Chapter 1: IRREVERENT
The throne room of the Spatial Fortress was vast and dim, carved from stone that hummed faintly, resonating with millennia of authority. Shadows clung to corners like patient predators, stretching across the floor. The air pressed against lungs and ribs, heavy with anticipation and the faint scent of incense.
Fifteen attendants stood in rigid formation, mantles shimmering like veils of light. Their gazes dipped respectfully, though nerves betrayed them in flickering eyes and shallow breaths. One bead of sweat traced down a temple before dropping silently onto the cold stone.
At the center, the Great Elder sat on the throne, crown tipped as if weighted with centuries. His face was calm, yet his eyes — sharp, unyielding — surveyed the room with the quiet authority of one who could bend the fortress itself to will. The stone beneath his seat thrummed subtly, a vibration felt as much in bone as in air.
The Elder's voice broke the silence, cutting through like a blade through fog.
"Where is the boy?"
The attendants flinched, as if struck by unseen force. One swallowed hard, voice trembling.
"Lord… he is only ten. Weak by our standards. He cannot endure the climb."
The Elder's lips curved faintly — not with amusement, but with something colder.
"You speak of weakness. Do not speak of him again."
Whispers tickled at the edges of the room. One muttered, "Then why does he not train with the clan?" The words barely left his lips before the Elder's gaze snapped toward him, hawk‑sharp. The man froze, throat tightening.
Rising slowly, the Elder's mantle flared like a storm contained in flesh. Reality itself seemed to bend around him, pressing down on the attendants as if the air had weight. No explanation followed. Silence deepened, oppressive and electric.
Another whispered, trembling, "If he is only ten… then what are we?"
No answer came.
The Elder's eyes swept the room again.
"You will not question him again."
Then, in a blink, he vanished. The throne sat empty, the crown's glow lingering like a faint heartbeat. The fortress itself seemed to breathe, expectant rather than peaceful.
A single attendant dared to whisper, voice shaking,
"If he is beyond us… then what will he become?"
No one answered.
And somewhere beyond the throne room, in the cold mountain corridors, a boy stirred.