"Galewyn was enraged—attacking, wanting to avenge his Queen by killing me. So I built up that rage." He scoffed lightly. "It was annoying, letting myself be wounded by those insects... but it was all for this."
He glanced down at his neck.
There, faintly glowing, was a symbol: an open, lidless eye enclosed in a circle of radiant script.
Three rings of celestial writing orbited it like a halo, and from the corners of the eye, lines stretched outward like delicate wings.
It pulsed with a soft golden light—as if watching.
He continued, "With this, it's all in place now. My present is prepared.
It's time to pay a visit to my little niece and nephews."
A small smile appeared on his lips—and then he disappeared.
The forest went quiet.
---
The Empty Crown
The scene shifted to the next day, in Lumenia—the capital.
A rare silence blanketed the streets, as if even the wind dared not speak.
At the city's heart stood a massive white structure crowned with elegant blue roofing, its polished stone walls gleaming beneath the overcast sky.
The Ivory Hall.
Here, emperors were crowned, treaties were signed, and, when history demanded it—the dead were honored.
Parked outside were multiple black cars, old-world motorcraft, each bearing the crest of a noble house.
Inside, the air was cold and still.
Rows of nobles sat in silence, arranged by rank, all dressed in mourning colors: deep navy, silver, and white.
Black-gloved hands rested neatly in their laps.
Eyes remained downcast.
At the center of the hall, on a raised platform of polished obsidian, the Queen's casket rested.
It was carved from white stone, adorned only by the imperial standard: a silver sun crossed by a golden sword.
No jewels.
No flowers.
Just the weight of the crown she would never wear again.
Flanking the casket stood two rows of honor guards, motionless in gleaming white armor.
Their visors were down.
Their weapons grounded. Their stance—rigid.
Not even the flicker of a blink betrayed them.
No words had been spoken. No speeches. No prayers.
Everyone waited—not just for the ceremony to begin, but for the King to appear.
Then, footsteps echoed through the silence.
Theron entered.
He wore a white ceremonial robe with gold embroidery.
Slowly, he walked down the aisle, passing nobles and soldiers alike.
All present raised to their feet one after the other.
At the front of the hall stood two throne-like chairs.
Seated on one of them was a boy: Solmere Galewyn, 13 years old, with golden hair and green eyes—the Crown Prince of the Empire.
Theron sat on the second chair.
Everyone present also sat down one after the other.