The Sanctum of Sylvariel stood in the heart of the Sylvanina Forest, where no steel had ever been drawn and no lie had ever been sworn.
Carved from moonstone and entwined with ivy older than kingdoms, it was said to be a gift from the goddess Zephyra herself—a place of stillness, balance, and truth. The ceiling was open to the sky, and sunlight dappled the round chamber like shifting halos.
Five high-backed thrones, one for each divine house, formed a perfect circle around a crystal basin filled with sacred water. In that reflection, the balance of Luneth was said to be kept.
For years, the seats had remained untouched.
But today, they filled once more.
Emperor Edmund Vesperion Aetheris entered first, cloaked in black and silver. His expression was unreadable, but his silence was heavy. He did not sit immediately. Instead, he stared into the basin for several long moments before taking his place.
To his right, Duke Alric Valeria of Pyrian arrived, armor glinting faintly, his brow stern as mountain stone.
"So we gather," he said. "Is this for mourning, or war?"
"That depends on what truth we find," Edmund replied.
King Cassel Zephyrion drifted in next, his layered silks trailing like clouds. He gave no greeting, only a small nod, as if words would disturb the air.
Duke Caelan Myrr of Indoria followed, staff in hand, blue robes rippling like water. His eyes were calm, but sharp.
Last to arrive was Holy Emperor Eryx Lucerion, robed in radiant white, with Saintess Liceriana just behind him. He took his seat without a word, his gaze fixed on Edmund.
"We thank the wind for peace," Cassel said, beginning the ritual greeting.
"We thank the sea for patience," said Caelan.
"We thank the fire for resolve," said Alric.
"We thank the light for clarity," said Eryx.
All turned to Edmund.
He hesitated—then spoke.
"And we thank rebirth… for reminding us that all things end."
A cold hush followed.
"The Empress is gone," Alric said flatly. "The moon has not returned. The people stir."
"So does the cult," Caelan added. "Whispers in the outer villages. Symbols on temple walls. A god we thought buried."
Cassel tilted his head. "And yet no body. No trace."
"She fled," Eryx said calmly. "To protect something—or someone."
The words struck the circle like a dropped stone.
Liceriana, still and unreadable behind her father, lowered her gaze.
Edmund said nothing.
Kairon entered, offering a scroll. "Initial investigations. We found signs of a ritual in the eastern forests. Not Aetherian."
"Then whose?" asked Cassel.
"Unclear. But it's older than any temple."
Eryx's voice cut softly: "Do you believe she ran… because of prophecy?"
Edmund finally looked up. His voice was quiet.
"I believe… she knew more than I did."
The council fell silent.
Above them, the sunlight dimmed briefly behind passing clouds.
And in the sacred basin, a ripple broke the surface—though no one had touched it.
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