A cold wind swept through Axis as the sun dipped below the hills. The Bell of Oath had fallen silent, yet its echo still rippled through hearts and soil alike.
Arin stood atop the northern tower, cape fluttering in the breeze. From this height, he could see the newborn sparks of life—villagers rebuilding, flames rekindled in stone hearths, women and men working together.
The revolution had begun not with violence, but a vow.
Yet peace never lingered long in a world built on control.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Three knocks echoed from the inner hall. Rhys entered, his silver eyes narrowed.
"A carriage has arrived from the Noctis Accord. Black banners. Silk wheels. And this…"
He handed Arin a scroll sealed with obsidian wax—twisted in the shape of a rose thorn.
Arin turned it in his fingers.
"Saelira," he muttered.
The Invitation
Inside, written in flawless, looping calligraphy:
"To Lord Arin, Oath-Bound King of the Unseen Crown,
You are formally invited to the Royal Banquet of Accordance, hosted in the Garden of Echoes, three nights hence.
Come alone. Come armed. Come honest."
"The world must see if you bleed like the rest of us."
—Empress Saelira Noctis
The scroll exhaled a thin wisp of perfume—violets and iron.
Elira, stepping into the room behind Rhys, read the note from over Arin's shoulder. Her jaw tightened.
"She's playing the game again. Emotional proximity mixed with veiled threat. Classic Saelira."
Arin let the scroll fall into the hearth.
"She wants to see if the Bell changed me. If I'm dangerous now."
Sarai, lounging by the stone desk, spoke up without lifting her gaze from her notes. "Or she wants to be changed by you. And just doesn't know how to ask."
The flames devoured the scroll.
Three Nights Later – The Garden of Echoes
Whssshhhh…Tall, whispering trees bent under violet lanterns. The Garden of Echoes shimmered with dream-light—an illusionary space suspended between timelines. Real and unreal. Floral and fatal.
Arin walked the stone path alone, wearing the ceremonial black of neutrality. At his side, the Blade of Vow rested in a blood-red sheath, humming faintly with restrained power.
"Welcome, Arin of Earth."
Saelira emerged from the mist, clad in layered silk that shimmered between indigo and midnight. Her black crown floated an inch above her head—unchained by gravity or mercy.
"You've grown," she said, her lips curling like a secret. "No longer a lamb. But not quite a wolf either."
Arin said nothing.
"You made an oath," she continued. "To love without chains. To build a kingdom with hearts, not walls."
She stepped closer, eyes deep as drowning wells.
"But can you love the enemy, Arin? Can you see the chain I wear… and still reach for my hand?"
The Banquet
The hall shimmered into view, its long table already filled with spectral women from across nations—queens, generals, priestesses, all watching.
Saelira gestured toward the empty seat beside her.
He sat.
"I brought no gifts," Arin said. "Only truth."
She smiled faintly. "Truth is a blade few carry well."
As dishes floated to the table—roasted sky-pheasant, dreamfruit, memorywine—Arin leaned forward.
"I know what you're planning."
A few of the women tensed.
"The Oracle Council is circling. They fear me. And you're testing the water to see if I'm a tool or a storm."
Saelira didn't deny it.
"I'm testing something else too," she said, voice like velvet. "If I let myself believe in you… if I submit, even for a moment, to emotion again… would you save me, Arin? Or break me?"
CLANG—!The sound of a wineglass shattering.
The entire banquet paused.
Arin stood. Slowly. Eyes fierce, voice low.
"I never asked for submission."
He looked at every woman present, gaze like fire through fog.
"I only ask this: If you fear the world I'm building… leave. If you want to change it—join me. But if you seek to twist it, to tame it, to own it…"
He unsheathed the Blade of Vow just an inch. It hissed.
"Then I promise—your hearts will not be spared just because they once beat for me."
Aftermath – A Conversation in the Garden
Later, as guests dispersed and illusions faded, Saelira approached him again.
"Why do you burn so brightly, Arin? Why don't you break like other men?"
He turned to her.
"Because I already did," he said softly. "In a world that expelled me, a system that erased me, and a love that forgot me."
He stepped forward.
"And now, I choose to rise from the ashes."
For the first time, Saelira looked… tired.
"I want to believe in that fire. But I've seen stars burn out before."
He leaned closer.
"Then stay long enough to see me ignite a sun."
In the Shadows
Far from the banquet, in a void between dreams, a figure watched the event unfold on a floating shard of mirror.
Mirror Arin folded his arms.
"So… you're forging bonds. Making vows. Speaking love to power."
He turned to a second mirror, where Aya's face flickered like static.
"I wonder, brother… when the past catches up, will your kingdom burn from the outside?"
His fingers glowed with static memory.
"Or from within?"