Aquilonis – Magic Tower
This was Ceres's first time visiting the Magic Tower.
The towering structure looked like a black pyramid of seven stacked floors, each level glowing faintly with a different colored sigil, pulsing with raw arcane power. It stood like a monolith of knowledge at the edge of Aquilonis, where even the wind dared not whisper.
"Welcome to the Magic Tower, Your Highness," Celion greeted as soon as Ceres stepped down from the carriage, escorted by Aurelian.
He immediately led them toward the seventh floor, an exclusive, secured chamber known as the Council Room. It was where the ancient scrolls and forgotten tomes were sealed and protected. A silent reverence blanketed the air, as if the walls themselves were listening.
At the center of the room stood the magic monolith.
Towering and pulsing faintly with energy, it looked older than time itself.
Waiting beside it were the Knight Commanders and six robed individuals Ceres had never seen before.
"Allow me to introduce the Head Mages of the Tower," Celion said. "Valin, master of wind magic. Syra, of fire. Celene, of water. Lorian, of earth. Bran, of light. And Ariel, of dark."
The six mages bowed in perfect unison.
"It is an honor to finally meet you, Your Highness," they said as one.
Ceres merely offered a subtle smile in acknowledgment. She could see the disbelief written across their faces. They had likely expected the discarded Empress, the one without magic… not her.
Not this version.
They didn't recognize her anymore, and that pleased her.
"Where's the message?" Aurelian asked.
"It's here, Your Majesty," Celion replied, pointing to one section of the monolith that pulsed with unfamiliar glyphs.
Without a word, Ceres stepped forward.
And in one swift motion, she slipped off the heavy fur cloak draped over her shoulders.
The room froze.
The moment the coat hit the floor, it revealed the figure-hugging gown she wore beneath, long, yes, but so finely cut and thin it might as well have been smoke painted across skin. Silk clung to every curve with shameless grace.
"Empress!" Aurelian barked, outraged, rushing forward.
Every male in the room had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
"What are you all staring at?!" Aurelian snapped, eyes flaring as he stepped protectively in front of Ceres. He seized the cloak from the ground and attempted to wrap it back around her shoulders.
She glared at him with a look that could incinerate kingdoms.
"It's hot," she growled.
Spring had come to Aquilonis, breaking through the centuries-long frost. But the people were still not used to the change. Most clung to fur-lined coats, despite the warming sun.
"Adjust the temperature," Aurelian snapped at the mages.
The six exchanged helpless glances.
Ceres rolled her eyes.
"Are you insane?" she hissed. "Have you no idea where we are? These scrolls are centuries old. Some of them react to even the slightest shift in climate. If you raise the temperature by even a degree, it could damage all of it."
Her voice dripped with exasperation. "Stop being ridiculous."
"Empress!"
"Duke!"
Their voices clashed. The room went silent once more.
They stared at each other, neither blinking.
Then Aurelian let out a sigh, defeated for now.
"I know you can change clothes with your magic," he said, voice lowered. "So… can you wear something decent?"
"I am decent," Ceres replied, her tone sharp.
But it wasn't just the request that irritated her.
It was the reminder.
Aurelian, in that moment, reminded her so much of Ryzel, the man who had once told her how to dress, how to speak, how to exist in his presence.
She had hated it.
And back then, every time Ryzel demanded she wear something "appropriate," she made sure to wear something even more scandalous the next day.
She remembered once giving in, just once, wearing a high-necked gown with sleeves down to her wrists and a skirt that swept the floor.
She'd looked like she was about to join a convent.
Diana, her best friend, had laughed so hard she cried.
And later that night, while Ryzel dined with her in silence, he had spent more time checking out women in daring gowns than looking at her.
She had never forgotten that.
So now, when Aurelian told her what she should wear, she didn't care about the venue, the company, or even the weight of her title.
She would wear what pleased her.
Even if it burned the eyes of every man in the room.
"Empress," Aurelian said again, this time his voice lower, softer, more like a plea than a command.
"Say please," Ceres replied with a smirk, her tone laced with challenge.
Aurelian stared at her like she had asked him to kneel.
Never in his life had he said please, not willingly.
Across the room, the Knight Commanders and the high-ranking magicians turned to watch with wide-eyed disbelief.
Then, as if time had held its breath, they heard it.
"…Please," Aurelian said, the word thick in his throat.
Ceres's smile widened, victorious and sweet.
"Okay," she said, and with a graceful sweep of her hand, she used her creation magic. Her long, sheer gown shimmered away, transforming into a sleek pair of black lounge pants and a bralette top. The outfit was something no one in the Magic Tower had ever seen before, modern, elegant, scandalous in its simplicity.
"Empress…" Aurelian groaned in exasperation. "I said please."
"And I am decent," she replied, one brow lifting in defiance. "You were upset about my nipples. You can't see them anymore, right?"
True.
But now, everyone could see the smooth pale skin of her narrow waist, her defined stomach, the soft swell of her cleavage, and the gentle dip of her navel. Even covered, she radiated allure.
Except for Seiryu, every man in the room flushed a deep shade of red. Even the women looked faintly scandalized, unable to comprehend how someone could wear something so shameless, and still command the room with such absolute composure.
Ceres didn't care. She never had.
"Besides," she added, glancing pointedly at Aurelian, "you're the only one with a problem. No one else seems to mind."
She turned toward Legion, who stood behind her, his ears visibly red.
"Do you like what I'm wearing, Legion?"
He coughed lightly, his posture rigid but his voice sincere.
"Yes, Your Highness. It looks… good on you."
Legion had long accepted that his Empress made her own rules. If she wanted to walk into a battlefield naked, she'd do it with the same confidence. And anyone who wanted to stay by her side had to be strong enough to endure that.
"Bastard," Aurelian muttered under his breath, shooting daggers at Legion.
"Can you stop already?" Ceres snapped, brushing past him and walking toward the monolith, where Celion had indicated the message had appeared.
Her steps echoed softly on the marble floor. When she reached the glowing glyphs on the stone's surface, her expression shifted.
Her eyes widened.
"What is this…?" she whispered, stunned.
She looked sharply to Celion, then to Lady Layla.
"This is the language written in the ancient tome from Zephyriax?" she asked.
The others stepped forward
"Yes, Your Highness," Layla confirmed, pulling out a small leather notebook from within her robes. "Every Holy Knight, priest, or priestess is given one of these when accepted into the Holy Church. The script written on the first page has always matched the one from the Tome of Zephyriax."
She opened the notebook to the first leaf and handed it to Ceres.
Ceres stared at the script, and her surprise only deepened.
The same shapes. The same lines. The exact same pattern carved into the monolith.
She turned to Seiryu and held it up.
"Can you read this?" she asked.
Seiryu leaned forward, casting a curious glance at the notebook in Ceres's hands.
His eyes narrowed. He tilted his head, studying the symbols etched onto the page with furrowed brows.
"No, Your Highness," he said at last, his voice calm but certain. "I've never seen this kind of writing before. It looks like… a bunch of sticks. Just put together and tied into strange shapes."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber.
And yet, Ceres's heart was pounding.
Because unlike the others… she could read it.
"Can you not read it, Your Highness?" Layla asked quietly, a trace of hope still clinging to her voice. But when even the Holy Beast Seiryu could not decipher the writing, the light in the room dimmed. The Holy Knight Commanders looked defeated, the High Ranking Magicians equally grim. Even Celion seemed to falter, his composure cracking.
"I can," Ceres said softly.
The words fell like lightning.
"You can?" Layla asked again, stunned. Her breath caught as Ceres gave a solemn nod. But in the Empress's eyes… she saw something else.
Not triumph. Not pride.
But pity. And sorrow.
"Is something wrong, Your Highness?" Layla asked gently.
"You said this script, the one from the tome, was deciphered and used to guide the subjugation of the Holy Beasts?" Ceres asked, turning to the Holy Knight Commanders.
"Yes, Your Highness," one of them confirmed.
"This part here," Layla said, pointing to the first leaf of the notebook still held in Ceres's hand, "was the section successfully translated. It reads: 'The more blood that is spilled, the more the Holy Beasts weaken. Once they are weakened, we can subjugate them.'"
Seiryu gave an audible sigh and shook his head.
"That is not how Holy Beasts are subjugated," he muttered, voice sharp with disdain.
"It does mention blood," Ceres murmured, exhaling deeply. Her gaze fell back on the ancient scrawl. "Are you absolutely certain this is the same script from the tome?"
The Knights nodded again.
"And it was written a thousand years ago?" she asked.
"Yes," Layla replied. "But it was only deciphered three hundred years ago by a High Priestess. After she disappeared, and upto this day, no one has surpassed her magical insight, not even her successors."
"Disappeared?" Ceres repeated, her eyes narrowing.
"Yes, Your Highness," Sir Cedric answered. "According to church records, after ten years of service as High Priestess, she vanished without a trace. All she left behind was a note that said: 'I have fulfilled my purpose.'"
Sir Deon stepped forward. "Would you be willing to share what the script actually says, Your Highness?"
Ceres inhaled deeply.
Then she read aloud.
"Steps to Subjugate the Holy Beast.
One: Offer blood. The more blood, the stronger your hold and connection to the Holy Beast. The more powerful you become.
Two…"
She paused.
Her lips twitched.
Ceres wasn't sure whether to be enraged… or laugh.
"…Two: Say the chant out loud. Expecto Patronum."
The room fell silent.
"…Expecto what?" Seiryu asked, deadpan. He stepped forward, frowning. "Are you sure that's what it says, Your Highness? What in the hell is 'Expecto Patronum' supposed to be?"
"Yes," Ceres said, massaging her temple with two fingers. "That's what it says."
She glanced around, noting their confusion.
"Expecto Patronum is a spell that conjures a guardian spirit, an animal made of light that protects the caster from evil spirits or entities."
"A spirit animal," Syra echoed thoughtfully. "Like a Holy Beast…"
"Do I look like a spirit animal to you, human?!" Seiryu suddenly roared. His eyes glowed with restrained fury.
Even though he couldn't read the language, he felt it, the mockery in the script, the blasphemy in its tone.
Whoever wrote it wasn't just toying with humans.
They were mocking the Holy Beasts too.
"That's not even the worst part," Ceres muttered. "The last part says..."
She took a deep breath and read aloud:
"Say the chant three times, losers. Maybe you'll wake up a Holy Beast. HAHAHA."
The room descended into stunned silence