"Keep moving!" the Minister of Border Defense barked.
Soldiers responded with swift obedience—pulling harder on the bridles and reins. The crack of whips sliced through the air, urging the pegasi to strain against their harnesses. The procession, grand and heavy with anticipation, pressed forward with force.
"Oh my... that thing is enormous," Aurora gasped, eyes wide in wonder.
"It is," Naila said, her voice soft but tinged with pride. Her gaze remained fixed on the young man riding the lead pegasus—Cornelius, her son. He soared above the crowd on a majestic white steed, his posture proud, befitting his lineage.
"I pray Brother Neli's hard work earns its reward," Melody murmured, hands clasped in hope.
Naila nodded.
"It should," she said quietly, as if speaking a personal truth more than an answer.
By midday, as the last remnants of the parade disappeared behind the carved ridges of the mountain, Luciana found herself encircled by informants and ministers. The tide of celebration was swiftly replaced by the currents of politics.
"Your Highness, it would be best if we proceed to the Council Hall," the Chancellor advised. His tone was diplomatic, but urgency lingered beneath the surface.
Luciana paused and turned to look back at her family still chatting in the distance. The contrast between their joy and her looming duties weighed heavily.
"Mother!" a small voice called out.
Nemesis ran up to her, his hands tugging gently at her sleeve.
"Yes, sweet child?" she asked, turning to face him, her expression softening.
"Will you come watch my sparring match? It's about to start..." he asked hopefully.
Luciana glanced over her shoulder. The ministers were watching, expectant and impatient.
"Not now, love," she said gently.
"Perhaps next time, yes?" She ran a hand through his hair with affection.
His shoulders slumped, disappointment clear.
"A hug!" he said suddenly, throwing his arms around her. She crouched and returned the embrace tightly.
"You know, Grandma told me that Dadde will come to us. Then you can come with him to see me fight!" he whispered.
Luciana froze for a moment, stunned by his boldness—and the certainty in his voice. She searched his face, but Nemesis had already turned and darted away toward Tiberius and the others.
As the soldiers began escorting her toward the council chambers, her heart remained behind with him.
---
The Council Hall buzzed with tension as the ministers and informants delivered their reports.
"Your Imperial Highness," one informant from the western provinces began, "there have been unusual movements among the demonic beasts."
Luciana arched an eyebrow.
"Unusual?"
"Yes, Your Highness. They've abandoned their new lairs and are migrating south in growing numbers."
"Could this be another of Dabbah's strategies?" a minister asked grimly.
"Or perhaps it's building an army of its own," another speculated.
"It may be both. We should deploy our new technology before the threat escalates."
Luciana raised her hand, stilling the room.
"Chancellor, your thoughts?"
The elderly man cleared his throat.
"For once, I believe my colleagues have a point," he said, a dry cough following his words.
Before Luciana could respond, another informant stepped forward.
"Your Highness, a separate force has entered our territory—through the breach in the barrier."
That announcement jolted the room into alarm.
"Dabbah's allies?"
"No," the informant clarified. "This army appears to be opposing Dabbah. Soldiers from our border towers have witnessed them attempting to divert his path."
"Then perhaps they're allies," one minister said hopefully.
"We mustn't be so naïve!" another snapped. "They could simply be using Dabbah as cover to infiltrate us."
"Enough!" Luciana's voice rang across the chamber, silencing the arguments.
She rose slightly from her seat, authority radiating from her posture.
"What of Lord Canute and the Amanécerian army? Have they spoken of this new force?"
The ministers exchanged hesitant glances.
"We've received no word, Your Highness. Nothing about this force was predicted."
"Then are you suggesting we strike preemptively?" she asked coldly.
"That would be the safest path," the Chancellor said carefully. "Before they strike us first."
Luciana narrowed her eyes.
"Have they attacked any of our territories?"
"No, Your Highness. Not yet."
She took a moment to weigh the silence.
"Then we wait."
Outrage erupted immediately.
"Your Highness, please reconsider!"
"What if they spread corruption? What if they betray us?"
"Silence!" the Chancellor shouted, slamming his palm against the table.
"Forgive me," he said with a bow.
Luciana sighed.
"You had no choice."
She looked around the room, scanning each face.
"Do any of you believe we can afford another war?" she asked.
"Can we sustain another large-scale battle with depleted resources?"
The ministers quieted, thoughtful now.
"We will not side with this new force, nor will we oppose them—unless we must." Her voice was calm, but firm.
"What does that mean?" one minister asked.
"Fools," the Chancellor muttered.
"It means we let them fight Dabbah. Let them wear down their own strength. We will monitor closely. If danger escalates, we'll act using Cosmos' Verdict as planned. But for now, we save our people, our soldiers, and our resources."
One by one, the ministers nodded in agreement.
Luciana stood.
"Then the council is adjourned."
---
As the Chancellor escorted her out, he chuckled.
"They must have tested your patience again."
"It's part of being a monarch," she said with a weary smile. "Even if I wanted to escape, I can't... Not until my father returns."
"Indeed, Your Highness."
They arrived at the central villa.
"Lord Ptolemy, has there been any word from him?" she asked, her voice soft with longing.
The Chancellor shook his head solemnly.
"I'm afraid not yet. Forgive me."
She winced.
"If only I could know that he's safe..."
"Please rest assured, Crown Princess. His Majesty is a man who saved my life more than once—without ever asking for anything in return. He will return. I will repay my debt to him however I can."
Luciana saw the glimmer of youth and loyalty still flickering in the old man's eyes.
"Thank you. That is... reassuring," she said and bid him farewell.
---
Her thoughts drifted back to Nemesis.
"Nemesis never lies..." she murmured.
"But it was just a dream, wasn't it?"
Yet, she could not forget the dream she herself had.
"Hades must be awake by now," she whispered to herself as her eyes lingered on the shifting seasons.
Luciana entered her chambers, the silence of the villa stark after the echoes of debate in the council hall. She moved to the tall windows, letting her eyes scan the vast courtyard. The last golden leaves fluttered from the trees—autumn's final breath. Winter loomed at the edges of the horizon, and with it, memories she had spent years trying to bury.
"A second winter," she whispered, her breath fogging the glass.
"Another season of frost and cold since everything changed."
Her mind circled back to Nemesis—his tiny hands, his innocent voice, the firm certainty in his words.
"Grandma said Dadde is coming to us."
Dadde.
Erebus.
Her heart clenched.
"He speaks as if he knows something I don't... as if he's certain of a truth even the stars haven't whispered to me."
But dreams were fragile. Elusive. Dangerous.
Still, her own dream lingered—its vividness refusing to fade. Erebus had stood before her, not as memory, but real. His hands had reached for hers. His voice had called her name. Just like in her dream.
"Am I losing my grip on reason? Or is fate trying to remind me of something I once believed in?"
She stepped away from the window, brushing a hand over the engraved table where maps and reports lay scattered. The seal of the Empire stared back at her—an eternal sun and a dying moon locked in orbit.
"The world moves," she murmured, "but I remain still—trapped between the crown and the ache of old wounded memories."
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," she said.
One of the royal attendants entered, bowing deeply.
"Your Highness, young Prince Nemesis has returned from the sparring yard. Shall I send him to you?"
Luciana paused.
"No... let him rest. He'll need his strength. He dreams of becoming a knight—and knights grow best in quiet confidence, not clinging to their mother's shadow."
The attendant bowed again and left her in silence.
She looked once more to the darkening sky. Snow would fall soon. The winds were shifting. And somewhere beyond the horizon, forces moved—Dabbah and a mysterious army, Erebus and the dreams that refused to die.
"Let them come," she whispered.
"Let truth come with them."