them could see.

  Tolius felt his heart race. None of his training or his service to the General had prepared him for something like this. He glanced at the General, noticing how he didn't hesitate. The General's eyes followed the Priest's direction as though he could see the unseen. ~What am I missing?~ Tolius thought. Moments like these made him realize how vast the chasm was between his understanding of the spiritual, metaphysical, and the deep, ancient knowledge held by men like the General and the Priest.

  When the General nodded in understanding, Tolius knew—he trusted the General implicitly. But still, a part of him was unsure, shaken by the profound and inexplicable. He tried to focus, to make sense of what was happening, but his thoughts kept spiraling. ~How can the General see what none of us can?~

  Then there was her, the woman who now carried the essence of the Queen. Tolius couldn't stop thinking about her. Her transformation had been gradual but startling, and now she seemed caught between two worlds. ~Will she ever be herself again? ~He sighed, uncertainty weighing heavily on him. Tolius had always been the one to act, to do, but now he felt utterly helpless, stuck watching from the periphery.

  Feeling the moment's weight and her soul's awakening, she takes a deep breath, her usual anxiety transforming into an air of quiet authority. Her posture straightens, her previously bowed shoulders now held with regal grace. She wipes away her tears with an elegant motion, and with renewed composure, she stands up.

  "I am the Queen of Noxits," she declares, her voice now imbued with a commanding presence that makes Fereyan blush instantly. The General observes with a mix of astonishment and contemplation, thinking to himself, ~I read about souls, but I've never witnessed anything quite like this.~

  "And now I am home," the Queen admits, her voice carrying a weight that cuts through the murmurs and laughter swirling around her like a tempest. Her eyes, now glowing with a regal authority, survey the room. The air crackles with the remnants of her Noxit power, and she directs a piercing gaze at those who dare to laugh. Her voice drops to a chilling, commanding whisper as she addresses them: "Did I say something amusing, little Noxits?" Her eyes shine with the genuine essence of the Queen, sending a shiver through those around her as they shrink under her formidable presence.

  As the tension mounts, whispers and rumors ripple through the crowd. Observing the unfolding drama, the General leans in and asks the King, "What could possibly connect an ordinary soul to a queen of such stature?" His voice is filled with genuine curiosity and skepticism, his eyes darting between the Queen and those around him.

  The King, visibly distressed by the unsettling turn of events, approaches the Queen, his face etched with confusion and concern. "Is this truly the queen?" he questions, his voice barely above a murmur. "How does someone with no apparent connection rise to such a significant role?" His words, filled with doubt and wonder, stir the crowd further, fueling a whirlwind of speculation and disbelief.

  The Queen stands tall, her presence commanding the room as she absorbs the whispers and questions, her mind racing to understand the gravity of her situation and the tumultuous emotions it stirs within her.

  She addresses the gathered crowd with an authoritative tone that brooks no argument. "You fools," she declares, her voice echoing with an edge of regal disdain, "do not mistake this body and soul for something ordinary!" She gestures toward her current form, her expression fierce. "My time here is fleeting. I cannot linger long, though I shall remain within, not by choice, but by necessity and not by our will." She continues, her voice imbued with a sense of finality, "I have discovered something extraordinary through my death, and I do not regret it. Do not trouble me with your trivial knowledge."

  Ironically, the landscape of the female soldier—who had only recently completed her military training—is now compared with the image of the Queen of Noxits. The laughter persists, thinking of the situation's absurdity as the Queen inhabits the new vessel.

  The General, his patience worn thin, breaks the silence with a menacing growl. "If anyone dares to laugh again in the next three seconds," he announces, his voice cold and threatening, "I will have their head and feast on their eyes." His words cut through the room, instilling fear in everyone. The General, previously perceived as a formidable yet mysterious figure, now appears even more menacing.

  He continues, his tone shifting to one of grim seriousness. "I have delved deeply into the mysteries of the soul. Souls can be interconnected, fragments of one original entity. The true source from which these fragments split remains unknown. Therefore, cease your laughter; this is both a grave and joyous matter. Our Queen has not perished; rather, she..." He pauses, a sudden, unexpected giggle escaping him, "resides within her."

  The Queen, her eyes flashing with authority, turns her gaze toward the General. "General," she says, her tone laced with regal irritation, "I believe it is not your place to mock either."

  The Queen, now residing within the pink-hued woman, fixes her gaze on the General with an intense, unwavering look. "I need you to train me," she commands, her voice resonating with an authoritative echo. "I must learn to harness and control my energy and power. Though I will no longer speak with this voice, she will still be me. Think of it as an... absorption process. She needs to become accustomed to this energy and manage my powers. What she does with them—and with me—is solely her and my mutual decision. Mine might influence her behavior, so whenever you observe her making significant and impactful decisions, it will be my influence affecting her, though unintentionally... consider it an augmentation."

  With a final, commanding glance toward her people, she declares with regal firmness, "You must seek out another queen if she is unwilling. And as for you, my King... I will remain here, within her, waiting for you. I cannot journey to another world or continue my path as our souls intertwine and become one."

  She offers a last, elegant gesture of farewell to everyone present. As she completes her departure, her form collapses to the ground. The General, reacting swiftly, manages to catch her before she hits the floor, her body fainting. The Queen's body dissipates into the air, transforming into delicate blue fireflies that drift toward her unconscious vessel. The ethereal blue light mingles with the pink hue of her skin, and her normal-colored lips start to take a dark blue color, representing the emersion of the Queen with her, creating a mesmerizing effect.

  A wave of murmurs ripples through the crowd. The atmosphere shifts from somber to a mix of awe and subdued joy. The Noxits, once apprehensive and confused, begin to express their relief and happiness, their voices rising in a soft, collective murmur.

  The old Noxit priest, sensing the change in mood, steps forward with a comforting presence. His long white beard flows gently with his movements, and he raises his cane reassuringly. With a voice that carries both gravity and warmth, he addresses the assembly:

  "People of Noxits," he begins, his tone imbued with solemnity and hope, "this is not the end but a new beginning. The Queen lives on, not in the form we knew, but within this new vessel. Her spirit will guide and protect us as long as she remains among us. Her legacy is intertwined with this woman's soul, and through her, the Queen's essence will continue to influence our world."

  He pauses to let his words resonate with the crowd, his eyes scanning the faces filled with joy and reverence. "Rejoice, for the Queen has not truly departed. This vessel will carry the Queen's strength and wisdom. She will remain a beacon of our heritage and our future."

  With these final words, the crowd bursts into soft cheers and applause, their spirits lifted by the promise of the Queen's enduring presence.

  The General, observing the crowd's transformation, nods approvingly. His usual stoic demeanor softens slightly, reflecting the shift in the atmosphere. He stands with the Priest, acknowledging the profound significance of the moment, while the Noxits gather around the pink-hued woman, their faces illuminated with a collective sense of renewed purpose and reverence.

  As the ceremony draws to a close, the mood shifts to one of organized departure. The crowd begins to disperse, their conversations buzzing with excitement and contemplation about the Queen's new presence. Still processing the monumental event, the General gives a subtle nod to Fereyan.

  Fereyan, now tasked with a new responsibility, approaches her. He gently lifts her delicate form with a sigh of confusion and a touch of hesitation.

  The absence of the Queen's royal frequency is palpable, leaving behind the woman he knew in her more familiar state. The transformation, though profound, has left her in a state of vulnerability.

  As Fereyan carries her toward the General's bedroom, his movements are careful and deliberate, his thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and duty. He makes his way through the now-quiet corridors, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders.

  Meanwhile, the General remains in the ceremonial hall, gesturing toward the Priest of Noxits with an authoritative yet respectful beckoning. The two exchange nods, acknowledging the importance of their impending discussion. The General's demeanor is focused, his mind already shifting to the next steps required to navigate the aftermath of the Queen's extraordinary transition.

  With the last of the attendees drifting away to their respective duties, the General and the Priest make their way toward the General's office. The atmosphere is purposeful and quiet, and the significance of the recent events is hanging in the air.

  The General and the Priest, now joined by Tolius, make their way to the office. The General's steps are measured, each echoing with the weight of responsibility and the task of reconciling the past with this new reality.

  In the General's office, the Priest takes a seat opposite the General. The room's subdued lighting creates a calm but serious atmosphere. The General, taking a seat as well, gestures for the Priest to begin.

  The Priest's eyes are filled with wisdom and curiosity as he prepares to discuss the implications of the Queen's new existence. At the same time, the General remains composed, ready to delve into the complexities of the situation and the future it will shape for their world.

  Outside the office, Tolius stands by, awaiting further instructions, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the bedroom where Fereyan remains with the fainted woman. The sense of transition and change is palpable, and the once-bustling ceremony now gives way to a period of quiet reflection and planning.

  Meanwhile, The King stood at the edge of the room, his heart heavy with emotions he couldn't quite name. He watched as the Priest pointed into the air, following an invisible thread that connected the world of the living to that of the dead. He felt the weight of his crown more than ever, pressing down on his brow, reminding him of the burdens he carried. The Queen's death had left a void in his soul, one that he knew would never be filled. But what happened next defied even his understanding.

  ~How did this happen?~ The King's thoughts raced, and questions piled up.~ Is this my Queen, or is this just some unfortunate soul trapped with a power she never asked for? What connection could she possibly have to the Queen of Noxits?~ He had always understood that the soul and the body were intertwined in mysterious ways, but he had never witnessed something so intimate and profound. It was both a miracle and a curse, all wrapped into one incomprehensible moment.

  The rumors had already begun swirling, voices buzzing in hushed tones around the room. ~What does this mean for the throne? For the kingdom? ~He could feel the tension building. ~If the woman was now the Queen in some spiritual sense, would she be accepted? Would she even want the responsibility? And if not, how would the kingdom move forward?~