The rebellion was no longer Aerthrial's problem alone.
By the time winter deepened, emissaries from foreign kingdoms began arriving—some cloaked in diplomacy, others in veiled threats.
Selene met them in the frost-covered courtyards, her crimson cloak sharp against the snow.
The Ivory Empire sent gilded carriages.
The Kareth Dominion sent beastkin warlords.
The Sylin Isles sent spies dressed as merchants, slipping into Aerthrial's ports under false flags.
They all wanted the same thing:
To control the outcome of Selene and Lucien's rebellion.
Because no kingdom wanted a world where rulers chose love over lineage.
Inside the Valeburne estate, Selene paced the war chamber as reports flooded in.
"They're not here to help us," Lira muttered, her eyes scanning the latest scrolls. "They're here to reshape the pieces when this kingdom collapses."
Lucien leaned against the window frame, his golden gaze distant.
"They see us as an opportunity."
Selene's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Let them."
Because Selene knew something the foreign emissaries didn't.
The rebellion had already reached the hearts of the common people.
Merchants whispered about Lucien and Selene in alleyways.
Beastkin tribes told stories of the crimson snow falling the night of the Order's defeat.
Children in distant villages drew pictures of gold and crimson banners twined together—not out of loyalty, but because they liked the idea of love more than arranged marriages and forced thrones.
Power had shifted quietly.
And no royal court could stop it now.
But power was dangerous when it came from belief.
Because belief couldn't be controlled.
It only grew.
In the Eastern Capital, Evelyne Greymoor held a private council.
"We can still crush them," she hissed, fingers digging into her throne's armrest.
Her advisors hesitated.
"But if we do," one whispered, "they'll become martyrs."
Evelyne's emerald eyes flashed.
"Then we don't kill them."
She stood, cloak swirling behind her.
"We corrupt them."
Back in Aerthrial, Selene read Evelyne's letters—the offers of negotiation, the veiled threats, the promises of power.
Lucien read them beside her, silent.
Lira watched both of them, knowing the weight of this moment.
"If you say yes to these terms," Lira whispered, "the rebellion ends peacefully."
Selene's crimson eyes narrowed.
"No."
Lucien's golden gaze locked with hers.
"We don't want peace at the cost of truth."
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
But something else was rising beneath it:
A new world, still fragile, still forming.
Built not just on rebellion.
But on the dangerous, impossible idea that love might be enough to change history.
The world tilted.
And there was no going back.