Luna didn't want to take her seat beside her mother just yet, so she stood awaiting Lord Whiterock's arrival in the throne room with the rest of her siblings. She melded into the group, making herself smaller, which was hard to do; her silver hair betrayed her no matter what she did, but she tried anyway.
But it didn't matter; everyone had their attention on her father. She watched with interest as the other royal families greeted him. The 15 delegation leaders left their seats and approached her father with respect.
There was no reverence in this gesture, though, no haggling, scraping, and petty small talk to curry favour. They were respectful to the Lord, whose domain they had entered as guests, but beyond that, they were equals, or at least the houses they represented were. Not even the lowest-ranked of the 15 houses could be seen as meek.
Luna rolled her eyes at all the grandstanding between the lords-apparent of the universe and let her eyes wander around the room. Most people had been transfixed on the gathering of Lords, and that was when she saw Anotella.
Anotella: A serving girl, who had attended to her on occasion, was bowing at an awkward angle in front of a group of young people. The person directly in front of her was Horus Arasaka, and some others she did not recognise.
She almost looked away. Displays of petty dominance were common enough among young nobles. Disgusting, but familiar. When Anotella suddenly jerked forward again, as if being pulled by an invisible force.
Luna got closer to the group, and Anotella's face came into view, pale, contorted in pain and fear. Then her clothes rippled; it was as if unseen hands were crushing multiple parts of her body. Luna came to a grim realisation: these were the powers of those blessed by the living flame.
Anotella bore the assault silently, not making a noise, as she had been trained to. She would not dishonour the house of Whiterock; her jaw was clenched so tightly that Luna could see the tendons in her neck straining, her breath shuddering through her nose in shallow, silent gasps. Bile started forming in the back of Luna's mouth.
As the group around Horus laughed in silent amusement, Anotella's wandering eyes found Luna's. Anotella's eyes were tearing up, but they looked relieved, hopeful even. There it was again, the same eyes she had seen so many times on her excursions to the city and outer settlements with Avraham.
Luna had to be cautious; a commotion wouldn't help Anotella or her. She activated her HPC.
"Avraham, right side of the hall, a serving girl and some people my age, I need you to stop whatever it is that they are doing."
"I have my eyes on them, that is house Arasaka's youngest. My intervention might have severe consequences for both myself and that girl… I am yours to command, give the order, and I will see it through."
Luna thought for only a second before responding.
"No, I'll handle it, get ready to take her away once I intervene."
"The boy has power, be wary," Avraham cautioned.
Luna did not need to be reminded; she remained powerless in a universe that defined merit and capability by the supernatural powers granted by the living flame and a person's affinity for it, because she had none. But still, this was her home; who would dare use it against her?
She moved through the nobles, breaking some of their concentrated gazes away from her father; some even lingered on her. Horus noticed her approach and turned, maintaining his invisible grip on Anotella as he bowed deeply.
"The Silver Princess," he said warmly. "We are honoured."
Horus's smile was not mocking. If anything, it was pleased, as though Luna's arrival had elevated the moment rather than threatened it.
"Honoured?" Luna replied evenly. "Then you would do me the courtesy of releasing my servant."
"Anything for you, Miss Luna, but alas, this wench just ruined my shoes by spilling wine on them; such a servant brings dishonour on your house. But do not fret, for I shall punish her in your stead."
"The dishonour is yours, Horus, our servants are not so poorly trained… only common brutes would count cruelty as strength and honour… I must insist, you leave her alone, and be done with this pathetic display immediately."
Horus's smile vanished, his expression had turned serious, and his group was silently mumbling among themselves now. "You're still playing the role?" he asked quietly. "Are there cameras here as well? Shall I strike a pose well?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Luna said. "And I'm out of patience."
Horus exhaled sharply.
"Heir of Whiterock, You're pathetic," Horus hissed, "fine, take her away… or what's left of her."
Luna suddenly had a terrible premonition; Anotella's arm twisted, too far, too fast, an unnatural bend that made Luna's stomach lurch. Anotella's eyes went wide. She tried to scream, but the invisible pressure clamped her jaw and throat shut.
Horus turned away as if bored.
"Ah," he said casually, "she would've embarrassed us with that scream. Your claims of appropriate training prove untrue."
Luna stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face.
The crack of it snapped through the throne room like a whip.
Horus blinked once, stunned, and then he swung at her.
Luna was already moving. She slipped inside the arc of his arm, hooked her weight into his momentum the way Avraham had drilled into her since she was small, and threw him forward.
Horus lay sprawled on the white marble, breath knocked from his lungs, his cheek already flushing red where Luna's hand had struck him. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the murmurs began, like a buzzing of bees.
Every eye in the hall was on them.
Luna felt it immediately. The weight of attention, the sudden exposure. And beneath it all, another presence.
Her father was watching.
She ignored it and turned away from Horus and moved towards Anotella.
The girl was crumpled on the floor, her broken arm hanging at a grotesque angle. She was shaking violently now, small, controlled whimpers tearing from her throat, but still no scream escaping her lips. Luna knelt beside her without thinking, her chest tightening painfully.
"It's going to be all right," Luna said softly, reaching for her.
Where is Avraham?
The thought barely finished forming before something seized her.
The grip was iron-clad.
Invisible, crushing, slamming into her from every direction at once. Luna gasped as the force wrapped around her torso, her limbs, her throat.
Then it changed. The force didn't just press against her anymore. It slid beneath her skin. It felt as if something was crawling through her body, forcing its way inward, invading muscle and bone and breath alike. Her vision blurred violently, pain detonating inside her chest, her abdomen, her skull. It was wrong in a way she had no words for. Violating.
It felt like…. she was becoming a prisoner in her own body.
Luna screamed, the sound tearing through the hall, making everyone freeze up, none more so than Horus as a realisation hit him, followed immediately by dread.
"No, stop….STOP! OBEY ME!" he shouted.
The force didn't respond. It wasn't listening anymore. And Luna wasn't resisting; she couldn't, she had nothing to protect herself with.
Her strength gave out. She collapsed forward, half-conscious, breath coming in ragged fragments. The crushing pressure eased, but the invasive presence did not leave.
When she finally regained some semblance of control of her senses, the scene around her had shifted dramatically.
Her older siblings, Casius among them, stood with their backs to her, shoulders rigid, facing the Arasaka group. A maternal uncle stood near them; the Lunaris family had been offended, too, it seemed.
Horus floated high above the marble, limbs twisted at angles that made Luna's stomach turn, his mouth opening and closing like a fish hauled from water. Her father's voice, low and contained, spoke to someone older who closely resembled Horus: the Arasaka delegation leader.
They finished, and Lord Whiterock gave a slight, indifferent nod, making Horus drop. He struck the floor with a sickening thud, and his attendants rushed to him immediately.
No one rushed to Luna.
Lord Whiterock began walking toward her.
Luna tried to rise. Her body refused, and the lingering presence inside her tightened again, which translated as brain fog and extreme nausea to Luna.
Lord Whiterock stopped over her like a towering mountain. His hand closed around her throat, not in wild rage, not for spectacle, but with precise, deliberate intent.
He lifted her just enough to force her neck straight, denying her the comfort of curling inward. Her feet scraped the floor as the air thinned.
"Fa....Father?" Luna barely croaked.
Her father leaned closer, his voice barely reaching her ear; the words were for her ears only.
"Why must you be so pathetic?" he whispered. His gaze flicked briefly toward where Horus lay. "Your existence is meaningless, but like an insect, you persist in mocking my name."
Luna felt like she was losing control of her body once more; her father's eyes locked onto hers, but she felt like he wasn't looking at her at all. Her body physically tried to turn away from that gaze with a strength that Luna didn't know she possessed.
Lord Whiterock tightened his grip, holding her in place, bringing Luna to the edge of darkness, and then it was over. The fog over her mind dissipated, as did the nausea, and she finally felt in control again.
Lord Whiterock released her, making Luna drop to her knees, coughing hard, throat raw, eyes watering uncontrollably.
As if nothing of note had occurred, Lord Whiterock turned to the room.
"House Whiterock prides itself on its connection to the Flame. We have served the Emperor and his Flame faithfully, which is why we are blessed with an abundance of it," he announced coldly. "You would all do well to remember that."
His gaze sharpened as it swept his children.
"My own children most of all."
He turned away from Luna. So did everyone else who mattered.
Casius didn't look back at all, while another brother's mouth twitched, almost pleased.
The room resumed itself around Luna as though she were a spill on marble: something servants would clean later. A hand touched Luna's arm, gently.
She flinched, and then Avraham's presence was there, steadying her as he lifted her to her feet. He said nothing at first, but when Luna resisted his attempt at making her stand, he finally whispered, "Do not make it so easy for them, hold your head high, Luna."
And for the first time since her mind had cleared, her confusion and despair gave way to another emotion: Anger.
Where had Avraham been? Why had he come now?
You traitor, Luna thought and pointed a glare at Avraham. Avraham didn't flinch.
She accepted his support regardless; she needed it for now, and no one else seemed interested in offering.
Once firmly on her feet, "I'm fine, go pick up Anotella," Luna's voice came as a grating whisper.
She took a moment to compose herself, holding her head high as she had been instructed to, and walked in front of Avraham, who had scooped up Anotella, leading them both out of the throne room.