It was midday. The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, its golden rays spilling across the land like molten fire. The earth's vegetation thrived in gentle bloom, their colors rich and vibrant beneath the heat. Birds soared in cheerful flocks, their melodic songs weaving through the skies above the DISTRICT SECT, a vast dominion where kings and queens were nothing but distant myths.
Here, power did not wear crowns. It wore sharp minds, elegant robes, and ruthless ambition, the rulers of this land were the Top Tiers, a council of six formidable leaders and one Overseer General, each possessing a brilliance matched only by their hunger for control, their words shaped destinies, their whims determined fates.
Fear was the language their subjects understood best, one mistake, one misplaced word...could mean erasure.
Every day, the Seven Sect Villages scattered and struggling, sent tributes and valuables to appease their rulers, desperate to avoid annihilation, this was the law of the District Sect, this was survival.
But on this particular day, the air was heavy with grief and tension, the usually bustling halls were unusually somber, a tragedy had struck one of their own.
Lady Anaia a high-ranking Top Tier and a woman admired for her beauty and influence, had lost her only son, Jasper to a mysterious illness, his burial had taken place that morning, and the weight of sorrow clung to her like a dark veil, she had exhausted every option to save him calling upon healers, rare medicines, and even the mystical life essence of the captured Depers hidden within the Sect's walls, yet nothing had worked.
Her grief left a wound that no amount of power could mend.
Later that day, the District Sect's Central Hall prepared for the council's gathering. One by one, the Top Tiers arrived, their entrances as grand as their reputations.
First to arrive was Lady Monique, elegant, poised, and every inch the image of refined unique vanity, her gown shimmered like starlight, and her ginger hair was arranged in an immaculate bun, each step she took echoed through the hall like the tap of fine crystal, drawing all eyes to her as she gracefully took her seat at the enormous round table.
Next was Lord Wulfric, ever the picture of confidence and flair, his semi-long golden hair caught the light as he casually swept it behind his ear. With his polished walking cane tapping rhythmically against the marble floor, he strode in like a man who owned every room he entered.
Then came Lord Aldo Darkis, a cold aura seemed to trail after him as he appeared in his customary all-black attire, his pale skin, unsmiling face, and silent steps commanded unease, he didn't need to speak to intimidate his presence alone was enough.
After him arrived Lord Drewsaw, tall and unnervingly elegant, with a sharp, calculating expression etched permanently into his face, his signature frown and unusual height gave him an almost otherworldly air, one that made many uneasy without knowing exactly why.
Then came Lady Anaia, draped in mourning black, once known for her radiant fashion and warm smile, she now appeared hollowed by loss, by her side was the fashionable Lady Shasha, kind-eyed yet visibly solemn, gently guiding her grieving friend to her seat.
As Lady Anaia settled into her place, Lady Monique reached out and rested a manicured hand on her shoulder, a rare show of sympathy in a council where compassion was often seen as weakness.
The atmosphere in the hall was tense, heavy, and watchful. The meeting was about to begin, and though tragedy had darkened the mood, the Top Tiers were never ones to set aside their thirst for power for long.
The grand hall fell into uneasy silence, broken only by Lady Anaia's quiet sobs, her grief echoed softly against the marble walls, a haunting reminder of the son she had lost.
Then, unexpectedly, Sir Aldo turned toward her, his cold, sharp gaze held no trace of sympathy as he spoke in his deep, measured voice,
"I know it's hard", he said flatly, "but you do know you're a woman, right? You can always have another",
The bluntness of his words struck like a slap, Lady Monique and Lady Shasha both gasped in shock,
"Oh my goodness!" Lady Monique exclaimed, hand over her heart, "If that's your idea of comfort, Sir Aldo, it's absolutely dreadful!",
Sir Wulfric cleared his throat in his usual theatrical fashion, leaning back in his chair,
"Well, to be fair," he said smoothly, " he is right, having another child isn't impossible, she's still a woman, after all",
"Hmm! Agreed", Sir Drewsaw added casually,
Lady Monique shot to her feet, her elegant gown rustling.
"My, my! You three should be ashamed of yourselves, you have no idea what it's like to raise and lose a child—it's heartbreaking!",
"Exactly!", Lady Shasha joined in, narrowing her eyes at the men, "They wouldn't understand, none of them have children, all they do is blabber without thinking",
Sir Aldo simply shrugged, his expression unreadable.
"Alright, alright, you caught us," he replied coolly, "But no matter how you twist it, what I said is still the truth",
Lady Anaia remained silent, her pain too deep to put into words, her gaze was distant, fixed on nothing,
Sir Drewsaw finally folded his arms, trying to redirect the tension,
"Once again, Lady Anaia, my condolences", he said briskly "But we are here for a meeting, where is Lord Azael?"
He scanned the room, then gestured to a nearby guard,
"Go and summon the Overseer General, we're all gathered and waiting",
The guard bowed and hurried off.
Meanwhile, in the Sect Memorial Hallway, Lord Azael Arcshaw stood before a long line of portraits, stern-faced men, rulers of old, each painted with crowns of authority and eyes of ambition, at his side stood his only son, Lukian Arcshaw, eighteen years old and brimming with potential.
Lord Azael placed a firm hand on Lukian's shoulder,
"Son" he began solemnly, "these were great rulers, from my great-grandfather down to my father, each one understood the same truth ruling is power, power earns respect, fear, and value, and we must never stop expanding it, one day, you will stand where I do, remember my words, Lukian, never forget them",
Lukian's lips curled into a confident grin,
"Of course, Father, I'll remember, You're a great ruler yourself, when it's my turn, I'll make you proud",
Lord Azael chuckled softly, a rare warmth in his voice as he imagined his son's future, their moment was interrupted when the guard arrived, bowing deeply to deliver the meeting summons, Azael sighed, almost having forgotten,
"We'll continue this later Son", he told Lukian, turning to leave.
Left alone, Lukian paused before a mirror, straightening his coat and fastening his ornate cuffs, his reflection stared back at him, a young man destined for greatness.
'I won't be a weak ruler', he told himself silently, 'I'll be feared, I'll seize power with my own hands…and extend our reign beyond all limits',
He was just about to leave when his path was suddenly blocked by Velvette, the pretty, well-dressed daughter of Lady Monique, her strawberry-blonde hair shimmered under the hall's lights, and her dimpled smile was both shy and hopeful,
"What do you want, Velvette?", Lukian asked, frowning slightly,
Velvette blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously,
"Hello, Master Lukian, I...I'm sorry to disturb you, but… I was hoping you'd like to see my rare gem doll collection, it's quite remarkable....."
Lukian cut her off, his frown deepening,
"Why on earth would I want to do that?",
"Well, I just thought—",
"Aren't you too old to be playing with dolls?", he interrupted coldly, "Do yourself a favor and stop being childish, young lady, if you have something important to say next time, then say it, right now I have things to do",
Without another glance, he brushed past her and left,
"W....wait… I—",
But he was already gone.
Velvette sighed softly, this wasn't the first time he'd dismissed her, yet hope lingered stubbornly in her heart,
"One day…just one day, Lukian", she whispered to herself.
Further down the hallway, a commotion caught her attention, two maids stood drenched in orange juice while Jewel, the mischievous daughter of Lady Shasha, laughed uncontrollably, She was notorious for pulling pranks, and her snorting laughter filled the corridor,
Velvette approached her with a disapproving glare,
"Goodness, Jewel! When will you ever start acting like a proper lady?",
Jewel stopped laughing and raised a brow, brushing the curly strands of hair from her eyes,
"Proper lady? Are those even real words?", she replied with a smirk,
"You'd better stop all this nonsense and act properly" Velvette snapped,
Jewel rolled her eyes dramatically,
"Pfft! Proper my foot! I never asked to be born here, in this prison of a place, So stop acting like my mother and let me have fun",
"So sad, one day, you'll see where this kind of behavior leads you, you're not a child anymore", Velvette retorted,
Jewel snorted,
"Hah! Says the girl who still collects dolls, don't call me childish when you're one yourself, now if you'll excuse me, I have more shenanigans to pull. Later!",
She spun on her heel and jollied off down the corridor, leaving Velvette standing there with folded arms and frustrated shake of her head.
The heavy doors of the great hall creaked open, and instantly, a cold silence swept across the room.
Lord Azael Arcshaw entered with his usual dark, commanding aura, his expression was unreadable, his sharp eyes glinting beneath the hall's torchlight, even without a smile, his presence alone made the air tighten, conversations ceased, backs straightened,
He walked with deliberate, measured steps to the center seat at the massive round table, the seat of power, as he sat, the other Top Tiers greeted him respectfully,
Lord Azael's gaze shifted toward Lady Anaia, whose quiet grief still hung heavy over the room,
"My deepest condolences once again, Lady Anaia", he said in his deep, steady voice.
For the first time that day, she lifted her head,
"Thank you… Lord Azael", she replied softly,
A guard then approached, bowing, and handed him a scroll containing the matters of discussion for the day. Lord Azael unrolled it carefully, his expression remained stoic as his eyes moved down the list until one particular line made his brow furrow.
"Only six of the village sects have complied with the rule of providing their valuables", he read aloud slowly, "That leaves the seventh sect… disobedient",
The irritation in his voice was unmistakable,
"How dare they ignore my command?" he growled, his tone darkening, "Only the hand that gives… receives back",
Sir Wulfric scoffed, leaning lazily against the table,
"I thought those people were practically extinct", he said with a smirk, "They barely contribute anything! Pathetic!!"
Sir Aldo gave a short nod of agreement,
"Indeed, why keep them around at all? They can't offer much, they don't deserve mercy, living under our rule is already a privilege",
Lady Monique spoke up thoughtfully, though her words held a sharp edge,
"What exactly are you suggesting? That village barely exists, it might be a waste of effort to try extracting anything from them",
Sir Drewsaw leaned forward slightly, tapping his finger against the table,
"If they want to benefit from us, they must offer something in return, Otherwise, why should they even exist within our Sect? Their village is surrounded by water bodies… If they've managed to survive this long, I'd wager they're hiding Depers",
At the mention of Depers, Lady Shasha's eyes narrowed,
"The ones we captured before were found near water bodies", she said carefully, "Sir Drewsaw's theory might be right, they could be harboring Depers in secret",
Lord Azael's expression hardened, the possibility was too strong to ignore, eighty percent likely, he calculated coldly, that forgotten seventh sect had offered nothing for far too long, if they were indeed hiding Depers, it was both an act of defiance and a valuable resource left untapped,
His patience snapped.
"GUARD!" he thundered,
The hall doors opened immediately and a guard hurried in, bowing deeply,
"Summon Piers", Lord Azael ordered sharply,
Moments later, Piers, the steadfast Head of the District Sect Guards, entered the hall with his usual disciplined posture,
Lord Azael's voice cut through the air like a blade,
"Piers, you and your men will march to the last sect village by evening, if they cannot offer valuables…or reveal any hidden Depers…then they do not deserve to live under my rule, do what must be done",
Piers nodded firmly, understanding the gravity of the order,
"As you command, my Lord",
He turned and left swiftly to prepare the guards,
The other Top Tiers exchanged brief glances, but none challenged Lord Azael's decree, their role was to advise or give suggestions, his was to decide and when Lord Azael made a decision, it was final, one by one, they nodded in silent agreement.
The meeting continued, touching on lesser matters but the tone had already been set,
Power was law here and those without it….were crushed beneath it.
The day carried on as if nothing lay ahead, high above the District Sect, a single butterfly drifted lazily through the golden afternoon light, its colorful wings glimmering like scattered jewels, it fluttered past the First Village Sect, where gold thrived in abundance, life there was comfortable, their people never struggled to meet the District's demands.
The butterfly continued its serene journey over the Second Village Sect, where rich crude oil flowed beneath the ground, strong men worked the fields, and many were chosen to serve in the District Guards, for them, offering valuables was never an issue.
It passed the Third Sect, where rare and lush vegetation bloomed, a gift from the land itself, the people there were fortunate, the Fourth Sect followed, glittering with precious gems that kept them in the District's good graces.
The butterfly's delicate wings carried it over the Fifth and Sixth Sects, the Fifth boasted strong, healthy animals, often gifting the largest and best to the District Sect, the Sixth cultivated fine cotton and silk, used to make elegant clothing for the elite.
Then, at last, the butterfly entered the skies above the Seventh Village Sect, the smallest, poorest, and most overlooked of them all, the people there barely had enough to survive, much less provide for their rulers. Their only beauty was found in the clear, crystal waters and the wildflowers that bloomed stubbornly despite hardship.
The butterfly landed gently on a small flower. A young, pale boy named Elias noticed it and managed a faint smile despite his sickly state, he turned weakly and called out to his sister, coughing between words,
"Elora…quick…come look at this!",
"I'm coming, Elias!", her warm soft voice answered.
Elora, a bright young girl with long brown hair and gentle hazel eyes, had just finished helping an old woman back to her small house, her old yet simple gown fluttered as she hurried toward her brother, her smile wide and radiant, she knelt beside him, and together they admired the butterfly, letting its fragile beauty momentarily erase their struggles.
Their father's tired voice broke the calm,
"Elora! Come help me with this flour!",
She quickly rose to help him carry the small sack of flour inside, their father then noticed Elias sitting outside, his expression hardened with worry,
"Elora, get your brother back inside, he's still sick",
Elias' smile faded, he tried to stand but was overcome by a violent cough, Elora rushed to his side, wrapping an arm around him as she guided him back into their cramped, worn-down home, dhe laid him down gently, patting his head until his breathing calmed.
Their situation was growing worse by the day, her father worked endlessly, yet food was scarce, her brother's condition was deteriorating, and their mother had died a year earlier, but Elora nicknamed the Village Seraph never let despair break her, she was kind, hopeful, and always found ways to bring light to others, even in darkness.
That evening, as the sun dipped low, she knelt by Elias's bedside and whispered a quiet prayer,
"One day, Father and Elias will live comfortably…even if it's just a small, happy life",
Then her eyes drifted to a small wooden model of the District Sect sitting on the table, hope filled her chest, and she turned to her father,
"Father, why can't we go to the leaders and tell them our situation?",
His eyes widened in alarm, "No Elora, those people are Top Tiers, they don't care about people like us, we should be grateful we're even alive",
"But Father, maybe we could try—",
"No, Elora", he cut her off firmly, resting his calloused hands on her shoulders, "I'll take care of you and your brother, we don't need their mercy, don't bring this up again, alright?",
Elora nodded obediently, though her gaze lingered on her sick brother, her heart heavy with unspoken hope.
Later that evening, Elora was polishing her father's shoes when she noticed the cup of water on their small table tremble slightly, as if the earth itself were quivering, her brow furrowed, then, outside their window, the District Guards appeared, marching into the village square in formation, torches in hand,
Her father's face paled, "Stay inside, watch your brother", he whispered urgently, then he hurried outside.
Villagers gathered anxiously, at the front stood Piers, the stern leader of the District Guard, his commanding voice boomed across the square,
"You know why we're here, offer your valuables, or if you are hiding any Depers, bring them out now!",
The villagers pleaded desperately, "We have nothing! We swear! We've never even seen a Deper!",
Elora peered from the back window, heart pounding, she spotted the frail old woman struggling to join the crowd and slipped out through the back to help her again,
Piers repeated his demands, but when no valuables appeared, his eyes hardened, "If you will not give", he declared coldly, "then you will not live",
With a single hand gesture, the guards lit their torches, thrusting them into homes and rooftops, flames roared to life, spreading like a living beast.
Chaos exploded, screams filled the night, fire devoured everything, homes, memories, lives.
Elora's breath caught as she helped the old woman hide in a corner, then a single thought struck her like lightning,
Elias.
She sprinted toward her home, smoke burning her lungs, flames had already engulfed their small house, then she saw the most horrifying sight, her father was trapped, holding Elias in his arms, surrounded by fire,
"Elora!!!" he shouted hoarsely when he saw her, his face was streaked with ash and tears, "Run!! Run, before they catch you!",
She shook her head violently, "No! I can't leave you and Elias...I just...can't!!!",
"You must!" he cried, using his body to shield Elias from the flames, "Live for both of us, please, Elora. Run!!!",
Her heart shattered, she screamed, but the fire grew too fierce, guards were already dragging survivors away, with tears streaming down her face, Elora turned and fled, knowing it was the only way to honor her father's last wish.
She ran into the woods, the night echoing with the crackle of burning homes and the cries of her people.
Guards chased her, but she was swift, driven by desperation, she turned sharply down a slope, her foot slipped and she tumbled violently downhill, hitting the ground hard,
The guards gave up, assuming she was dead.
Elora lay unconscious by a riverbank, she was wounded almost everywhere but one stand out most, blood trickling from a wound on her head.
The evening sky above was clouded by the smoke of her burning village,
Everything she had ever known… was gone.....