The air within the Still World had grown heavier as the sunless twilight deepened. Across the mirrored fields and crystal-bound spires of the frozen realm, the Dragoons and Commanders trained with relentless resolve. Time no longer dictated their pace—only progress.
But amid the blades and movements and echoes of battle, Alter stood apart.
He watched. He measured. He memorized every face—each Commander's aura, each Dragoon's spirit. And then… he quietly turned away from them all.
That night, after the drills had ended and the stillness returned, Alter gathered the entire group in the courtyard beside the forge. Everyone—Takayoshi, Soryn, Selene, the 12 Commanders, Finn, Mira, and the entire Dragoon cohort—stood in loose formation, watching him with curiosity.
Alter looked calm, yet distant.
Selene stepped forward first. "Something's wrong."
He met her eyes but said nothing for a breath.
Then his voice broke the silence.
"…I need all of you to leave the Still World. Tonight."
The silence was immediate. The ripple of confusion swept through the group like a wind that didn't belong.
Elira blinked. "Leave? But we've only just begun the new formations…"
Jaris frowned. "Is something coming?"
Takayoshi stepped forward. "Are we under threat?"
Soryn crossed his arms, quietly reading Alter's expression.
Selene narrowed her eyes. "Then I'll stay with you."
Alter shook his head gently. "No."
She stepped closer. "Don't push me away again."
"I'm not," he said, his voice softer now. "But I can't have you here."
"Why?" she demanded.
He glanced at the forge—its embers unlit, but waiting.
"…Because what I need to do next must be done alone. It's not something I can share. Not even with you."
Her breath caught. "…Is it dangerous?"
"Yes," he said. "Even for me."
Soryn's voice cut through the quiet. "Then you'll need backup."
Alter looked over his shoulder at them all—and smiled faintly.
"If any of you stayed, you'd only be in the way. Or worse… you'd be caught in it."
Takayoshi tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "This isn't something ordinary, is it?"
"No," Alter replied. "But it's something that must be done."
Selene stared at him a moment longer, searching for the truth behind his eyes. Whatever she saw… it was enough. She exhaled slowly. "You'll come back?"
"When it's finished," he promised.
He turned back to the group.
"Everyone—prepare for reintegration. You'll return to the external flow. Only a few minutes will have passed out there. Resume training as normal."
Finn looked like he wanted to say something. Mira gently placed a hand on his arm, shaking her head.
Soryn finally nodded. "…We'll wait."
Takayoshi nodded once as well. "Don't die in there."
Alter gave them a crooked grin. "I won't."
He raised his hand.
A silent golden pulse expanded across the Still World like a heartbeat. One by one, everyone shimmered and vanished—safely expelled back to the normal realm.
Until only Alter remained.
Silence closed in.
He walked back into the forge, the stone doors closing behind him with a low thrum.
In the deep of the sanctum, he approached the locked compartment beneath the elder hearth. With a flick of his finger, it opened—revealing ancient, sealed alloy, crystalline soulsteel, and divine-fiber channels marked with Seraphina's script.
He whispered to himself.
"…This time, they'll never find you. Not gods. Not demons. No one."
His hand hovered over the materials.
"For those who fight beside me now… and for those who may one day call me father."
A glyph ignited.
The forging began.
The forge within the Still World had once been silent.
Now it trembled with power.
Alter stood barefoot on the engraved platform of the elder crucible, the light of a thousand runes glowing beneath his feet. His draconic armor lay discarded at the edge of the chamber. He wore only a sleeveless tunic now, soaked through with divine condensation. Sparks danced along his arms. His heartbeat echoed through the realm—not as sound, but as shockwaves that bent the very threads of stillness.
He had begun.
Above the open forge basin floated three sacred materials:
Void-hardened soulsteel, nearly impossible to shape without Creator-grade compression
Crystalline traces of Seraphina's divine essence, gifted long ago
Memory-thread spun from timeline echoes, humming like silver wind
As he activated the crucible, the floor beneath him cracked, spiderwebbing from the core outward. Ethereal runes across the ceiling shivered in sync, and a violent pressure radiated outward in pulses—each one knocking books from the forge shelves and warping the edges of time.
The Still World groaned.
Alter's eyes narrowed.
This was no ordinary forging.
He was pouring Creator Authority into every stroke, every shaping, every whisper.
Not fragments.
Direct infusion.
He hovered his hand over the molten core and summoned a soulmark.
A thin golden thread manifested midair—glowing, trembling, hers.
Selene.
The memory of her was in every motion—how she stood beside him in war, how her hand steadied his in silence, how her presence was his calm even when the world broke around them.
He wove her soul-thread into the alloy.
The molten steel shrieked—but accepted it.
He began shaping it slowly, deliberately—layer by layer, channeling not just concealment magic, but the resonance of promise.
Not a ring of war.
Not a ring of command.
But a wedding ring.
As the shape neared completion, he whispered ancient words passed to him by Seraphina:
"Hide them not with shadow, but with light's refusal to be seen."
He modified the enchantments.
— Whisperlink: A seamless telepathic bond to all Veil-bearers
— Soulbound Locator: A directional thread, sensing proximity of others wearing the Veil
— Creator's Aegis: A last-resort trigger, activating a defensive time-lock shield if the bearer suffers fatal impact. Powered by Alter's own Creator Authority
He paused, letting the alloy cool.
Then he engraved the core glyph: a symbol not of flame or light—but of continuance. A vow made tangible.
The result was a sleek platinum-draconic ring with a white-gold teardrop gem, subtle dragoncoil etching circling its band. Beneath the surface—anchored between glyph layers—was Selene's name carved in ancient script, never visible to the eye, only to the soul.
He turned now to the pendants.
His mind shifted.
Two futures.
The first: a shard-shaped pendant surrounded by fiery runes, set with a hidden core of blazing diamond.
"For the one who will carry my flame."
The second: a drop-shaped pendant wrapped in silver flow-runes, radiating calm and layered with water-crystal essence.
"For the one who will soften my edge."
Each pendant was infused with the same divine systems as the ring—but dormant, sealed with a temporal delay. They would awaken only when the children reached their moment of becoming.
Then—Alter took it further.
He raised all three items into the air and clenched his fist.
The Creator Veil surged.
A ring of divine script erupted around him in a cyclone—reweaving the base concealment function. It had once hidden wearers from beings beneath 45% Creator Authority.
Now?
85%.
Anyone beneath that level—including lesser gods, demon kings, fateweavers, or abyssal oracles—would be utterly blind to the wearers of the Veil.
The forging's resonance exploded outward.
Shockwaves cracked the wall. Shelves shattered. The sky of the Still World twitched, distorting for a heartbeat.
Alter dropped to one knee.
Breathing hard.
But smiling.
Before him, three items floated:
One ring—formed of vow, resonance, and legacy.
Two pendants—seeded with the weight of a father's future.
The first chapter was complete.
The rest… would follow.
The forge no longer trembled in chaos.
It breathed now—slowly, rhythmically—matching the pulse of its master. Alter stood at its center once more, though his expression bore the wear of divine exertion. Veins of light glowed faintly across his forearms, remnants of the Creator Authority he had burned into the first set.
Selene's ring hovered behind him—completed.
The pendants, dormant, had been sealed in a silken cloth and placed reverently atop a soul-shelf made of skywood.
Now came the next step.
The crafting of the veilbands—rings meant not for vows or bloodline, but for the warriors who walked beside him. Not symbols of love or family, but of trust and shielded fate.
These would be worn by the Twelve Commanders, the Dragoons, and any chosen soul Alter would one day grant protection to. Each would be uniform—simple in appearance, but impervious in purpose.
He reached toward the crucible once more, and the divine forge reignited.
The temperature surged—not to fury, but to purity. A pale-white flame rose, dancing without heat, responding only to divine will.
Alter selected the base alloy:
A flexible variant of soulsteel-thread, malleable and weightless once forged
A core infusion of refined silent crystal—a mineral known to absorb scrying, tracking, and even echoes of spoken fate
A final grain of Creator dust—the microscopic embers of raw, unscripted authority
He rolled his shoulders once, loosening the tension in his arms.
And then he began.
—
One by one, the rings took shape.
They were simple. Elegant. Thin bands of polished silver-draconic metal, each no wider than a warrior's finger. No gemstones. No etchings. Only a faint ripple across the surface, like frozen wind caught in metal.
But within each:
The Whisperlink glyph, bound to Alter's central tether
The Soulbound Locator, directional and reactive to wearer proximity
The Creator's Aegis, lying dormant like a hidden guardian
And most importantly—the upgraded Veil of Origin concealment seal, burned into the inner circumference of each band.
That mark glowed momentarily during each completion—flaring with violet-gold light—then vanishing, invisible to the mortal eye.
85%.
No divine entity, demon, or seer beneath that threshold would be able to detect the bearer's divine resonance. Even magical familiars or gatewalkers would pass them by, blind to their significance.
—
With each ring completed, Alter lined them in rows along a length of soulglass.
Twelve bands for the Twelve Commanders.
Then six more—for his personal disciples among the Dragoons:
Rhed. Talia. Vellmar. Selin. Jaris. Elira.
He paused… then added one more.
A thirteenth ring, just in case fate led another soul into the circle.
He held the final band in his palm, the cool metal tingling against his Creator-forged skin.
These were not just rings.
They were crowns, in disguise.
Crowning the ones who would remain unseen. Unknown. But never unarmed.
He raised both hands and swept the completed rings into a floating seal that suspended them in protective stasis. They hovered like moons in orbit—silent, waiting.
He stepped back.
Sweat glistened on his brow again.
His voice was quiet.
"One day… you'll be hunted," he whispered. "By gods. By demons. By beings who think they know the flow of fate."
He looked up at the glowing forge ceiling, where the past shimmered like embers.
"But they won't see you coming."
He turned back to the remaining empty molds on the walls—still dozens to go. Future allies. Future threats. Future unknowns.
But for now, the first wave of Veilbands was complete.
The silent army of the sovereign had its first divine protection.
And Alter… forged on.
Outside the Still World, the Mythral Dawn Estate had fallen into a subtle rhythm of tension. Though training resumed and duties were maintained, an invisible weight hung over the estate's halls.
Two months had passed.
And still—no sign of Alter.
Everyone remembered what he had said that night: that he would return once it was done. That they must leave the Still World behind. That it was too dangerous for them to remain.
But now… it had been long enough for fear to take root.
Selene stood often by the Still World activation chamber, staring into the glowing sigil-locked gate, her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tense. The others gave her space—no one dared voice the question lingering in their minds.
Could something have happened to him?
They all knew the Still World's ratio—two months outside meant five years inside. Even Takayoshi and Soryn, who rarely showed doubt, began to exchange quiet glances. The longer Alter stayed sealed away… the more unbearable the silence became.
Selene said nothing.
But the agony was on her face.
The next morning.
The air was still.
But inside the western hall of the estate, a soft sound echoed—the whisper of footsteps, steady and unhurried.
Alter had returned.
He emerged quietly from the Still World chamber, clad in his black-and-gold inner tunic, his hair tied loosely behind his shoulders, a faint trail of aura still clinging to his skin like mist. His eyes were calm, but sharper than before. Five years had passed for him—five years of creation, reflection, and weight.
He walked through the eastern corridor, the familiar path beneath his feet grounding him once more.
A maid rounded the corner with a tray—and froze.
The tray rattled. The teacup toppled and rolled onto the floor.
She stared, mouth open.
"...Master…?"
Alter smiled gently. "Good morning."
Her hands flew to her face.
"You're back!!"
He raised a brow. "Yes, I—"
"HE'S BACK!!" she screamed, abandoning her tray and bolting down the corridor. "MASTER ALTER IS BACK!!"
Her voice echoed like a trumpet call through the estate halls.
Alter sighed, shaking his head as he turned toward the training grounds.
By the time he arrived, the estate was in a full-blown scramble.
Recruits stumbled from the mess hall mid-bite. Instructors dropped their practice staves. Mira and Finn stopped mid-sparring sequence, blinking in disbelief. Even Takayoshi looked up from meditation with a flicker of awe behind his usual composure.
But before anyone could run forward—
A blur of white and gold streaked past them.
A gust of divine wind burst from the side courtyard.
In a blink, Selene collided into Alter, her arms wrapping around him, her forehead burying into his chest as tears streamed down her face.
She said nothing.
But her body trembled with relief.
Alter stood still for a moment, his hands slowly lifting to hold her back.
"I'm home," he said softly.
The others reached the courtyard, skidding to a halt as they witnessed the reunion.
No one spoke.
The emotion in the air said more than any greeting.
One by one, they approached—Soryn first, followed by Takayoshi, then the Twelve and the Dragoons.
He had returned.
And everything… had changed.
The afternoon sun over the Mythral Dawn Estate was high, but its light could not outshine the presence now standing at the center of the training grounds.
Alter.
He stood relaxed, his posture casual but commanding, clad once more in his full Sovereignborn Draconic Plate, now faintly humming with renewed energy. Around him, the 14 Commanders, the Dragoons, Soryn, Takayoshi, and even support staff gathered in tight rows, wordless, the air still thick from the earlier emotional return.
Selene remained near him, her expression calmer now but her gaze never straying far from his.
Alter's eyes passed across them all.
No speech.
No ceremony.
Only purpose.
He raised his hand—and with a flash of golden light, a circular formation of rings shimmered into view above his palm. Dozens of simple bands spun in perfect orbit, hovering silently like the rings of a planet. Their polish was plain. Their shape unremarkable.
But the power within was anything but.
Each ring pulsed faintly with hidden glyphwork—imperceptible to most, but undeniable to those attuned to aura. Some of the gathered warriors instinctively tensed, their spiritual instincts brushing the edge of something massive cloaked in silence.
Finn stepped forward slightly, his brows drawn. "…What are those?"
Alter didn't answer immediately. Instead, the rings hovered outward—one floating to each of the 14 Commanders, and another set of six drifting toward his personal disciples among the Dragoons.
Rhed Velgroth blinked. "Is this a… reward?"
Talia tilted hers in the light. "It's so plain."
Selin caught his between two fingers and simply stared.
Takayoshi narrowed his gaze, feeling the resonance sealed within. His expression shifted—subtle, but awed.
Soryn's hand closed slowly around his.
"…Veil," he murmured.
Alter finally spoke.
"No one but you will know what they truly are," he said. "But from this moment forward, no god, no demon, no fate-reader will be able to track your presence—not while you wear that ring."
Gasps rose in waves. Even Mira's eyes widened slightly.
"These are your Veils of Origin," Alter continued, his voice low. "Forged to shield you. Forged to protect your bonds, your movements, your very essence. From now on, you walk unseen through the gaze of divine and abyssal eyes."
He turned slightly, glancing toward the horizon.
"They've already begun watching. But they'll see nothing."
Darius clenched his ring in a fist. "You made this for all of us… in secret?"
Alter nodded once. "You are my blades. My allies. My family. And you will not be taken by the sky, nor by the pit."
Caelum looked down at his band. "What do we do with them?"
"Wear it always," Alter said. "If ever it is lost… you will feel it. If ever it breaks… the world will know."
Selene lifted her ring, eyes filled with quiet emotion. She said nothing. But her fingers slipped it onto her hand as if it had always belonged there.
The others followed.
One by one.
Silent oaths.
Unspoken unity.
—
They stood now, a force not just of power, but invisible purpose—a gathering of future legends cloaked in anonymity, branded not by banners or titles, but by a sovereign's hidden gift.
No fanfare. No applause.
Only resolve.
And the quiet burn of protection forged in absolute stillness.
The distribution of the Veil of Origin rings had gone in silence and awe.
The 14 Commanders each now bore one on their dominant hand, quietly inspecting the unassuming bands that hummed with concealed divinity. Alter's personal Dragoons wore theirs like sacred tokens, unsure how to even respond. Some whispered. Some nodded to each other. But all understood one thing:
They were being trusted with something deeper than power.
One by one, they stepped forward to receive them directly from Alter's hand—Rhed, Talia, Selin, Jaris, Elira, and Vellmar—each meeting his gaze as he passed on the gift.
But as the final ring floated gently into his palm, Alter didn't offer it to anyone.
He turned.
Selene.
She had watched in reverent quiet, standing still, her eyes glinting not with expectation—but with something unspoken.
The others watched too, waiting.
Princess Alyxthia, standing just off to the side in her travel cloak, instinctively stepped forward. She could feel it—divine resonance rising. Her breath caught.
Near her, Captain Draven Stryvalis, clad in obsidian-scaled armor, tilted his head as the atmosphere shifted. Though not a man easily shaken, even he sensed the weight in Alter's next steps.
Alter approached her slowly.
He said nothing at first.
Then he gently took her left hand.
Selene blinked, confused at first—until she saw the shape of the ring cradled in his palm.
It was different.
More intricate than the others. Etched with fine dragonic filigree along the inside curve. A white-gold teardrop gem caught the light, flaring softly with a resonance that only she could feel—hers.
Then Alter spoke—his voice low, melodic.
But not in the common tongue.
In Elven.
"Vanya'thiel Selene… na'leth varanir ae mina tal'avel."
(Beloved Selene… will you walk beside me through all tomorrows?)
Gasps escaped a few of the onlookers. None understood the words, but they heard the tone.
Selene's eyes widened.
Tears welled instantly, overflowing as her lips trembled.
And she answered—voice barely above a breath, but crystal-clear.
"Lle naa amin'quessir."
(You are my destiny.)
"Amin khiluva lle a'rucien."
(Yes! I will follow you until starlight ends!)
The courtyard erupted in shouts—confused, joyful, celebratory.
They hadn't understood the exchange…
But their actions spoke louder than words.
With infinite care, Alter slipped the Veil of Origin wedding ring onto her left ring finger. The gem shimmered, resonating with her heartbeat—
It pulsed. A soulmark locked in place.
Selene stepped forward—then fell into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around him. She wassobbing with joy as he held her close.
Then slowly, they leaned back—just far enough to meet eyes.
And kissed.
The crowd cheered.
Louder now. Finn let out a whistle. Rhed roared. Mira clapped with misty eyes. Even Takayoshi allowed himself the rare hint of a smirk.
No speech was given.
No ceremony was needed.
In that moment, the Veil of Origin had done more than hide them from the eyes of gods and demons.
It had sealed a vow—one older than war, and more powerful than fate.
The cheers continued, rising like a celebration that no one had planned but everyone welcomed.
Around the courtyard of the Mythral Dawn estate, warriors—hardened, silent, disciplined—now laughed like children. It wasn't just about a ring. It wasn't even just about Alter and Selene.
It was the rarest thing of all.
Hope.
Amid the joy, near the side of the gathering, two familiar figures stood side by side: Finn Whiteshadow, arms crossed with faint but visible satisfaction, and Mira Whiteshadow, hands behind her back, glowing with a serene smile.
They had remained respectfully quiet during the proposal.
But now, Mira tilted her head toward Finn, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"…He's smiling," she whispered.
Finn followed her gaze. Alter was holding Selene, his usual edge softened, his features relaxed in a way they'd never seen. He wasn't the sovereign, the forgemaster, the tactician, or the war-engraved immortal.
He was a man in love.
Finn exhaled softly, almost in disbelief. "He deserves it."
Mira leaned in just a little. "You think we'll ever be like that?"
He froze.
Then coughed.
"Wh-what?"
"You know," she said sweetly. "Standing in front of everyone. Dropping ancient elven poetry. Rings. Kisses. The whole golden-light-everyone's-cheering fairy tale."
"Mira—"
She stepped in front of him now, hands on hips, one eyebrow raised.
"So?" she grinned. "When are you planning to propose?"
Finn's face flushed scarlet instantly. "I—I—You—That's not—I mean—maybe—I will—soon! Eventually! I mean—when the time's right—!"
Too late.
Several heads turned.
Darius raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Veyna smirked. "Soon, he says."
Revyn cracked a rare smile. "Did I just hear something about a proposal?"
Garran roared with laughter. "Finn! Our quiet windwalker finally grows wings!"
Arinelle leaned in with a musical laugh. "Do we need to prepare a second ceremony already?"
Mira laughed gleefully, hands covering her mouth. "I didn't think they'd all hear it!"
Finn groaned, trying to shrink into his cloak. "This is not happening. This is not—"
But the teasing had begun in full force.
Even Soryn, arms folded at the edge of the circle, was shaking his head with a half-smile.
Takayoshi stood beside him, utterly unreadable.
Until he muttered, just loud enough, "They did sneak off at least three times last month."
That was all it took.
"You what?"
"Sneaking off now, are we?"
"You two have rendezvous?"
The teasing rolled across the courtyard like a rogue tide.
—
Then came the voice that stopped it all.
Low. Calm. Dangerous.
"…Finn. Mira."
All heads turned.
Alter stood with arms folded, eyes narrow, one brow arched like a disappointed archangel.
The crowd immediately backed off—teasing over.
Mira coughed. "Y-Yes, Master?"
Finn stood upright, trying not to sweat. "We were—just talking—sir."
Alter took a slow step forward.
"I've heard stories."
The two stiffened.
"From Takayoshi."
Their souls left their bodies.
"Rendezvous. Disappearances. Synchronization training in the lake at midnight?"
Mira laughed nervously. "It was purely elemental resonance optimization!"
Finn blurted, "Yes! It was for technique evolution!"
Alter's eyes narrowed further. "There was a picnic blanket."
Mira whispered, "...traitor," under her breath.
Alter exhaled. Then leaned forward ever so slightly.
"You two," he said, tone shifting to something almost fatherly. "You're still young. Still growing. There's time. But if you sneak off one more time without alerting your commanding officer or following sanctioned leave protocol…"
They both nodded furiously.
"…You'll find yourselves running the entire continent. Backwards. In chain mail."
Selene, from behind him, tried and failed to hold in a snort of laughter.
Finn bowed. "Understood, Master."
Mira huffed. "Still doesn't change the fact that I'd say yes."
Alter blinked.
"Wait, what—"
And just like that, the banter exploded again—this time with Alter caught in the middle, no longer the sovereign or the forge-lord or the warborn dragon.
Just a flustered father, trying to keep two chaotic children from eloping mid-mission.
The Mythral Dawn estate pulsed with excitement in the days that followed.
What had once been a fortress of discipline and war-born stillness now echoed with warmth, preparation, and celebration. For the first time in recorded memory, the estate was being transformed—runes woven with light along the towers, ceremonial banners hung from balcony arches, and floral enchantments blooming across the entrance halls.
The reason?
A wedding.
Not just any wedding.
The Sovereign's.
While preparations began at the estate, Soryn Vael'Zarion had already departed, crossing back through the Wyrmgate to return to Drakareth. He arrived in the royal court before noon the following day, his cloak dusty, but his bearing steady.
He stood in the throne room of King Vael'Zarion and Queen Elanra, his presence announced by obsidian-armored guards. The tension in the air softened as soon as they saw Princess Alyxthia's royal pendant glimmering from his neck.
"She's safe," Soryn said, offering a short bow. "She traveled to Seraveth under the protection of Alter. She's chosen to remain until after the wedding."
The queen placed a hand over her chest with visible relief.
King Vael'Zarion raised an eyebrow. "Wedding?"
Soryn nodded. "Alter has asked for Selene Virellia's hand—and she accepted. Their wedding is to take place in two weeks. You are… cordially invited, Your Majesty."
There was a pause.
Then a soft smile broke across the king's face.
"Of course," he said. "We would not miss it."
Far to the west, in the silver-walled capital of Aetherreach, Takayoshi stood alone within the grand crystal court, speaking to the High King and Queen of Seraveth—rulers of the central continent. His posture was composed, his voice clear, his presence more celestial than ever.
"I come bearing two messages," he said. "The first: Seraphina has returned to partial resonance. Her divine threads are stabilizing. The second…"
He reached into his robe and produced two silver-enchanted envelopes, each sealed with a flame-dragon sigil.
"Alter is marrying Selene Virellia. You are formally invited."
The court stirred. Nobles exchanged glances.
And the king, with a hearty laugh, clapped once. "Then the Sovereign has finally found peace."
Takayoshi simply bowed again. "He deserves it."
Two weeks passed.
The day had come.
Across the world, holo-crystals and arcane mirrors shimmered as every realm tuned in. Mortal kingdoms, sky-fortresses, enchanted forests, and even underwater courts of the Tide-Singers paused to witness what many believed they would never see:
A god-slayer in love.
A Prime Dragonic Sovereign… marrying his chosen flame.
In the main courtyard of the Mythral Dawn estate, under a dome of shimmering starlight wards, Selene stood in a flowing white celestial gown, interwoven with ancient elven runes and draconic lacework—half flame, half frost. Her hair glimmered in soft waves, and at her side hung the ring Alter had placed days earlier.
Alyxthia stood just behind her, veil in hand, eyes misty with joy.
Mira was practically vibrating with excitement. Finn stood tall and nervous. The 14 Commanders and Dragoons wore ceremonial uniforms tailored in honor of the Sovereign's sigil.
At the far end of the aisle, Alter waited—dressed in refined white-black armor, not for battle… but for devotion.
As the celestial hymn played and Selene began her walk forward, the world felt still.
Until…
A pulse.
One that only Selene noticed.
A sudden shift in presence—behind the crowd.
Several figures appeared through a shimmer in the courtyard ward. Cloaked, hooded, faces hidden.
Guards tensed.
Alter's eyes narrowed.
Then—one of the cloaked figures stepped forward, reaching for their hood.
They removed it slowly.
Selene's breath caught.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
The gemlight flickered across his face.
And she whispered—voice trembling:
"...Father?"
Silence gripped the courtyard like a sudden winter breeze.
The crowd—Commanders, Dragoons, guests from Drakareth and Seraveth alike—stood frozen as the hooded figures stepped into full view.
At their lead stood a tall elven man with long silver hair, sharp emerald eyes, and a noble presence that radiated through the ceremonial wards like a surge of old magic. His tunic bore the crest of a gleaming tree entwined with twin moons—the sigil of the Eastern Elven Kingdoms hidden deep within Seraveth's forgotten forest realms.
At his side stood a regal elven woman with flowing sapphire robes and a piercing gaze, and behind them—two younger elves, a girl with rose-blonde braids and a reserved elven boy with polished green armor.
Selene's eyes brimmed with stunned tears.
The man gave her a long look—his stern features cracking… into a wide, beaming smile.
"My daughter," he said, stepping forward. His voice was rich and warm, echoing with age and clarity. "You look exactly like your mother on our wedding day."
Then, lifting his chin proudly, he turned to the crowd and spoke clearly:
"I am King Elarion Virellia, ruler of the Elarithan Glade, and sovereign of the Eastern Elven Courts."
Gasps rippled through the gathering.
Even Mira blinked. "Selene's… a princess?"
Finn muttered, "Wait, that Selene?"
Darius looked genuinely rattled. "We've been taking orders from royalty?"
Alter remained calm, but his golden eyes locked onto Elarion's with unspoken sharpness.
Then he stepped forward.
The two leaders—one draconic, one elven—stood before each other in the ceremonial silence.
Alter placed his fist to his chest and bowed slightly. "Welcome, King Elarion. You honor us by coming."
The king smiled even wider. "No honor could match the pride I feel to see her standing here… and beside you."
A quiet murmur ran through the crowd. Even Takayoshi, watching from afar, raised a brow in curiosity.
But not all was calm.
The queen stepped forward next—robes billowing like a wave—and her voice cracked like a frost-wind.
"You say that so easily," she snapped. "But our daughter vanished. She ran away without permission, without word—no letters, no signs. For years, we searched the glades. We summoned seers. I cried every starlight eve wondering if she was alive—and now I find her here, dressed for a wedding, marrying a human?!"
Her voice was laced with pain, not hatred. Her fists trembled as she turned to Selene.
"I would have forgiven anything—anything, had I heard even one whisper from you."
Selene opened her mouth, voice tight with emotion. "I didn't run away out of hatred. I left because… I couldn't be the person you needed me to be."
Her mother flinched.
"I needed to find myself. I needed to become me. And in that path… I found him."
The queen's lip trembled. But she turned away, her emotions too raw to continue.
Before the tension could deepen, a softer voice cut through the quiet.
"Oh, hush, Mother," said the younger elven woman with a lilting tone. She stepped forward with her hands clasped and eyes glittering. "She looks radiant. That dress is divine, Selene."
Selene blinked. "...Alendra?"
Her sister smiled and gave a playful curtsy. "Alendra Virellia, still as stylish as ever."
The elven boy stepped forward, quieter. "I always wondered where you went, sister. But… you seem happy." His voice was calm, composed—yet with the faintest trace of warmth. "That is more than enough for me."
Alter turned toward the king again, watching carefully. "You approve of our union?"
King Elarion nodded.
"There is nothing to disapprove. I do not see a human. I see the one who stood beside her. One who brought her back to the light." His voice deepened with emotion. "You may not be of our blood. But you are of her soul. That is what matters."
Alter bowed deeply.
"Then your daughter… becomes my heart."
The king laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then treat her as your crown."
The sun began to set, casting long beams of golden light across the Mythral Dawn Estate.
The ceremony space had been transformed—the wide courtyard reshaped into a natural sanctuary. White blossoms floated midair in suspended animation. Twin waterfalls of starlight mana cascaded behind the altar, arching into a halo of drifting constellations. High seats lined the upper balconies where emissaries, nobles, warriors, and gods-turned-silent spectators observed what many thought they'd never see:
A wedding between realms.
Alter stood at the altar, posture strong, face composed, but his eyes—his eyes never left Selene.
She walked forward, arm gently linked with King Elarion, the elven sovereign who now smiled with pride, not power. Her gown shimmered with pale silver and draconic etching, echoing both flame and frost. Her hair had been woven with strands of crystal filament, and her every step rippled with sovereign grace.
Standing behind Alter, Finn, Mira, and Takayoshi waited in silent formation. The 14 Commanders flanked the front, adorned in ceremonial black with golden crest embroidery, and the Dragoons stood at attention behind them, their ring bands glowing faintly beneath enchanted gloves.
Princess Alyxthia sat near Soryn, trying—and failing—to hide the tears streaking her cheeks.
The music of divine lutes played softly in the air, but not by hand—by memory, stored within the Still World and channeled into the sky.
And just beside the altar…
...stood Blazebloom.
Not the fearsome bear of battle, but the overly proud, red-sashed flower-crowned, slightly-too-fat divine bear, who was clearly taking this entire thing way too seriously. A sash reading "Ring Blesser and Emotional Support Beast" had been draped over his chest. A tiny bouquet was inexplicably tied to his tail.
He stood perfectly upright.
Until he didn't.
Blazebloom sneezed.
The entire bouquet launched like a missile into Rhed Velgroth's face.
"GACK—!"
"Rhed!" Mira hissed.
"I'm blind—he blinded me with flowers!" Rhed bellowed, spinning in place.
Elira facepalmed.
The ceremony paused only briefly. Blazebloom gave a short grunt as if that was part of the performance, puffed out his chest, and dramatically flopped over as if exhausted by his divine duty.
The audience tried—and failed—to contain their laughter.
Selene reached the altar, barely suppressing a grin, her fingers tightening around Alter's.
"I missed this insanity," she whispered.
"I live with it," he replied softly.
The two faced forward.
Takayoshi stepped to the front, playing the role of officiant. His expression was calm… but his voice held rare warmth.
"Before all assembled, in witness of warriors, kings, gods, and beasts…" (a sideways glance at Blazebloom), "…do you vow yourselves to one another?"
Alter looked into her eyes.
"I vow to walk beside you. Through shadow and sun. Through battle and stillness. You are my oath."
Selene smiled.
"I vow to stand with you. To be your storm, your peace, your sword… and your home."
Takayoshi gave a slight bow.
"Then by the power entrusted to me by sovereign and star…"
A golden sigil ignited around them.
"I now name you—bonded."
Alter gently slipped the Veil of Origin wedding ring onto her hand once more—now pulsing, quiet, eternal.
Selene reached up, pulled him down—and kissed him.
The crowd exploded.
From the balconies above, a fireworks burst of enchanted petals rained down. Finn and Mira high-fived midair. Darius dramatically wiped a single tear. Princess Alyxthia sobbed into Soryn's cloak. And Blazebloom—completely misunderstanding the moment—charged into the dance circle and began a celebratory spin… that very nearly took out the cake table.
"NOOO!" cried the chef from the sidelines.
Selene giggled against Alter's chest.
He whispered into her hair, "We're really doing this."
She nodded. "And they all saw it."
—
No attack came.
No divine interruption.
No breach from demon or prophecy.
Only celebration.
Only peace.
Only love.
The golden light of morning cast long, gentle rays across the Mythral Dawn Estate as the final farewells were underway.
Alter stood at the edge of the marble courtyard in his celestial armor, Starsever sheathed across his back, arms folded loosely as he gazed upon the gathered company: Soryn, Princess Alyxthia, Captain Draven, and the full regiment of 300 Dragoons, now fully equipped and bearing the freshly-forged Veil of Origin rings on their fingers or necks.
The Princess was dressed in a flowing blue and gold cloak gifted by Queen Elanra, while Soryn wore a high-collared navy traveling coat with draconic trim, a more formal variant of his usual attire. Draven stood tall and disciplined in his storm-gray scale armor, his spear strapped behind his shoulder, ever the stoic sentinel.
The Dragoons, rowed in formation by squads, saluted in unison—one fist over their chests, the other holding their packs.
Alter stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over them.
"Dragoons," he said, his voice calm yet firm, "this is not goodbye. Merely a path branching outward. Soryn will continue your training in Drakareth."
Several recruits glanced nervously at Soryn. Rhed whispered to Talia, "He trains just like Alter… but with jokes. It's worse."
Alter narrowed his eyes slightly at the whisper. "And I will be dropping by from time to time."
A collective shiver ran through the crowd. Even Draven raised a brow as Soryn let out a small laugh.
"Relax," Soryn said, clapping his gloved hands. "You're all elite warriors now. I expect nothing less than excellence. And besides—" he turned to Alter, smirking, "—you say drop by, but what you mean is descend from the sky with a dimensional slash and leave a crater in the field."
Alter gave a noncommittal shrug. "Accurate."
The recruits laughed nervously. Princess Alyxthia, standing beside Soryn, covered a giggle behind her palm. But in truth… her heart was tight.
When the final hugs were exchanged and the teleportation gates hummed to life, Alter stood at the center, raising a hand.
"Go. And grow stronger. You are no longer just warriors. You are the legacy of two continents now."
And with a flicker of golden energy, the entire envoy vanished into the spatial gate—bound for Drakareth.
—
The winds of Drakareth's highlands blew softly as the group emerged on the teleportation platform near the outer ridge road to Veyr'Zhalar. The Dragoons took formation, heading in disciplined rows while the nobles and leaders followed on steads or foot. The capital city shimmered in the distance, but dusk was already beginning to fall.
They had a full day's journey to camp.
Soryn walked near the front, hands behind his back, observing the landscape with familiar eyes. He heard the soft shuffle of silk nearby—and turned to see Alyxthia, her cloak fluttering behind her as she walked beside him, pointedly not looking at him.
"You're quiet," Soryn said gently.
She didn't respond at first. Then:
"I'm trying to see you as my brother."
Soryn's brow lifted slightly. "And… it's not going well?"
She crossed her arms. "It's going. Slowly. Uneven terrain."
Soryn laughed quietly. "We don't have to force it, Alyxthia."
She frowned, looking away. "But I want to. I said I would."
He slowed his steps, letting the others march ahead slightly. "You're not failing," he said. "Just… adjusting. The heart doesn't switch roles on command. You're not alone in that."
She stopped and glanced up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Will it… always be like this?"
Soryn looked at the horizon, then back at her with a warm expression. "We'll find our rhythm. Just give it time."
Before she could respond—
"Enough moonlit pacing," came a deep voice.
Draven had approached from behind, arms folded, expression sharp as ever. "You both need rest. We make camp before sundown. Talking in circles doesn't push the march forward."
Alyxthia turned with a huff. "Captain Draven, are you always this charming?"
Draven didn't blink. "Only when I'm trying not to drag royals and dragons to their tents."
Soryn smirked, turning slightly. "Let's go, Princess."
Alyxthia sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. But I get the fire closest to the rations."
"Denied," Draven said flatly.
"Why?!"
"Because you sneak snacks at night."
"I do not!"
Soryn chuckled quietly as the group resumed their journey through the violet-hued hills of Drakareth.
And behind them, the sun dipped into slumber—leaving only starlight to guide the steps of dragons, royals, and one princess slowly learning the meaning of brotherhood.
Back at the Mythral Dawn Estate, the morning sun poured through the wide crystalline windows, casting golden warmth across the marble courtyards and winding flower paths. Birds chirped, swords clashed in the distance, and—
—Alter and Selene were utterly ignoring all of it.
They sat beneath the towering blossom tree near the eastern pond. Selene had tucked her legs beneath her, resting her head on Alter's shoulder as she fed him slices of summerfruit with a shy smile, her silver-blonde hair dancing in the breeze. Alter, usually a fortress of discipline, was letting her. No stern gaze. No barked commands. Just peace.
It was the kind of scene that made commanders lose composure.
"She skipped training again," Mira whispered from the shadow of a balcony, arms crossed, clearly scandalized.
Finn stood beside her, equally aghast. "That's the third time this week. Do we not bleed and sweat together anymore?"
"She's supposed to be our example," Mira added, scandalized. "Instead, she's—"
"Hand-feeding our Master under a tree," Finn finished, watching a fruit slice hover near Alter's mouth.
Mira squinted. "We need to get married. Now."
Finn choked. "W-What?!"
"I said what I said."
Down in the courtyard, Selene giggled. She had clearly heard everything with her enhanced hearing. "You're welcome to join us," she called teasingly.
Finn panicked. Mira was already climbing down the ivy trellis.
Across the field, the 14 Commanders were assembled in front of the training arena, sparring or practicing elemental amplification drills. The scene with Alter and Selene had not gone unnoticed.
"Why are they allowed to flirt in broad daylight while we're dying out here?" Darius grumbled, swinging his blade.
"Because we're not married to a divine sovereign," Revyn replied, ducking a wind bolt.
"Yet," Mira shouted as she landed nearby, brushing off her skirt.
Alter, who was resting with eyes closed now, cracked one open. "If you're skipping drills, at least don't make a scene."
"Sorry, Master!" Mira beamed unapologetically.
From behind a stone pillar, Blazebloom waddled out, a melon slice on his head and a vine wrapped around his snout like a fake mustache. He had somehow joined Selene's picnic, and now sat with a satisfied belly, mimicking Alter's crossed-arm posture.
"Tch! You're enabling him," Finn said, pointing an accusatory finger.
Blazebloom grunted and leaned back, sprouting a miniature leaf fan over himself.
"You're all losing discipline," Caelum muttered as he blocked a projectile.
"Losing it?" Garran laughed. "It's already been mugged, tied up, and left in a ditch."
Meanwhile, across the estate training yards, the royal elven guards and Selene's family escorts from the eastern forest were observing everything.
"…This is the famed discipline of the Mythral Dawn?" one of them whispered, trying to keep a straight face.
Selene's older sister leaned forward with her arms on the railing, watching the chaos unfold like a comedy play. "I like it here. It's… real."
Her younger brother blinked. "That bear is now wearing a flower crown. Is that normal?"
Draven, standing off to the side with a flask of tea, sighed deeply. "It is now."
Suddenly, Alter rose to his feet, dusting himself off. "Alright," he said, voice cutting through the banter like a blade through fog. "Break's over."
Everyone froze.
Selene blinked innocently. "Even me?"
Alter turned, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. "Especially you."
The Commanders groaned. Finn deflated. Mira sighed dramatically. But they moved—because Alter had spoken.
And just like that, the chaos stilled. Training resumed. Energy surged.
But the laughter lingered—etched into the air like a melody of shared bonds. This was no longer just a faction. It was a family.