Last night, late midnight....
The night hung over Ramsis Castle like a heavy crown—black and ancient, steeped in silence. Within the imperial bedchamber.
The air was scented with white lilac and the metallic whisper of divine wards slowly fading.
Queen Sarah Tur lay beside her husband, Emperor Moses Tur, whose breathing was shallow, each exhale a hymn on the edge of death or divinity.
He did not move. His flesh glowed faintly with the golden fever of ascension.
He was no longer entirely mortal—nor entirely god.
Sarah brushed a strand of brown hair from his face. Her fingers trembled, for the warmth beneath his skin was not humanly warm.
"You are still alive, my light." she whispered. "But not for me, not for us."
A rustle crept through the curtains. The moonlight thickened, and from the shadows descended something obscene. An Outer Deity wearing the mask of a squid.
Its translucent limbs unfurling like scripture written in sin. Its eyes were wells of hunger, its voice the sound of drowning prayers.
"Queen of the Fading Line," it murmured, hovering near the bed, "lend me thy crown of thought. I shall take but a morsel of your dreaming."
Sarah froze in sudden voice however there was none. The thing reached a tendril toward her temple from behind.
The door burst open. A soldier clad in silver armor knelt quickly. "Your Majesty! You cannot remain unguarded. Since His Majesty entered the Servant stage, the veil has thinned—these things slip through like smoke!"
The thing vanished automatically in the presence of who was approaching.
Sarah smiled lightly, though tears gleamed on her lashes. "Leave us, Sir Alden. I know what lurks beyond the veil. Yet he has always slept alone. Shall I abandon him when heaven itself tries to devour his name?"
The soldier hesitated, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. Outside of the windows, a chorus of Outer Deities gathered in the mist. Their forms blurred like clouds forming monstrous faces. Alden took a step forward.
"He is too close to Uptie Four-Two. The Servant state is unstable! Every person who reached that height was undone by what they beheld!"
Sarah rose from the bed, her silken robe dragging across the marble like spilled moonlight. "Then let me be undone beside him."
The squid creature hiding there in colourless appearance, shuddered. Its limbs coiled. It spoke in a voice that cracked the mirror on the wall.
"He will not awaken as your husband, mortal queen. When the crown of Artorias descends, love shall be ashen."
Sarah turned, eyes luminous. "Then I will burn with him."
Outside, thunder whispered. The air thickened—thousands of Outer Deities pressing against the castle's invisible shell.
Through the cracks in space, spectral hands reached toward the Emperor's bed, grasping for his divine spark. The walls bled with faint light.
Alden raised his sword, holy runes flaring. "Stand back!"
Sarah did not move. She leaned in beside her husband, laying her forehead against his chest. "My emperor, my life's owner.… if you rise, remember the warmth of mortal hearts.
Remember the woman who refused to fear the dark."
The squid screeched, its form unraveling under the soldier's blade, ichor spilling into the air and vanishing like black smoke.
But others were coming—many others.
And still, Emperor Moses Tur slept. His eyes fluttering, his mouth forming words not meant for men.
In that moment, as the castle quaked and the veil trembled, Sarah whispered her vow,
"If heaven covets you, I will curse heaven itself."
Alden's blade sang through the chamber. A hymn of steel, slicing through shadow and unholy flesh alike.
The last of the deities shrieked as his strike cleaved its form into lightless vapor.
Each movement was deliberate, almost reverent, as if he fought not for duty, but to preserve something sacred.
The air trembled with divinity's dying breath.
When the final creature inside the room fell silent, the candlelight steadied.
The Emperor's golden aura lingered slightly above.
Queen Sarah leaned at his bedside, hair undone, trembling like the flame beside her.
Alden turned slowly, sword dripping with strange, colorless ichor that vanished before touching the ground.
He sheathed it, bowing lower.
"It's not over, Your Majesty." he said softly, his voice warm with the gentleness of a man who understood loss.
"You should rest. The guards are stationed at every corridor and gate. None shall breach these walls again tonight."
Sarah raised her eyes, still glistening from tears and exhaustion. "Do you think they'll stop?"
He looked toward the moonlit window. The mist beyond shifted, just slightly. "No," Alden admitted, "but we will make them bleed for every inch they dare to take."
A quiet passed between them.
A silence heavy yet strangely peaceful. He stepped closer, knelt beside her. "My Queen…. you have stood against things that would break the hearts of Buddha's. You have done enough for one night. Let the living guard the dying and let hope rest with you."
Her gaze drifted to the Emperor's face, serene yet distant, as though he were listening to the stars. "Hope," she murmured, "is a cruel light, Alden. But I will keep it."
He smiled faintly. "Then the Empire still stands."
Outside, faint horns echoed through the city, calling the watch to vigilance.
Soldiers marched ahead like silver phantoms beneath the moon. The castle's great banners, marked with the twin suns of Ramsis, swayed in the cold wind.
Sarah adjusted the blanket over Moses Tur's chest. The faint shimmer of his divine pulse bathed her fingers in gold. "Sleep, my love." she whispered. "Don't forget the faces that wait for you."
Alden watched the sight with quiet reverence. For the first time that night, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to stand against the gods.
He turned toward the door, the lingering scent of burned divinity in the air. "Rest, my Queen. I will see to the perimeter."
Sarah nodded. "And Alden—"
Alden paused.
"—if he wakes as something more than man, remind him that he once ruled among us, not above us.... before I abandon my last breath."
Alden bowed deeply, eyes solemn. "I will carve that truth into the stars if I must."
The doors shut behind him.
Sarah sat in the quiet glow of her husband's half-divine radiance.
Outside the walls, dawn began to stir. Its first light trembled against the horizon like a promise written in blood and gold.
....
Today, present time, late morning.
Johan Graham stood atop the Clock Tower Square, his light-cloak fluttering softly in the morning breeze.
Below, the city stirred to life. Merchants opening their stalls, carriages rolling over cobblestones, pigeons bursting from rooftops like clouds of restless thought.
He barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the flickering glyphs of his locator device. A thin, golden compass etched with runes that once pointed unerringly toward its target.
But now, it stuttered. The needle spun aimlessly, as if drunk or afraid. "Bizarro Solace of Sun…." Johan muttered under his breath, his voice quiet but sharp with irritation. "You can't hide forever."
For days, the signal had been clear — a pulse of radiant energy impossible to mistake.
And then, as if swallowed by the void, it vanished. The best Johan could get now were short bursts, fleeting voices that blurred like half-remembered dreams.
He sighed, pushing his hair back as the clock below struck ten. Maybe it was fate's way of saying wait. But the problem is, he wasn't built for waiting.
"Guess I will kill some time." he murmured with a smirk.
He thought about heading back to meet Elior, Tom, Arlong and the others. It had been a while since he had seen them laugh, argue or nearly destroy something by accident.
The thought eased the weight in his chest a little.
The compass flickered again, a eerie murmur in the east . There, and then gone.
Johan pocketed it. "Alright then," he said. "I will wait…. but not forever."
The wind brushed Johan's cloak as he descended from the tower.
The morning light reflected on the sigil stitched into his sleeve — a silver crescent intertwined with a burning sunburst. The mark of the Sect, Crescent Aurora Hive.
Few truly understood what the Sect was. Officially, it is basically a divine Organisation. There are countless Sects but among them only 12 are recognisable.
A bridge between livings and the higher constellations. Unofficially, it was a peace-born order.
Members of "Crescent Aurora Hive" like Johan worked under the unseen gaze of a deity known only as "The Omega Light", completing missions and hunting relics in exchange for Shards, fragments of cosmic permission that allowed land-living beings to attune with the Constellations themselves.
Each task, when reward is earned, it deepened one's link to the God and chances of survival with might.… but also tightened the leash.
Johan had seen his numerous comrades lose themselves. Their minds drowned in celestial noise, their souls rewritten by the constellations they sought to command.
Still, he stayed. All the Sect's rewards were unmatched and its reach infinite. Working alone in this world was suicide; at least in the Sects, chaos had structure. Even if it was a dying star's kind of order.
He adjusted his gloves and glanced at the horizon, where the sun rose like an omen. Another mission would come soon.
Another shard to chase. Another risk worth taking.
"Those who fear the end...." he muttered, reciting the Hive's motto with a wry smile, "....have not seen the beauty of it yet."
And with that, Johan walked into the crowd. The clock tower behind him faded into the hum of the waking city.