Morning light fell upon Midgar's marble spires, bright and clean, as if the night had not been filled with screams. To the common folk, life resumed—merchants opened stalls, children carried baskets, guards walked their patrols.
But in the noble quarter, fear lingered. Whispers of the failed assassination spread in hushed voices, carrying through corridors gilded with gold. The Hand of the Veil had struck at the Monarch and failed.
Selene Varadis sat in the council chamber, her silver hair bound tight, her expression a mask of calm perfection. The assassins' failure had cut deep. But she would not bleed where others could see.
If steel could not silence the Monarch, then politics would.
The chamber was vast, lined with banners of old kings. Twelve councilors sat at the table, their voices a storm of anger and fear.
"The Monarch grows bolder!" one cried."He twists truth against us!" shouted another."If we cannot act, the people will lose faith—"
Selene raised her hand. Silence fell.
Her voice was calm, steady. "Then let us act. Not as individuals, but as council. Let us declare the Monarch outlaw, enemy of the state."
Murmurs rippled.
One councilor, an older man with trembling hands, spoke sharply. "And if he is stronger than rumor? If he truly commands shadows? What will declaring him outlaw achieve but panic?"
Selene's silver eyes glimmered. "It will give us unity. It will give us mandate. And with mandate, we can act with force."
She rose from her seat, her cloak flowing like liquid night. "If we hesitate, the Monarch grows stronger. If we act together, he will fall."
Some nodded. Others hesitated.
But the seed was planted.
Kael listened from afar.
One of his shades crouched in the chamber's rafters, unseen. Its formless whispers carried the council's words back across the Veil, into Kael's cathedral.
Kael stood still, violet eyes narrowed. "So. Selene turns the council into her blade."
His legion knelt silently around him, waiting.
Kael's voice was soft, deliberate. "Let her chain them. Let her craft her net. But when the noose tightens…" His lips curved faintly. "…we will decide whose throat it fits."
By evening, the proclamation was written.
"The Monarch is declared enemy of Midgar. All citizens are bound to report sightings. Any who aid him are traitors to the state."
Selene sealed it with her own hand, pressing crimson wax into parchment. Her guards delivered copies to every noble estate, every barracks, every merchant's hall.
She stood at the window as the sun dipped below the rooftops, her reflection pale in the glass.
"You hide in shadows," she whispered. "But shadows shrink before fire. And I will burn you out."
Kael held the proclamation in his hand hours later, one of his spies placing it on the altar. The wax was still warm.
He read it slowly, once, then set it down.
His legion shifted uneasily, violet eyes flickering.
Kael's smile was faint, but sharp as a knife. "Outlaw. Enemy of the state." He chuckled softly. "She believes this binds me. She believes it makes me hunted."
He looked up, eyes glowing brighter. "But it makes me legend."
The Eye of Dusk pulsed violently against his chest, as if agreeing. The whispers swelled, resonant, hungry.
"The more they fear, the more they remember. The more they remember, the more you reign."
Kael extended his hand. Shadows surged outward, filling the cathedral like a tide. His voice carried through the ruin, calm and commanding.
"Then let her declare me enemy. Let her paint me as villain. For every whisper of fear, another shadow rises."
His legion bowed low. By your will, Sovereign.
Far above the city, Cid sat perched on the clocktower, proclamation parchment fluttering in his hand. He read it once, then laughed until his voice echoed into the night.
"Enemy of the state! Declared outlaw! Oh, that's perfect!"
He smirked, crimson eyes gleaming.
"You're not just some pretender, Monarch. You're shaping the story yourself. And Selene—hah—she doesn't even realize she's your stagehand."
Cid leaned back, grinning into the stars.
"Oh, this is the best play I've ever seen."