The soft patter of rain on the carriage roof greeted me like an old memory - hazy, echoing, and strangely soothing.
Outside the tinted windows, Morren City shone beneath stormlight. Gas lamps flickered behind wet glass, casting golden halos on the cobblestone below. From our place on the carriage, we glided wet concrete , tracing a path through the heart of the Nobility District.
The city looked like it had been built by dreamers and utilitarians locked in an endless argument - cathedrals next to suit makers, tax offices beside ivory statues. Beauty and practicality living side by side.
Inside the carriage, no jolt reached us. It was too smooth - either enchantment or hidden technology, powered by the Aetheris stones embedded in the frame.
That alone said everything about the world we lived in.
Aetheris - the crystallized remnants of divine energy. When the Veil tore open a thousand years ago, Aetheris stones surfaced alongside it. Even those without a gift for divinity could use them. Not well. But enough to build machines, to arm armies, to create a world that shouldn't have worked, yet somehow did.
It was this fusion of arcane power and human ambition that shaped the industrialized empire I now lived in. Automatons with clockwork limbs. Hovering stages. Artificial barriers humming with sacred energy.
It had all begun with the War of Redemption.
A thousand years ago, humanity nearly ceased to exist. The Veil - the hidden spiritual plane - fractured, and from its rift came the Nightlurkers, horrors of madness and shadow. They weren't demons in the traditional sense, but to those who witnessed them, the difference hardly mattered.
Humanity's fall was swift. Entire cities disappeared in days. Reality bent under elritch+ pressure. The Nightlurkers weren't conquerors. They were unmakers, some mindless, some not.
In the hour of ruin, he came. The Eternal Emperor. No last name. No recorded origin. Only a name and a promise - redemption.
He brought with him the knowledge of divine energy - and the power to push the darkness back.
But not alone.
The Emperor was joined by twelve Apostles, mortals most loyal to the Emperors faith and his first followers, elevated to near-divine beings, each bearing unimaginable power. For a time, they led humanity's resurgence together.
Until they didn't.
The Apostles turned.
Some say they were corrupted by the Veil. Others whisper they challenged the Emperor's claim of divine right. Regardless, they betrayed him.
When the schism tore their ranks apart, the 120 known Pathways of Divinity, given to the most loyal to the Emperors teachings, were split.
50 sided with the Emperor - these became the Holy Pathways.
50 followed the Apostles - forever branded the Heretical Pathways.
20 remained neutral, walking alone between light and dark. These became known as the Wandering Paths.
The war didn't end with total victory. It ended with containment.
The Emperor, wielding his final strength, sealed the rift between reality's. The Veil was barred from mortal reach, for now. And the Apostles were cast down, forever dissapearing into the annals of history.
Their twelve Divine Eyes, said to contain impossible power, were scattered across the world. The Church deemed them the highest heresy. Even whispering their location was considered blasphemy.
The Emperor than made a Divine Empire, which expanded through the whole known continent. The world was brought together under one religion, and one man. It was a far cry from the days where humanity were hunted, and everything seemed to be going great...
Until the Emperor vanished.
No body. No grave. Only a legend.
Now the Empire is a shadow of its former self.
I blinked slowly, watching cathedral spires disappear into the mist. Steam rose from chimneys in ghostly tendrils. Rain glimmered on metal rooftops like liquid glass.
I wondered, idly, how much of the story was true.
Probably not much.But it doesn't matter.Everyone believes it.
Just like they believe Baldwin became something more than human.Just like they believe this empire is divine.
I don't remember much of my past, but I've read enough to know truth and history rarely sleep in the same bed.
And if what I remember from Paradise Lost was true, Baldwin probably wouldn't have liked the deity worship people had of him.
Still, the view was beautiful at least.
For a moment, I let the silence stretch. Cupping my chin in my hand as I admired the scenery.
"You seem deep in thought," Arthur said beside me, his voice pulling me back. "Apprehensive?"
I turned slightly. He was reclining across from me, long legs crossed, a folded paper in hand and a knowing smirk under his breath.
"They say tonight's the most important day in a noble's life," he added. "You wouldn't be the first to feel uneasy."
I smirked faintly, slightly shocked. "You were scared?"
"Oh, I was terrified. Almost bolted."
"Why didn't you?"
"I liked the clothes too much."
That unexpectedly pulled a small chuckle from me.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "But you've already awakened. You're ahead of where I was. All you need now is to commune with one of your ancestors. After that? You're in."
"In what?" I asked dryly. "Like being in a circus? Or in a never ending pit?"
Arthur raised a brow. "Both, if you play your cards wrong."
I sighed.
The whole ancestor thing still made my skin crawl. I didn't exactly have a rich bloodline, nor was I of this world. What would I see in the ritual? A merchant? A horse thief? Otto Von Bismarck?
Admitingly, that would be kind of cool.
"Not looking forward to it," I muttered. "But I guess it beats public execution."
Arthur grinned. "I see your optimism hasn't dulled."
"Only my patience, my dear friend."
He paused, then gave me a sly glance. "Maybe you'll get lucky. A noble daughter might fall for your mysterious charm. You've got the tragic aura. Girls love that."
I groaned with a sidewards glance. "No thanks."
"Why not? You're still young. Handsome. Brooding. That whole 'stain in the soul' thing you've got going, it'd definitely work."
I gave him a harsh glance, eyeing him up and down as I smirked.
"And you're what, 26? Don't act like you haven't cornered the market on 'mysteriously handsome noble.'"
He raised a finger. "Ah, but here's the difference. I bore them to death. You, on the other hand, make them curious. That's much worse. Especially to Noble ladies."
I leaned back, arms crossed.
"Let them be curious. I'm too busy for love. Or arranged marriage. Or whatever the hell counts for affection for you Nobles."
Arthur gave a hum of approval. "Its us Nobles now, Damian. A wise man once said: 'The cover draws them in. The pages decide if they stay.' You can't help what they see in you. But you can decide what you give them."
The rain seemed to answer him with a heavier downpour.
We turned a final corner. Through the fog, the Regent's Manor appeared.
No, it'd be more appropriate to say it rose.
A castle of obsidian stone and stained glass, burning with torchlight, its windows glowing like judgmental eyes. Velvet canopies kept noblemen dry as they stepped out of carriages, golden brooches catching the lamplight. It looked like something out of an illustrated scripture.
Hundreds of people wearing more than the cost of a house. And every single one would be watching.
Arthur stretched, checking his cuffs.
"Anyway," he said casually, "we're here. Try not to die of anxiety before the ceremony starts."
I didn't answer.
I was too busy staring at the building.
And wondering which version of myself would walk in, and out of it.