The sun hung low over the holy capital of Elarion, its spires gilded and proud — yet beneath the brilliance, dread festered like a wound.
Within the marble cathedral of the Radiant Order, the high priests knelt before a broken sword — the very one retrieved from the battle in the forest. Its golden edge was now blackened, eaten by an unseen corrosion.
The Archbishop's trembling voice echoed through the chamber.
"You mean to tell me… an entire division fell to a single shadow?"
The survivor, still pale from blood loss, bowed his head. His eyes flickered with something between terror and reverence.
"He called himself… the Sovereign. The Shadow Sovereign."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Some laughed nervously, others crossed themselves, whispering prayers. But one woman didn't move.
At the back of the chamber, cloaked in white and gold, she stood — tall, graceful, and utterly still. A single strand of silver hair escaped her hood, glinting faintly in the sunlight.
"So… he's resurfaced," she said softly.
Every priest turned. The Archbishop stiffened.
"Lady Seraphine… you know of this creature?"
She stepped forward, removing her hood. Her eyes — one gold, one crimson — silenced the entire cathedral.
"I hunted something like him once. Years ago. Back when I still believed light could purify everything."
The air thickened. Even the sacred flame flickered uncertainly.
"And now?" the Archbishop asked, voice weak.
Seraphine's lips curved into a faint smile that wasn't quite kind.
"Now, I know better. The light burns too bright… and leaves only ashes."
She turned away, her cloak trailing like a river of silk.
"Prepare the Inquisition. I'll descend to the surface myself. The Shadow Sovereign must not be allowed to spread."
But as she walked through the golden archway, her expression shifted — from duty, to something else.
A flicker of curiosity. A spark she thought long extinguished.
"Sora, was it? Let's see what kind of 'monster' you've become."