The night the invitation arrived, the Core World was quiet.
Not the artificial quiet of curfews or enforced stillness, but the natural hush that came when a civilization finally trusted the structure holding it together. Traffic moved in smooth arcs of light far below the Imperial Spire. Residential towers dimmed in coordinated cycles. Even the sky arrays softened their glow, as if the planet itself had learned how to breathe slowly.
Vahn stood on the balcony outside his private chambers, one hand resting lightly on the railing, the other holding a cup he had forgotten to drink from. From here, Astralis no longer looked like an empire.
It looked like a home that had learned how to endure.
Behind him, small footsteps padded softly across the stone floor.
"Father."
Vahn turned immediately.
Valen stood in the doorway, rubbing one eye with a fist, his hair tousled from sleep. He wore a loose night tunic that was a little too long for him, sleeves bunched at his wrists.
