The room had fallen silent for a bit after Kieran had asked the question.

From the beginning of the Trial until now… none of the Myths had stepped foot outside of the throne room, so turning to them for answers about the day of the week, time of day… or perhaps even month was not ideal.

Of course, Xenith didn’t operate the same way Earth did. Its days and nights were twice as long, and though they used the term “hours,” it was always in some weird way like: “Fifth hour of the day, or tenth hour of the night.”

Kieran chalked that up to utter bull** he couldn’t bother to learn. If he wanted to know the truth of the matter, he could always just log out for a moment and check the clocks.

Only some people within the room were without an answer, though.

Ferreira closed her eyes briefly, and when they opened again, they looked like limpid pools of pure white. Her eyes were so clear Kieran started to feel strange when looking into them… like he was about to look straight into her mind, or worse… she would peer directly into his.

Kieran averted his gaze until Ferreira’s eyes returned to their natural color, which felt no less celestial than when she relied upon her powers.

After a brief pause, she spoke.

“My familiars beyond the mist have told me many nightfalls have passed since. If I had to guess, you all were lost amidst your Trial for roughly a month.”

Daedric looked around with widened eyes and stammered.

“A… a month?! Are you serious right now?”

Kieran agreed with Daedric, frowning and looking incredibly displeased.

They had experienced tens of years within the Trial, but he had always assumed the flow of time was absurdly manipulated to where the flow outside was slower, almost inconsequential.

It seemed he was only half right.

Astraea sensed the palpable tension amongst the New Myths, but Ferreira truly felt how distraught they were.

“I guess it hasn’t quite hit you young ones yet. I can feel your thoughts for the most part… some more than others.”

Ferreira paused while speaking, looking directly at Kieran. Now that he was Oathbound, Defier of Fate made it difficult for anyone to glean things about him.

Though Ferreira seemed like an empath, her abilities were rooted in divination — not so much seeing as it was connecting and understanding. She was closer to an augur that spread word and connected thoughts in that aspect.

Her curiosity grew the longer she looked at Kieran, but she didn’t voice her suspicions.

Astraea raised her hand and emitted a calming ripple that soothed everyone’s troubled thoughts.

“Calm, children. If you are to be the New Myths… there is much you need to learn. One of which is you mustn’t fixate on the accolades of the mundane.”

Daedric grumbled and groused.

“What does that mean, lady? Speak normally, please. My brain can’t compute the elder speak. I’m not reading some ancient tragedy.”

Astraea spared Daedric a glance before looking pointedly at Gestalt. The Old Myth of the Colossus patted Daedric’s shoulder.

“Easy there, boy. There’s no need to get all riled up. She’ll sooner explain to you what it is she means. And remember, you are the First Shield. You ought to show respect if you’re to demand it in the future.”

Daedric replied with a mumble, looking down afterward with crossed arms. He was clearly still in the dumps, but he didn’t erupt. He didn’t show what else he felt, but Lunariel looked in his direction with a strange glint in her eyes, then gossiped to Altair.

“The big guy is scared. Fear and uncertainty are spilling off of his spirit. Oh, there are also thoughts of inadequacy. Talk about a deep-seated inferiority complex, am I right?”

Lunariel nudged Altair, but he responded by looking askance at her, his expression somewhat callous.

“His struggles are funny to you? Then… is everyone’s toils some sort of game to you?”

Lunariel was taken aback and didn’t know what to say. In a way… she felt like she was back talking to Kieran in the Trial, and that thought made her frown.

“I was just making light of an unfortunate situation. Why are you so mean to me?”

Altair’s eyes lingered on her momentarily before returning to the room’s center.

“Don’t take it personally. I’m not just mean to you… I’m just not one for thoughtless gossip.”

Then, Altair went silent.

Lunariel was left looking between him and Daedric with a contrite frown. Her coping mechanism didn’t really have a place amongst this crowd… at least not amongst the men she found herself surrounded by.

None of them could appreciate the lighthearted and inadvertently dark humor she brought. Why? Well, that ought to be simple — something inside them all was broken, and her words hit too close to home to find “humorous.”

Astraea resumed control of the conversation after her pause to have Gestalt handle his discourteous Successor.

“By now, you should have all had a considerable number of conversations with the Zenith Frequency — which records all feats accomplished by you. The accolades of the mundane refer to the small doings that barely weigh against the grain of a Myth. Concerning yourself with keeping abreast with your lessers is amongst a mundane thought.”

Alfeurza picked his teeth with a dagger and chimed in.

“She’s completely right, y’know? What it means to be a Myth is that you acquire power faster but face equally great challenges. You all are what we call Mythic Adepts, and amongst the Adepts, you exist as the pinnacle.”

Ingvald chimed in, building on their points.

“When you are at the pinnacle, your focus should not be on the ground below you but in the sky above.”

Jaeger glanced around the room and then made a subtle humming noise.

“I don’t know. If you’re too busy looking at the sky, you could stumble and fall, mate. That’s what I’d reckon. Your gaze should be on all to prepare adequately.”

Alfeurza patted Jaeger’s shoulder.

“You’re not wrong, lad. But what if there is no ground beneath your feet? What if the air is where you walk?”

Listening to them talk, Kieran was reminded of something.

“I’ve seen that happen — walking on air, I mean. Agrianos did it. Hekaina did it, too.”

Gestalt stared at Kieran with a cryptic solemnity to his expression.

“Those are some pretty mighty names you’re flinging around, and lightheartedly too.”

Kieran didn’t know if he was speaking out of turn, but he scratched his head and turned to Scar for answers.

“They mean to say you don’t use their titles but their actual names. But it’s fine; nothing will come of it. Not for you, at least. You’ve already met both of them. Who cares if you call them by name.”

Astraea gasped, exasperatedly covering her mouth.

“You jest! He’s met with both the Ancients?”

Kieran squinted, staring at Astraea intensely. He had assumed Hekaina to be incredibly old and speculated she might be an Ancient like Agrianos, but he couldn’t say.

Not after learning what an Ancient was from the Flame.

Astraea’s exclamation confirmed his suspicions — Hekaina was amongst the Ancients.

“Of course he has. That’s why I was sure my boy would pass this Cycle of Inheritance. He had the Blessing of the Father all along.”

Astraea seemed a bit regretful, sighing loudly before apologizing to Scar and his protege.

“Forgive me for stepping out of line in the beginning. Our situation has been immensely stressful, but that doesn’t justify how rude I was initially.”

Contrary to his reputation of causing scenes and holding grudges… Scar merely shrugged.

“No biggie. Didn’t take it to heart anyway. My Successor is much better than everyone else.”