The hallways of the upper sanctum were nothing like the Undercity or the Mid-City markets. The air was cleaner — crisp and cold — humming faintly with the energy of countless conduits running through the walls. The ceiling arched high above them, etched with glowing runes that pulsed in rhythm like a heartbeat. Every few steps, they passed marble statues of armored figures — the Twelve Knights, carved in perfect likeness, eyes fixed downward as though forever judging those who walked beneath them.
Luke tilted his head, whispering. "You think those are real?"
Elias glanced up at one, a massive knight with a sword twice his height. "If they are, I'm not fighting them."
"Noted," Luke murmured. "Guess that makes me the hero."
"You're the idiot who got us into this mess."
Luke grinned faintly. "Same thing."
A guard shot them a glare over his shoulder. They both shut up immediately.
They entered an atrium so vast it felt like a cathedral — white stone walls inlaid with gold, light spilling from vents above like sunlight, though neither of them could see the source. A massive crest of the Crown — the symbol of the Nova — was emblazoned on the far wall.
And at its center stood the throne.
It wasn't like the old stories — not jeweled or ornate. It was clean, simple, carved from a single piece of luminous stone that pulsed faintly with light. Seated upon it was the Nova himself.
He looked nothing like what Luke had expected. No old sage, no monstrous ruler. Just a man — tall, composed, with sharp eyes that gleamed like molten metal. His robes shimmered faintly, woven with threads that caught and bent the light, giving him the illusion of radiance.
Yet it wasn't his clothing that drew Luke's gaze. It was his presence — calm, absolute, and utterly in control.
The guards dropped to one knee. "Your Radiance. The contestants from the lower city."
The Nova raised a hand. "Rise."
His voice carried like music — smooth, resonant, measured. The guards obeyed and stepped aside.
Luke swallowed hard as he and Elias were guided forward until they stood a few meters from the throne. The marble under their boots was so polished it reflected their faces — and for the first time, Luke realized how filthy they looked here: patched clothes, bandaged arms, dust still clinging to their hair. Two vermin dragged into heaven.
The Nova studied them quietly, his gaze unreadable. "So," he said finally, "you are the ones who stirred my city."
Luke opened his mouth — and froze, unsure if he should bow, kneel, or just stand still. He awkwardly did something in between.
Elias followed his lead with a pained sigh.
"Your… uh, Radiance," Luke began, voice small. "We didn't mean to—"
"To participate?" the Nova interrupted gently. "To compete before the eyes of nobles and guards alike? To reveal that even the lowest of my people can grasp for glory?"
Luke hesitated. "We didn't mean disrespect, sir. We just… wanted to prove something."
The Nova's gaze softened. "Prove something. Yes. Ambition from below. It's a curious thing." He stood, descending the steps of his dais with slow, deliberate grace. Each step echoed like a heartbeat.
Luke felt smaller with every sound.
"You remind me," the Nova continued, "of an ideal I once admired — the will to rise." He stopped a few feet away, his golden eyes catching the light. "The city above forgets what such hunger looks like."
Elias blinked. "Then… you're not angry?"
The Nova smiled faintly — a small, perfect smile. "Anger? No. I find this… inspiring."
Luke and Elias exchanged a quick, confused glance.
"Inspiring?" Luke echoed.
"Yes," the Nova said, turning away to look toward the great window at the end of the hall. "Two miners from the depths, daring to step into the light. Your act was reckless, yes — but also bold. It speaks to the hearts of those who toil below."
He paused. "They will see you as proof that the system is not without mercy. That even the lowliest can still be seen by heaven."
Elias frowned. "That's… not exactly what we meant."
The Nova looked over his shoulder. "No?"
Luke took a step forward, emboldened. "We wanted to show that the people down there — the miners, the ones who keep this whole place running — they're not just tools. They could be more, if given the chance. Stronger. Smarter. Fighters. If we—"
The Nova raised a hand.
Luke froze mid-sentence.
The silence stretched, heavy and absolute. The smile returned to the Nova's lips — softer this time, almost pitying.
"Hope," he said quietly. "Such a fragile, beautiful thing. It gives shape to obedience."
Luke frowned. "What?"
The Nova turned fully now, his expression calm once again. "You've done well, both of you. The Undercity will speak of this for weeks. Perhaps productivity will even improve."
Elias blinked, realizing the meaning beneath the words. "Wait — that's what you got from this?"
The Nova tilted his head, as if amused by the question. "Every act has its value, Elias Vane. Yours was to inspire. And you've done that."
He stepped closer again, placing a hand on Luke's shoulder. His touch was light — but something beneath it felt… wrong. Like standing too close to a burning wire.
"Do not mistake fortune for freedom," the Nova said softly. "The light shines where it must."
Luke swallowed, unsure how to respond. "Thank you, Your Radiance."
"Gratitude suits you better than rebellion," the Nova said kindly, stepping back. "Now — your deeds deserve acknowledgment. A reward, as promised."
He gestured to the guards. "Escort them to the lower chambers. They will receive their due."
The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun. The Nova turned back toward his throne as if they had already ceased to exist. The guards approached, motioning for the two to follow.
Elias leaned close as they walked. "Did… did that sound like a good thing to you?"
Luke hesitated. "I don't know. But I think we should take whatever we're getting and get out before he changes his mind."
"Agreed."
---
They were led down another corridor, narrower this time. The air grew cooler again, the lights dimmer. The sound of footsteps echoed in a rhythm too steady to feel natural.
Luke tried to speak, but one glance at the guards told him it wasn't a good idea. They reached a side chamber — plain, metallic, with a single table in the center.
"Wait here," one of the guards said.
Luke glanced around. "This… doesn't look like a treasury."
Elias snorted quietly. "Yeah. Maybe the reward's a lecture."
They waited in silence for several minutes. The hum of machinery somewhere behind the walls filled the quiet. Then, from the far end, another figure entered — not armored, but cloaked, face hidden by a dark hood. In his hands were two small flasks filled with a shimmering golden liquid.
Luke blinked. "What's that?"
The figure said nothing. He set the flasks on the table and gestured for them to drink.
Elias raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose we get to ask what's in it?"
No answer. Just silence.
Luke looked at Elias. "He said reward, right?"
"Yeah," Elias said, watching the liquid swirl. "Could also be poison."
Luke exhaled. "I'll take my chances."
He reached for one of the flasks, but the moment his fingers brushed the glass, a faint hum ran through the air — like a current of static crawling across his skin.
He looked up at Elias, uneasy. "Did you feel—"
Then everything went black.
---
Sound returned before light did.
A low ringing. Muffled voices. The distant hum of machinery. Luke's head throbbed as he blinked awake, vision swimming into focus.
They weren't in the same room anymore.
The walls were rough, carved from stone instead of steel. The air smelled of dust and cold earth.
Elias was beside him, groaning, still unconscious.
Luke tried to move — and realized his hands were bound.
Panic surged. "Elias!" he hissed, shaking him. "Elias, wake up!"
Elias stirred, blinking blearily. "What— where—"
Luke looked around. The chamber was dim, lit only by a single flickering tube light. There were crates along one wall, stamped with the Crown's insignia. A large, sealed door loomed ahead — and somewhere beyond it, the faint whir of machinery echoed.
It wasn't a cell. It was a transport bay.
A low rumble vibrated through the floor — the sound of engines powering up.
Elias sat up, realizing. "They're… they're sending us somewhere."
Luke's heart pounded. "The reward," he said bitterly. "This was the reward."
Elias gritted his teeth. "I knew we should've stayed in the damn mines."
As the hum grew louder and the walls shook, Luke stared toward the sealed door.
Something deep inside him — a spark of instinct — whispered that whatever waited beyond wasn't a reward or mercy.
It was exile.