Later that evening, the grand meeting room of the Imperial Palace was filled with the low murmur of noblemen and advisors, their voices interlaced with the shuffle of papers and the clink of fine china. Candles flickered along the walls, their light reflecting off polished wood and gold trim.
Emperor Valerius sat at the head of the elongated table, his crimson and gold robes a stark contrast against the muted tones of the councilors around him. Reports were being delivered in steady succession—trade numbers, border disputes, magical disturbances in distant provinces—each advisor vying for the Emperor's attention.
Then, without warning, Valerius's deep voice cut through the room like a blade.
"That will be all for today. You may leave."
Whispers died instantly as the noblemen and advisors bowed in unison, gathering their papers and leaving in orderly retreat, careful not to meet the Emperor's gaze. One by one, the doors closed behind them, leaving the room hushed, the only sound the distant hum of the palace itself.
Valerius remained seated, his eyes fixed on a point in the shadows. "Step forward. What do you have for me?" His tone was calm but commanding, carrying the weight of years of authority.
From the deepest shadows of the room, a figure moved silently. The same woman in black who had observed Anna in the Taming Hall earlier—hooded, cloaked, and precise—slipped from the darkness, kneeling before the Emperor with impeccable posture. The faint rustle of her robes was barely audible.
"I have been watching, Your Majesty," she said, her voice low and steady, carrying the clarity of someone who had recorded every detail. "I observed the princess during her taming lesson today. Every motion, every interaction, every bond she commanded. The gryphon, the drake, and even the serpent—each responded to her presence. More than that… they bowed to her, not as beasts to a master, but as one would bow to a sovereign. Its as if they are recognizing something older, deeper, within her. And there are currents flowing from her sisters' bonds into her. It is subtle, but unmistakable. She… she draws upon them without knowing, harmonizing in ways beyond standard magical comprehension."
Valerius's fingers tapped lightly on the table, the flicker of candlelight reflecting in his eyes. "Good. And you've documented everything?"
The woman inclined her head slightly. "Yes, Your Majesty. Everything has been recorded, and the subtle flows of mana noted. I will continue to observe and provide updates as necessary."
Valerius leaned back in his chair, his gaze dark and unreadable. "Excellent. Maintain your vigilance. No detail is too small, no movement insignificant. And… ensure that this observation remains imperceptible. The princess's condition must remain hidden until the proper time."
The woman nodded silently, sinking back slightly into the shadows, becoming nothing more than a shadow again, her presence only known to the Emperor.
Valerius's expression remained stoic, though a faint line of concern traced across his brow.
Valerius remained seated long after the woman had vanished into the shadows, the soft flicker of candlelight tracing the sharp angles of his face. The council chamber was silent now, save for the distant echoes of servants moving through the corridors. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished surface of the table, and muttered under his breath, almost to himself.
"What exactly is happening to her …?" His eyes narrowed, the shadows of the room deepening the lines of worry etched into his face. "The readings, the flows… it's as if whatever resides within her is not idle."
His hand absentmindedly traced the rim of his goblet, his mind piecing together the subtle observations the cloaked watcher had recorded. "The bonds… the gryphon, the drake, even that serpent… all feeding into her. She doesn't just harmonize with them—she draws from them."
A pause, his gaze distant. "It's incubating. The creature inside… it's gathering energy, shaping it, building itself. Preparing. Preparing to hatch."
The words hung heavy in the stillness of the room. Valerius's mind raced—balancing awe with fear. He had dealt with magic and ley currents his entire life, but this… this was unprecedented. A creature, a dragon no less, maturing within his daughter, drawing not from raw power alone but from the bonds surrounding her.
He leaned back, his crimson robes rustling, eyes glinting with a mixture of calculation and concern. "And when it hatches…" His voice was barely more than a whisper, yet the weight behind it pressed like a shadow across the chamber. "Will she survive it? And what will it mean for the kingdom?"
Valerius's eyes narrowed, the candlelight catching the hard lines of his face as he stared into the darkened room, lost in thought. His voice was almost inaudible, a whisper carried only by the shadows around him.
"What if it takes her… completely? What if the creature inside isn't content to coexist?" He clenched his fists, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like iron. His gaze fell to the hilt of his ceremonial sword lying across the table. Slowly, deliberately, he gripped it, feeling the cold steel against his palm.
"Will I… will I have to fight her?" he muttered, his tone tight with both fear and resolve. "Not her… not Anna… but a shell, a vessel of power I cannot control? My own daughter… or something she becomes…"
The room seemed to shrink around him, shadows curling as though listening, pressing in on his quiet, almost desperate contemplation. Valerius's jaw tightened. He could not—would not—allow the kingdom to fall to something he could not confront. And yet, the thought of raising his sword against the child he had sworn to protect gnawed at the very edge of his soul.
He loosened his grip slightly, but the tension did not fade. "No… I will find a way to guide it. Control it… if that is even possible. But I must be ready for everything."
Valerius's expression hardened, his mind settling into the cold precision that had made him both feared and respected across the empire. Whatever affection or hesitation lingered in his tone moments before was gone—buried beneath the mantle of the Emperor.
He turned toward the heavy oak door at the end of the chamber. "Send in my retainer," he commanded, his voice low but carrying the unmistakable weight of authority.
Moments later, the door opened with a soft creak. A tall man stepped inside, clad in black and silver imperial armor, his movements controlled and deliberate. His face was sharp, eyes as pale as winter steel. He knelt before Valerius without a word.
"Rise, Lord Cassian," Valerius said, gesturing for him to approach. The man stood, bowing his head slightly.
"You summoned me, Your Majesty."
Valerius folded his hands behind his back, pacing slowly toward the window overlooking the moonlit city below. "My daughter," he began, voice quiet but edged with unease. "There have been… developments. Her magic—no, what dwells within her—is changing. I want her movements monitored. Every class, every contact, every fluctuation in her aura."
Cassian inclined his head. "You suspect danger, sire?"
"I know there is danger," Valerius replied sharply. "But from what—or from whom—I cannot yet say. I need eyes that see what others miss. If this thing within her continues to grow unchecked, it could mean catastrophe."
The retainer nodded once. "Shall I use the Veil Watchers?"
Valerius turned to face him fully, the flicker of candlelight casting deep shadows over his features. "Yes. Quietly. She must never know. I want constant reports—her health, her power, her behavior. If there's any sign of instability…" He paused, his hand brushing once more against the hilt of his sword. "You'll inform me immediately."
Cassian bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty. The Watchers will not fail."
"See that they don't," Valerius said, his voice dropping to a whisper as Cassian turned to leave. His eyes drifted once more toward the dark horizon beyond the palace. "Because if they do… we may all pay the price."
Cassian bowed deeply once more, the faint scrape of his armor echoing softly in the vast, silent chamber. He turned to leave, his footsteps steady upon the marble floor.
Behind him, Valerius's gaze lingered on the dim light flickering across the throne's edge. His voice dropped to a near whisper, as though speaking more to himself than to the air.
"Bowed to her… as one would a sovereign," he murmured, the words carrying a weight that seemed to settle over the hall itself.
Cassian paused mid-step.
"Lord Cassian.." Valerius's voice rose again—calm, deliberate, and commanding. The sound halted him fully before the great doors.
The Emperor's words hung in the air like a command of fate. Cassian halted mid-step, glancing back.
Valerius's gaze had drifted—not toward the window, nor the throne, but somewhere far beyond the room. His eyes were distant, haunted by memory. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a low, measured tone, he murmured,
"My mother once told me… 'Power without balance consumes both wielder and world.'"
Valerius's fingers tightened slightly around the armrest of his chair, the faint creak of polished wood the only sound in the silence that followed. His eyes grew heavier, shadowed by memory and an unease that seemed to root deep within him.
"My mother," he said slowly, "believed that nothing in this world happens without purpose. That every ripple in the flow of magic… every anomaly… is the echo of something greater."
He rose from his seat, crimson robes whispering across the marble as he paced toward the window overlooking the darkened spires of the Imperial Palace. The moonlight caught the edge of his profile—strong, regal, but weighed by doubt.
"She used to tell me," he continued, his tone low and grim, "that when power manifests where it should not, it is not simply born—it is answering something. A balance shifting… or being broken." He turned slightly, eyes glinting like embers. "Whatever resides within Anna… it may not be coincidence. It may be a response."
Cassian frowned faintly. "Response, my lord?"
Valerius nodded once. "Yes. To something else. Something older… or worse. If her condition—if the creature within her—is awakening, then something out there may have stirred first. Perhaps it was born. Or perhaps…" His voice dipped lower. "...it has returned."
The words lingered in the air like a prophecy unspoken.
Valerius stood silent for a long moment, his gaze turning outward again. Then, abruptly, his expression hardened with resolve. "Cassian."
"Your Majesty."
"Send scouts throughout the kingdom," Valerius ordered, his tone sharp now, decisive. "Through every border, every province, every ruin and ley crossing. Have them look for disturbances—surges of mana, creature migrations, ancient sites shifting or awakening. Anything unusual, no matter how small. I want it all reported directly to me."
Cassian bowed deeply. "At once, my Emperor."
As the retainer turned to leave, Valerius's voice softened, almost to himself.
"If something is coming… I need to know what to do before it finds her first."
The heavy doors of the council chamber closed behind Valerius with a low, echoing thud. His footsteps carried down the marble corridor, each one sharp and deliberate, the kind that made even the patrolling guards straighten as he passed. The torches along the walls flickered in his wake, throwing his shadow long and dark across the polished floor.
He did not slow—not through the winding hall of banners, nor past the quiet alcoves where portraits of emperors past gazed down with hollow eyes. His thoughts were a storm, circling back to Anna… to the creature inside her… and to the gnawing truth that there were still pieces missing from that night six years ago.
By the time he reached the royal chambers, the firelight from within cast a faint orange glow beneath the door. He didn't bother to knock.
The doors opened with a forceful swing, startling the woman seated by the hearth.
Empress Selene turned, her silver hair glinting in the firelight. Her expression softened at first—then hardened as she took in the look on his face. "Valerius?"
He stopped just short of her, every muscle taut with restrained fury. "Tell me," he said, his voice low but edged with command. "Everything you know about what really happened six years ago."
Selene blinked, her calm composure faltering. "Six years ago? You mean—"
Valerius's voice cut through the chamber, sharp and unrelenting. "The resonance surge," he finished for her, each word weighted with accusation. "The day chaos itself tore through our walls. The day my mother—Grand Empress Aeloria—died."
His tone darkened further, the air seeming to tighten around them. "You were there, Selene. You saw what happened. And ever since that day, you've spoken of it only in fragments—half-truths and silence. No more."
He stepped closer, his shadow falling across her face. "You will tell me everything. What really happened in that chamber. What you're still hiding."
Selene's lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. The flames reflected in her eyes trembled with her breath.
Valerius's jaw clenched, his voice low but trembling with a restrained edge of pain. "Don't test me on this. I can see it in your eyes—you know something I don't. You've always known."
The silence stretched until the faint crack of the firewood seemed deafening.
Valerius closed the final distance between them in two strides. His hands came to rest on Selene's shoulders—not harshly, but with the unyielding weight of desperation. The Empress flinched under his touch, her breath catching as his eyes met hers, burning with something far deeper than anger.
"I need to know," he said, voice breaking through the tension like a blade through glass. The firelight caught in his gaze, turning the wet glint in his eyes into molten gold. "Anna's life is at stake here."
Selene's composure wavered completely then. The Empress of Astoria—the woman who had held her ground through wars, betrayals, and the death of an empress—looked suddenly fragile beneath his stare. Her lips trembled, and she shook her head, not in denial, but in fear.
"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "If I tell you what truly happened that night… if I speak it aloud… you'll wish I hadn't."
Valerius tightened his grip, his voice steady but pleading now. "Then let me bear it. Whatever truth you've buried, whatever curse still lingers—I won't stand blind while my daughter is consumed by the same shadows that took my mother."
Selene's eyes closed, and a tear slipped down her cheek, catching the firelight before it fell. The silence stretched again, heavy and alive. Then—quietly, as if admitting a sin—she whispered,
"It wasn't just Chaos that night, Valerius."
Her eyes lifted to his, haunted.
"It was something older..."