The great bell of Lumisgrave rang twice—low and solemn—echoing through every carved pillar of the capital palace. Above the throne hall, a pair of palace falcons circled in silence as if acknowledging the arrival of something more than just a message.
Inside the Council Hall, King Farhan sat upright on his obsidian throne, his long white-and-black hair braided in streaks of ceremonial silver. A golden scroll embossed with Kaivelle's royal seal lay open on the table before him. Every face in the room bore the weight of the words they had just heard.
Queen Maria of Kaivelle had extended an invitation—not just to Lumisgrave, but to kingdoms across Aerith's Spine—for a neutral magical event meant to "unite, assess, and understand the rising of powers."
King Farhan's dark eyes lifted slowly. "This is no ordinary event," he said, voice steady but commanding. "It's a test. And perhaps a trap."
Julious stepped forward. "Your Majesty, this could be our opportunity to mend what was broken after the conflict with Kaivelle."
Council members nodded with cautious interest. Even Parche, the skeptic, wore a thoughtful look. Rivers leaned back, arms crossed. Camero tapped his finger against the hilt of his blade.
Kaelen, leader of the Zeniths, and Rheon, commander of the Apex ranks, stood among them—both cloaked in muted armor, like mountains waiting to rise.
Farhan tapped his finger against the scroll. "And whom do you think we should send?"
Immediately, multiple voices suggested in unison: "Zeniths," "Apex elites," "A mix of both."
Farhan raised his hand. Silence blanketed the room like a storm cloud.
"No," he said. "I will not send Zeniths or Apex."
A pause.
Julious tilted his head. "Then… who?"
The King rose to his full height, his majestic robes sweeping behind him like fire trailing ash. "The Mythics."
The air stiffened.
Parche's brow furrowed. "But they're still… undefined. Unpolished."
"Exactly," the king said. "They've been thrust into battles, demon sites, and chaos. They've endured. But this event will temper them further. It will teach them the world outside Lumisgrave's walls. Their powers are still forming—this journey will shape their control. Zeniths and Apex know their might. The Mythics are still becoming."
Julious smiled faintly. "A brilliant way to mold them. And to observe."
Rheon nodded. "And what of security?"
"They will not go alone," Farhan replied. "The Zeniths and Apex shall remain to safeguard our kingdom. And should anything occur, they'll be ready to intervene. But for Kaivelle—only the Mythics."
Agreement spread like fire through the room. The vote was unanimous.
The King then adjourned the meeting with a solemn nod. "Prepare them."
---
Later That Day — Castle Courtyard
The sun had begun to sink behind the western cliff walls, bathing the capital in hues of fire and gold. Shadows danced across the courtyard where the Mythic-ranked individuals gathered, cloaks fluttering in the highland breeze.
Arslan stood silently at the edge, his black hoodie flickering faintly with his dark energy aura. His eyes scanned the horizon beyond the gates, calm but cold.
Just as the group began to mount their steeds and carriages, King Farhan's voice thundered gently across the stone. "Arslan."
Arslan paused, turning to see the king motioning for him to follow.
Without a word, he obeyed.
Julious waited at the side entrance, and the three walked in silence through the palace's inner halls until they reached a private chamber—a sanctum of royal magic. Lanterns burned with blue flames. Ancient books lined the walls. The air carried a certain weight.
King Farhan motioned for the doors to close. "You deserve to know the truth before you leave."
Arslan's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.
Julious stepped forward. "Queen Maria didn't just invite Mythics… she asked for you."
Arslan blinked once. "Me?"
Farhan nodded slowly. "Apparently, their royal dragon—Aurellion—had a vision. A boy of black flame standing atop a fallen god. They believe that boy… is you."
A breath caught in Arslan's throat.
Farhan continued. "Initially, I refused. You've seen what Kaivelle did in the past. I would not risk our future on their visions."
"But?" Arslan asked.
"But after Maria came here… I saw a different side. She seeks alliance, not blood. I believe this is the best moment to open that door."
Julious added, "And so, we are sending you… but under one condition."
Farhan leaned in. "Your identity must remain hidden. To them, you are just another Mythic."
Arslan's voice was quiet but firm. "And if they challenge me?"
"Then show your full power," Julious said. "But not your name."
Farhan gave him a rare look of softness. "There will be spies. From kingdoms far worse than Kaivelle. Stay alert. And don't get caught up in their games."
Arslan nodded. "I'll take care of everything."
From the shadow behind, the flames of Kar'Thæl shimmered to life. "And I will take care of him."
Farhan gave a solemn nod. "Then go."
---
At the Castle Gates
The Mythics stood gathered—sixteen in total. Vaelith adjusted the cuffs of his robe. Zhalya ran a hand through her braid, blood-sight flickering briefly. Ismere gazed up at the sky with distant red eyes. The atmosphere pulsed with rising tension and excitement.
The king emerged, flanked by Julious and Arslan.
A hush fell.
Farhan raised his voice, rich and commanding.
"You are not just soldiers. You are flame-bearers of Lumisgrave. Mythics. Beacons of a rising age."
He stepped down the stairs, walking slowly among them.
"You will be tested—not just in magic or strength, but in loyalty. In spirit. You may walk into lands where enemies smile in golden crowns. Where kindness masks cruelty."
He stopped before Yuna and Maelis. "You are not there to destroy."
Then he looked to Malrik and Orien. "But you will destroy if you must."
He turned to Arslan last. "And you—"
Arslan stood at attention.
"Lead not with pride. Lead with purpose."
Arslan bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Farhan's voice echoed one last time. "Return victorious… or do not return at all."
The wind howled as the gates opened.
The Mythics mounted their steeds—half on horseback, others in enchanted chariots of light, powered by energy runes etched by the Council of Surge.
The journey had begun.