The morning sun spilled through the tall arched windows of the command wing, soft golden light illuminating the polished floors and casting long shadows across the stone walls.
Despite the warmth of the day, the air inside still felt cold to Arasha.
She stood before the mirror, splashing water onto her face, washing away the remnants of tears and broken dreams.
Her crimson eyes, though still shadowed with fatigue, now held a forced steadiness.
She wiped her face with a cloth, staring hard at her reflection.
The softness in her features was gone—replaced with the calm resolve she wore like armor.
No weakness today.
No trembling. No faltering.
She dressed quickly in her uniform, her movements methodical. Each buckle fastened, every piece of cloth adjusted with precision.
As though with every strap tightened, she could bind her fraying edges together again.
A knock echoed through her door.
"Arasha, are you up?" came Kane's voice, casual but carrying a hint of concern.
"I'm coming," Arasha responded, her voice even and clear.
****
Downstairs in the main hall, Kane and Leta were already waiting with Sir Garran, all three of them looking up as Arasha descended the stairs with poise.
"You're up early," Garran commented, eyeing her sharply.
Arasha offered a small nod. "Slept fine enough," she said plainly, brushing off the inquiry. "There's still a lot to do."
Kane gave her a long look but said nothing. His eyes flickered, watching her too-perfect calm.
Leta groaned dramatically, arms crossed. "You could've at least let us sleep in. You know, celebrate a little? We handled that beast at the port without even breaking a sweat."
"I wanted to make sure you both made it back safely," Arasha replied softly, meeting Leta's gaze. "That mattered more than sleep."
Leta opened her mouth to fire off another playful jab—but faltered.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, reading more into Arasha's expression than the commander likely intended to reveal.
"…Fine, but next time, I'm the one dragging you back to bed, got it?" she said, huffing while flicking Arasha's arm.
Arasha gave a small smile, appreciative but distant. "Deal."
****
Later that morning, Arasha walked through the grounds of the Sanctuary, her steps silent, her presence commanding.
The area had become a makeshift recovery zone—awakened ones who returned from the second awakening trials rested in medical quarters, some stable, others still undergoing monitoring.
She passed rows of cots and healing chambers, medics moving with purpose. Energy from different gods still lingered in the air—sharp, holy, ethereal.
Some of those who came back from their trial for second awakening lay unconscious, their souls still aligning with their newly awakened powers.
Arasha paused beside one younger awakened, their face pale, breath shallow. A healer approached and bowed slightly.
"He's stable now, Commander. It was close, but he'll live."
Arasha nodded, hand briefly resting on the edge of the cot. "Good. Let me know when he wakes. I want to speak to him personally."
As she continued down the rows, several awakened, still weary but lucid, sat up and saluted weakly as she passed.
"You don't need to salute," she told them gently. "Just focus on healing. You've done more than enough."
They smiled, comforted by her presence.
But as she turned away from them, her expression dimmed once more.
These brave ones… will they be the next ones I see dead in another dream?
How many more lives will be weighed against the choices I make?
She forced the thoughts down again, burying them beneath duty.
Sir Garran's voice echoed in her memory:
"You still have us."
She only hoped that would remain true.
****
The grand marble halls of the Royal Assembly Hall buzzed with tension.
Word had spread like wildfire across the kingdom—the Crown Prince had awakened.
It was a monumental moment. A royal, bearing the divine gift. Nobles who once offered polite respect to the Sanctuary now leaned in hungrily, their eyes gleaming with ambition.
Many saw the prince's awakening as an opportunity—a means to bring the authority of the Awakened Sanctuary under the direct control of the throne.
And Arasha knew it.
Which was why, when she made her way to the capital and now stood at the center of the gilded hall before the gathered royals and high-ranking nobles, flanked by Sir Garran, Leta, and Kane, she carried herself not with subservience—but with steel.
The Royal Councilor, an aging man with sharp eyes and a diplomatic tongue, stepped forward first. "With the Crown Prince now awakened," he said smoothly, "it is only fitting that he assumes command—or at least oversight—over matters relating to other Awakened. The Sanctuary, while useful, was always a temporary measure, was it not?"
The High Court this time declined to be the overseer because it's a matter of the crown.
The murmurs of agreement rippled across the nobles like a tide. Some masked their intent with composed expressions. Others made no such effort.
Arasha let the silence stretch, the tension coil.
Then, her voice rang through the hall—clear, strong, and controlled.
"The Sanctuary," she began, "was built with the intention of using it long term. And it's built with all the facilities and amenities needed for the awakened ones. When the world changed—when the gods bestowed awakening—we were the ones who built the network, trained the gifted, tended to the wounded, buried the fallen."
Her gaze moved slowly across the faces of the court.
"We coordinated defenses, shielded cities, faced horrors the Crown had yet to even comprehend. We did not wait for help. We became it."
A noblewoman in violet furrowed her brow. "And yet, the Crown Prince is the rightful heir. Surely—"
"I am not questioning the prince's authority," Arasha cut in sharply. "But he is newly awakened. If you force upon him the burden of managing the Awakened—while he already carries the weight of the throne—you will crush him beneath both. Even seasoned Awakened nearly lose themselves in the chaos of power and expectation. Are you suggesting we let the realm lose its prince to satisfy your ambitions?"
A hush followed.
Then a voice from above—soft, composed, and resonant.
The Queen.
Sitting beside the silent King on the dais, she slowly rose to her feet.
Her eyes, calm but piercing, swept across the room.
"Commander Arasha is correct," the Queen said. "My son has only just awakened. While his potential may be great, to overburden him now would not only be irresponsible—it would be cruel."
She turned slightly, looking at Arasha with a gaze full of quiet resolve.
"The Sanctuary will continue its role. Until such a time the Crown Prince is truly ready, we will not compromise the safety of our people for politics."
A crack formed then—subtle, but unmistakable.
The Queen's words, spoken without pause or glance toward her husband, were met with a darkening shadow behind the King's eyes.
His clenched fist upon the throne's armrest did not go unnoticed.
The Queen's alignment was clear now.
With Arasha.
The King, still silent, offered no direct rebuttal. But his narrowed eyes locked onto Arasha with a gaze that promised future struggle.
****
Later, outside the palace, as the group returned to the Sanctuary's awaiting carriage, Kane muttered low enough for only Arasha and Leta to hear.
"Well, that drew some blood from the nest of vipers."
Leta rolled her eyes. "Let them try. They're only brave behind robes and court walls."
Sir Garran nodded approvingly at Arasha. "You didn't just defend your ground. You reinforced it."
Arasha, calm on the outside, only gave a tight nod. But deep inside, she knew this was only the first strike.
The game had changed. The prince's awakening shifted the balance of power.
And now, Arasha had more matters to take into consideration more than ever.
****
The embers of the campfire crackled quietly as Arasha sat beneath the vast, starlit sky, her armor dulled with ash and blood after fending off the horde threatening the border village.
Her knights rested nearby—some asleep, some merely catching their breath after the long battle. She allowed herself a moment of stillness, her expression unreadable as she gazed into the fire.
Then, the message came.
A golden sigil shimmered in the air before her—one she recognized immediately. Royal. Urgent. Private.
She stood, eyes narrowing as she touched the seal. The Queen's voice echoed directly into her mind, low and trembling but resolute:
"Commander Arasha, cousin-in-law. I beg of you. I must hide my son. The Crown Prince… he's in danger. The King—he's changed. He speaks of balance and necessity, of sacrifices. He means to kill his own heir to make way for the third prince—his mistress's child, who shows signs of awakening. Please, Arasha. Only you have the sanctuary, the people, and the strength to shield him. I trust no one else."
The sigil faded, leaving the cold night heavier than before. Arasha remained still, staring into the dying flames.
Cousin-in-law? Hah!
Arasha let out a bitter laugh.
Her brows drew together as she processed the layers of chaos blooming in the capital—whispers of ambition and betrayal nestled inside the heart of the royal family.
Her thoughts moved quickly.
Hiding the Crown Prince would make her an enemy of the King, placing the entire Sanctuary in the crosshairs of the royal court. But refusing could mean a young life lost—another pawn discarded in this monstrous game of power.
Footsteps approached. Sir Garran, wrapped in his travel cloak, stood beside her.
"You heard something," he said.
Arasha nodded slowly. "The Queen. She's asking me to protect the Crown Prince—secretly. The King wants him dead."
Garran's face hardened, but he said nothing at first. Then: "If you do this, you invite war."
"I know," she replied, her voice quiet but steady. "But if I don't, I let a boy die just to keep the peace. I won't be that kind of leader."
"You'll be more than a leader. You'll be a target."
"I already am."
She turned her gaze toward the sleeping knights. These were her people. Her burdens. Her choices.
"We move at first light," she said. "Quietly. I'll have the Crown Prince escorted under guise of an artifact transfer. Only a few will know."
Garran looked at her for a long moment, then nodded once. "Then I'll start readying the names. You'll need a cover, and a guard that won't falter."
Arasha exhaled, weary yet composed. Her voice dropped to a whisper meant only for herself.
"Let's see what the gods will do now that I've made my move."
The stars above shimmered. Whether in warning or approval, no one could say.