Deep within the continent of Delta, shadows moved like whispers. The city of Veilspire, capital of secrets and lies, was alive with masks—both literal and metaphorical. Beneath its gleaming towers and mirrored halls, a gathering unlike any other took place.
In the throne of darkness, Regent Sylvia Ravenshade stood before the Mirror of Echoes, her hands glowing with ink-black mana.
"Alex," she said, the name like venom on her tongue.
The mirror responded, reflecting not her face but his—half-Saint, half-human, forged in secrecy and fire. She stared into his burning eyes, studying every flicker of rebellion.
"You should never have been born."
A voice behind her answered coolly, "And yet, here he is. The world changes, my Lady Spider."
It was Alistair Vael, Grand Sage of Epsilon, his robes smoldering with arcane runes and living glyphs. He looked like a man stitched together from knowledge and madness.
Sylvia turned to him. "The Emperor wants him gone. Can you deliver?"
Alistair smiled faintly. "Oh, I can do more than that. I can erase the possibility of him. We'll scour Zeta. Cleanse it of its filth. And if the boy wants to rise like a god—" he raised a gloved hand, "—then we'll show him how gods die."
---
Twilight Mobile Camp – Deep Zeta
Alex sat around the mission table with Kael, Nyssa, and a few key Twilight officers. The room buzzed with tension. Mana signals had been intercepted—Imperial war mages were converging. Not scouts. Not assassins. A full force.
"Delta, Beta, and Epsilon forces. Together," Kael reported. "This is no longer a containment op. It's an execution."
"They're afraid," Nyssa said, smirking. "And when they're afraid, they make mistakes."
Alex nodded slowly. "Then we make our move."
He tapped a section of the map — an ancient ruin in the Zetan chasm known as The Vault of Oracles, believed to house one of the last unbroken pre-Suppression archives.
"If we can reach it before they do, we'll uncover the full truth about what the Saints did to humanity. Proof we can broadcast."
Kael raised a brow. "Even if we get it, they'll destroy anything we try to share."
"Not if we don't share it directly," Alex said. "We'll let their own people hear it."
Kael blinked. "You want to leak it through Delta's underground network."
Nyssa grinned. "Using their own spy system against them. I love it."
---
Delta – A Spy's Quarters
Duchess Mira Dagon read the encoded message with shaking fingers. Her blood ran cold.
"The Vault," she whispered. "He's really going for it."
A beat of hesitation. A flicker of loyalty. Then, with practiced precision, she began writing her own code—one that would reach the Twilight cell embedded in Delta's royal archive.
"If Alex lives," she whispered, "then the empire dies."
---
Elsewhere – Imperial Airborne Armada
From the sky, the heavens burned.
Dragons forged in Epsilon labs. Sky-cruisers from Gamma's wealth. Warrior legions under Beta's flag. The Saints weren't just coming. They were marching toward war.
And at their heart stood Empress Lysandra Kallisto, sword drawn, eyes fierce.
"Find the boy," she commanded. "And remind the world what it means to defy gods."