Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

The reflection looking back at her was no longer her own. Standing in her place was a stunning woman, ethereal and almost otherworldly. Her ebony hair cascaded in soft waves just above her shoulders, framing a face so symmetrical and flawless it felt like gazing at a crafted masterpiece. Soft, piercing blue eyes shone with a depth that seemed to hold galaxies, locking Athena's gaze through the glass. Her skin was pale, smooth, and radiant, with an almost silken glow that amplified her beauty. Athena felt frozen as if her body refused to move while her mind tried to comprehend what she was seeing. The woman in the mirror radiated an allure so profound it made her heart race. Beautiful wasn't enough to describe her—she was perfect. Without a doubt, this was the most captivating face Athena had ever seen. Her hand trembled as she instinctively reached up to touch her own face, watching the motion in the mirror. The reflection mimicked her movements, but there was a haunting grace to how the woman moved—smoother, more fluid. And then, without Athena even doing anything, the woman in the mirror grinned. As Sylus and Cyrus finished their conversation in the quiet sanctuary of the temple, an unsettling chill swept through the air. It was subtle at first—a faint prickle at the back of their necks—but it quickly grew into an icy sensation that seeped into their bones. Both men exchanged wary glances, their breaths misting slightly in the sudden cold. Sylus frowned, his sharp instincts immediately on edge. "Something's wrong," he muttered, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his weapon. Cyrus, his expression darkening, nodded. "We should check on Athena." Without another word, the two left the temple, their hurried footsteps echoing through the stone halls before spilling into the bustling streets. The chill seemed to follow them, unnatural and foreboding, as they made their way back to Athena's apartment. When they arrived, the door was slightly ajar. Sylus pushed it open cautiously, revealing Athena sitting at the edge of her bed, her elbows resting on her knees and her chin propped on her hands. She seemed lost in thought, her brow furrowed as though she were trying to piece together a puzzle. She looked up at their arrival, her face lighting up briefly with recognition before the furrow returned. "You're here," she said, her voice low and distracted. "Good. I need you to see this." The two men stepped inside, their eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble. Athena stood and gestured toward the cracked mirror on the wall. "Look," she said, her voice carrying a weight of unease. Cyrus and Sylus approached the mirror cautiously. At first, they only saw their own reflections staring back at them, but then... they didn't. Their reflections blinked out of existence like snuffed-out flames, leaving the glass empty for a heartbeat. Then, like a veil parting, the surface of the mirror revealed a surreal, impossible sight. A woman appeared within the reflection. She was the same woman Athena had described: ebony hair falling in soft waves around a face of otherworldly beauty, her pale complexion glowing faintly in the dim light. But now, she wasn't just standing there. In the mirror-world version of the room, she was lying on the bed, her head resting on one hand as if lounging idly. The room in the reflection was identical to Athena's, down to the smallest detail, yet the woman was the only presence within it. Her soft blue eyes turned toward the trio, locking onto them with an intensity that sent a shiver through the room. She seemed calm, almost serene, but there was something about her gaze—something ancient and unreadable, as if she were observing them from an unfathomable distance. "She's been like this since I saw her," Athena whispered, breaking the silence. "She doesn't speak. She doesn't move except to shift now and then like she's... waiting." Cyrus reached out tentatively toward the mirror, his fingers brushing the surface. The glass felt cold, unnaturally so, as if it were drawing the warmth from his skin. The woman didn't react, but it felt as though her eyes followed his every movement. "She's trapped," Sylus murmured, his voice steady but tinged with tension. "Or perhaps... she's choosing to stay there." Athena's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "What does it mean? Who is she?" Sylus didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on the mirror, his usually calm expression now shadowed with unease. Cyrus crossed his arms, his jaw tight as he studied the reflection. The silence stretched thin, the weight of the mystery pressing heavily on them. The tension in the room shattered as the woman in the mirror abruptly disappeared, only to reappear directly in front of the glass, her sudden movement so jarring that all three instinctively stepped back. "Hey," she said, her voice raspy and tomboyish, carrying an almost disarming casualness. Sylus and Cyrus exchanged a glance, the unspoken recognition of her extraordinary beauty passing silently between them. Her features were as striking up close as they were in the mirror: short, inky-black hair that framed her face with natural elegance, pale skin almost glowing under the dim light, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the weight of millennia. Yet, there was an undeniable sharpness in her gaze, like a dagger hidden behind the charm. Sylus cleared his throat, steadying himself. "Who are you?" he asked his tone calm but edged with suspicion. The woman's lips curved into a smirk. "Name's... Daria," she said, clearly improvising, her tone playful. Sylus studied her intently, not buying the answer but deciding to shift focus. "Let's say I believe that for now. But given everything happening, there's something else I need to know." His voice grew firmer. "Are you the Pillar of Trickery... Jesua?" At the mention of the name, Daria's expression darkened, and an oppressive chill swept through the room. Athena shivered, and Cyrus felt a cold sweat bead on his brow. For a moment, Daria's eyes gleamed with something ancient and unfathomable, as though the entire room stood on the edge of a knife. But then, in a snap, her face broke into a wild grin as she burst into laughter. "Caught me!" she said through her chuckles, her casual tone returning in full force. Both Cyrus and Sylus looked at each other, confused by the sheer incongruity of it all. How could such a seemingly destructive figure—a being of chaos and manipulation—act so... casual? It felt like a trick in and of itself. Athena hesitated before speaking. "Sylus, is it really her? I mean... I've heard stories, but I thought she was just a legend. A bedtime tale people passed down to scare their kids." Sylus nodded grimly. "It would make sense. You and Cyrus fought the Pillar of Decay. If one is back, it stands to reason the others would be as well." Athena crossed her arms, clearly skeptical. "If that's true, we'd be dead right now. You really think we stood up to one of the most powerful beings in existence and lived to tell the tale?" Sylus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They're weakened. They must have been. If they've only just been summoned back into this world, their strength would be nothing compared to what it once was." The three turned their attention back to the woman in the mirror—Jesua, the so-called Pillar of Trickery—who was still laughing to herself, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama. She leaned casually against the frame of her reflective prison, her arms crossed. "Alright," she said, her tone shifting to one of playful intrigue. "Now that we've got that settled, how about a deal? You free me, and I'll give you power beyond your wildest dreams. Sounds fair, right?" Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "You'd forgive us if we don't exactly trust the Pillar of Trickery to keep her word." Jesua shrugged with an exaggerated pout. "Aww, you wound me. But fine. Don't believe me. Your loss." While Cyrus and Athena questioned her further, Sylus remained quiet, his mind racing. The Warlocks were returning. That much seemed undeniable. But if this was the Warlock of Trickery, and Decay had already made an appearance, then there was one more figure looming in the shadows. And that figure was far more dangerous than either of the others. "The one we need to worry about," Sylus finally said, interrupting the conversation, "isn't Trickery or Decay. It's the Pillar of Wisdom." Jesua, lounging in the mirror, suddenly straightened, her expression turning annoyed. "Excuse me?" she cut in. "You think Wisdom is more dangerous than me? I'm the best. You're just scared of big words." Sylus raised an eyebrow. "I think the Pillar of Wisdom is the most powerful, given that you and Decay have had to team up to keep them in check before." Jesua's irritation deepened, her tone sharp. "Stop calling us 'Pillars.' We're not pillars. Never were. We're Warlocks. The Warlock of Decay. The Warlock of Trickery. And the Warlock of Wisdom." At those words, Cyrus froze, his blood running cold. That name—it was painfully familiar. His heart raced as memories surfaced, lessons from his world's history classes. The Warlock of Wisdom, better known as revenge incarnate. A name spoken in hushed tones, a legend of a force that had brought ruin to civilizations. "That's... impossible," Cyrus muttered under his breath, his unease deepening. Jesua smirked, clearly enjoying the effect her words had. "Oh, it's very possible, little man. And if Wisdom's coming back, well..." Her grin widened. "You'd better hold on tight."