The colossal gates of the Aethrion Court swung open, releasing a soft echo that seemed to hum with ancient power. The hall before them was breathtaking—white marble laced with glowing runes stretched endlessly, and high above, constellations twinkled across the domed ceiling as though the night sky itself had been captured inside.
At the far end, elevated upon a throne that shimmered like starlight, sat the Queen of Veils. Her presence silenced even the hum of energy in the room. Clad in robes that cascaded like liquid silver, her eyes glowed with a calm authority—and an undercurrent of anticipation.
Ariv, Vaishnavi, Neel, and Rohit stepped inside, flanked by Rudraen and the elite guards. The weight of countless gazes pressed on them from both sides; the court was filled with Zenith warriors and officials, all standing like statues.
And then it happened.
The instant Ariv crossed the threshold, the entire hall trembled—not from footsteps, but from power. A dense wave of aura burst out from him, unseen yet undeniable, and it swept across the hall like a storm wind.
Gasps erupted. Warriors staggered back instinctively.
"What… is this pressure?"
"Such… immense force!"
"From a human child? Impossible!"
Ariv froze, his fists tightening at his sides. He didn't know what was happening. Ever since the trial, the energy inside him wouldn't stop surging. The fragments of the shattered locket burned faintly against his skin, releasing what it once sealed.
Neel whispered sharply beside him, "Your aura—it's overflowing."
"I'm trying—" Ariv muttered, jaw clenched, but the current wouldn't obey. Every breath he took made the air heavier.
The Queen rose from her throne, her gown trailing like falling stars as she descended. Silence fell instantly, broken only by the faint hum of her presence. Her voice cut through the stillness, calm yet edged with something no one expected—tension.
"Whose aura… is this?"
Rudraen knelt, head bowed low. "Your Majesty… it belongs to Ariv."
The Queen's gaze locked onto him. For the briefest moment, her flawless composure cracked—shock flickered across her face. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as if staring at a phantom from the past.
"This power…" she whispered under her breath, barely audible. After all these decades… this Zenith reappears?
Whispers flared like sparks among the assembly. Some warriors gripped their weapons, others exchanged uneasy looks.
Then, something else caught Ariv's eyes. Just beyond the dais, kneeling respectfully upon the gleaming floor… were four familiar figures.
Their parents.
Ariv's steps faltered as his gaze found his mother, head bowed low in complete reverence. His chest tightened. She wasn't just standing there—she was kneeling before the Queen like a sworn subject.
"Mom…?" His voice cracked with disbelief. He strode forward, ignoring the murmurs, and stopped before her. "Why… why are you kneeling?"
She didn't meet his eyes. Her hands trembled faintly, but her voice was steady. "Because this… is the Queen of Veils, Ariv. The one to whom even the strongest bow."
Questions spiraled in his head like a storm. Why is she here? How does she know this place? But before he could speak again, the Queen's voice rang out, commanding and absolute:
"Enough."
The single word froze the air. She took a step closer, her presence towering even without motion.
"Ariv," she said, her tone a blend of authority and calculation, "your aura threatens the balance of this realm. If left unchecked, it will consume you… and everything around you."
Her gaze shifted sharply to his mother. "You will teach him. You will show him how to restrain this force before it tears the fabric of Aethrion apart."
Ariv's breath hitched. "Mom… what does she mean? What do you—"
But his mother's eyes, though glistening with unspoken truths, did not waver from the Queen. "As you command, Your Majesty."
The Queen stepped so close now that Ariv could see the faint glow swirling in her irises. Her voice softened—yet the weight in it could crush mountains.
"Know this, child. The aura you bear… belongs to a Zenith that vanished from our records. A power that should never have awakened again."
Gasps rippled across the hall. Warriors looked at each other with wide eyes, horror and awe tangled in their faces.
Ariv didn't flinch. His golden star-shaped pupils gleamed faintly, though he didn't even realize it. "You speak like you know me," he said quietly.
The Queen didn't answer—at least not in the way he wanted. Instead, she leaned in, her whisper colder than the void between stars:
"If what I sense is true… then the Three Realms may shatter because of you."
And in that silence, as the echoes of her words settled like ash, Ariv felt it—the weight of a destiny far greater than he ever imagined.