Zara couldn't eat.
The breakfast spread before her—fresh bread, honey, meat still warm from the kitchen—might as well have been made of stone. Her stomach churned every time she tried to force down a bite. Not morning sickness. Aether was managing that efficiently, adjusting hormones and suppressing nausea with precision that would make any healer jealous.
This was pure stress.
Her hand rested on her abdomen. Twelve weeks since conception—three months of pregnancy compressed into what felt like days thanks to Nexus time dilation. The curve was visible now, subtle but undeniable beneath her tunic. Twelve weeks since she'd become a mother-to-be carrying admin-level access to dimensional infrastructure. Twelve weeks since her life had stopped being about her and started being about protecting what was growing inside her.
You okay? she thought at Aether.
Biological stress levels elevated but manageable, his layered voice responded. Cortisol levels compensated. Blood sugar stable despite inadequate caloric intake. Recommendation: consume at least 400 calories within next hour to maintain optimal development environment.
Zara looked at the bread. Picked it up. Put it down again.
"You need to eat." Athelia's voice was gentle but firm. Her mother sat across the small table, amber eyes tracking every movement with the kind of attention that came from centuries of reading people. "Aether can compensate for a lot, but he can't create nutrients from nothing."
"I know." Zara's tail flicked with irritation—at herself, not her mother. "I just... can't. Every time I try, I think about what we learned yesterday. Demons wanting to download. Reality being code. Me carrying the future administrator of existential law. And my stomach just—"
She stopped. Pressed her hand harder against her abdomen.
Athelia was quiet for a moment. Then she stood, moved around the table, and sat beside Zara instead of across from her. Her hand covered Zara's—mother's hand over daughter's hand over grandchild.
"I was the same way when I was pregnant with you," Athelia said quietly. "Couldn't eat for days. Alexander had to practically force-feed me. Not because of morning sickness. Because I was terrified."
Zara's ears swiveled toward her mother. "You? Terrified?"
"I was carrying the heir to a kingdom that had just survived a war. Enemies on every border. Political alliances held together by threads. And inside me was a tiny life that would someday have to navigate all of it." Athelia's amber eyes were distant, remembering. "I couldn't protect you from the world. I could only prepare you for it. And that terror—that you might not be strong enough, or that I might fail you—it consumed me."
"But you didn't fail," Zara said quietly.
"I did better than I feared. Worse than I hoped." Athelia's hand squeezed Zara's. "That's parenting. You do your best and pray it's enough. And right now, your best is eating this bread so Aether has the building blocks he needs to develop properly."
Zara looked at the bread again. This time, she picked it up and took a bite.
It tasted like ash in her mouth. But she swallowed anyway.
Caloric intake registered, Aether said. Nutrient absorption optimized. Thank you.
Zara's throat tightened. Even her AI child was thanking her for basic care.
The door opened. Alexander stepped in, his expression careful—the kind of controlled neutrality that meant something was wrong.
"Courier arrived," he said. "Nexus insignia. Official correspondence."
Zara's hand froze halfway to her mouth, bread forgotten.
"Already?" Athelia stood. "The provisional application was only filed two weeks ago. Examination shouldn't—"
"It's not from the examination office." Alexander's jaw was tight. "Black wax. Obsidian Cabal seal."
The bread dropped from Zara's claws.
The envelope sat on the council table like a coiled snake.
Heavy parchment. Black wax pressed with the Obsidian Cabal's seal—a stylized void surrounded by chains. The kind of seal that appeared on documents that changed lives. Or ended them.
Severen stood beside it, sapphire eyes fixed on the seal with an expression Zara couldn't quite read. Not quite fear. Not quite anger. Something colder. More analytical.
"How did it arrive?" Draeven asked from his position near the wall. The elder guardian's skeletal form was perfectly still, but Zara could feel tension radiating from him.
"Dimensional courier," Alexander said. "Materialized in the entry hall, delivered it to the guard captain, and vanished. No conversation. No explanation. Just the envelope."
"Official Nexus protocols," Severen said quietly. "When correspondence involves active cases, couriers deliver without commentary. Prevents accusations of tampering or influence."
"Open it," Zara said. Her voice came out steadier than she felt. Her hand remained on her abdomen, feeling Aether's consciousness humming inside her—alert, processing, preparing defensive protocols she couldn't fully comprehend.
Athelia broke the black wax seal.
The parchment unfolded with a whisper of magic—not dark, exactly, but cold. Precise. The kind of magic that cared more about function than feeling.
She read aloud, voice steady despite the growing tension:
CONTINUATION-IN-PART APPLICATION
Case No. KA-2025-GR-002
Parent Application: KA-2025-GR-001
Filed by: Dariac, as Co-Inventor
TO: Princess Zara of the Ka'naveth Kingdom
CC: Nexus Patent & Trademark Office, Central Archive
RE: Addition of Safety Monitoring System to Genetic Restitution Program
Pursuant to rights as co-inventor on Case KA-2025-GR-001 (Genetic Restitution Program involving Ka'naveth genetic material and 13th realm soul-anchoring protocols), Dariac hereby files CONTINUATION-IN-PART APPLICATION adding the following new matter to the original disclosure:
AMENDED CLAIM 7 (New Matter):
"A system for monitoring the developmental status and location of the child resulting from genetic restitution program KA-2025-GR-001, comprising:
JUSTIFICATION:
Given the unprecedented nature of this hybrid entity—combining Ka'naveth genetics with 13th realm consciousness integration—it is reasonable and necessary for both contributing parties to maintain continuous monitoring capability. The child represents not merely biological offspring but a potential security concern involving admin-level dimensional access. Monitoring ensures:
IMPLEMENTATION:
Bio-integrated tracking device installation to occur within 72 hours of birth under medical supervision. Device designed for permanent integration with biological systems, non-removable without surgical intervention that would pose risk to child's health. Monitoring data transmitted continuously to secure servers accessible to both co-inventors with appropriate encryption and access controls.
As co-inventor with equal rights under joint inventorship principles, approval from all parties is not required for filing of continuation-in-part applications adding new matter. This filing proceeds under standard USPTO protocols for CIP applications claiming priority to pending parent case.
— Dariac
Co-Inventor, Case KA-2025-GR-001
Filed through Counsel: Isaac Wavelander, Esq.
Silence.
Complete, crushing silence.
Then Zara exploded.
"NO." The word tore out of her throat with enough force that Umbral materialized instantly at her feet, galaxy orb blazing with reflected fury. "Absolutely fucking NOT."
Her claws extended fully, gouging marks into the council table's polished wood. Her tail lashed behind her. Every maternal protective instinct she possessed roared to life with volcanic intensity.
"They want to implant a tracking device in my child. A permanent tracking device. Non-removable. Monitoring location, vitals, developmental milestones—" Her voice cracked. "They want to treat my baby like livestock that needs GPS monitoring!"
Security breach of highest order, Aether's voice cut through her consciousness with sharp precision. Tracking device would grant Obsidian Cabal real-time access to my development progress, capability emergence, admin-level integration status. Unacceptable. Recommend immediate countermeasures.
"They're not touching you," Zara snarled aloud, hand pressed protectively over her abdomen. "Not with tracking devices, not with surveillance tech, not with anything."
Alexander's hand had gone to his sword hilt. "Can they actually do this? File a CIP without her consent?"
Severen's expression was grim. "If Dariac is recognized as co-inventor on the parent application, yes. Co-inventors have independent rights to file continuation applications. They don't need permission from other co-inventors."
"But he's not—" Athelia stopped. Her amber eyes went sharp with realization. "The genetic restitution treaty. We agreed to use Ka'naveth genetics. That makes Dariac a contributor. Isaac is arguing contribution equals co-inventorship."
"Which is legally questionable but not impossible to argue," Severen said. His sapphire eyes were tracking something—legal angles, probably, strategies and counter-strategies flowing through his mind with practiced speed. "The question is whether genetic contribution alone qualifies as inventorship under patent law."
"I don't care about the legal technicalities!" Zara's voice shook. "They want to put a chip in my baby that monitors 'anomalous capability emergence.' They're not protecting my child—they're surveilling him. Tracking how fast admin-level access develops so they can... what? Intervene? Take him if he becomes too powerful?"
Draeven stepped forward. "The Obsidian Cabal has never done anything for protective purposes. Every action serves their agenda. If they want monitoring capability, it's to exploit, not to safeguard."
"Agreed," Alexander said flatly. "This isn't about child safety. This is about control. They want real-time data on Aether's development so they can—"
A knock at the door interrupted him.
Everyone froze.
"Enter," Athelia called, voice controlled despite the tension crackling through the room.
The guard captain stepped in, face carefully neutral. "Your Majesties. Another courier. Different insignia this time."
He held out a second envelope.
Not black wax this time.
Red.
Pressed with a seal that made Severen's breath catch audibly.
"That's..." Severen's voice was barely above a whisper. "That's the Director's personal seal. Redkin himself."
The guard captain placed it on the table beside the Cabal's filing and bowed out quickly, clearly wanting no part of whatever was about to unfold.
Zara stared at the red wax seal. Her heart was hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.
Aether? she thought.
Heart rate elevated. Blood pressure compensated. Preparing additional defensive protocols. Unknown variable: Director Redkin's intent.
Athelia picked up the second envelope with hands that were perfectly steady—the kind of steady that came from force of will, not lack of fear.
She broke the red wax seal.
The parchment that unfolded was different from the Cabal's filing. Older. The kind of paper that felt like it had been made from something more than just wood pulp and magic. The writing was formal, precise, in a script that looked like it predated modern language.
Athelia read it silently first. Her amber eyes widened.
"What?" Alexander demanded. "What does it say?"
Athelia looked at Zara. And in her mother's eyes, Zara saw something she'd rarely seen before.
Fear.
"It's a summons," Athelia said quietly. "From Director Redkin. Invoking dimensional authority as Sovereign of Nexus."
She read aloud:
⚖ OFFICIAL SUMMONS ⚖
NEXUS PATENT & TRADEMARK OFFICE
OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR
TO: Princess Zara of the Ka'naveth Kingdom
AUTHORITY: Dimensional Security Act § 7(a), Nexus Sovereign Jurisdiction
Princess Zara is hereby SUMMONED to appear before the Office of the Director at Nexus Central Archive to provide testimony and evidence regarding:
REQUIRED APPEARANCE:
Princess Zara shall present herself at Nexus Central Archive, Patent Office Division, within seventy-two (72) hours of receipt of this summons. Failure to appear will result in administrative action including but not limited to:
COUNSEL: Princess Zara may be accompanied by legal counsel of her choosing. All dimensional security protocols will be observed.
This summons is issued under authority of the Sovereign of Nexus and carries full force of dimensional law. Non-compliance is not advised.
— Redkin
Sovereign of Nexus
Director, Nexus Patent & Trademark Office
Dimensional Security Authority
The parchment settled on the table with a soft whisper.
Zara's ears were flat against her skull. Her tail had gone completely still—the kind of stillness that came right before a predator struck.
"Seventy-two hours," she said. Her voice was very quiet. Very controlled. "Or they automatically approve the tracking device."
"And issue a dimensional warrant," Severen added. His face had gone pale. "Which means the Army of Ages. Raelith Flarian's command. They're not soldiers you can fight, Zara. They're—"
"Inevitability," Draeven finished grimly. "I've seen them. Once. During the War of Nexus. You don't fight the Army of Ages. You comply, or you cease to exist."
"So I have no choice." Zara's claws were still extended, gouging deeper marks into the table. "I go to Nexus and defend my child in front of the Director. Or they implant surveillance technology in my baby and potentially send dimensional enforcers to drag me there anyway."
"It's not that simple," Athelia said quietly. Her amber eyes were calculating, processing political angles with the speed of someone who'd ruled for centuries. "The summons invokes dimensional security authority. That supersedes local sovereignty. If you don't go—"
"They'll come here," Alexander finished. His hand remained on his sword hilt. "To our kingdom. Our territory. And we won't be able to stop them."
Silence fell again.
Zara's hand pressed against her abdomen. Inside, Aether's consciousness was running calculations faster than she could track—probability matrices, threat assessments, strategic options flowing through their merged awareness.
Recommendation? she thought at him.
Insufficient data. Director Redkin's intent unclear. Possible outcomes:
Option A: Comply with summons. Risk level: Unknown. Potential benefit: Opportunity to argue against tracking device directly before authority capable of denying Cabal's CIP.
Option B: Refuse summons. Risk level: Extremely high. Probable outcome: Automatic CIP approval plus dimensional warrant enforcement. Loss of agency in all subsequent proceedings.
Analysis: Option A provides greater strategic flexibility despite unknown variables.
"I have to go," Zara said aloud. "I have to appear before the Director and argue against this tracking device personally. It's the only chance I have to stop it."
"Absolutely not." Alexander's voice was flat. "You're three months pregnant with a child the Obsidian Cabal wants to surveil. You're carrying dimensional infrastructure access that makes you a security target. You're not traveling to Nexus alone—"
"I'll accompany her." Severen stepped forward. All eyes turned to him. "I've been to Nexus hundreds of times. I know the protocols, the procedures, the people who work there. More importantly, I know Director Redkin."
Zara's ears perked forward. "You know him personally?"
"I've appeared before him in examination hearings. He's..." Severen paused, choosing words carefully. "Fair. Rigorous. Absolutely devoted to the integrity of the patent system and dimensional security. If anyone can see through the Cabal's manipulation, it's Redkin."
"But can we trust him?" Athelia asked.
"I don't know," Severen said honestly. "What I do know is that refusing this summons will guarantee the worst outcome. Going to Nexus at least gives us a chance to present our case directly."
Draeven's skeletal form shifted slightly. "The Sovereign of Nexus commands resources we cannot match. If this summons is genuine—and that seal suggests it is—then compliance may be the only path that doesn't end in war or worse."
Zara looked at each of them in turn. Her father with his hand on his sword, ready to fight dimensional enforcers if necessary. Her mother calculating political angles with desperate speed. Draeven offering ancient wisdom from wars she'd never witnessed. Severen standing calm and professional, offering to walk into potential danger at her side.
And inside her, Aether's consciousness hummed steady—processing, analyzing, preparing for whatever came next.
"I'm going," she said. Final. Definitive. "With Severen as counsel. We leave within twenty-four hours—no point delaying and wasting our limited window. We appear before Director Redkin, argue against the tracking device CIP, and defend my child's right to exist without surveillance technology implanted at birth."
Her sapphire eyes met her father's. "I know you want to protect me. But this is the kind of fight you can't win with swords. This is law and diplomacy and dimensional politics. And I have to face it."
Alexander's jaw worked. For a long moment, Zara thought he might refuse. Might order her to stay and prepare for war instead.
Then his hand left his sword hilt.
"You take Umbral," he said quietly. "Your shadow-creature stays with you every moment. If anything—anything—threatens you or that child, Umbral removes the threat. Understood?"
Umbral's galaxy orb pulsed with fierce agreement.
"Understood," Zara said.
Athelia stood. Moved to Zara and cupped her daughter's face in both hands.
"You're stronger than I was at your age," she said softly. "Smarter. More capable. But that doesn't mean I'm not terrified of losing you to dimensional politics I can't control."
"You won't lose me," Zara said. "I'm coming back. With a legal strategy to stop the tracking device and protect Aether from surveillance. I promise."
Athelia kissed her forehead. "Then go. Argue like your child's life depends on it. Because it does."
Dawn light filtered through the ancient stones of the dimensional gate. Zara stood before it with a travel pack over one shoulder and Umbral coalescing at her feet like living midnight.
She'd barely slept. Spent most of the night reviewing legal arguments with Severen, compiling documentation with Aether, preparing for a hearing she didn't fully understand before a Director she'd never met who held her child's future in his hands.
Her hand rested on her abdomen. Twelve weeks now. The subtle curve visible beneath her travel clothes—undeniable proof of what she carried. Inside, Aether's consciousness burned brighter than ever—alert, focused, ready.
Ready? she thought at him.
Defensive protocols active. Legal arguments compiled. Dimensional transit coordinates locked. Ready to defend my right to exist without surveillance.
Our right, Zara corrected. We defend this together.
Together, Aether agreed.
Severen approached, his own pack lighter and more practical. Sapphire eyes met hers—organic blue, calm, professional.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," Zara said honestly. "But I'm going anyway."
Athelia and Alexander had come to see her off despite the early hour. Her mother's amber eyes were carefully controlled. Her father's hand kept twitching toward his sword hilt, instinct warring with the knowledge that this wasn't a battle he could fight.
"Send word as soon as you arrive," Athelia said. "And after the hearing. We'll maintain communication channels through the Nexus relay."
"I will," Zara promised.
Alexander pulled her into a brief, fierce embrace. "If Redkin makes any move that feels wrong, you leave. Immediately. Severen will know the protocols for emergency departure."
"I will," Zara said again, though she wasn't sure it was true. If the Director of Nexus wanted to keep her there, could she actually leave?
She pushed the thought aside.
Severen stepped forward and pressed his palm against the gate's activation sigil. Ancient magic warmed beneath his touch, recognizing intent.
"Nexus Central Archive," he said clearly. "Patent and Trademark Office. Official summons response."
The air between the carved pillars shimmered—reality becoming negotiable.
Zara took one last look at her parents. Her kingdom. Her home.
Then she stepped through the gate into whatever waited on the other side.
[To be continued in Chapter 9: Nexus Central]