The scene shifted to the imperial bureau of Emperor Graviil of Russia.
Tall windows framed the Moscow skyline, pale sunlight filtering through heavy crimson drapes embroidered with the double-headed eagle of the empire. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes, maps, and relics collected from decades of rule. The room carried authority—not loud, but absolute.
The doors opened slowly.
Jupiter stepped inside.
"Welcome, Jupiter," Emperor Graviil greeted warmly, rising slightly from behind his grand mahogany desk. "It has been some time since we've spoken face-to-face like this."
Jupiter lowered his head respectfully.
"Your Majesty. It has indeed been a while. I don't believe we've ever met privately like this… especially without Xavier present."
Graviil chuckled softly.
"Yes. That boy does tend to orbit around you."
He gestured toward a chair already prepared across from his desk.
"Please. Sit."
Jupiter obeyed, though as he settled into the seat, he couldn't help but glance around. The bureau was breathtaking. For someone who grew up far from nobility, the sheer elegance of the chamber felt almost unreal.
Graviil noticed.
"You must be wondering why I requested your presence," the Emperor said, folding his hands together.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I will be direct," Graviil replied. "It concerns your status as one of the Chosen Heroes."
Jupiter's posture straightened slightly.
"I assume Lord Reginald has already informed you," Graviil continued. "You are, after all, a citizen under his domain."
"He has," Jupiter confirmed. "He explained everything in person. He even offered my family residence in the noble district of the capital. My aunt and I are in the process of relocating."
He hesitated.
"He also offered us nobility. We haven't accepted yet. It's… a lot to take in."
Graviil raised a brow, impressed.
"A wise hesitation. Sudden elevation can be as dangerous as sudden power."
He leaned back slightly.
"Still, I am pleased your loved ones are being placed under greater protection. Take your time with the title. It will wait for you."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
Graviil studied him for a moment, faint amusement in his eyes.
"You are sharper than most your age."
He continued, voice lowering slightly.
"I have already spoken to Xavier. And I suspect Princess Misaki has been informed as well."
"I'm not certain," Jupiter replied honestly. "Neither of them has said anything to the rest of our friends. I imagine it's best that way."
A small pause.
"Even if I don't particularly enjoy keeping secrets from my friends."
Graviil nodded approvingly.
"Discretion is not deception. Not when it protects others."
He opened a drawer and retrieved several sealed documents, placing them carefully on the desk between them.
The parchment was immaculate.
Stamped upon it was a crest Jupiter had never seen before.
A grand tree—its branches stretching upward, roots spreading outward in intricate symmetry.
Jupiter's eyes lingered on the emblem.
"This," Graviil said calmly, "was delivered directly to me by Lady Faelwen Brightmind, envoy of the Elven Realm."
"She returned only days ago from her homeland. These documents bear the seal of the Elven Royal House."
Jupiter leaned slightly forward.
"The House of Valandor," Graviil clarified.
The Emperor's tone shifted—more measured now.
"The monarchs of humanity have reached a joint decision. Publicly, it will be announced as a diplomatic exchange. A cultural and academic initiative between our nations and the Elven Realm."
He held Jupiter's gaze.
"In truth, it is a protective measure."
The weight of the words settled in the room.
"You and the other Chosen Heroes will be sent to the Elven Realm."
Jupiter did not interrupt.
Graviil continued.
"You will be safer there—from the King in Black who moves at the edges of our universe… far from Percival, and from any unseen threats within our own."
Silence followed.
Steam hissed faintly somewhere beyond the palace walls.
The Emperor allowed the information to settle before speaking again.
"The Elven Royal Family has accepted our proposal. Not lightly. They were persuaded by one they trust deeply."
He tapped the document lightly.
"And by the prophecy itself."
His expression hardened slightly.
"The words of an Oracle—regardless of race—are not dismissed. Fate does not discriminate. It binds kings and commoners alike."
Graviil's gaze remained steady.
"And it has bound you."
For a brief moment, Jupiter's composure faltered.
The weight of the words of Hero and Fate pressed down on him again—heavier now within the stillness of the Emperor's bureau. The grandeur of it. The expectation. The unseen eyes of history watching.
Graviil noticed.
The Emperor allowed the silence to stretch before shifting the tone.
"It seems," he said lightly, "that Lady Faelwen made an additional request."
Jupiter blinked. "Additional request?"
"She asked that two more humans be permitted to accompany the heroes during their stay in the Elven Realm."
"Really?" Jupiter straightened slightly. "Who?"
"One name was specified. The other… left open."
Graviil folded his hands.
"The first is one of your companions. Elowen Mistglen."
"ELOWEN?!"
Jupiter nearly shot out of his seat.
Graviil laughed—a genuine, amused sound.
"It would appear so. Lady Faelwen was quite insistent. Even the Valandor royal family personally approved the request."
"The King himself?" Jupiter asked, stunned.
"The King himself."
Graviil's eyes sharpened slightly.
"For an elven monarch to take personal interest in a human girl… she must possess something exceptional."
Jupiter sat back slowly, processing.
Elowen.
Of all people.
The image of her calm, perceptive gaze surfaced in his mind.
Graviil continued, amusement still lingering.
"As for the second position—it remains unclaimed. I was told it may be filled at the discretion of the heroes."
"In other words," he added, "you may choose someone yourselves."
Jupiter tilted his head slightly.
"Anyone in mind?" Graviil asked.
Jupiter didn't even need a second to think.
Jason's smug, cheeky grin flashed vividly in his mind.
He almost laughed.
"Yes," Jupiter replied, a quiet smile forming. "I do. And I think Xavier and Misaki will approve."
Graviil raised a brow.
"Then I shall trust your judgment."
His expression shifted once more—returning to the gravity of the matter.
"You should begin preparing. A departure date has already been agreed upon. You and the others will leave alongside Lady Faelwen."
Jupiter's smile faded slightly.
"How long?"
"Four years within the Elven Realm," Graviil answered. "Possibly five, should circumstances demand it."
He tapped a finger lightly against the desk.
"Time flows differently between our realms. A year there does not equal a year here. If you spend four years among the elves, slightly over three will pass in the human realm."
Jupiter absorbed that quietly.
Four years.
Five, perhaps.
Graviil allowed a faint smirk to return.
"I suppose this will finally allow Xavier to claim his proper age."
Jupiter looked up.
"He is biologically ten, not nine," the Emperor continued dryly. "After spending a year in Dragon King Alcmena's realm long ago, he insists on reminding me of it whenever possible."
A pause.
"He can finally stop arguing about it."
Under normal circumstances, Jupiter would have laughed.
This time… he didn't.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
Departure.
Years away from home.
Years away from normalcy.
Eventually, the audience concluded.
Jupiter rose, bowed respectfully, and offered his thanks before turning toward the doors.
The heavy wood shut behind him.
Silence returned to the bureau.
Graviil remained seated.
His gaze lingered on the space Jupiter had occupied moments earlier.
"…Strange," he murmured.
For a fleeting instant—barely perceptible—he had sensed something.
A faint, ominous pulse.
Not from the boy himself.
But from behind the eyepatch covering his left eye.
It had been subtle.
Like something breathing in the dark.
Graviil shook his head slowly.
"Age must be dulling my senses," he muttered.
"That child is gentle. Loyal. Bright."
He leaned back in his chair, dismissing the thought.
"There is no reason for such a dreadful aura to cling to him."
The bureau returned to stillness.
But the Emperor did not notice the faint draft stirring the curtains—
Or the way the shadows along the far wall seemed just a shade deeper than before.
——————————————————
Graviil's final words echoed in Jupiter's head long after he left the palace.
Home.
The front door shut behind him with a dull click. The familiar scent of cooked vegetables and warm bread lingered in the air. His aunt, Liza, turned from the kitchen counter, drying her hands.
"Jupiter? You're back so—"
He walked straight past her.
No greeting. No smile.
Just quick, uneven steps down the hallway.
She stared after him, frowning.
"…Is he going through puberty?" she muttered lightly, though the joke didn't settle right in her chest.
The bathroom door shut.
Locked.
Jupiter barely made it to the toilet before his body gave out beneath him. His knees hit the tiles hard.
Then he vomited.
Not food.
Not bile.
Blood.
It poured out thick and heavy, splashing against porcelain in dark streaks that looked wrong the moment they landed.
It wasn't red.
It was black.
Not shadowed. Not dried.
Black.
Like ink spilled from something ancient.
His stomach clenched again and he gagged, more of it spilling out. His fingers dug into the edge of the toilet, knuckles white, hands trembling violently.
"What… what is happening to me…?" he croaked.
This hadn't come from nowhere.
The headaches. The dizziness. The dreams. They had started long after his return from London.
But this felt different.
This felt like something waking up.
His pulse pounded in his ears.
And then it hit.
The surge.
A crushing force detonated behind his left eye.
He screamed.
It wasn't controlled. It wasn't dignified. It tore out of him raw and helpless.
It felt like a blade pushing slowly through bone.
No.
Like something inside his skull was forcing its way outward.
His body jerked violently, slamming against the floor. Muscles seized. His back arched painfully. His fingers scraped against tile, nails bending back as he tried to anchor himself to something real.
His vision flickered.
And memories bled through.
His father's voice.
"Useless."
The first slap.
The metallic taste of blood on his tongue.
"You'll never amount to anything."
The belt.
The closet door locking from the outside.
The smell of alcohol and sweat.
His mother crying in the next room.
"Why are you looking at me like that? You think you're better than me?"
A fist. A wall. A boy too small to fight back.
The pain behind his eye sharpened.
"You're a monster."
The words overlapped.
But it wasn't his father's voice anymore.
It was the other one.
The voice from the dream.
Calm. Measured. Certain.
The dream swallowed him whole.
Not fractured.
Not hazy.
Clear.
A battlefield stretching beneath a gray sky. Smoke drifting through the air. Ash falling softly like snow.
Xavier on his knees.
Jason unmoving.
Blood spreading across broken stone.
And Jupiter standing there—
Unable to move.
Unable to help.
The white-haired figure stood before him.
Tall. Still.
Hair pale as frost.
There was something familiar in the way he held himself. The tilt of his shoulders. The steadiness of his breathing.
Too familiar.
Every time Jupiter tried to focus on his face, it blurred—like reality itself refused to cooperate.
But the eyes.
He could see the eyes.
Beautiful. Cruel.
Dark at the center.
"You will fail them."
The figure stepped forward.
Boots striking stone with slow, deliberate weight.
"You are the reason they die."
Jupiter lunged.
And died.
The blade tore through him effortlessly.
Again.
He tried harder.
Again.
He screamed, fought, refused.
Again.
Each time cut down as if he were nothing.
Each time watching the white-haired figure look at him with something close to disappointment.
"Someone as dangerous and useless as you does not deserve life."
The dream voice and his father's voice layered together until they became indistinguishable.
"You are a monster."
"You always were."
The pain peaked.
And then it stopped.
Abruptly.
Jupiter lay on the cold floor, gasping for air like a drowning man dragged back to the surface too late.
Silence filled the bathroom.
Only the faint drip of water from the faucet.
He forced himself up on shaking arms. Flushed the toilet. Rinsed the blood from his mouth, from his hands, from the front of his shirt.
He lifted his head slowly toward the mirror.
He didn't recognize the boy staring back.
He looked older.
Thinner.
Hollowed out around the eyes.
"Am I dying…?" he whispered.
The doctors had found nothing.
No internal bleeding. No infection. No measurable anomaly.
But something was wrong.
Something was growing.
Slowly, with hesitant fingers, he removed the eyepatch.
His breath caught.
His left eye wasn't injured.
It wasn't bruised.
It wasn't healing.
It was void.
Not merely dark.
Empty.
As if a piece of night had settled inside him and refused to leave.
The dreams he was having weren't just dreams.
It felt closer now. Sharper.
Not like something that might happen.
Like something waiting to.
His grip tightened on the sink until porcelain cracked beneath his fingers.
"I won't let that happen," he breathed.
The fear inside him twisted into something colder.
More controlled.
"I refuse to die like this. I refuse to let my only hope—Xavier and Jason—be torn away from me. They're the reason I chose to become who I am today."
The void in his eye pulsed faintly.
"If I'm weak… I'll become stronger."
His jaw set.
"If I'm a monster…"
His reflection stared back, one eye bright with unshed tears, the other unreadable.
"Then I'll become a monster they can't kill."
His father's image surfaced in the mirror—blurred and warped, his mind refusing to render the details clearly.
The belt. The bruises. His mother's trembling hands. The night she stopped breathing.
"I'll kill him," Jupiter said.
Quiet.
Certain.
"I'll kill my father...."
"And that white-haired bastard."
Tears burned in his right eye.
The left did not.
Somewhere deep within him, in the silent space behind that void—
Something stirred.
And Jupiter felt it.
Not fear.
Approval.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, something dark began to take root around his heart.