The world twisted and quivered in the aftermath of Valen's attack. Where once unmoving marble and gilded imperial stone stood, now the surface agitated and swayed like a living monochrome ocean of black and white. The lines twisted and flowed, created seemingly impossible patterns -extruding waves of light and shadow, moving in a life-like manner, sometimes swelling, sometimes collapsing, always on the verge of tipping over. Time and space felt like illusory opposites and up and down, near and far had no bearing.
In the midst of the jarring chaos lay a single, jagged black mark mangling the wavering wall-a wound in a constantly shifting illusion, raw and smoldering below the epicenter of Valen's attack. The mark pulsed with a darkness deeper than shadow, forcing the black and white waves to recoil—forming a swirling loophole torn open by pure aura of Valen.
Through that breach, the only anchor in a world gone abstract, the way forward beckoned-a narrow escape from a prison of living illusions, where even the walls themselves seemed to whisper of unreality and the fragile dance between creation and destruction.
Valen stepped forward, his presence cutting through the wavering illusion like a blade. "I'll lead," he declared, his voice steady and commanding. The swirling monochrome parted before him, the black mark he'd carved now a doorway to freedom.
Mirelle Veyran followed first, her footsteps light and unhurried. Outwardly, she wore a smile-sharp and amused-but inside, she watched Valen with a predator's calculation. 'I'll let the wolf take front. Every step he leads strengthens the hand of the dark families over the rest. And if he falls, it's no loss to me. As for my daughter, I gave her a good defensive artifact so she should be fine.'
Cassian Durmont fell in behind her, his expression unreadable. He gave a single, silent nod, but his thoughts churned. 'Better to follow the monster than be trampled under him. But if his power tips the balance between the families, the days of the old alliances are numbered. It would be fun taking advantage of the imperial family to strengthen ourselves as he takes a fall.'
Kallenhart moved next, shoulders squared and jaw tight. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, but his mind was elsewhere. 'I am following because I must. Because if anything happens to Aurianne, my precious daughter, while I'm trapped here, no power in the Empire will shield the demons from my wrath.'
Isolde Malrec drifted after them, her silver-blue robes trailing like mist. Her gaze was gentle, almost mournful. She followed not out of politics or fear, but conviction. 'If there is a path to salvation, I will walk it-for the good of the world, no matter who leads.'
Elder Viridiel's usually composed features were tight with worry, his eyes darting to the wavering breach and back. 'Marius… My foolish, stubborn boy. You're strong, but you're not ready for this world's true darkness. If anything happens to you while I'm trapped here-no, I cannot even think it. The Viridiel name, the hopes of our line… all rest on your shoulders now. Please, let me not return to news of your fall.'
Just as the group began to move through the breach, Alaric Selwyn's voice rang out, clear and measured. "Wait." He raised a hand, his silver eyes reflecting the swirling chaos. "Before we go further, there is something you all must hear."
Alaric's smile was calm, almost serene, as he turned to face the others. "The gate is unstable," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. "I will remain here to stabilize it as you leave. I'll follow after you're gone, slowly-there's no need for all of us to risk being caught if it collapses. Besides, it's been nearly thirty minutes since we were trapped here. The longer we linger, the greater the danger."
Valen's expression shifted into a mask of concern as Alaric announced his intention to stay behind and stabilize the gate. "Be careful, Selwyn. The distortion is unpredictable. We'll wait for you on the other side," he said, his voice steady and respectful.
But inside, his thoughts were far colder. 'Let him play the martyr if he wishes. The Empire always needs its loyal hounds. If the gate collapses on him, it's one less thorn in the side of the dark families.'
The others nodded or murmured their assent, the dark family Dukes exchanging brief, unreadable glances. Outwardly, they offered polite words and formal nods, but beneath the surface, their thoughts mirrored Valen's: 'He's useful for now, but hardly irreplaceable. If he doesn't return, the balance tips in our favor.'
Kallenhart, however, hesitated at the threshold, worry flickering across his face. He forced a gruff, supportive tone. "Don't take unnecessary risks, Selwyn. We need every Duke standing when this is over."
But his mind was elsewhere. 'If Selwyn falls, so be it. My only concern is Aurianne's safety. Let the loyalist gamble with his life if he must.'
Isolde Malrec, gentle as ever, gave Alaric a soft, genuine smile. "Thank you, Duke Selwyn. May the fates guide your hand." She meant every word of it.
'He does this for the good of the Empire, not for power. May the world have more men like him.'
As the group moved toward the breach, Alaric remained behind, his face calm, eyes already studying the fading sigils. "I will join you soon," he promised.
And as the others disappeared into the wavering monochrome, only the flicker of Valen's eyes betrayed a final, fleeting thought.
'If he's lost to the gate, the Empire will definitely face many internal problems.'
One after another, the Dukes stepped through the swirling breach: a curtain of fake waves, black and white, parting around them. The experience was disorienting - there was a brief moment of buoyancy, a feeling of static electricity across their skin, and then they were out, boots crunching on icy marble.
The world outside was different. Where only a few hours before the gathering had begun to reveal the soft gold of dawn, now the moon loomed overhead, terrifyingly large and bright, drenching the shattered corridor in a strange white light. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the broken tile, and the air was colder than it had any right to be.
For a moment more, none of them said a word. ~In addition to the lingering sound of their footsteps, the only thing to be heard was the quiet sizzle of fading magic from afar. They were all weighed down by the cascading weight of despair: it had not gone the way it was supposed to have gone. The time spent in the demon's prison had taken the actual day itself.~
Valen took in the moon-lit devastation around them, he could scout the strange stillness as he narrowed his eyes. The greatest had returned-but every single one of them had made, differently, the world they had left behind.