I had not sat in the Council Chamber for ten years.
Even now, standing beneath the Imperial Spire's great dome, I could feel the Resonance humming through the marble floor—measured, controlled, obedient. The Crowned Realm had learned discipline after the war. So had I.
Seven thrones formed a circle around the Emperor's dais. Once, they had been ours in truth—the Seven who ended the Collapse, who sealed the gates, who burned an entire world so this one could live. Now, they were symbols. Positions. Politics.
Kael sat at the center, exactly as he always had—unchanged by time, or perhaps shaped by it. The flame sigil on his armor caught the Resonance light, steady and unyielding. Emperor of a peaceful realm. Commander of a war that never truly ended.
I did not take my throne.
Lysandra sat in my place, spine straight, eyes sharp, wearing the authority I had abandoned. Director-General of Defense. My wife. The only person in the chamber who could speak for me without asking permission.
"Ten years of peace," Kael said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "And yet our Resonance channels flicker like the days before the war."
The words tightened something in my chest.
Theal rose at Kael's signal. Of all of us, he had changed the most. Where I had chosen silence and family, Theal had chosen vigilance. Data-sigil threads glimmered through his robes as he projected the energy flows above the council table.
"These surges are not decay," he said. "They're intentional. Structured." He paused, then added what everyone feared. "They match the signatures recorded before the Collapse."
A murmur spread through the noble houses. They knew the word. Everyone did. But only the Seven remembered what it truly meant.
Another world. Another sky on fire.
Lysandra spoke before I could stop myself from thinking the words."The northern provinces fall under House Vayne's oversight," she said coolly. "If this is negligence, it has a name."
Lord Halvar bristled. Politics, as usual—ambition wrapped in obedience. Mira's laughter cut through the tension, sharp and familiar. Even after all these years, she still enjoyed reminding nobles how fragile they were.
I watched it all from the edge of the chamber, unseen by most. That had been my condition for attending at all. I was no longer a Councilor. No longer the Seventh Flame.
Just Arion Voss. Husband. Father. A man who had promised never to burn the world again.
"The energy is gathering," Theal continued. "Near the ancient gate sites."
That earned Kael's full attention.
"The gates were sealed," he said.
"They were," Theal agreed. "They are… weakening."
Riven muttered something about madness. He always did when fear crept too close. But Theal's next words chilled the room.
"Perhaps it isn't madness. Perhaps it's an invitation."
An invitation.
I felt the Codex stir at my side, though I had not brought it with me. That was the curse of binding—once the Codex chose you, distance meant nothing.
Kael stood, ending the discussion as he always had."If peace is threatened," he declared, "then the flame will answer."
Every noble bowed. Every member of the Seven inclined their heads.
I did neither.
That night, my house was quiet.
Lina and Sera slept peacefully, unaware of councils or collapses or worlds that remembered their dead. That ignorance was the only victory I had ever truly wanted.
The Codex lay open on my desk.
I had not summoned it.
Its pages turned on their own, script burning softly into place—older than the Realm, older than the Seven.
The worlds remember.
I closed the book with shaking fingers.
Somewhere far away, I knew Theal was seeing the same words. We had bound ourselves to that knowledge long ago—brothers by choice, not blood.
Peace had not ended the war.
It had only taught the flame how to wait.