The grand hall of the Imperial Palace shimmered under the glow of suspended mana crystals, their light soft and unnatural, casting ghostlike shadows across the opulent marble. Golden chandeliers hung like inverted crowns, frozen above a battlefield where no blood would spill—only secrets, whispers, and ambition.
Kael Nightshade sat at the high table, cloaked in a tailored coat of shadow-black cloth laced with silver runes. The glyphs pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat restrained. His silence was not absence—it was domination. Every noble in the hall felt him. Not because he demanded their attention, but because their instincts told them to watch.
The fall of Lucian had sent tremors through the Empire. The hero—once the symbol of divine favor—had shattered. In his place, a new symbol had risen. Not ordained by prophecy. Forged by force.
A herald stepped forward. His voice, crisp and ceremonial, cut through the low murmur.
"The Duke of Ebonthorn, Lord Kael Nightshade."
A ripple passed through the crowd. Some nobles dipped their heads in guarded respect. Others turned away, unwilling to meet the eyes of the man who had brought down their golden child.
Kael stood, his movement smooth, deliberate. The runes on his coat flared once—enough to remind them all that his power was not just political.
His gaze swept the hall. Crimson eyes met blue, gold, and green. None held longer than a second.
"I stand before you not as a conqueror," Kael began, voice calm, each word deliberate, "but as a man who has seen the cracks in the foundation you've called sacred."
The tension spiked.
"For too long," he continued, "we've propped up fragile ideals. We've placed blind faith in a single figure—a hero, a prophecy, a lie. But when that figure falls, as he did… what remains?"
He let silence fall like a blade.
"A broken system. A leadership that prays for salvation rather than earning it."
Murmurs stirred. Truth was always unsettling.
"Power should not be inherited. It should be taken. Shaped. Forged. Not whispered from thrones—but declared in fire."
An elder noble, trembling but composed, spoke. "And what do you offer, Lord Kael?"
Kael turned his gaze upon the man, offering a slow, razor-edged smile.
"A future where the weak no longer strangle the strong."
Gasps followed. Some nodded, others paled.
A younger noble—bold or foolish—stepped forward. "And who leads such a future?"
Kael's smile remained. "Who, indeed?"
Then—the doors opened.
A gust of cold wind extinguished several floating lights. The sudden darkness was not total—but it was felt.
A figure stepped into the hall.
No introduction. No herald.
None was needed.
She moved like moonlight on black water—graceful, liquid, and absolutely lethal. Her gown clung like smoke, stitched with infernal sigils that writhed if stared at too long. Her crimson eyes gleamed with ageless cruelty and an amusement only predators knew.
The Empress of the Underworld. The Queen of the Black Veil. Kael's mother.
The nobles froze. Even those who had fought in wars shrank beneath her presence.
She crossed the marble floor without sound, stopping before Kael.
Her hand—long fingers tipped with obsidian nails—traced the collar of his coat, then rested against his chest.
"My son," she murmured, voice velvet and venom. "You've been busy."
The court forgot how to breathe.
Kael didn't flinch. "I do what is necessary."
A pleased smile touched her lips. "Spoken like my blood."
Her eyes turned on the gathered nobility—each of them ants beneath her gaze.
"And yet," she mused, "you cling to your dust-covered traditions, hoping the wind won't sweep you away."
One noble, too proud or too foolish, tried to speak.
"This is a political court, not a—"
Her gaze touched him.
And he stopped breathing.
His body locked. A tremor passed through him. The color drained from his skin.
She did not move. She did not need to.
Then, mercifully, the pressure released. He stumbled back, gasping, broken in spirit.
She chuckled, soft and sharp.
"I adore politics."
Kael's smirk returned.
This was no longer a speech.
It was a coronation.
To be continued....