"There is no magic in the Empire."
—Article I, Imperial Charter, Fourth Reign
"Then why did the stones weep when we opened them?"
—Jacob, Assistant Magistrate of the Southern County
---
Below: The Chamber of Truthless Light
The seal broke with a sigh.
A soft sound. Ancient, breathless.
Jacob held the lantern aloft as the circle of stone slid away, revealing a spiraling staircase made not of stone—but root, bone, and blackened silver.
David muttered, "I'm going to need a raise."
They descended, step by step, into a subterranean sanctum unlike anything documented in Imperial history.
The walls were etched with symbols long outlawed—constellations out of order, moons drawn as open eyes, prayers carved backward to mask their meaning.
And then, the chamber.
It wasn't large, but it pulsed with something—not magic, not quite.
Memory.
On the floor was a pedestal, and upon it, three small ceramic urns. They were sealed with red wax and marked with the initials:
F. T. M.
"Frella. Tess. Mayra…" Jacob whispered.
David stepped closer. "These weren't just offerings. These were anchors."
"To what?" Jacob asked.
He didn't need an answer.
Because something unseen in the chamber turned toward them then.
Not with malice.
Not with welcome.
With awareness.
---
Above: The Court of Law and War
In the golden tower of the Imperial City, Empress Regina sat before a small assembly of her inner court.
Lord Simon, the Lord of Justice, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Lord Orlando, the Lord of War, leaned forward, reading the parchment Joseline had sent.
"The Red Veil…" Orlando muttered. "A myth. A bedtime ghost tale."
Simon's jaw tightened. "No longer. And there are implications more dire than cult activity."
He turned to the Empress.
"Your Majesty, if even half of this report is accurate, then it proves the greatest heresy since the Fifth Reign. Magic—true magic—has endured. In hiding. Possibly even in bloodlines."
Regina, ever calm, gave only the flick of an eyebrow. "Continue."
Simon placed a hand on the table.
"The Carwell family were no mere cultists. Their rituals were part of a system—an unlawful cultivation path, hidden in rites passed down for generations. They used blood and fear to feed it. And they were not alone."
Lord Orlando looked up, steel in his eyes.
"If nobility has kept this from us..."
Regina stood.
And the room fell silent.
"Then we root them out. All of them," she said. "Not for rebellion—but for denying the people the truth of this world."
---
Back Below: The Echo That Shouldn't Exist
Jacob reached toward the urns—then paused.
A strange vibration pulsed beneath his fingertips.
David pulled him back.
"Don't," he said. "We found it. That's enough."
But Jacob's voice came like a whisper from the stone itself.
"No… this is just the edge."
He stared into the darkness beyond the chamber's wall, where the faint outline of a doorway without a door shimmered.
Not closed.
Just waiting.
---
Elsewhere — An Unseen Council
In the north, west, and even deep within the Imperial City, sigils hidden in noble rings began to faintly glow.
The Red Veil was not dead.
It was watching.
The Weight of a Decree
The light of day never felt stranger.
As Jacob and David stepped out of the chamber and sealed the stair behind them, the world above carried on—merchants barking, birds circling the chapel spires, and townsfolk unaware that ancient truths had been found and disturbed.
Joseline Ace stood waiting at the foot of the hill, her violet cloak fluttering slightly in the wind. She had been reviewing reports all morning, but her eyes were sharp—too sharp to miss the change in Jacob's posture.
"You saw it," she said.
"We did," Jacob replied. "It was real."
"Good," she said, and handed him a scroll.
Sealed in gold.
Stamped with the Empress's sunburst sigil.
Jacob's hands hesitated before breaking it open. The decree was brief, yet world-shifting:
> By order of the Empress Regina and the Council of Inner Light, all noble houses within the southern county are to be investigated for treasonous acts of concealment, unlawful cultic practice, and ties to the heretical Red Veil. The Assistant Magistrate Jacob of the South is granted temporary High Mandate Authority to pursue this investigation fully and without obstruction.
Jacob blinked.
David whistled. "You've gone from paper boy to Emperor's sword."
Joseline nodded. "The Empire needs symbols right now. You're it."
---
A Shifting Office
They returned to the magistrate's hall that evening.
But it was quiet. Too quiet.
Inside, a clerk with watery eyes informed them: "The Magistrate took ill this morning. Fever struck sudden. The physician says he'll live, but he'll be bedridden for weeks."
Jacob clenched the scroll in his hand.
Joseline only gave a quiet nod.
"As per the line of authority," she said, loud enough for the staff to hear, "Assistant Magistrate Jacob now oversees all matters of court and investigation in this county. Effective immediately."
The room stood stunned.
Jacob didn't feel victorious. He felt... heavy.
But he stepped forward all the same.
"Then let's begin."
---
Hunting Shadows in Marble Halls
The next day, the names were drawn:
House Revenes: A family of poets and patrons.
House Elbrecht: Miners turned silk barons.
House Dane: Old blood. Older rumors.
And five others.
Each family received formal summons. Some complied swiftly—others took insult.
Jacob and David split their efforts.
Some interviews were cordial, others bristling with veiled threats.
But it was House Dane that drew their attention first.
Their estate was ancient, forest-wrapped, with statues of weeping angels at every gate.
A Dane servant tried to turn them away.
Joseline arrived two hours later with a squad of officers and a signed arrest order for obstruction.
That night, House Dane's crypt was unsealed.
Inside: the skeletal remains of a girl no older than sixteen—buried not in honor, but branded with the eye of the Veil.
---
The Map Forms
By the end of the week, Jacob had pinned red ribbons between all the noble houses in a great, webbed board in the magistrate's chamber. Connections once hidden were now visible.
David tapped the longest thread.
"All this," he said, "from one missing maid."
Jacob stared at the growing network.
"No," he whispered. "This was always here. The Empire just finally opened its eyes."