A storm loomed over the Empire—not of thunder and rain, but of forces more ancient, more dangerous. The gods watched from their celestial thrones, cold and unmoving. The Abyss whispered from its endless depths, its voice coiling through the cracks of reality. And in the heart of the Imperial Palace, Kael Valerius stood at the eye of it all, preparing to strike before the storm could break.
The war room burned with quiet intensity.
Maps and scrolls were spread across the carved obsidian table, strewn with sigils and blood-red markers denoting troop movements and noble holdings. Candlelight flickered with the occasional spark of enchantment, the shadows twitching like watching eyes. A subtle chill crept beneath the opulence, as though the palace itself sensed what was to come.
Empress Seraphina sat at the head of the table, her golden eyes twin blades behind her ornate mask of calm. Selene, ever the weapon, stood near the balcony doors—her arms crossed, her frame coiled, ready. Lady Mircea lounged in a chair with feline grace, the firelight catching in the crimson silk of her gown. Her smirk said she was enjoying herself far too much.
Kael stood, studying the map in silence.
"The Archons are moving," he said finally, his voice smooth as velvet, heavy as iron. "Quietly. Deliberately. They reach out to the noble houses like a surgeon wielding a blade. Not to inspire... but to dissect."
Selene's violet eyes narrowed. "Destabilization tactics. They're trying to bleed you without drawing a sword."
"They want the nobility to fracture," Seraphina said. "To erode your foundation before the next phase begins."
Kael's fingers traced a symbol etched in the map—House Velstara, a once-proud name, now tarnished by whispers and uncertain loyalties.
"They've approached the Velstara line," he said. "Offered them divine protection, and a future in the new order they plan to build."
Mircea laughed quietly. "Charming. Shame they think the Empire is a house of cards."
"They forget," Kael murmured, "that I built the house they now try to tear down."
Selene stepped closer. "You want them eliminated?"
"No," Kael said, lifting his gaze to her. "I want them... shattered."
A beat of silence followed—heavy, expectant.
Mircea's smile widened. "Ah. One of those nights."
Kael nodded once, then turned toward them fully, his cloak whispering against the marble floor. "This is not simply about removing a disloyal house. It's about sending a message."
Seraphina's eyes flicked to him, sharp and knowing. "To the nobles. Or to the gods?"
"To both," he said.
Selene shifted, thoughtful. "A large-scale strike will draw attention from the entire court—and the Church. We'd need precision. A small unit. No room for error."
Kael's expression didn't change. "We send no army."
Seraphina arched a brow. "Then who?"
"I will go," Kael said simply. "Myself. With ten of our finest."
Selene opened her mouth to protest—but stopped as Kael turned his gaze on her. There was no room for negotiation in those eyes. Only inevitability.
He continued, "The Archons want the nobility to question my strength. Tonight, they will remember what fear feels like."
Mircea leaned back, amusement glittering in her eyes. "Do you want them executed publicly or privately?"
Kael turned to the map, tapping the Velstara estate. "Public. The flames of their manor should be visible for leagues. Their sons are to be dragged into the square and made examples."
Seraphina's voice was low. "And the Lord?"
Kael's lips curled. "He will beg for death by the end."
Silence settled again, heavier than before.
Then Seraphina stood. "So be it."
Selene bowed her head. "I'll select the ten."
Kael turned toward the balcony, the city stretching before him in sleeping ignorance. "Tonight, I will burn a house to cinders. By dawn, every noble who spoke with the Archons will remember who rules this Empire."
"And the gods?" Mircea asked, her voice teasing but edged.
Kael did not look back. "They can watch."
The moon was a pale slit behind thick clouds as Kael stood at the edge of the courtyard. His armor was dark steel, enchanted with the sigils of House Valerius, and lined with cloth woven from voidsilk—a gift from his mother's realm. Beside him stood Selene, clad in dusk-gray leathers, her blade at her side. Behind them, ten of the Empire's finest—silent, shadow-wrapped, each bearing a mark of loyalty carved into their wrist.
Velstara awaited.
"Ready?" Selene asked softly.
Kael's eyes gleamed. "Always."
They rode under the cover of night, cloaked in silence and dread. The journey to the Velstara estate was brief—through forests twisted by war, past villages that had once belonged to rival lords Kael had long since extinguished. The manor itself was perched atop a hillside, its banners still bearing the golden phoenix.
By dawn, it would bear only ash.
Kael raised a hand. The group halted.
With a flick of his fingers, the spell triggered.
A ripple passed through the earth—then silence. The outer wards shattered like glass. The Velstara guards barely had time to react before the shadows descended.
Kael moved first—his blade silent, his magic whispering death into the air. Bolts of black flame erupted, engulfing towers. Screams tore through the night, followed by the crack of shattering stone.
Selene moved with him, her strikes efficient, lethal.
They reached the main hall in minutes.
Lord Velstara stood at the top of the stairwell, clutching a sword too heavy for his trembling hands. His sons flanked him, half-dressed, eyes wild with panic.
"Kael Valerius," the lord spat. "This is treason."
"No," Kael said, stepping forward. "This is judgment."
And then there was only fire.
The sun rose over smoldering ruin.
The Velstara estate had been reduced to blackened stone and scorched banners. The lord's body hung from the main gate, a message carved into his chest in runes that glowed with dark magic:
"Those who kneel to false gods shall be broken."
Kael stood at the edge of the estate, his cloak whipping in the morning wind. The nobles would wake to the news. The Archons would see the result.
And the gods?
They would understand that Kael Valerius was not their pawn.
He was the storm that shattered thrones.
To be continued…