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The forges of Pyrian never slept.
Even in the quiet hours before dawn, the molten heart of the Ember Citadel glowed beneath its iron domes. Hammers rang, fires hissed, and steel breathed. But above it all, Duke Alric Ignarion Valeria stood in silence.
He watched from the highest balcony of the Flame Hall, his arms crossed as smoke curled upward like prayer. Below, his soldiers—the Emberwatch—moved with practiced precision.
And yet something felt… off.
They were efficient, yes. But too quiet. Too hesitant. Like they moved beneath unspoken weight.
"Report," Alric growled.
A young captain approached. "No disturbances within the gates. But the lower smiths have been… uneasy."
"Why?"
"Whispers, my lord. About the Empress. About… a prophecy."
Alric's eyes narrowed. "Tell them this: We forge truth in fire. Not in rumor."
"Yes, my lord."
---
In the garden paths between the outer barracks, a small guest strolled quietly under the sun-dappled branches.
Lilith Zephyrion, light-footed and dreamlike, trailed her fingers along a lattice of wind-chimes.
She paused suddenly.
The chimes stopped.
No breeze.
Only stillness.
"Something's turning," she whispered.
A flicker passed through her chest—an unfamiliar pull, like the wind drawing breath before a storm.
Then it passed.
She looked toward the forge towers… and continued walking, bare feet brushing ash-covered stones.
---
Below the Citadel, in the catacombs sealed off from memory, they gathered.
The torches flickered against the carved serpents on the walls. Five figures, cloaked in midnight, stood in a circle—hands folded, eyes hidden.
One spoke first, voice distorted beneath a black veil.
"The child escaped."
Another scoffed. "No. She was taken—sealed away by Aetheris' blood."
"You let her vanish."
"And yet you failed to mark the priestess at Vireyn. Do not speak of failure."
The tallest figure stepped forward. "Silence."
The room stilled.
"The ritual confirms she exists. But the forest veils her now."
"Then we wait?"
"No. We turn the blade inward."
They looked to him.
"If we cannot find her," he continued, "we make the five houses tear each other apart. Distrust will do what shadow cannot."
"And the heirs?"
"Watch them. Influence them. Corrupt them, if needed. Children are easy to bend."
One of the cloaked figures lifted a hand. "And if the light begins to remember?"
"Then we burn faster."
They bowed in unison. "For the return of Morvath."
"For the rise of shadow."
The flames dimmed… but the smoke grew.
---