Caelmir had barely turned around when he heard a metallic noise.
Clang. Clang.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor before stopping in front of the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Prince Caelmir Crownveil, the King requests your presence," announced a deep, serious voice.
The door opened to reveal three Imperial Guards. Their golden armor bore the emblem of the throne, and their swords rested firmly against their hilts. Their faces were as hard as stone.
Caelmir recognized them immediately: Calvin, Meliodas, and Gwen.
These knights were part of his father's personal guard, so their presence here meant one thing—the King was growing impatient.
"By order of His Majesty, you are expected in the Audience Hall," Calvin declared.
"…Alright, I understand. I'm coming. No need to be so dramatic…" I murmured, straightening up.
One last glance in the mirror to make sure my hair was in place, then I turned back to the guardd
"I'm following you," I said.
The Celestial Palace was vast. Immensely vast.
It stood atop one of the highest celestial islands in the entire archipelago. Legends said it had been entirely built by the first King of Celestia.
From floor to ceiling, the palace was covered in marble . Every room without exception was clad in marble so white it could be mistaken for porcelain, if not for the faint Goldy veins that ran through it from time to time.
The Celestial Palace was divided into five main wings.
The Audience Hall, which I was now approaching, also occasionally served as a tribunal or a council chamber.
Then there was the Armory, where most of the Crownveil family's weapons and relics were kept.
The Main Hall of the Celestial Palace was a place where luxury met solemnity. The floor, made of white marble veined with gold, reflected the soft light of chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Large sofas covered in midnight blue velvet were arranged around low crystal tables, intricately carved with celestial motifs.
The walls were adorned with frescoes depicting past Crownveil kings, their frozen gazes seeming to watch every conversation. Long gold-embroidered drapes fell to the floor, swaying slightly with each passing breeze. The atmosphere was calm, almost suffocating, as if the hall itself demanded restraint and respect.
The gardens of the Celestial Palace stretched like a paradise suspended between sky and earth. Paved paths of pale stone wound between trees with silver leaves, their branches whispering in the wind. Flowers of unreal colors—deep blues, bright purples, and brilliant whites—bloomed around crystal-clear fountains.
Water flowed silently, capturing sunlight and turning it into shimmering reflections. Statues of ancient heroes and celestial deities stood among the flowerbeds, their serene faces concealing timeless authority. Despite its divine beauty, the garden exuded a strange, heavy calm, as if every leaf witnessed the palace's secrets.
The Reception Hall was the beating heart of the Celestial Palace. Immense and majestic, it spanned dozens of meters, supported by tall marble columns engraved with ancient symbols. The smooth floor reflected the golden flames of braziers placed along the walls.
At the far end, the royal dais held two thrones, richly decorated with gold and celestial crystal. Above them floated a massive circular stained glass window depicting a crown surrounded by glowing wings, letting in an almost divine light.
When the hall filled with nobles, knights, and elders, a constant murmur rose—blending ambition, fear, and admiration. Here, every word spoken could seal a fate.
Soon, we arrived before the doors of the Audience Hall. They were deep black, like my outfit, creating a sharp contrast with the palace's grandeur.
With their duty complete, the Imperial Guards took their positions in front of the door, which, as if by magic, began to open slightly.
"…Caelmir," pronounced Arthur, King of Celestia, in a deep, commanding voice.
His ash-gray eyes were fixed directly on mine, as if he could see straight into my soul.
Arthur Crownveil, King of Celestia, was a man whose mere presence demanded silence. Tall and upright, he sat on the throne with perfect posture, as if he had been forged to rule. His long white hair, inherited from the Crownveil line, fell behind his shoulders, carefully tied, revealing a face marked by time and battle.
His eyes, a deep blue with hints of silver, seemed capable of piercing anyone's soul. They carried neither unnecessary anger nor false kindness, only the cold clarity of a ruler accustomed to deciding the fates of thousands. A fine scar ran across his left cheek, a vestige of an old battle, a reminder that the crown had not been won without blood.
He wore a royal outfit in dark hues, embroidered with celestial symbols in gold and silver. A heavy cape draped over his shoulders, and each movement made the metallic ornaments of his ceremonial armor softly chime. At his side rested Astra Dominus, the King's sword, only drawn during Celestia's darkest hours.
More than his appearance, it was his aura that terrified. Arthur Crownveil radiated overwhelming authority, mixed with silent power—like a storm held behind a motionless sky.
To his right stood Seraphine Crownveil, Queen of Celestia.
She embodied a grace as sharp as a blade hidden beneath silk. Slender, she always stood tall, head held high, as if the weight of the crown had never touched her. Her long golden hair was carefully styled and held by fine golden ornaments inlaid with celestial crystals.
Her face, cold and refined in beauty, bore few marks of time. Her delicate features often remained still, but her eyes—a pale, almost silver-blue—shone with sharp intelligence and unquestionable authority. One look from Seraphine could silence an entire hall.
She wore a royal gown in pale tones, blending nacre white and gold, embroidered with ancient celestial motifs. With every step, the fabric slid gracefully, a reminder that each gesture was controlled, deliberate, worthy of a queen.
But behind this perfect appearance lay an unyielding will. Seraphine was a sovereign vigilant to court intrigues, aware of power games, ready to protect the crown by any means necessary. As a mother, she could be strict, sometimes harsh, but her demand stemmed from a deep desire to see her children survive in a cruel world.
To her left stood my infuriating sister, Célénia Crownveil—the princess par excellence. Long white hair reached down to her hips, often tied neatly, framing a face with fine, determined features.
Her piercing light-blue eyes left nothing to chance. Where I allowed a hint of playfulness, Célénia displayed complete control over herself. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, able to assess any situation instantly. Many at court whispered she already had the makings of a future sovereign.
She wore noble attire with simple yet refined cuts, often decorated with discreet celestial embroidery. Nothing about her was excessive; every detail inspired respect and credibility. Her upright posture and measured silence commanded a presence few dared to challenge.
In public, Célénia was impeccable—polite, intelligent, almost perfect. But in private, she sometimes let slip a biting humor and sharp tongue, especially with her youngest brother. Despite their constant teasing, she watched over me in her own way, knowing the world outside the palace forgave no weakness.
In the eyes of the Elders, Célénia Crownveil was the ideal heir. In my eyes, she was both rival and ally… and a constant reminder of what I had to become.
The hall was silent. Imperial Guards stood at attention in front of the large golden doors leading to the Reception Hall.
I absentmindedly adjusted the collar of my Tharion outfit when a familiar voice broke the silence.
"You'll wear that out before the ceremony even starts."
I looked up.
Célénia, already ready, stood straight, hands clasped behind her back. Her attire was flawless, as always.
— Nervous, I replied. Looks like you're heading to a high tea or something.
She smirked slightly.
"Unlike you, I take this kind of event seriously," she said.
— Oh, I'm very serious, I retorted. I'm just thinking of the best way to impress the Elders without causing a scandal.
— Try staying silent first; that would be a good start, Célénia snapped.
Before I could answer, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall.
Arthur Crownveil stepped forward, immediately commanding silence. Seraphine followed, elegant and impassive.
Arthur's gaze fell upon his children.
— Célénia.
— Father, she replied with a slight bow.
His eyes then turned to me.
— Caelmir.
— Father, I said, straightening immediately.
A silence lingered for a few seconds.
"This ceremony is not a game," Arthur said in a grave voice. "What happens today will determine your future… and that of Celestia."
Seraphine added, her tone sharper:
"The Elders observe every detail. Any mistake will be remembered."
I sighed quietly.
"With all this suspense, it almost feels like a public execution."
Seraphine's gaze cut me.
"One more word, and I'll escort you myself."
Célénia stifled a smile.
Arthur continued:
"Caelmir, whatever happens, you will face it with dignity. No provocation. No jokes."
— I'll do my best, I replied after a brief pause.
Seraphine placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Remember: you are a Crownveil."
The massive doors began to open slowly.
A herald announced:
"The Awakening Ceremony is about to begin. Young prince, please prepare."
Arthur stepped forward.
— It is time.
Célénia cast one last look at her brother.
"Try not to make me regret being your sister."
I gave a small smile.
— I promise… I'll only do half of what you expect.