"You lost them?" Lucifer's voice was low, edged with disbelief rather than anger, his piercing gaze fixed on Morvain.
Morvain kept his head bowed, but his tone was steady. "Yes, my lord. They vanished before we could reach them."
Lucifer leaned back slightly on his golden throne, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. "Vanished…" he repeated, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "That old man must be more than he appears."
Morvain finally raised his head. "I'll find them," he said firmly. "No matter where they've gone."
"You don't need to worry about that anymore." Lucifer's lips curved into a faint, cunning smile. "I don't think you'll be able to find them."
The ministers exchanged uneasy glances, the air in the Osric court thick with tension. The golden throne gleamed faintly under the torchlight as silence settled once more. Lucifer rose from his seat, his cloak sweeping behind him like a living shadow.
"That will be all," he said flatly, his voice echoing through the marble pillars. Without another glance at the trembling officials, he turned and strode out of the hall, Morvain following close behind.
The moment the grand doors closed, the ministers let out the breaths they'd been holding. One of them, Baruk, finally spoke up, his tone weary and filled with dread.
"I hope this will not result in this kingdom's downfall."
The others nodded gravely, whispers rippling through their ranks. Even the white-haired minister, the oldest among them, narrowed his eyes and said nothing—his silence was louder than words.
Meanwhile, Lucifer and Morvain walked through the long corridor that led to the royal chambers. The torches flickered as they passed, their flames bending as if bowing to the darkness that clung to Lucifer's very presence. Morvain trailed a few paces behind, lost in thought. His mind swirled with questions, his sharp eyes fixed on Lucifer's back.
After some time, Lucifer's low voice broke the silence.
"If you have something to say, say it," he said without turning. "I can feel your stare burning holes through my back."
Morvain halted briefly before quickening his steps to catch up. "I want to ask a question," he said at last, his tone calm but deliberate.
"Then ask."
"How are you going to make the other kingdoms submit to your rule without the Crown of Life?"
Lucifer stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned. His eyes—cold and calculating—met Morvain's steady gaze. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then, Lucifer smiled faintly, a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Through my own means," he replied, his voice a quiet promise of power.
Morvain's brow furrowed. "My Lord, the destruction of the crown will shake the balance. The other realms will rise to claim dominion. They won't sit idly by." His tone was respectful, but his words carried concern.
Lucifer chuckled, the sound dark and unsettling. Even the maids and guards standing nearby stiffened in fear.
"Let them rise," he said, continuing his pace toward his chamber. "When they do, they'll meet me—here."
The statement lingered in the corridor, heavy and absolute.
---
Miles away, in the peaceful domain hidden from mortal eyes, the air shimmered with calm energy. Leofric's mouth hung open, disbelief written across his face. Edith stood motionless beside him, her eyes wide, while Olivia giggled softly, pointing at the man before them—Eldric, who no longer appeared as the humble forger they had come to know.
Leofric took a step forward, one hand brushing through his hair in confusion. "How did… how did that happen? Who are you exactly? What is your plan for bringing us here?" His voice was cautious, and his hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword.
The man before him clasped his hands behind his back, his expression calm and knowing. His presence seemed to fill the space, quiet yet commanding.
"I'm still the same person," he said gently. "Only my appearance has changed."
Leofric frowned. His instincts told him this was no ordinary man. "That's not enough," he said firmly. "I need answers."
The man smiled, a faint gleam in his eyes. "Very well," he said, his tone deep and resolute. "Let me introduce myself properly. I am Heavenly Lord Wilfred, the chosen one, blessed with the crown of light by the Seven Celestial Gods. Long ago, I ruled over humanity, maintaining balance between the mortal and immortal realms."
His gaze softened as he continued, his tone now tinged with melancholy. "But darkness rose from the depths, and a great evil sought to consume all creation. I fought that darkness—defeated it—but I did not destroy it. Afterward, I retreated here, to this sanctuary, where I rested for many years. Now the shadows have stirred once more… and the crown has been shattered."
Leofric and Edith exchanged a glance. Olivia, still holding Edith's hand, listened with wide, innocent eyes.
"But," Wilfred said with a faint smile, "not all is lost. Because of the destined one." His gaze drifted toward Olivia.
Leofric blinked. "You mean Olivia?" he asked, his voice unsure.
Wilfred nodded. "Yes. Fate led her to you, and in turn, led you both to me. She carries within her the light that once bound the realms. Her destiny is unlike any other."
Leofric's lips parted in disbelief. Edith clutched Olivia closer to her chest. "But she's just a child," she said softly. "How can she bear such a burden?"
Wilfred's expression grew serene. "Because she must. The Seven Crystals of Creation were scattered when the crown was destroyed. One day, she will gather them again—each representing a divine virtue—and restore what was lost. That is her path."
The words hung heavy in the air. The forest around them seemed to quiet, listening.
Leofric broke the silence. "If that is true, how do we train her for what's coming?"
Wilfred's eyes gleamed with reassurance. "You are a knight, are you not? You will teach her the way of the sword, the way of courage. I will guide her in the arts of wisdom and the power of balance. And Edith,"—he turned toward her—"you will teach her how to survive the wilderness, to read nature, to endure."
"Me?" Edith gasped, blinking rapidly. "But I'm not—"
Wilfred chuckled softly. "You underestimate yourself, my dear. The world does not only need warriors. It needs those who can nurture, protect, and endure."
Leofric nodded solemnly, his hand still resting on his sword. "Then when do we begin?"
"Now," Wilfred replied simply, stroking his beard with a faint smile.
A brief silence followed before Leofric stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowed. "Heavenly Lord Wilfred, I owe you an apology. I failed to recognize who you truly were. I accept whatever punishment you deem fit."
Wilfred's eyes softened. "Stand, Leofric," he said gently. "You've done no wrong. In fact, I commend your loyalty and your courage to protect the destined one."
Leofric rose to his feet, gratitude and determination gleaming in his eyes.
"You've had a long journey," Wilfred continued. "Come inside. Rest for a while. There's still much to prepare."
With that, he turned and walked toward the small hut that stood nearby. Leofric and Edith exchanged a brief glance before following him, Olivia clutching Edith's hand as they entered the tranquil warmth of their new refuge.
---
Back in Drakthar Dominion, a heavy fog lingered over the black-stone citadel. The throne hall was empty, save for two figures: King Kaelen Veynar, seated upon his onyx-and-gold throne, and a man cloaked entirely in darkness. The torches along the walls flickered uneasily, their flames dimming in the assassin's presence.
Kaelen leaned lazily against the armrest of his throne, his sharp eyes glinting like molten metal. "Valen," he said, his tone calm but dangerous, "so you were unable to find the crystal."
The man knelt on one knee, his face hidden beneath the hood. "Yes, my Lord. I searched every corner of the kingdom. It's nowhere to be found." His voice was steady, cold—devoid of fear.
Valen was unlike any of Kaelen's ministers. He was an assassin of the old order, forged in the shadows of the Immortal Realm before being cast out for reasons only whispered about. His loyalty to Kaelen was unquestionable, his skill unmatched. Shadows bent to his will like smoke obeying the wind.
Kaelen sighed, running a hand over his jaw. "If only the map were still in our possession." His voice dropped to a low growl, his frustration evident.
"Shall I continue the search, my Lord?" Valen asked, lifting his head slightly. Beneath the hood, his silver eyes shimmered faintly—a mark of those who had once dwelled among the immortals.
Kaelen's expression shifted into a cold smirk. "No need. There are other ways to bend fate." His fingers tapped the armrest rhythmically as he continued, "Osric's kingdom still thinks themselves safe behind their golden walls. In seven days, they'll learn otherwise."
Valen rose silently, his cloak whispering against the stone floor. "You intend to start a war."
Kaelen chuckled, his laughter echoing ominously through the vast chamber. "Not intend, Valen. I will start it. And when I do, the world will kneel to me. The age of weak kings will end. I will be the Overlord of Aetheris."
Valen's expression didn't change, though the faintest ripple passed through the shadows around him. "Then I shall prepare," he said, bowing low before fading into the darkness. His form dissolved completely, as if swallowed by the night itself.
Kaelen's laughter filled the hall once more—deep, resonant, and cruel. It echoed through the dominion, carried by the winds that swept over the mountains of fire and ash.
The age of peace had ended.
And the storm was coming.