The week passed slowly under the sun and sea wind. From the mountain roads of Tenzan Skyhold to the shores of the Abyssal Tides, the convoy moved without trouble. Caravans rolled through towns with flags rising above full wagons as merchants greeted guards who already knew them.
At the high gates of the kingdom, sentinels walked along the line, checking each carriage.
One guard stopped at a certain carriage. He pulled the flap aside and froze. His eyes went wide, his face pale. Without a word, he ran toward his officer.
Moments later, the officer himself approached. He swung open the door calmly and dipped his head.
"Welcome, Lord Rage," the officer said.
Rage leaned back, unimpressed. "Why so formal all of a sudden?"
Outside, the officer barked sharp orders. Several men moved quickly, unloading crates from Rage's carriage and transferring them into another.
Once the task was complete, the officer turned to the driver and called through the doorway.
"Straight to the castle. No delays."
He turned and bowed once more. "My apologies for the inconvenience."
***
The gates opened wide, revealing the city beyond. The carriage wheels rolled steadily on the cobbled path beneath the high arches. The castle towers gleamed in the sunlight, and above them, the Queen's banner hung from the highest balcony, with the King's flying beside it. The convoy slowed as it drew closer to the castle gates.
The officer dismounted and went to the door guards. A quiet talk followed with low words and short nods, and then the heavy doors opened.
The carriage came to a halt.
Rage stepped down first. Seloria followed in silence.
Without another word, they were led forward into the entrance.
***
The short walk through the corridors led them into the heart of the castle.
Inside the throne hall, Queen Mariselle sat still upon her throne.
At her side stood Isaline, Renelle, and Viviane.
Along the chamber stood the council, their faces were unknown to Rage.
He watched them in silence, his eyes were steady as tags appeared with only Loyalty or Neutral values above their heads.
He remembered the last gathering in this hall when demons hid among her former advisors and were found and purged soon after. These ones were replacements not yet tested and unaware of the blood once spilled in the corners of the city.
Seloria inclined her head in greeting and extended the gesture toward the Queen and the others.
Mariselle's voice flowed like a tide. "Welcome back, my fair consort eternal."
Rage muttered under his breath, "I never imagined it would sound this cringe."
Her eyes glimmered with quiet amusement. "I'm merely fulfilling your request, am I not?"
"Tell me, how went your journey?"
"Good."
"I am glad to hear that."
"Will you remain here for a while?"
"Depends."
"Then I am glad, regardless."
"There is one awaiting you. You are to proceed to the Academy."
"Yuri?"
"Indeed. If she seeks you, it must be important. I will not keep you longer. When you are done, come back here. You will stay in the castle."
"Acknowledged."
Her gaze slid to her three bunny maids. "What of them?"
Rage turned to Seloria. "What about you? Want to join them?"
Before she could answer, Isaline interjected. "At least one of us should follow you, as commanded by Queen Vaelith."
Rage clicked his tongue. "Right. Forgot about that little order."
His eyes passed over the four. "I'll be fine. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, you might need some time together before I leave again with any of you."
Seloria gave him a sidelong look. "Are you throwing me away?"
"No. Just giving you a break from babysitting me."
Renelle glanced at him but said nothing, the faintest hint of a smile passed between them.
Rage turned toward the throne, offering Mariselle a casual glance. "Later, Your Highness."
The Queen smiled softly, her voice carried a hint of teasing. "Do take care, my fair consort eternal."
Rage exhaled, muttering under his breath, "It feels like I'm supposed to go slay some eldritch horror with a gigantic sword."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Be back later."
***
Outside the castle gates, a loud voice cut through the hum of the courtyard.
"By my beard, it's you, boy!"
"How's it going, old man?"
"I heard you had returned. Fortunate I dwell in the capital, else I'd have missed it."
"Where are the others?"
"In their own domains, playing nobles as they must. But worry not, I'll send word. They should know you've come back."
He looked at Rage closely. "And how long will you stay this time?"
"As long as it takes."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with Yuri, would it? Word is she's finally returned and settled herself in the Academy."
"I'm on my way there."
"It's a long walk, and I've a carriage waiting. No sense in wasting your boots."
Moments later, Rage and Kyle boarded the carriage.
As the wheels began to turn, Rage leaned back, gaze flicking toward Kyle. "You know, you could've told me Yuri is a woman. And an elf too."
"You'd be more surprised to learn she's not only an elf."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Find it out yourself."
The carriage rolled through the streets, past market stalls and bridges strung with lanterns. Rage and Kyle traded casual words, small things, city gossip, tales of shifts that had passed while Rage had been gone. None of it mattered, yet the rhythm of it filled the ride with a sense of familiarity.
***
The carriage slowed, wheels grinding to a halt at the base of a towering archway.
"We've arrived," Kyle said.
"Already?"
Kyle chuckled, nodding toward the grand stone entrance.
Rage stepped down onto the paved path and glanced back. "You coming?"
"Not this time, I'll return later. Messengers must be sent. Van and the others should know you've returned."
"Guess I'm on my own, then," Rage muttered to himself.
The carriage rolled away, leaving Rage to the Academy's gates.
Students in layered robes crossed the courtyard with quick steps, books held to their chests, while professors walked past with quiet authority. A woman in formal dress met him and gave a graceful bow.
"Welcome, Lord Rage, to the Abyssal Tides Academy of Sages and Elements."
"Fancy."
"Someone awaits you in the garden."
Rage gave a slight nod and moved forward.
The so-called garden opened beneath a glass dome. Rows of greenery climbed alongside its pillars, trees intertwined with shelves filled with books. Sunlight filtered through stained glass panes, scattering color across the floor.
At the center, Yuri was sitting in silence. Her silver hair was over her robe as she turned a page. This time her face was clear, with no hood and no cover, and the thin points of her elven ears caught the light under the dome.
Rage approached, boots echoing against the marble.
"You've finally arrived," Yuri said without lifting her eyes.
As he drew closer, she cast him a sidelong glance. Her pupils shimmered gold, scanning him.
"Interesting," she murmured.
The book shut softly in her hands.
"Follow me."
Her voice carried no urgency, only calm command.
***
They went down a long, winding stair. Each step gave a soft echo through the narrow shaft, the air was heavy with the smell of old stone. Faint torches burned along the walls and their light was weak but enough to show where each step lay.
Rage's hand brushed against the wall as they wound deeper. "A lift would've been nice here."
Yuri didn't answer. Her steps were soundless, her pace was steady.
At the bottom, the stairway opened into a small landing. A single door stood ahead, made of metal with faint glowing runes on its surface.
Yuri raised a hand and ran her fingers over the runes. Words left her lips, quiet and smooth, spoken in an old tongue that felt uneasy to hear.
The runes flared, light folded inward, and with a deep, resonant click, the lock disengaged.
She glanced back over her shoulder. "Come in."
Rage stepped through.
The room was wide and deeper than the space should allow. Light filled it evenly, yet no torch burned, no crystal shone, and no clear source could be seen. It was not bright or dim, only steady.
Rows of tall bookshelves lined the sides, filled with old books of different sizes and colors, both thick and thin, with rolled parchments placed neatly in order. Display tables held preserved relics and ancient tools, with maps, pieces of armor, and worn instruments arranged with care.
Weapon racks stood beside mannequins dressed in different kinds of battle wear. Some came from soldiers he had once fought beside, while others belonged to times he could not name. Between them were small rooms divided by walls, simple study spaces with desks, notes, and old tools left neatly in place.
The space looked like a library, a workshop, and a museum joined into one place.
"What is this place?"
"He owned this once," she said quietly.
"He? Asarhu?"
"Yes. Every artifact, every page, every experiment in this place once bore his mark. He knew what you seek... perhaps better than you do."
"Good for him." Rage's eyes drifted across the strange collection. "Though I have to say, your security's terrible. I could've walked in here, pretended to be anyone, and walked out with something shiny."
"I have lived nearly a thousand years, Rage. I am not fooled by petty thieves. I know who stands before me, and I know precisely what I am doing."
"That's comforting. Not sure if it makes you confident or just terrifying."
She regarded him for a brief moment.
"Follow me. There is something you should see."
They walked farther between the rows. At the far end stood a single pedestal with a surface worn smooth by time. On it lay a large book with a cracked leather cover, its edges were worn and several pages were sticking out unevenly. It's papers were yellow and curled at the corners, stained by age but still holding together.
Dust particles drifted in the still air, yet none dared settle on it. The space around the pedestal was bare, untouched, as if the room itself hesitated to draw too close.
Yuri's gaze settled on the book.
"That is the Lost Codex," She said softly.
Rage stepped closer, eyeing the weathered cover. "Not that lost anymore."
A quiet breath escaped her, almost a sigh. "You speak just like him," she murmured. "And you sound like an idiot just like him as well."
Rage smirked, unbothered. "Glad to know I'm not the only one."
He stepped around the pedestal. "I need information about timelines, cycles, my actual role in all of this. The tome has it, doesn't it?"
"First," she said, "stay still. I need another look."
Her pupils shifted to gold.
"Shouldn't you at least ask for consent before you x-ray someone? Little invasive, don't you think?"
"You should take things more seriously," Yuri murmured, her tone was neither scolding nor kind.
The glow faded from her eyes. "He succeeded where even the greatest scholars, myself included, could not. He created the Null Element."
Her eyes moved to the Codex for a moment. "It was once only a theory, the thought that if there's existence, then there should be absence. The Null Element is that absence. Every living being holds an elemental soul core. But you..." she said, her eyes narrowed slightly, "...show nothing. To angels, it cannot be seen. To existence itself, it should not be. It is as if you are not alive at all."
Rage frowned slightly. "Hold on. If angels can see these so-called elemental soul cores and you're supposed to see mine... are you one of them?"
He studied her for a moment. "You look more elf than angel to me."
"Both," she answered without hesitation. "Born of an angelic father and an elven mother. A union forbidden by both kingdoms. My punishment for their defiance was exile. To walk the surface until eternity forgets me."
Rage exhaled softly. "Sounds cruel." Yuri's gaze softened, her voice quiet but steady. "Cruelty is just another form of consequence. I've long since stopped calling it anything else."
Rage crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the ancient tome. "So... Codex," he said. "What do I need to know?"
Yuri stepped closer, her tone calm but edged with gravity.
"From the first moment someone began writing in its pages to the last hand that ever will. The Codex is a record, nothing more, passed from one keeper to the next, each adding what their time has seen." She ran her fingers lightly along the spine of the book. "Every entry, every era, it all repeats. The same pattern again and again. Peace, the rise of a Demon Lord, then the angels call for a hero, born in this world or brought from another. The kingdoms join behind them, the hero marries the daughters of kings, a great alliance forms, war follows, and when it ends, the Demon Lord falls and peace returns."
"And I'm guessing I'm supposed to be the next idiot in that story?"
Yuri shook her head. "No. You are not the hero chosen by the angels, nor the vessel of the Demon Lord." Her gaze lifted to meet his. "You were summoned by him or at least under his instructions. You are an unseen force beyond their design. That is why your existence cannot be traced by either... and it should remain that way. I have no idea what would happen if the angels or the demons ever laid eyes on you."
"Then where does that put me?"
"Early," she said simply. "You were brought here before the cycle was due to begin again. The resurrection of the Demon Lord and the summoning of the next hero are still years away... perhaps so you could learn how to end it."
Her hand rested on the Codex's cover.
"You stand at a point that should not exist, between what is written and what is not. If the cycle continues, time will reset once more. But if you break it..."
She paused, the golden hue returning faintly to her eyes. "Then new pages will be written."
Her eyes lingered on the Codex before turning back to him. "Where did you first awaken?"
"Somewhere near Firekeep. Middle of nowhere?"
"Then it was through summoning, not birth."
"Yeah," he said. "Seems that way."
Her eyes moved briefly to his chest. "I have seen the pendants you carry, the ones from Ignia, Mariselle, Talwyn, and Kazumi. That is expected, since their kingdoms are close to one another. But tell me, how did you gain the deep violet gem of the Shadow Element, the one that belongs to Naeva, the Master Assassin Queen of Veilspire Sanctum, without crossing the kingdoms that stand between?"
"Vaelith. Ebonwake."
"You are not meant to travel through lands of the demons. You are lucky to have returned alive, and even luckier to have taken the gem."
"So these gems, they are not unique to each kingdom?"
"In the context of the Seven Kingdoms the Codex mentions as united by the hero, they are unique," Yuri said. "But across the world, no. The gems you carry are fragments of larger stones, the Kingdom Cores. They lie scattered and buried, remnants of a power older than the kingdoms themselves."
Rage muttered, "So, three more, then. That's how many I need."
"Not exactly," Yuri said. "The pendants signify authority, granted only to kings or queens. The pendants are not the goal, they're only symbols. What matters is the alliance. You still need the shadow gem held by Queen Naeva. Four more remain."
"So if the queens gave theirs to me... does that make me a king?"
"I cannot say. I hold no authority to confirm such titles, nor have I read of it in the Codex."
"I don't see myself as a good statesman."
He frowned. "So, what do these gems actually do?"
"For most, they remain dormant," Yuri said. "But when held by a hero, they respond. Each fragment strengthens the bearer's connection to the elements, boosting body, mind, will, and magic."
Rage leaned his weight on one leg. "So, about Null Element, how does that fit into all this?"
Yuri tilted her head slightly. "Have you noticed the gems reacting to you?"
"Not directly. But my abilities seem to react to these."
"That knowledge does not exist in this world. The concept itself is unfamiliar. It does not exist in any actual magical discipline I have studied."
Her voice lowered. "Can you show me your abilities?"
"Every time I use one, something called Corruption stacks up. Don't know what it means, and I'm not dying to find out."
He narrowed his gaze. "So I only use them when I have to. No idea what happens if it maxes out."
Yuri frowned, recognition crossed her face.
"Interface," she murmured. "I remember him mentioning something called a user interface in the games of your world. He said it was something a person could see, an image that shows information. Yet I never saw it, and I never understood it."
Rage chuckled under his breath. "Guess we're the only ones built like this."
Yuri did not reply, but her eyes stayed on him, curious, calculating, and just slightly unsettled.
Her gaze swept slowly across the vast chamber, the shelves, the relics, the quiet hum of forgotten ages. "What do you think should happen to this place?"
Rage looked around lazily. "What about it?"
"When he disappeared, the other scholars and I decided to seal this chamber. Keep it hidden. We feared what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands. But now..." Her eyes flicked toward him. "Now that I've found a suitable heir, I must ask again, what should become of it?"
"I don't know. Maybe share the knowledge. Let the outside world see what's in here."
Yuri regarded him for a moment, then turned toward a narrow corridor. "Come with me."
They walked in silence for a short stretch until she stopped before a metal door. With a wave of her hand, the runes along its surface dimmed and clicked open.
Inside, the room spread out like a long-abandoned workshop. Blueprints lay across tables and pinned to walls. Devices sat half-built and sketches showed machines that did not belong in this world. Guns, engines, and automobiles filled the drawings.
Rage stared, his expression was unreadable. "Alright," he muttered. "I take it back."
Yuri glanced at him. "Back?"
"Sharing this stuff might not be the best idea," he said. "These things can make people shoot schools before they even learn what they're holding. Maybe someday I'll figure out what to do with all this, but not now."
He exhaled slowly. "In the meantime, you could invite other scholars. Maybe the ones you used to work with. Let them continue what you started."
Yuri nodded faintly. "Some of them are gone. Age claimed them long ago. But yes, there are younger minds I can call upon. And I can still tell who's worthy, simply by looking."
"Good enough," Rage said.
Yuri turned, motioning for him to follow. "There's one more room you should see."
They moved deeper into the chamber, past sealed doors and dimly lit corridors until they stopped before a heavy one at the far end. "He spent most of his time here," she said. "This is where he made... constructs."
The door creaked open.
Rows of tall, carefully made figures stood in place. Dolls shaped like women, each with the build of a strong warrior and the ears of different animals, their glassy eyes caught the light in an unsettling way.
Rage muttered under his breath, "You damn bastard."
A slow grin followed. "Man of culture, I see. Tell me, are they... anatomically accurate?"
Yuri's expression didn't even flicker. "I know where you're getting at. You're just as strange and as much an idiot as he was."
Rage raised a hand, smirking. "The joints. I meant the joints."
Yuri looked away. "Yes. They function as intended."
"Good," Rage said, still grinning. "Would've been disappointed otherwise."
They spent a while moving through the remaining rooms, vaults, archives, laboratories. Rage only gave each a glance, his mind cataloging details faster than he could care to.
When they finally reached the stairway again, Yuri asked quietly, "What will you do now?"
"I think I've earned a break."
He stretched, turning toward the steps. "I'll head back to the castle. Rest. Come back tomorrow."
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "You coming?"
Yuri shook her head softly. "I would love to. But I need to stay. There's much here I must reacquaint myself with... and the Codex still needs writing."
Rage gave a faint nod. "Later then."
Rage climbed the stairs, leaving Yuri with her books and silence.
***
Up the staircase entrance, the main building had gone quiet. A few students lingered over their tables, whispering in low tones, quills scratching paper, but the Academy had mostly fallen into stillness.
Outside, in the courtyard, familiar figures waited beneath the dim lanterns. Van, Kyle, Densuke, Zach, and Geralt.
Geralt was the first to spot him. "Well, look who's back from another death."
Van gave a brief nod. Densuke raised two fingers in greeting. Zach just tilted his chin, the usual wordless acknowledgment.
Rage smirked. "Didn't think any of you could leave your elder care homes."
Geralt barked a laugh. "We might be old, but we still kick harder than you youngsters."
"Sure you do," Rage said. "Where to, then?"
"Adventurers Guild headquarters. They'll be serving food and drinks around this hour. Thought we'd drop by."
"Fine by me. Haven't eaten since... sometime last century."
They laughed softly and made for the road, boarding a larger carriage waiting by the gate. The wheels creaked into motion, rolling them away from the Academy's quiet glow and back toward the city's hum.
***
They reached the Adventurers Guild headquarters just as the night crowd settled in. The place was alive with boots thudding against the floorboards, laughter spilling between tables, the smell of roasted meat and spiced ale thick in the air.
Adventurers moved in and out through the wide doors, some carrying heavy packs, others tending fresh wounds. Guild staff passed between them, trays balanced in their hands, voices calling out names and orders.
When the five veterans entered, heads turned. A few gasps, then cheers. They were not nobles here, only legends, the kind of adventurers every rookie dreamed of becoming.
Rage, trailed behind, caught a few curious stares. A new face among giants.
No tables were free, but one group stood immediately, grinning wide as they squeezed together to make room. "For the old lions!" someone shouted, and laughter rolled through the hall.
Kyle chuckled and clapped Rage on the back. "This is our boy, Rage," he said loud enough for half the room to hear.
The cheers came again, mugs raised. Rage gave a small wave.
As they sat, Geralt leaned toward him. "Would've been livelier if Asarhu were here," he said quietly. "He always joined the crowd even when he was king. Never could resist a full table."
"Guess I'll have to fill in," Rage muttered.
Plates came, carrying grilled meat, thick stew, and bread still warm. Then the ale arrived, foam spilling over the edges of the mugs as they were placed on the table.
Rage raised a hand before the server could pour. "Water for me."
Kyle arched a brow. "Don't like ale?"
"Not used to the taste," Rage said, taking a sip from the cup once it arrived. "Just don't wanna wake up in a pig pen with a hangover."
Kyle laughed, shaking his head.
The noise rose around them again, stories were shared, laughter at half-heard jokes, dice rattled on the tables. Rage mostly listened, the warmth of the food and the hum of voices settled around him like a memory that did not belong to him yet.
It was the usual guild chaos, loud, messy, alive.
Kyle leaned back in his chair. "So, where are you staying these days? You can stay at my place if you've got nowhere decent."
Rage took a slow sip from his mug. "Appreciate it, but Queen Mariselle told me to stay in the castle."
That earned a whistle from Geralt. "Figured as much. Knew they'd have plans for you the moment you showed up."
Kyle chuckled. "Then just make sure you keep her father in mind. The man's strict when it comes to his daughters."
Rage smirked. "Noted. I'll avoid such disasters."
The table broke into laughter.
Geralt leaned forward with a grin. "Tell me, boy, no interest in Queen Mariselle? Or at least one starting to grow? You two seem about the same age."
"Not at the moment," Rage said. "Maybe in the future. Who knows."
Kyle tapped the table, eyes glinting. "Or maybe you prefer someone far younger than the queen. I've got a granddaughter, you'd be welcome in my household."
Rage shot him a look. "Dude. I'm in my twenties, not desperate or disturbed."
The table roared, laughter spilling over the clatter of mugs.
The chatter continued. Rage spoke of Tenzan Skyhold, the long roads, the messes he had cleaned up, and the ones he had left behind. The others added their own tales, mixing old names and distant battles into the noise.
It was easy, the kind of night that didn't demand anything from anyone. Just food, drink, and the comfort of people who'd seen enough of the world to laugh at it.
A sharp knock cut through the noise, three quick raps, a pause, then two more. It was not the sound of a drunk adventurer or a delivery. The rhythm made the room fall silent.
The doors swung open. The Queen's royal guards stood there, their armor polished to a mirror shine. Behind them were four familiar figures moving with uniformed grace, the maids.
Every head in the guild turned.
Seloria stepped forward, calm but firm. "The Queen has requested your presence, Lord Rage."
Rage blinked. "Already?"
She gave a small nod. The others behind her mirrored the gesture, silent, expectant.
He sighed, pushing back his chair. "Whatever you say."
Turning to the table, he gave a half-smile. "Sorry, can't stay long."
Kyle lifted his mug. "Then we'll do this again soon."
"Count on it," Rage said.
The others gave their quiet nods and raised their mugs as Rage stood. One of the maids stepped forward, setting a small leather bag on the table.
"Courtesy of Her Majesty," she said simply.
The guards stepped aside, the maids fell in behind him as he left the guild hall. The laughter and clatter of mugs faded behind him, replaced by the soft rhythm of armored boots escorting him back into the night.
***
The castle doors opened. Warm light spilled from the grand hall, and at the top of the staircase stood Mariselle, poised, composed, watching him at the entryway with an intent, near-murderous gaze.
Rage froze mid-step, a prickle running down his neck. "Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "She's definitely mad I'm late."
The maids led him silently through the corridors, their footsteps soft against the polished floor, until they stopped before a tall set of gilded doors.
One maid pushed them open. The scent of ocean air drifted out with the Queen's perfume. The chamber was vast, the bed carved from ivory wood, draped in silks that shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
Rage paused, frowning. "This... is the royal room, isn't it?"
Seloria nodded. "The Queen instructed us to bring you here."
He stared at her for a long beat. "Yeah, not happening."
"The Queen was quite clear," Renelle replied, though her tone betrayed a flicker of amusement.
Rage exhaled through his nose. "I'm not used to this treatment. I'll ruin the sheets just by existing." He glanced past them. "You've got spare rooms, right? Somewhere in the maids' quarters?"
Another maid nodded quickly. "Yes, Lord Rage. Several, in fact."
"Good. I'll take one of those."
They exchanged uncertain looks but said nothing. A few minutes later, Rage was led to a shared room, modest and lined with several neatly made beds. Each bed had its own small chest and bedside cabinet. The air was faintly scented with linen and candle wax. A few castle staff moved about, maids folding sheets, a server setting down a tray of tea, another tidying the cabinets.
Not crowded, just quietly alive.
Rage glanced around, then smirked faintly. "Yeah. This feels more like it."
He set his swords aside, resting them against the wall before shrugging off his coat and boots. His body sank into the bed, the sheets smoother than he expected. It was too soft for a wanderer, but he wasn't about to complain.
Faint chatter drifted through the room. The three maids sat at the small table nearby, their voices were low and easy, weaving through laughter and whispers. The fourth, Viviane, he guessed, should be with the Queen at that time.
He let the sound wash over him. The quiet rhythm of a lived-in space, the creak of wood, the distant hum of the castle settling for the night.
Within moments, the noise blurred into warmth, and Rage slipped under, asleep to the sound of soft voices around him.
***
The Drakhelm Dominion rose in the far northwest. A land of iron discipline and deliberate beauty. Its towers gleamed beneath a gray sky, every stone set with purpose, every banner hung without sway.
Within the throne hall, torches burned low, their glow drawn across black marble.
King Aldric Ironbane sat high upon his throne, the weight of his crown rested like a chain across his temples. Queen Lysandra lingered beside him, while their daughter Isolde watched from the steps below.
Around them, scholars murmured over scrolls and sealed letters. Generals stood in disciplined silence.
Aldric's gaze swept the map before him, eyes tracing the lines of kingdoms. "Firekeep," he muttered. "Abyssal Tides. Tenzan Skyhold... and the rest. When those banners once flew together, even angels hesitated to descend."
The hall fell still at that.
He leaned back, voice quieter. "All it takes is a spark between them, and they'll remember what they once were. But divided as they are now, we could sweep through them before they ever raise a banner."
The chamber doors opened.
A lone figure entered, robes tattered black, boots dragging dust across the polished floor. Not one of theirs, but expected. A spy. The guards did not draw steel.
The man knelt at the base of the throne, head bowed. "My king," he rasped, "from the south."
A scholar stepped forward, receiving a scroll from his hand. The seal was strange. Burned wax over a mark not seen in generations. He carried it to Aldric.
The king broke it open. His eyes flicked across the page once.
When he looked up, something sharp glimmered behind the calm.
"General Voren," Aldric said.
"Sire."
"Read this and prepare accordingly."
"This is... confirmation?"
"It is opportunity," Aldric said. "We have waited long enough."
He rose from the throne. "Send word to the forges. To the garrisons. Every man, every blade. A month from now, the banners of Drakhelm will march."
"And the destination, Your Majesty?"
"Firekeep. The flame must be extinguished first."
The hall burst into movement, scribes running for ink, soldiers shouting orders down the corridors.
Only Isolde spoke again, her voice quiet, almost lost in the commotion. "Father... what if they unite again?"
Aldric paused at the foot of the steps, his shadow falling over her. "They will not rise again. The course is set, the wheels in motion, and their fate is sealed."
***
Somewhere in lands far beyond the throne halls, a dim room hung under the weight of candle smoke. Scrolls, opened, sealed, and half-burned, lay across a broad map stretched over the table. Inked circles and red marks scarred its surface. At the center, Firekeep was drawn in crimson.
A hooded woman stood over it, shadows curled across her face. Her lips, dark red beneath the faint glow, curved into a grin as she lowered the scroll she'd just finished reading.
"Conquest," she whispered, voice soft as silk on steel. "It begins with blood... and through blood, the land remembers order."
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 49.1%
[SYSTEM] Queen Mariselle : Loyalty 100%