The fires of Solspire's resurrection still smoldered when Lee Sung called his council together.
The throne room was dimly lit, not by design but by necessity. Half the chandeliers had been destroyed during the siege, and the artisans had not yet repaired them. Dust drifted from the rafters like phantom mist as workers moved like ants throughout the ruined city.
Lee Sung sat atop the blackened stone throne — the seat of Solspire's ruler, reforged with the sigils of shadow binding it.
There was no ceremony. No pageantry. Only grim necessity.
Standing before him were the key survivors: soldiers, crafters, minor nobles, and a few summoned individuals who had bent the knee after Helios' fall. Their expressions ranged from grim determination to thinly veiled terror.
Lee Sung's shadow soldiers flanked him — skeletal knights with eyes burning like dying coals. Their presence was no accident; it was a clear warning.
Betray me, and face oblivion.
He rose slowly, his voice cold but measured.
"In this world, betrayal is a sickness," he said. "A sickness that nearly destroyed us once already. It will not happen again."
He raised his right hand. In it was a shard of obsidian, carved with intricate runes — a relic salvaged from the ruins beneath the tower: the Sigil of Binding.
"All who would serve Solspire must swear an oath. An oath deeper than words. An oath sealed in blood and soul."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Break this oath," Lee Sung continued, his gaze sweeping the hall like a blade, "and you will die. Instantly. Painfully."
No one dared argue. They had seen Lee Sung's power firsthand — the night Helios fell had burned it into their memories.
One by one, they stepped forward.
The ceremony was brutal and simple. Each swore loyalty with hand pressed against the Sigil. Dark tendrils of magic wrapped around their wrists, leaving a faint, shifting scar that only Lee Sung could remove.
Those who hesitated were given a simple choice: exile beyond Solspire's walls — or death.
Few chose exile.
Lee Sung watched them, his heart a frozen knot. He took no pleasure in this. Akane would have hated it. But Akane was dead. And Helios' betrayal — Jin's betrayal — had taught him: mercy without caution was suicide.
---
Later that night, in the Tower of Memory
Lee Sung stood at the highest balcony, the cold wind tugging at his cloak. Below, Solspire was a scarred tapestry: burned buildings, half-cleared rubble, makeshift tents.
Yet even in ruin, there was life.
Children ran laughing through broken courtyards. Blacksmiths hammered new blades. Traders — summoned individuals and natives alike — rebuilt the shattered markets.
They were rebuilding.
He had kept them alive.
Still, a gnawing hollow ache gripped his chest. Trust would never come easily again. Maybe it never had.
Behind him, Commander Ysrael approached, armored boots ringing against the stone.
"The first reconstruction convoys will arrive tomorrow, my lord," Ysrael said, bowing stiffly. "Timber, steel, grain. Everything you ordered."
"Good," Lee Sung said. He did not turn.
Ysrael hesitated, then added, "There are rumors, my lord. Of summoned ones beyond Solspire's reach. Some have carved kingdoms of their own. Others have... less noble ambitions."
Lee Sung's eyes narrowed. Akane's journal had warned of this. The summoned were not a unified people. They were scattered — rulers, mercenaries, merchants, and spies.
"Let them come," Lee Sung said, voice low. "Solspire will be ready."
Ysrael saluted and left him alone once more with the wind and his memories.
---
The Next Morning – Council Chamber
The council table had been moved into a repaired hall. Maps of the world, both old and newly updated, were spread before them.
New territories had emerged during the chaos:
The Azure League: a coalition of merchant cities ruled by summoned merchant-kings who valued gold above all.
The Crimson Blades: mercenary strongholds in the north, led by summoned warlords who sold their swords to the highest bidder.
The Kingdom of Velaria: a new monarchy in the east, where a summoned sorceress-queen ruled through arcane might.
Tenebrous Empire: still vast, still predatory, now seeing Solspire's rise with cold interest.
"We are surrounded by potential allies... and enemies," Dorian the merchant said, tracing a line across the map. "And it is impossible to tell one from the other yet."
"Impossible?" Lee Sung murmured. "No. Just... difficult."
He pointed to the borders marked in blood-red ink: Tenebrous.
"Our first threat will come from them," he said. "They see Solspire as an upstart colony. An insult to their power. We must expand — fast."
Ysrael grunted. "Expansion means conquest. War."
Lee Sung met his gaze without flinching.
"It means survival."
The council nodded grimly.
Plans were laid:
Envoys would be sent to the Azure League to negotiate trade (and intelligence).
Scouts would be dispatched to monitor the Crimson Blades and Velaria.
Spies would infiltrate Tenebrous, learning their movements before they struck.
And above all, Lee Sung issued one command:
"Every oathbreaker, every would-be traitor, is to be dealt with immediately. No hesitation."
Trust was a dream of the past.
Only vigilance — and the shadows — would keep Solspire alive.