It was a quiet morning in Rias' room. As usual, Anna barged in unannounced, bubbling with excitement. She leapt onto Rias' bed like a storm, already complaining about her latest magical trials.
— "Argh! I still can't cast earth magic properly! There's… something. Something that keeps blocking me."
— "Anna, please..." Rias groaned, half-asleep, face buried in his pillow. "Let me sleep."
— "But I need your help!"
Rias gave a weak shake of the head, looking thoroughly defeated.His face was hidden beneath a curtain of long reddish hair.
— "Anna… earth is the opposite of wind. Of course it's hard for you. And I don't even have magic. I can't help you with this. You'll have to rely on your experiments to figure out how to cast it properly."
Anna paused, then said in a more serious tone:
— "Actually, Rias… there's something I discovered. And… it might be hard for you to hear."
Rias sat up instinctively. His drowsiness vanished in an instant.
— "What is it?"
Anna took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing.
— "When using elements outside our natural affinity—like me using anything other than wind—I've noticed it affects my mind. My mental state. Sometimes it's just migraines. Other times, strange bursts of energy I can't explain. And occasionally... this weird drive, like I'm being pushed by something not quite mine."
She looked down, her voice quieter.
— "So yes, apart from the fact that casting with other elements is harder, there are side effects. Real ones. It makes my brain... unstable when I chain certain spells together."
— "Wait! I bet the element that hurts you the most is earth, right?"— "How did you guess?"
But Rias didn't answer that question.Instead, he simply murmured:
— "Very interesting..."
— "Interesting, Rias? That means even if we manage to democratize our generalized magic, only a few people will ever be able to properly use three elements. And using all four at once? That's still just a distant dream. Honestly, not to brag, but I might be the only one who could ever reach that level."
— "It's only natural. You were meant to be the Avatar..." Rias murmured.
— "Avatar??? Wait, what?!" Anna replied, puzzled.
— "No, forget it. It's nothing."
He brushed it off, but his eyes glimmered with something deeper.
— "The limits of generalized magic are understandable… but what intrigues me is how elemental magic seems to affect the psyche."
— "Yeah..." Anna whispered.She hesitated. She knew that look in Rias's eyes. When he got like this, a new theory was about to be born.
— "From a physics perspective," he began, voice slow and thoughtful, "if a phenomenon F produces A with B, then logically, its inverse F⁻¹ should be able to produce B with A. It's another consequence of the law of conservation of matter."
— "I hate it when you talk in divine code like that," Anna grumbled. "I don't get any of it, and I hate not understanding."
But Rias didn't respond. He just smiled, then said with calm certainty:
— "Anna, if you want to master earth magic, you'll need to forge your personality alongside someone who naturally uses it. Your personality's always been… oddly fluid. Ever-shifting. But that might actually help you adapt."
— "And you? What's the new idea you're hiding?" Anna asked, intrigued.
Rias's eyes sparkled.
— "Anna… I think we may have just discovered a magical drug. This could be the birth of illusion and hypnosis magic."
He leapt from bed, grabbing his notebook, and with that gleam of obsession in his eyes, he darted out—likely heading to his lab, the old shack behind the marquisate.As always, he left his room a complete mess behind him.
Back to the present.While the two other attackers are still reeling from Anna's explosive entrance, Elisabeth takes the opportunity to strike. She charges at them with blazing speed, her blade grazing their throats. Commander Majiid no longer knows what to think of the De Rush sisters. The Rush family has always been known as fierce warriors, but Anna and Elisabeth clearly belong to a whole other league.
Eli turns to her sister:
— "You really took your sweet time, Anna. Always so punctual when we need you."— "Oh come on, Eli. I just saved your life."
— "Nonsense! I could've handled those three just fine on my own."
Anna, out of breath, replies:
— "… Have you looked at yourself? You don't exactly seem in top shape."
— "What? I'm totally fi—"
— "Enough!" Zyon cuts them off. "Girls, do you really think we have time for this kind of bickering?"
Eli and Anna glance at each other, then Eli finally begins to explain:
— "The traitor is the duchess. These girls attacking the palace are her loyal followers. The guards who were supposed to protect us died in a surprise attack, right after the earthquake. I had to fight alone."
She pauses, then continues:
— "They've taken our father Idris and Rias with them."
— "And Father Yelo? Anna asks, worried."
— "He's injured from the quake. One of the baronesses in the adjacent hall took him with her."
— "I see", says Majiid, finally snapping out of her daze.
It's true—Majiid is so caught up in the raw skill of Anna and Elisabeth that she drifts for a moment, lost in awe.Then she snaps back and gives her orders:
— "We have to find them before they leave the country. She knows too much about our current situation. She'll spark another war the first chance she gets."
— "But where do we even start?" Zyon replies.
Anna says:
— "They can't afford to clash with the guards. It would slow them down. They must be using a secret route. An emergency escape… Is there one?"
— "The Triumph Passage," says Zyon. "It's a hidden path passed down through the imperial bloodline for generations. It's likely their only real chance to slip away."
— "Then what are we waiting for?" says Eli, already storming down a staircase.
While Majiid deals with the last of the attackers in the underground parking lot, the kids prepare two horses. Only two—since neither Elisabeth nor Anna knows how to ride yet.
Once ready, they mount up: Eli rides behind Majiid, while Anna clings tightly to Zyon.Zyon and Commander Majiid lead the charge at full gallop, while Anna and Elisabeth keep watch, blasting away any threats that try to block their path.
Turns out, the De Rush sisters are scarily good with ranged spells. They're fast, confident, and their incantations hit like lightning. Every shot lands. Every threat falls.Watching them, you'd think this rescue mission is more like a duel—an unspoken challenge between sisters.
Their pace is relentless. In no time, they've already left the capital behind. They're deep in the woods now, with only a few resilient monsters daring to give chase. But at this speed, it's only a matter of time before even those fall behind.
The entire time inside the carriage, the Duchess gazes out the window with a strangely detached expression—far too calm for someone who's just become the enemy of an entire empire. She admires the trees, the soft beams of light beginning to pierce the early morning gloom.
The Traverse of Triumph is a mesmerizing labyrinth. At every crossroad, all you see is a forest of cherry trees—beautiful, yes, but so identical that it becomes impossible to tell one path from another. Only those who know the way can make it through without getting lost.
Once she's done marveling at the scenery, the Duchess sighs. She turns to look at Idris and Rias, seated directly across from her. Both wear submission necklace around their necks—a type of magical slave tech. If the wearer disobeys their mistress, the collar burns them.
I'm sure everyone's felt a burn before, haven't they? You know it always hurts.
And Rias? Rias is practically a specialist in pain. He trembles so violently, he can't even think straight anymore.
Poor thing.
The Duchess speaks to Idris:— "Ah, Idris. My beautiful Idris. What do I see in your eyes? Anger. Hatred. The call for vengeance... You still carry that strange energy. That fire. That charisma that gives you men this absurd illusion that anything is possible. And that turns me on.Don't you think it's a bit of a waste, making men submit? You feel it, don't you, Idris? The humiliation of having to act and dress like this."
But Idris replies, steady and proud:— "What you yearn for is billions of years away from here. I wear these clothes and carry these manners as marks of humility. From my point of view, there is no greater honor than to be submissive."
The Duchess chuckles, clearly amused:— "Hahaha..."
She leans in toward Idris, mischievous, almost wicked.— "So you mean to say you'd gladly submit to me, my beautiful Idris?"
The question irritates Idris so deeply that he spits in her face. She snaps her fingers before he can reach her throat—and the necklace burns.
Idris writhes in pain. The Duchess simply watches, smiling, as she calmly wipes the spit off her cheek.— "Look at that savagery... And to think I'm in love with a man like you."
With his hand trembling on Rias's thigh, who's frozen in terror, Idris finally replies to the Duchess—his face now twisted by pure disgust:
— "It's that god complex of yours that I can't stand the most. The fact that you betrayed your own sister for power."
And the Duchess finally explodes:— "YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING! I have a vision—a great one for this empire. With our military might and our economic potential, we should be able to conquer the world!"
— "You're insane. No sane person wishes for blood to be spilled. War brings only death, hatred, innocent lives sacrificed... In the end, it's just destruction repeating itself. Is that really the legacy you want to leave for future generations?"
— "And what about glory, my poor Idris? … You're a man. You were born to understand what that word means. Glory. Pride. Let's be honest, without that kind of drive, our world never moves forward."
But as the wicked Duchess of the East still smiles, lost in her ideals—the small voice of Rias suddenly cuts through.
...
"Wait—what?"
That's what you're thinking, right?
But let's listen to what he says first. Then I'll explain.
— "And with all due respect, my lady, it's better this way. I'm sorry, but if the glory and honor of a chosen few brings misery to hundreds—no, thousands—then I don't call that progress. I call that deterioration." Rias says it with unwavering determination.
That's what he says.
And I hope you understand where he's coming from.
Rias has known only violence until now. He's a coward. A big one. Maybe even selfish—because the words coward and selfish go hand in hand. You can't be one without being the other.
And let's be real—everyone, without exception, is a coward. Because we all think of ourselves first before valuing others.
And that's what makes our world such a mess.
One person's dream always ruins someone else's. And we can't help it.
Unless, maybe—we all start by redefining two words: glory and pride.
And while we're at it, we begin to elevate two others: humility and love.
In this world, love and humility carry immense meaning.Because we're talking about mothers who give everything for their children. And the cycle continues.
Rias doesn't speak from courage. He speaks from fear. He's afraid of so many things—but the thought of reliving in his old world, that's a nightmare.
So without even realizing it, the words pour from his mouth on their own.
Once again, the Duchess is visibly irritated.— "Insolent! How dare you contradict me? You're nothing but a—"
BOOOV.
The carriage is launched into the air, flipped violently to the right by the pressure shockwave of an explosion. Rias and Idris are thrown out by the force of inertia, hurled into free fall.
But just as they're about to crash, a swirling orb of magic catches them midair, softening the fall.
It's clear — the cavalry has arrived.— "Right on target," says Elisabeth.
The Duchess's vassal, still mid-air, begins chanting:"By the wrath of Inamie: Divine Sentence."
A barrage of lightning strikes follows her incantation.Only Anna can shield everyone without needing to speak a word.The winds she commands destabilize the lightning, twisting their path away before impact.
Elisabeth shouts:— "The Commander and I will take care of that maniac! You and the Princess—go get Dad and Riri before that lunatic burns them again!"
— "I'm counting on you, Eli," replies Anna firmly.
Anna then unleashes Griffon's Fury, spellless, surging through the battlefield to reach Rias and Idris, weaving gracefully between falling bolts of lightning.
But before the vassal can strike again, the Commander breaks her focus with an incantation of her own:"Realm of the Ice Giants."
It's a Grandmaster-level zone spell, just like Divine Sentence.This one chills the surrounding air within a set perimeter, making it nearly impossible for lightning to form.
Now, neither side holds the terrain advantage.There's only one way to settle it:A direct clash of blades.
Majiid speaks to Elisabeth:— "I was supposed to be the strongest woman in the Empire. But today… I've seen quite a few little girls who could probably take me down. To be honest, without your sister's chantless magic, I don't see how we could dodge the wrath of that lightning without suffering… fatal damage."
— "As for me, Commander, lightning magic is rare for a reason. It's insanely dangerous. I doubt I could follow it properly, even with Stealth Dragon's Fury. I'm just glad I've got the strongest woman in the Empire by my side."
— "Haha… What a shame that I have to team up with you just to contain this monster."
— "Let's go."
Elisabeth casts Stealth Dragon's Fury.Majiid chants Knightess of Execution.And finally, their opponent invokes Knightess of Judgment.
All their spells rely on speed. Elisabeth and Majiid struggle to land a hit on the girl, but they manage to manipulate her attacks, diverting their lethal edge.
Zyon, who watches the duel unfold, sees nothing but blinding trails of light slashing through the air. She catches glimpses of silhouettes now and then — blurred, impossible to track. Even the sounds reach her with a delay, lagging slightly behind the flashes.
Zyon understands, with a sinking heart, that her level is laughably low compared to these women. She's just there, carried along by the surge of chaos, but deep inside, she feels like nothing more than dead weight.
The strategy is already flawlessly handled by Anna.
The guard mission is firmly in the hands of Majiid and Elisabeth — maybe with a touch of Anna too.
As for the rescue, Anna is calmly carrying her father and brother away, the cursed necklace already broken.
…And yes.
That Anna.
Zyon watches her closely. She's terrifying.
Back at the palace, Zyon could've been injured — or even killed — if not for Anna's interventions. That previous lightning storm that struck them out of nowhere? Anna blocked it all.
And this war…With an enemy of such overwhelming power and strategic maturity, victory seems almost hopeless.
And yet.
And yet…
— "Anna Fort de Rush. You filthy monster. Just how far do you plan to ruin everything I've built?" Heramis screams, leaping from the already shattered carriage. "I challenge you to a duel between women!"
Anna, helping Rias and Idris onto a horse commandeered from the enemy, turns calmly to face Duchess Heramis.
Zyon, still on horseback, rides closer.
She says:
— "I'll make sure your father and brother are safe. You make sure that traitoress crawls at my mother's feet."
But Idris is worried. His daughter is still a child. He's afraid.
— "Anna…"
She just smiles at him — soft, radiant, reassuring. Then turns to give her final instructions to the princess:
— "I believe her followers are already neutralized by now. But still… stay cautious."
And with that, the princess rides off with Idris and Rias.
Idris is completely overwhelmed. He never wanted his children to be entangled in the Empire's dirty wars. But right now, he is just…
Powerless.
Following Anna's orders, the princess takes Idris and Rias back to the castle — so the girls can finally unleash their full power. Zyon knows they're incredibly strong, but they've been holding back because of the weak links.
Which means… her.
So she made the best decision possible.
Duchess Heramis draws her saber. She steps toward little Anna with a mechanical stride, muttering:
— "Always pretending to be angels, you Rush scum… You're nothing but provincial vassals. And you — you're just a brat. How dare you stand in my way?"
Anna, standing in her guard stance, lets out a soft chuckle. She was supposed to take this fight seriously… but instead, she just lets her weapon fall to the ground.
— "Am I dreaming, or did you just underestimate me, you filthy child?"She growls:
"Soul of the Celestial Golem."
It's her physical enhancement technique — she activates it in a flash and charges at Anna with pure, unfiltered rage.
— "Diiieee…" she yells, her blade aimed straight for the girl's throat.
But Anna just dodges.
Heramis strikes with phenomenal power, but her speed? Still average.Too slow for Anna, who lives in adrenaline spikes.
— "Stop dodging and fight me!" Her scream echoes across the field.
And her wish is granted.
Anna chants:
"Pillars of Condemnation."
Towers erupt from the ground. They aim to bind the duchess, grabbing at her hands — but she fights back.
In vain.
The more she resists, the more violently the towers retaliate — hammering her ribs, her thighs, even her face. Over and over, until she's finally immobilized — arms seized by two towering pillars.
Anyway, that's why the technique is called the Pillars of Condemnation.
Anna walks calmly toward her. And each step Anna takes closer sends something unbearable crawling under Heramis's skin. She wants to run. But she's already a prisoner.
In this moment — for the first time in her life — Heramis feels true fear.
And honestly, you'd understand. Heramis is not the empire's strongest fighter — she knows that. But she's always been able to defend herself. Yet here she is, being utterly humiliated by a child not even half her age. Even her own eldest daughter is older than Anna — and still, she's the one who feels like the child being scolded.
Believe me — yeah, that's enough to terrify anyone.
— "T…That was… that was an earth spell you used… But you're a wind-element mage… Wh…who are you, really?"
But Anna just replies, quietly:
— "Your Grace… I'm just a big sister who's too scared for her little brother."
— "I… I don't understand…"
— "And that's for the best."
Anna draws a glowing circle in the air with dust. The moment it lights up, Heramis collapses — unconscious. Then Anna touches her back. Another circle flares to life.
…
Let me explain.
The first spell?Anna just hypnotized Heramis — plunged her into an endless loop of horrifying illusions.
The second one?A sealing spell. Heramis can no longer use magic… Unless someone manages to repair her mastery circle.
See, the circle on the girls' backs is a magical brand cast by priestesses at birth. It channels their innate element — and seals off all others, making control easier.
But you know Anna and Rias with their experience, the rules are nothing but suggestions.
As for Elisabeth and Majiid, they've now moved farther away, carried by their overwhelming speed, still trying to contain the girl with lightning magic.
Elisabeth has finally found a good way to counter: she casts a wide-area spell. This fight has dragged on long enough for her.
"Post-Volcanic Dungeon: Ifrit's Tomb."
Ifrit's Tomb is a kind of sphere where the temperature rivals the core of an active volcano. Inside, fireballs erupt into the open air due to the extreme pressure and hea — randomly and at terrifyingly short intervals. From the outside, it looks like a small red sun. A normal human body would dissolve instantly inside. But not a body reinforced with magic.
Elisabeth can only maintain the spell for four seconds. No more. But four seconds — fleeting in ordinary time — feels like an eternity for these girls, who move at nearly sonic speed, while their opponent may even surpass it. Their battle has lasted only two minutes so far, but already hundreds of blows have been exchanged.
Their faces burn with exhaustion, and their bodies are pushed past their limits by this constant high-speed movement. Their vision starts to blur.
Majiid to Eli:— "Thank you, Elisabeth. I'll deliver the final blow.""Infernal Blizzard: Breath of the Dead."
As the lightning mage breaks free from the flames by shattering the area spell, she immediately falls into another one: the Breath of the Dead. It's the opposite of Ifrit's Tomb, and the collision of these two spells makes the environment absolutely unlivable — even with reinforcement magic.
The abrupt shift from a lack of breathable air to the crushing pressure of icy winds makes it impossible to breathe. The lungs feel like they're evaporating, and every breath sends stabbing pain through the chest. The external body fares no better — vapor forms instantly, blinding her and burning her flesh, while her lightning magic can do little to protect her.
Then comes the moment of distraction — inevitable in such battles — and the cold invades her skin like billions of tiny glass blades, slicing her mercilessly with each heartbeat.
In short, it's torture.
Even the most phenomenal sorceress in the world couldn't withstand such a brutal sequence.
The girl ends up dead. Frozen solid.
Majiid and Eli can finally breathe.
Eli, lying on the ground, sighs:— "Phew… I thought Anna's Griffin Wrath would be the fastest attack my eyes would ever witness in this life… but somehow this girl managed to surpass even her supersonic speed. Without you, I can't even count how many times she could've killed me."
Majiid, sitting and breathless, answers:— "Lightning magic is so fast and violent that even its users can't keep up with themselves. A lightning mage is usually a trickster — not a warrior. But that one… she was a real monster."
— "These elements derived from wind are extremely dangerous in their own ways:
+Lightning:a pure derivative of wind. All we know is that wind is the primary element in its formation.
+Your ice: a combination of wind and water. I wouldn't want to be your enemy.
+Blue embers like my aunt Rubi's: those infernal blue flames have nothing in common with regular fire magic.
I wonder why wind itself is so wild and untamable."
— "Hahaha… You can still say that after witnessing your sister Elisabeth's demonic efficiency? Seriously, hats off to your inferiority complex."
Eli defends herself:— "I'm superior to Anna!"
— "Of course! Of course! I have no doubt about that."
— "That's not the impression you're giving."
— "Oh, trust me, it's just you."
— "Just me what?..."
…And so they keep teasing each other like that on the way back.
Meanwhile, on Diamond and Rubi's side, all is calm. As soon as they arrived on site, the morale of the troops skyrocketed. They appointed Shire as the supreme commander and both headed straight to the front lines to overturn the balance of power.
Some of the soldiers were uneasy seeing their leaders get their hands dirty right after arriving — and leaving Shire in charge. But soon enough, once the results began to speak for themselves, they realized something: The only reason the enemy had the upper hand so far was because they underestimated Shire's ability to lead.
The young soldiers whisper among themselves:
— "I'm ashamed of myself. We should've followed Lady Shire's orders properly from the start. Look! Even Her Excellency Diamond and Her Excellency Rubi are humbly following her lead."— "You're right. Now that I think about it… doubting her is like doubting Her Excellency Diamond's wisdom in appointing her as the final pillar of our territory. I feel so stupid…"
Suddenly, Rubi bursts into the conversation — quite literally out of nowhere — taking out enemies the young recruits hadn't even noticed:
— "Wake up, girls. It's good that you've come to your senses, and may this lesson serve you in the future… but we're still at war."
Rubi takes out five enemies in a single sweep, and Diamond follows right behind her with a wave of fire. The combo leaves their enemies completely disarmed.
Diamond and Rubi aren't just seasoned warriors — they've been war partners for years. They move with such perfect synchronicity, it's as if they share a single mind.
They are fast.
They are powerful.
They are mercilessly efficient.
The two young recruits can only watch, stunned:
— "It's no wonder they're called the Shadow and the Light."
— "The White Knight and the Black Knight."
— "The twin dragonesses who guard Excissil."
— "Look, the enemy is retreating. The infantry is falling back!"
— "This is definitely our victory."
And it's true.
A messenger bursts onto the battlefield camp of the Empress of Phype. She's out of breath.
— "Let me in. Please, let me in. It's urgent!"
The empress is an older woman, looking to be in her fifties, with flaming orange hair. She's surrounded by her generals, each face as serious as the next. They're all leaning over a war map, their expressions grim.
The empress gives the order:
— "By Inami, let her through."
The guards part immediately at her command.
— "Your Majesty! May Inami bless you," cries the soldier girl, falling to her knees before the empress.
— "What news, brave soldier?" asks the empress.
— "Your Highness! The guardian dragonesses of Excissil are on the battlefield."
Eyes that had begun to sleep on the promise of victory now snap open, scorched by a sudden wave of doubt.
— "The White Knight and the Black Knight? Are you sure?" asks a tall, muscular woman with several scars on her face.
— "Affirmative, General."
Murmurs ripple through the circle of generals at the declaration.
— "But they were supposed to be in the capital! Our informant guaranteed no one would suspect our attack."
— "I had a feeling the capture of Rush was taking too long… I knew something was off," mutters another.
While the others still panic, a voice rises from the shadows — arrogant, cutting. A woman seated alone in the dark, her long, dark hair falling across her face.
— "So what? White knight, black knight, rainbow knight — they're still just knights. If you're that scared of them, I'll take care of it myself."
The war room reignites with tension.
— "Yes! Why not send Zanit the Skeptic after them?"
But the empress says nothing. Not yet. She closes her eyes for a moment, then declares calmly:
— "It's over. Send a messenger bird. Have it carry our banner… and a white ribbon."
Silence falls. Total suspense.
Scattered "What?!" erupt across the war room — but one "What?" cuts through, more confused than the rest.
— "What? Mother, I understand that we're now forced into a direct confrontation, but this war isn't lost yet!"
It's the Princess of Phype. Young, bright, and blazing with faith in her empire. For her, this news changes nothing. And some voices around the table echo her defiance.
— "She's right. We still have a chance."
— "I'm not afraid of those Excessil wenches. They won't defeat us."
But that's not how the empress sees it. She's seasoned. Weathered. And she raises her voice — sharp, cutting, to reassert command.
— "Am I surrounded by fools?"
The room goes dead silent.
— "Do you really think it's normal that the De Rush sisters reached the battlefield from the capital so quickly? Did none of you stop to wonder how they even heard about our attack from so far away?"
No one answers. Just silence. Because these are questions no one can answer.
The empress presses on, her voice heavy with regret:
— "I will not risk more pointless casualties. It's tragic, yes — but this is our loss. We must now think of negotiations."
And she says it like a mourning bell. Resigned. Unshakable.
The bird barely glides over the marching army of Excissil. The Empress of Excissil recognizes it.
The white ribbon. The symbol of surrender.
She says nothing at first. She lifts her eyes to the sky, lets out a long sigh, then finally murmurs:
— "That old fox… She's always known when to fold. I hate to admit it, but she's a wise sovereign."
General Rock raises an eyebrow.
— "You're talking about… Phype?"
— "Of course. She just avoided a total defeat. She just saved hundreds of her women. A ruler isn't the one who always wins, but the one who knows when to stop. Change our course."
A few days later, whispers spread through the capital's streets:
— "Phype pulled back?"— "They surrendered?"— "Yes. All that's left now is for the empress to negotiate peace."— "That war was so fast. We noticed its end before we even felt its beginning"
…
Meanwhile, in her castle, the Empress stands — not on her throne, but before the great stained-glass window. Her back is straight, yet her eyes are tired.
Heramis enters. She's unrecognizable. Silent. Fragile. Anna's illusions have broken her. No more arrogance — just a fear she can no longer hide.
— "You don't call me "sister" anymore?" Heramis murmurs, without looking at the Empress.
Silence.
— "That word is no longer enough."
Heramis lowers her head, utterly broken.
— "I… I never wanted it to end like this."
— "What did you want, Heramis? That I hand you a duchy? That I overthrow the council for you?"
— "I wanted to be heard! For people to stop seeing me as "the bastard raised out of pity"! I wanted… to matter. To have a role."
The Empress looks at her. Stern, but not cruel.
— "You did matter."
— "Not to them. Not to the Council. So… I listened to someone. A woman… I don't even know who she really is. She said things that sounded true. About corruption. About the weight of nobility. She told me I could… change everything."
— "And you believed her."
— "I wanted to believe. But she told me nothing real. She just… used me."
Her voice cracks.
— "She spoke of a fairer future. But all she wanted was to bring down Excissil."
The Empress closes her eyes.
— "The Reference."
— "Yes. That's what she called herself. A voice without a face. A revolution without people."
— "Who is this "Reference"?" the Empress murmurs.
But Heramis doesn't answer. She starts trembling.
— "Since Anna's spell, I haven't slept. Every night, I relive… those scenes of my torment, again and again. Help me, sister."
The Empress approaches. She kneels to Heramis' level, gently takes her adoptive sister's wrist.
— "You betrayed us."
— "You're going to have me executed, aren't you?"
A sigh. The Empress murmurs:
— "No. That would be too easy. Too... quick. You're going to live, Heramis. You're going to live with this. And you're going to help me find this "Reference." Because I sense that woman hasn't finished sowing chaos."
She rises.
— "You wanted a role? Here it is."
A former neutral ground, located between Excissil and Phype. Not too far from the front, not too close to the city of Gliant. A symbolic place: this is where a treaty was signed two centuries ago, between two founding empresses.
Austere tents now stand there, draped in brown velvet, with neutral banners fluttering and an almost sacred silence. No men. Only armed women.
Two tents, side by side.One bears the colors of Excissil — deep crimson and ash.The other, more modest, wears the dark greens of Phype.
In the central tent, draped in black linen, the two empresses face each other.
The Empress of Excissil: Appolionne Luminance De Excissil — tall silhouette, clenched jaw, voice like a thread of cold steel.The Empress of Phype: Sathire De Phype II — older, rounder, but with the cunning eyes of a survivor vixen. She speaks first:
— "Well. Here you are, victorious again, as always… dark light."
— "Not always. But this time, yes. And you're clever enough, old fox, to know it."
— "You exaggerate, Excissil. Phype is not broken."
— "No. Just on its knees."
Silence.
A metallic sound slides across the negotiation table: a scroll, sealed with Excissil's imperial emblem.
— "Here are the terms of peace."
Sathire unrolls the document. She reads. Her nostrils flare. Her voice snaps, irritated:
— "Five years of taxes? And my fastest horses? You want to empty my stables and my coffers?"
— "No. I want to make sure you remember."
She reads on.
— "Immyrn? You want to annex it?"
— "It's no longer a "want." Immyrn already flies our banner. You lost that right when you attacked without provocation."
The Empress of Phype narrows her eyes. Then she sees the final paragraph.She pales.
— "My… granddaughters?
— "They are the future of Phype, aren't they? Then it is only right that they be raised in the heart of wisdom. At the Imperial Academy of Excissil, among my best strategists, historians, and linguists.
— "That would be humiliation."
— "That would be education. Call it what you like."
— "And if I refuse?"
— "Then we take up arms again. But this time, I won't target a garrison. I'll target your throne."
A long silence.The scroll sits between them like a sword yet to be drawn.
Then… Sathire slowly raises her hand. She places it on the parchment.
— "Then let my girls grow wiser than I ever was. So be it."
Appolionne inclines her head slightly. No smile. No pride.
— "Peace is signed."
But Sathire still hasn't fully laid her hand on the parchment.She stays silent, eyes lowered. Then murmurs:
— "This plan… the conflict… the letter I received… It all seemed too perfectly staged, even if convincing on the surface."
Appolionne doesn't flinch. But her jaw tightens.
— "Reference… That name drifts through my halls like a winter breeze. No one knows who it is. No one knows what this person wants."
Sathire shakes her head:
— "She knows too much. About our children. About our armies. She reached Heramis before I even knew. It was her — that shadow — who convinced her war was inevitable."
Appolionne slowly places both hands on the table.
— "Then this wasn't just a war between us. It was manipulation. And you fell into the trap."
Sathire clenches her teeth, ashamed.
— "I believed her. I thought… if I struck fast, I might stand a chance. That you would fall. But deep down, I think I was just afraid… afraid that you were always one step ahead. That "Reference" fed that fear."
Appolionne exhales, slowly:
— "So be it. We sign this peace. But we are not safe. Neither you. Nor I."
Sathire lifts her eyes. A troubled gleam in her pupils:
— "Then perhaps… one day, we'll have to fight side by side."
Appolionne nods, solemn:
— "But not today."