The echoes of the trials still hung heavy in the air. Aethrion's grand courtyard, bathed in the eternal light of its three suns, shimmered under the lingering waves of power that had shaken its very foundations moments ago. The barrier had steadied, sealing the chaos beyond its edge, and silence settled like an unspoken question over the group of four standing in its heart.
Ariv walked toward them, his steps slow but unwavering. The shards of his broken locket still clung faintly to his clothes, catching the sunlight like fragments of a fallen star. His expression was calm—too calm—and his gaze carried something no one had seen before: a weight, an infinite distance.
Vaishnavi felt it first—the air around him, heavier than it should be, pulling like the gravity of something vast. She clutched her arms close, trying to shake the strange unease crawling down her spine. Rohit opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, unable to find words. Neel didn't speak either, but his eyes narrowed slightly. That wasn't just power. That was… a storm breaking its seal.
The massive gates behind them sealed with a deep, resonant clang. From the opposite side, Rudraen approached, his crimson cloak trailing like spilled blood across white marble. His steps were silent, but his presence pressed down with authority that could not be ignored.
His eyes moved from one to the other—first Vaishnavi, then Rohit, then Neel. When they finally rested on Ariv, the faint smirk playing on his lips vanished, replaced by something else: caution.
He stopped in front of them, folding his arms. His voice cut through the silence like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"You've all passed."
Relief flickered across Vaishnavi's face, a quiet exhale escaping her lips. Rohit muttered something under his breath, barely audible. Neel didn't react outwardly, but a strange light glimmered in his eyes—a private calculation, like pieces shifting on a board only he could see.
"But," Rudraen continued, his tone sharp enough to slice through the air, "that isn't what matters."
The wind stirred, lifting the edges of his cloak as his crimson gaze locked on Ariv again, holding it for a long, unbroken moment.
"When you entered that gate," Rudraen said slowly, "you were one person. When you stepped out, the entire realm trembled."
No one spoke. Even the distant hum of Aethrion's floating rings seemed to fade.
"Tell me, Ariv Senra…" Rudraen's voice dipped into something quieter, colder. "What did you awaken in there?"
Ariv met his gaze without flinching. His face betrayed nothing—no fear, no pride, just a calm steadiness that made his words almost unnerving.
"Nothing I didn't already carry."
For the first time, Rudraen's lips twitched, as if suppressing the urge to laugh—or to curse. Instead, he looked away, staring at the horizon where the three suns burned like eyes watching all things.
"The Queen will decide what to make of you," he said finally, his tone shifting back to command. "All of you."
He turned, gesturing toward the great skybridge that arched across Aethrion like a vein of light stretching into infinity.
"Tomorrow, you will stand in the Court of Veils."
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Vaishnavi's heart kicked in her chest. The Court of Veils—the place spoken of in hushed tones, where judgment and destiny intertwined. She looked at Ariv, wanting to ask something—anything—but the words died in her throat. His profile was calm, eyes distant, like a man carrying an ocean inside.
Rohit broke the silence with a sharp exhale. "The Queen herself… what do we even say to her?"
Neel's voice was quiet when it came, almost like an answer to no one. "We say nothing. We listen… and we survive."
His eyes shifted once toward Ariv, lingering there for a fraction of a second longer than they should have.
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As They Walked Away
Rudraen stood still until the four began moving toward the luminous bridge, their figures outlined against the endless sky. When his gaze slid back to Ariv, something cold and calculating burned in his eyes.
Galaxy Zenith… and without the seal holding him anymore.
He tilted his head slightly, the faintest smile curling at the edges of his lips.
The Queen will want to see this. But even she doesn't understand what's walking into her hall tomorrow.