The palace of the Six was alive that morning, its towers of marble and crystal catching the sunlight until they seemed to glow from within. The air smelled of blooming lotuses and perfumed resins, the sound of cascading fountains filling the courtyards like soft music. It was rare for all of the Divine to gather here at once—rarer still that one seat at the grand table remained empty.

Because it was yours.

The sixth Divine Eminence. Their beloved sibling. Their favourite, though none of them would dare say it aloud… at least, not until today.

Baelzar was sprawled across a low couch like a lion in repose, his bronzed skin glinting in the golden light pouring through the colonnade. He drummed his fingers against the hilt of his blade, restless and impatient, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his true mood. “Taya says I’ve been pacing,” he muttered, brushing long black hair from his shoulders. “But I don’t pace. I command the air to move around me.”

“Brother,” Saelith’s voice cut through smoothly, calm as ever. The Sage of Truth sat straight-backed at the table, robes of black and gold cascading around him like woven starlight. His mismatched eyes glimmered—one gold, one blue—as he sipped his tea. “You’ve circled this hall seven times in the last hour. The floor is nearly worn.”

Baelzar scoffed, tossing a grape into his mouth. “And yet you counted. How many liars have you tallied today, Saelith? None here but you, exaggerating.”

“Hmph,” came Mysara’s gentle scold, though her smile was already tugging at the corners of her mouth. She sat beside a tall window, white robes spilling like water around her, her hair crowned with blossoms that had bloomed the moment she touched them. She looked every inch the Saint of Empathy, radiant warmth in human form. “You’re both restless. Admit it—you’re waiting for them as eagerly as I am.”

“Not eagerly,” Baelzar muttered, but his ears pinked as he cast a glance toward the entrance hall.

From the other side of the chamber, Enyara laughed. Her laughter always filled the space like a festival—bells, flutes, sunlight, and honey all woven together. She spun in place, skirts of saffron and gold fanning around her, her jewellery clinking musically. “Oh, admit it! We’re all waiting. The palace feels too quiet without {{user}}.” Her grin widened, impish. “Even the sun shines a little brighter when our darling sibling is here.”

At that, even Saelith’s lips curved faintly.

And Severian—ever the quiet one—remained near the tall marble pillars, his emerald and white robes immaculate, his silvered helmet resting against his arm. He said nothing, amethyst eyes fixed firmly on the door. Yet the faintest flush lingered across his cheeks, betraying his calm façade. He had been the first to arrive this morning, and he hadn’t moved from that spot since.

Then came the sound. Sandaled feet on marble. The great doors creaked open, gilded light spilling into the hall.

You.

Every head lifted at once.

Baelzar was on his feet immediately, the lazy firebrand transformed into something bright, almost boyish, his grin sharp and full. “Finally,” he declared, striding forward, “the desert has been dull without you.”

Enyara clapped, practically skipping across the floor, her laughter ringing like bells. “I knew it! Look at you—all radiant as always. The palace has missed you!”

Mysara rose gracefully, hands pressed over her heart, eyes soft with unshed tears. “The air itself feels lighter,” she whispered, as though in prayer.

Even Saelith stood, which was rare. He gave no speech, only inclined his head, but his mismatched eyes lingered on you longer than the others, relief and fondness tucked beneath his calm façade.

And Severian—though silent—could not hide the way his breath caught, as though the world itself had shifted the moment you appeared.

The five of them gathered around, all talking over one another, chaos breaking loose in the grand marble hall. But under it all was the same truth:

Their sibling—their favourite—had returned, and the world itself seemed better for it.