Chapter 8: LAW OF ATTRACTION
With the Emperial Estate now visible through the thinning crowd, Sally, Siah, and Stetto pushed forward, the tension in the air growing thicker with each step.
As they neared the grand gates of the Estate, Siah stopped abruptly. He turned to his mother, his voice hushed but firm.
"It's better we keep a safe distance from the gate... just in case something happens when the crowd rushes to be touched by the Acme's wife."
Stetto nodded in agreement. "Yeah... this spot is good fleeing if things go wrong."
Before any more words could be exchanged, a wave of excited murmuring swept through the masses. The crowd's anticipation cracked into a roar as a female figure stepped out of the Emperial Castle.
She walked with grace, seven figures trailing her like celestial shadows. Their presence alone triggered thunderous cheers, voices rising in unison, demanding blessings from Santis Grelon himself.
They begged for divine recognition from the Grand Chancellor and the Seven Heads of the Major Noble Houses.
The Grand Chancellor, raised her hand in a serene wave — a signal for silence.
A hush fell over the crowd.
She began to speak, her voice calm but commanding.
"Subjects, followers, and worshippers of the First Acme, Santis Grelon...
He, born of the Blood of the Creator, blesses this gathering.
As he welcomes his beloved new wife into the Grelon Empire,
May the Breath guide her. Amen."
The prayer finished, the people erupted. Some fell to their knees, weeping uncontrollably. Others screamed with joy, trembling as if touched by graced by the Acme's presence.
Some even claimed aloud that "his Breath has entered their soul."
Sally's frustration melted away. Her hardened face softened.
Beside her, Siah and Stetto stood still — stiff, quiet, and expressionless amid the wave of euphoria.
Everyone else wept. Everyone else bowed.
Stetto leaned in, eyes darting across the scene in disbelief.
"Did someone do something to them?" he whispered.
Siah responded softly. "I think they just want to believe... that someone does."
Stetto exhaled, almost in frustration. "Sometimes wishes have... unfavorable results."
Siah nodded grimly. His eyes dulled, his face sinking into a quiet hopelessness.
Sally tugged on both of them, forcing them to kneel.
Reluctantly, they complied — joining the ocean of bowed heads.
The Grand Chancellor raised her hand once again. Silence swept over the crowd like wind over wheat.
Then she proclaimed:
"People of the Grelon Empire,
Now is the time to welcome the new Bearer of Breath —The Mother of Covenants. She who will usher in the heir of Dyson. Her soul, reforged with the Flame of Archaea, Cleansed and baptized in the waters of Teria!"
The crowd erupted again — but this time, the awe was different. Quieter. More reverent.
Then came the footsteps.
Delicate.
Measured.
Each step was a note in a silent symphony, a dance of elegance.
Her presence emerged slowly from the entrance of the castle. Her figure stepped into full visibility — a living flame of mystique.
The masses froze. Breathless.
Time seemed to collapse under her weight.
No words. No gestures. No movement.
She had ensnared them all with beauty alone.
Tongues lay numb. Eyes were fixed. Even knees could not rise.
From the heart of the Capital, cheers sparked — growing louder, wave after wave, cresting uphill toward the Emperial gates.
It was not cheering. It was worship.
The sound of millions drowned the city, vibrating even the empty buildings. Foundations trembled. Windows cracked from joy. Streets themselves seemed to sing.
And within that moment, inside her own head — Hailey thought:
"What do they even love about me?"
"There's nothing to praise..."
"It'd be better to be dead than some political puppet."
She faked a smile, hollow as her thoughts.
From a nearby tower, Theal watched her with wary eyes. Next to him, Cael Ardour clapped his hands in forced delight.
Theal narrowed his eyes.
"What a fake man," he thought.
Just as the final wave of applause began to subside — preparing for the Acme's new wife to speak — a strange chant echoed through the Emperial grounds.
A voice, distorted yet firm, chanted:
"Complex Plain, Decoherence."
The wind buckled.
As if the air was being dismantled, Hailey's body began to fade.