Time/Date: Dawn, TC1853.01.09
Location: Metropolitan Police Station - Sacred Ceremonial Chamber
The pre-dawn darkness hung heavy over the metropolitan police station as Lord Kael paced the confines of his holding chamber, his golden eyes burning with a volatile mixture of fury and desperation. Sleep had been impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that damning comparison—two wrists extended side by side, one scar recent and theatrical, the other ancient and real.
Eight years.
Eight years of believing a lie. Eight years of gratitude directed at the wrong person. Eight years of persecuting the girl who had actually saved his life while elevating the one who had stolen credit for that sacrifice.
Agent Drax's words from hours earlier still echoed through his mind with the weight of witnessed truth: "The little girl's name was Mara Brenner."
The revelation had shattered his certainties like glass against stone, leaving him grappling with truths that threatened everything he believed about honor, judgment, and his own superiority. But even now—even facing the overwhelming evidence of Amara's deception—his pride refused to fully accept the magnitude of his mistake.
That imperial arrogance bred into his very bones across generations of celestial bloodline supremacy whispered seductive lies: You were manipulated. A servant girl couldn't orchestrate such elaborate deception without help. You're the victim here, too.
But another voice, quieter and far more uncomfortable, asked different questions: How did you never question it? How did you never verify? How many signs did you ignore because believing the lie was easier than facing the truth?
No. Impossible. A mudborn servant with damaged spiritual channels couldn't possibly deceive someone of his bloodline and training. Which meant there had to be more to this—schemes within schemes, celestial conspirators using common pawns. Amara was celestial-born. She understood the hierarchies of power, the weight of bloodline destiny. Surely she had been manipulated as well, perhaps by the very family that had stolen Mara's identity.
Kael's hands clenched into fists as he stared out the small window at the lightning sky. In a few hours, he would stand before cosmic law itself and swear oaths that would bind his soul. He would have to acknowledge—publicly, permanently, irrevocably—that he had made false accusations against an innocent girl.
The humiliation burned like acid in his chest.
But beneath the fury and shame, something else stirred. A desperate hope, fragile as morning mist, wrapped in the certainty of celestial superiority. If blood oaths were the price of truth, then perhaps truth could serve his purposes in ways these provincial police and arrogant SIS agents hadn't considered.
If Mara Brenner was truly as innocent as they claimed, then she should have no difficulty swearing oaths to prove it. And if she couldn't...
Kael's golden eyes lit with calculation, the strategic mind his imperial tutors had praised finally asserting itself through the emotional chaos. Yes. He would demand that Mara swear first. Force her to prove her innocence under cosmic law before he acknowledged anything.
Surely a servant girl—even one with some measure of talent—had committed some transgression over the years. The lower classes always did. Petty theft disguised as borrowing, schemes for advancement beyond her station, hidden designs on bloodlines far above her reach. She had inserted herself into his life somehow, positioned herself to be noticed despite her inferior breeding. That suggested calculation, ambition, the kind of social climbing that mudborn attempted when they forgot their place.
The thought crystallized with the weight of certainty. She must harbor designs on celestial marriage. What other explanation could there be for her involvement in his life? For the elaborate schemes that seemed to orbit around both of them? Servants didn't sacrifice themselves for nobility without hoping for elevation in return.
It was the natural order—the common classes yearning for what bloodline superiority granted to celestials. She had saved him as a child, expecting that debt would translate to opportunity. Had spent years positioning herself, waiting for the moment to collect on that ancient sacrifice.
The certainty felt solid, real, a foundation built on cosmic hierarchy and the immutable laws of bloodline privilege. He would trap her with oaths about romantic interest, about schemes for status elevation, about every grasping ambition he knew servant-class opportunists harbored. And when cosmic law revealed her ulterior motives, his honor would be restored, the natural order confirmed.
She must want elevation through marriage to his bloodline. How could she not? It was what all mudborn secretly desired—to escape their inferior station through connection to celestial power.
***
The transition from interrogation to holding chamber had been abrupt. After Agent Drax's revelation about Mara being his true savior, the room had erupted into chaos—Selene's denials, Amara's tears, Lord Garrick's furious demands for legal counsel. But Agent Venn had cut through it all with cold authority, declaring that blood oaths would proceed at dawn regardless of family politics.
They'd been separated then. Kael to one holding chamber, Amara to another, Mara to a third. No contact, no coordination, no opportunity to align their stories before cosmic law demanded absolute truth.
The night had stretched endlessly. Kael had tried to sleep, to quiet his mind, but every attempt brought fresh doubts, fresh questions, fresh wounds to his pride. By the time pale light began filtering through the window, he'd constructed a plan built on the only foundation that still felt solid—the certainty that bloodline superiority must, eventually, reveal itself against common scheming.
***
The sacred chamber deep within the police station had been prepared according to ancient protocols that predated the Empire itself. Twelve candles formed the Wheel of Truth around a central altar of blessed marble, their flames casting dancing shadows across walls inscribed with protective runes that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. The air itself hummed with spiritual energy, charged by centuries of oaths sworn and cosmic justice invoked.
The temperature held precisely at twenty-one degrees—optimal for spiritual conductivity—while sanctified frankincense smoke curled through the chamber, purifying the space of mundane concerns. The silence was absolute except for the soft whisper of candle flames and the distant sound of morning birds beginning their songs, as if nature itself paused to witness what would unfold here.
Three sheets of ceremonial paper lay upon the altar—Imperial Crimson Paper, one for each participant—its deep red surface shot through with silver threading that seemed to pulse with inner light. Each sheet bore the weight of cosmic authority, ready to transform mere words into unbreakable spiritual contracts. The paper itself seemed to breathe, responding to the spiritual energy building in the chamber.
Beside them, a crystal vessel contained the sacred Stellaris Essence, its golden contents swirling with captured starlight that moved according to no earthly current. The liquid seemed alive, aware, waiting to mix with blood and create the ink that would bind souls to truth. Points of light danced within like imprisoned stars, each one representing a fragment of cosmic law enforcement.
Agent Venn and Agent Drax flanked the altar in their official capacities as neutral observers, their expressions professionally neutral but eyes watchful. The weight of what they were about to witness settled on their shoulders—not just legal proceedings, but cosmic judgment that would expose truths hidden for eight years.
A representative from the Temple Authority—High Oracle Mirena Thross, her stern face bearing the silver tattoos of cosmic law enforcement—stood ready to oversee the spiritual binding. Her steel-gray hair was bound in traditional braids representing the interweaving of mortal and divine law, and her pale blue eyes held the patience of someone who had witnessed hundreds of such ceremonies. The ceremonial Truth Blade gleamed on its velvet cushion before her, blessed silver inscribed with runes that would ensure each cut enhanced the blood's spiritual potency.
When the participants were brought in, the chamber fell into absolute silence broken only by the soft whisper of candle flames and the distant sound of morning birds beginning their songs. The contrast between sacred ceremony and natural awakening felt surreal, as if two worlds were colliding in this small stone room.
Kael entered first, his imperial bearing intact despite the circles under his eyes and the tension visible in every line of his body. His robes—hastily pressed by station staff—still managed to convey authority, the golden threading catching candlelight and seeming to burn with inner fire. His right hand unconsciously touched the Xuán family signet ring on his finger, seeking comfort in the weight of bloodline authority. But there was something different about him now. The absolute certainty that had characterized every movement yesterday had been replaced by something more volatile, more desperate. His golden eyes held the fever-bright intensity of someone clinging to a plan that would either vindicate or destroy him.
Amara followed, her golden hair dulled by fear and sleepless night, her amber eyes darting nervously between the sacred implements and the assembled witnesses. The confident performer who had captivated Lord Kael and manipulated half the capital was nowhere to be seen. In her place stood a seventeen-year-old girl facing cosmic consequences she couldn't charm or manipulate away. Her hands trembled, and her usual grace had abandoned her entirely, leaving only raw terror barely contained.
Finally came Raven, moving with the fluid grace of someone completely at peace with cosmic justice. Her simple servant's clothing was a stark contrast to the sacred grandeur surrounding her, yet somehow she seemed to belong here more than any of them. Her muddy brown eyes—calm, ancient, knowing—surveyed the chamber with the attention to detail of someone who had seen such rituals before, perhaps across lifetimes. There was no fear in her bearing, no anxiety about what cosmic law might reveal. Only quiet certainty, as if she had already seen how this scene would play out.
High Oracle Thross stepped forward, her voice carrying the formal cadence of sacred ritual that echoed off the chamber walls. "We gather at dawn under the witness of cosmic law to bind truth to reality through blood and sacred oath. Three souls stand before the Universal Codex, ready to speak words that will echo across planes of existence."
She paused, letting the weight of that statement settle over everyone present like a physical thing. The very air seemed to thicken with cosmic attention, as if unseen forces were gathering to observe what would unfold.
"The oaths sworn here are not mere legal contracts. They are spiritual bindings enforced by forces older than empires and stronger than death. Violation brings consequences that transcend mortal punishment—soul damage, karmic debt, spiritual channel severance. Break these oaths, and the cosmos itself becomes your judge, jury, and executioner."
Her pale blue eyes moved to each participant in turn, holding their gaze until they acknowledged the magnitude of what they were about to undertake. "Speak truthfully, and cosmic law will record your words as eternal fact. Speak falsely, and the binding itself will mark you, exposing deception in ways that cannot be hidden or denied."
Lord Kael stepped forward with sudden authority, his voice carrying across the hushed chamber with imperial command. "Before we proceed, I have a demand as the aggrieved party."
Agent Venn's gray eyes narrowed slightly, but he gestured for Kael to continue. The chamber seemed to hold its breath.
"I demand that Mara Brenner take her oath first," Kael declared, his golden eyes fixed on Raven with predatory intensity born of desperation and wounded pride. "If she is truly as innocent as claimed, she should have no difficulty swearing to cosmic law before I acknowledge anything."
The room went very still. Even the candle flames seemed to pause in their dance, as if the universe itself was waiting to see how this challenge would be met.
"Furthermore," Kael continued, his voice gaining strength as his plan unfolded, each word carefully chosen to create a trap he believed inescapable, "I demand that she swear specific oaths beyond what was previously agreed. That she has never taken anything from Amara Brenner or the Brenner family without their explicit authorization—no borrowed items, no 'temporary use,' no petty theft of any kind. That she has had nothing to do with any scheme to drug me or compromise me in any way, directly or indirectly. That she knows nothing about the identity of the woman who was in my hotel room, nor has any knowledge of the missing staff involved in this conspiracy."
He paused, his hand tightening on his signet ring as he sprung what he clearly believed was a perfect trap. His next words carried the weight of wounded pride and desperate vindication, filtered through the unshakeable certainty of bloodline hierarchy:
"And finally, that she has no designs on elevation through connection to my bloodline—no schemes to escape her station through imperial marriage or celestial connection. That she harbors no ambition for status beyond what her birth has granted her. That she has never positioned herself to attract the attention of celestial families through any means."
The silence that followed was deafening. Kael stood with imperial arrogance radiating from every line of his body, clearly believing he had cornered his accuser. Surely these detailed oaths would expose her—reveal some scheme for bloodline elevation, some calculated positioning for status advancement, some servant-class ambition that had motivated this entire conspiracy. No mudborn could swear such comprehensive innocence under cosmic law. The binding would crack, the truth would emerge, and the natural order of celestial superiority would be restored.
In his mind, it was perfect. She must have schemed for connection to his bloodline—what other explanation for her involvement in his life? She must harbor designs on status elevation—why else would a servant sacrifice herself for nobility? The cosmic binding would expose these calculated ambitions, prove his accusations had foundation in the grasping nature of inferior classes, and transform him from persecutor to someone who had simply been deceived by elaborate servant-class scheming.
Agent Venn studied the imperial heir with professional assessment that might have contained a flicker of dark amusement, recognizing the trap Kael believed he was setting. "Very well, Your Highness. Miss Brenner, will you submit to the blood oath as requested?"
Raven's muddy brown eyes met Kael's golden ones with calm intensity, and for just a moment, something ancient and knowing flickered in their depths—like stars hidden behind storm clouds, like wisdom accumulated across lifetimes. When she spoke, her voice carried neither fear nor anger, just perfect certainty that made the air itself seem to crystallize around her words.
"Of course. I have nothing to hide from cosmic law."
She approached the altar with steady steps, her simple servant's clothing a stark contrast to the sacred grandeur surrounding her. High Oracle Thross handed her the Truth Blade with ritual solemnity, the blessed silver seeming to hum with spiritual energy as it touched Raven's hands. The runes inscribed along the blade began to glow softly, responding to her spiritual signature in ways that made the Oracle's eyes narrow with sharp interest—something about the resonance pattern spoke of depths hidden beneath surface appearance.
As Raven took position before the altar, she spoke clearly, her voice ringing through the chamber with the precision of someone who had studied cosmic law across multiple lifetimes. Each word was chosen with surgical care, each phrase constructed to close loopholes while expanding the oath's scope far beyond what Kael had intended:
"I, Mara Brenner, do hereby swear upon my blood and soul before the Universal Codex: I have never taken anything from Amara Brenner or any member of the Brenner family without their knowledge and consent. I have had nothing to do with any scheme to drug Imperial Heir Kael Xuán. I know nothing about the identity of the woman who was in his hotel room, nor do I have any knowledge of the missing staff involved in this conspiracy."
She paused, her gaze shifting to Amara with calculated precision that made the golden-haired girl flinch, then to Kael with something that might have been pity—the kind of pity one offers to someone who has just sealed their own fate without realizing it.
"Furthermore," she continued, her voice taking on an edge that made even High Oracle Thross lean forward with sharp attention, "I have no designs whatsoever on elevation through connection to the Xuán bloodline—no schemes for imperial marriage, no ambition for celestial status, no calculated positioning to attract noble attention. I seek no rights, inheritances, or properties belonging to Amara Brenner or the Brenner family. I have never harbored any romantic interest in Imperial Heir Kael Xuán—not now, not in the past, and not in the future."
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the sound of Kael's sharp intake of breath as he grasped the implications. The trap he thought he'd set had just become a weapon turned against him.
Not only had she closed every loophole he had tried to create with her careful wording, but she had struck directly at his male pride and celestial superiority with a cosmic binding that declared her complete lack of interest in him or his bloodline. His wounded ego, his imperial prestige, his fundamental assumption that any servant would naturally desire connection to celestial power—all of it about to shatter against the simple truth that she didn't want him. Had never wanted him. Would never want him.
And she was about to prove it under cosmic law, before witnesses, in a binding that would exist for eternity.
With deliberate precision, Raven drew the Truth Blade across her left palm. The cut was clean, professional, as if she'd done this before—and perhaps, across ninety-nine lifetimes, she had. The blood that welled up was ordinary in appearance—no golden glow, no sign of a powerful bloodline—yet something in its quality made High Oracle Thross's breath catch slightly. The spiritual resonance was... unusual. Not weak, but deliberately muted, like a great power wrapped in layers of concealment.
The moment Raven's blood touched the Stellaris Essence in the crystal vessel, the mixture blazed with silver-white light so intense that several witnesses gasped and shielded their eyes. The chamber filled with cosmic energy that made the candle flames bow and the protective runes on the walls pulse in rhythm with an unseen heartbeat. The temperature dropped by several degrees as divine forces gathered to witness this binding.
High Oracle Thross stepped forward with ritual solemnity, her hands trembling slightly as she offered the Spirit Bone Fountain Pen now charged with the sacred ink—blood and starlight mixed into liquid truth. The pen itself seemed eager, the ivory glowing brighter than she had ever seen in decades of overseeing such ceremonies. Whatever this girl was, her spiritual signature resonated with cosmic law in ways that defied her apparent status as a damaged servant.
As Raven wrote her oath upon the Imperial Crimson Paper, each word seemed to burn itself into reality itself. The ink flowed like molten rubies shot through with golden veins, and the paper began to glow with inner fire that cast dancing shadows across the chamber walls. The silver threading in the paper came alive, weaving patterns that spelled cosmic law in languages older than the Empire.
The witnesses held their breath, feeling the weight of divine attention pressing down on the chamber like a physical force. This was no ordinary oath—this was truth so pure that the cosmos itself was responding with unprecedented power.
When she finished and signed her name with a flourish that spoke of absolute confidence, the cosmic binding activated with a flash of silver-white flame that left spots dancing in everyone's vision. The document burned with pure, clean fire—the kind that purified rather than destroyed, the kind that marked absolute truth acknowledged by forces beyond mortal comprehension.
When the flames died, the sealed oath glowed with indestructible permanence that seemed to illuminate the entire chamber. The ink had transformed from blood-red to molten gold so pure it seemed to contain its own light source. The paper itself had taken on a luminescence that spoke of absolute truth acknowledged by the cosmos itself, truth so complete that even the Universal Codex could find no flaw, no deception, no shadow of doubt.
High Oracle Thross stared at the sealed document with something approaching awe. In thirty years of overseeing blood oaths, she had never witnessed a binding activate with such intensity. The spiritual signature suggested... but no. Impossible. A servant girl with damaged channels couldn't possibly...
The Universal Codex had weighed Raven's words and found them perfectly, absolutely, eternally true.
Kael stared at the sealed document with mounting horror, his face draining of color as the full implications crashed over him like a tidal wave. Everything he thought he knew about Mara was crumbling before his eyes, each assumption shattering like glass against stone.
She was truly innocent—not just of the immediate accusations, but of every petty theft and scheming manipulation he had assumed about her character. The cosmic binding blazed with light that proclaimed her complete honesty in ways that could never be questioned or denied. Every loophole he'd tried to create had been closed by her careful wording. Every trap he'd set had snapped shut on empty air.
Worse yet—far worse—his wounded pride now bore the cosmic confirmation that she had never harbored any designs on his bloodline whatsoever. The binding's pure light testified to a truth that cut deeper than any blade: she didn't want elevation through his status, had never schemed for celestial connection, held no ambition to escape her station through marriage to imperial power.
His assumption that her involvement in his life stemmed from servant-class ambition, from the natural desire of mudborn to grasp at bloodline superiority—all of it exposed as nothing more than his own narcissistic delusion built on the certainty of celestial supremacy.
The realization hit him like a physical blow that drove the breath from his lungs. In his desperate attempt to trap her, to force her to reveal some hidden scheme that would vindicate his persecution and confirm the natural order, he had instead wasted the perfect opportunity. The blood oath ceremony could have been used to force Amara to reveal everything—who had actually drugged him, who had orchestrated the conspiracy, what her real role had been in the elaborate scheme, who had provided the Celestial Union Incense, who had arranged for the hotel room.
His pride had blinded him to the chance for real answers, and now it was too late. He'd squandered cosmic law's power on proving a servant girl's complete indifference to him and his bloodline.
The strategic mind that had seemed so clever just hours ago now felt like a cruel joke, a mockery of everything his tutors had tried to teach him about thinking beyond immediate emotions and bloodline assumptions.
"Your turn, Your Highness," Agent Venn said with quiet authority, gesturing to the altar with a precision that somehow conveyed both professional neutrality and profound judgment.