[Peter Luminaris]:
45 Minutes Prior, Luminaris Estate…
Peter was just going over the shares paperwork when it happened. He smelt it before he saw the flames.
"Is something burning?" he thought aloud, sniffing the air, just as a ruckus of armoured boots sounded outside his doorway and his general, High General Silva burst through his door, with three high-ranking lieutenants backing him. "General? What is going on? What is this?"
"My lord, someone has released the forbidden flames upon our estate! Hellfire is ravaging the manor as we speak. Quickly, we must get you out of—," the High General began, but the five of them seemed to have sensed it already. The killing intent. "Shit, they're already here! The Estate's been compromised, my lord. We have intruders and they are quite powerful. We must get you out of here!"
Before anyone could move, seven hooded figures in robes clad in cloaks rushed inside, two of them releasing the aura of early-level Legendary ranks, while the rest were various levels of Chaotic rank,as opposed to Peter's Peak Chaotic-rank and Silva's mid-level Legendary ranks.
"You dare breach these halls with the intent to kill me! Who are you?" Peter demanded.
"Sorry, Lord Peter, but we no longer answer to you," the strangers removed their hoods for Peter to see… House Luminaris guardsmen. "Our allegiance is with the Boss. After all, he won't pick a Primordial Spawn to be his successor."
"You dare commit treason before my presence and betray Lord Peter in such a manner?!" demanded Silva, fists clenched, hand shaking angrily as he grasp the hilt of his weapon.
Yet Peter—his lord—remained silent.
Stoic.
Watching.
Not out of weakness, but calculation. He needed clarity. Answers. Even as Silva, his most loyal and one of his highest-ranking guardsman, stood barely restraining himself from cutting down the traitors on the spot, Peter did not move. His presence, though fragile, still exuded command.
Silva glanced at him from the corner of his eye and was struck by a bitter memory—the memory of Peter's mother. A woman of iron will and unshakable poise. Silva had served as a mere squire during her reign, but even then, her strength left an indelible mark on him. Peter had inherited that regal dignity. That unwavering calm.
But even she had died.
And Silva would not—could not—watch her son fall too.
'He's not well,' Silva thought, his eyes narrowing with concern as he kept his body turned toward the enemy, blade half-drawn. 'He hasn't been for some time now. We thought there'd be more time to find a solution… but…if they kill him here—if they truly succeed—there will be no trueborn heir to House Luminaris. The princess... she'll be next. Gods help us all.'
"You speak of treason," sneered one of the traitors, stepping forward. "But he won't be 'Lord' much longer."
That caught Peter's attention.
Even through the pounding in his skull and the fever burning in his chest, he focused. But then came the coughing—sudden, violent, dragging him toward the floor as though his lungs were tearing apart.
And then came the flame.
It danced to life in the traitor's palm, but it wasn't natural. No… this was something foul. Something wrong. A flame that radiated not warmth, but hatred. It reeked of death and damnation.
Peter's eyes widened in horror. "The forbidden flame…"
The guards nearest to him instinctively stepped back, feeling the oppressive heat crawl beneath their skin like a sickness.
"That's right," the stranger chuckled darkly. "Hellfire. It took years to master. Years of blood, death, and infernal pacts. But now… now, it sings for me." His eyes gleamed with madness. "It's already begun resonating with the poison laced in your body, Peter. You're breathing your last."
'Poison… ', Peter thought, coughing again—harder this time, blood flecking his lips. The realization struck him like a blade to the gut.
'My illness… it wasn't natural… it was never natural.' he realized in horror.
"Our methods were meticulous," the traitor continued, admiring the flame like a prized relic. "Months of slow decay. It is infernal in nature, fit for monstrosities beyond your understanding. And now... the others have already set the fire across the manor. Every exit is sealed. Every escape is cut off. You won't leave here alive."
The weight of his words was punctuated by the distant, haunting crackling of flames. Smoke began seeping into the chamber, creeping through the floorboards and walls like vengeful spirits.
Peter gagged violently, falling to his knees as his vision blurred. The poison, stirred by the Hellfire's presence and the corrupted smoke, surged through his veins like molten lead.
"Lord Peter!" Silva shouted, rushing to his side.
"Looks like he's already feeling it," the traitor cackled. "The fumes alone would've killed him, but this flame? This sweet, burning ball of death? It'll be my legacy. I will be the one to kill the last true lord of House Luminaris!"
He raised the flame higher—
—but Silva moved.
Faster than a viper, he unsheathed his sword in a flash of silver, severing the traitor's hand clean off before kicking the severed limb across the room. The traitor's scream was cut short as Silva's blade followed through—decapitating him in a single, clean stroke.
The remaining traitors charged forward.
But Silva's lieutenants were already there—forming a wall of steel between Peter and his would-be murderers. The clash was immediate. Violent. Sparks lit the air as blades met, and the cries of war echoed through the flaming halls.
Silva knelt beside Peter, assessing him with a soldier's eye and a healer's desperation.
'The poison's progressed too far… I can't cleanse it. But maybe… I can slow it. Maybe reverse it just enough...'
He turned toward his men. "Hold them off! Kill them if you can! I'll get our lord out of here!"
"Yes, general!" shouted one.
"For the House!" another barked.
"We'll meet you outside the gardens!" came the last.
Silva turned to Peter, who struggled to breathe. "Stay with me, my lord," he said, voice low and urgent.
Dragging Peter toward the moonlight streaming through the shattered windows, Silva dropped to one knee and began a chant—his voice rising in a fervent rhythm:
"Blessing of Luna—Lunaris Comatosis!"
A pale silver glow enveloped Peter's body, forming a translucent cocoon of light. His breathing slowed, the spasms lessened. The poison's grip loosened—just enough.
The full moon above shone like a guardian.
Calling upon the ancient pact of the Luminaris bloodline, Silva extended his hand toward the sky. A shimmering portal bloomed in the moonlight—a lunar gateway, opening a path to the streets below, beyond the garden walls, past the burning manor's cursed reach.
Lifting Peter's protected body, Silva sprinted through the gate like a man possessed.
They regrouped beneath the cover of trees beyond the estate. Smoke and fire silhouetted the once-glorious manor against the night sky. One by one, survivors arrived—wounded, scorched, but alive. Loyalists. Nine-hundred in all, give or take. They made their way to the emergency transport hidden in the enchanted sub-garage. Thank the gods it still functioned.
No one spoke on the ride.
They didn't need to.
They all knew what had begun.
A civil war for the throne of House Luminaris.
And at its heart, the one called 'Boss'—a player pulling strings, left unchallenged and unabated. It aroused many questions within Silva and his guardsmen. Who was this 'Boss'? How did they infiltrate so many of the family's ranks? There used to be hundreds of thousands of loyalists still loyal to Peter; now there was only roughly a thousand that was accounted for. The ones that weren't, were either against Peter or off-world on missions and wouldn't be back soon.
The enemy had struck while they were vulnerable, Silva realized. The traitors might not be as wide in number as he had thought, but they were clever. With the estate gone, there was no way to contact the others in the other dimensions and worlds across the multiverse. They were isolated and their leader powerless, currently.
They need to find the princess, and fast. Or else this war may be their last. Silva sat silently beside his slumbering lord, fists still bloodstained, his heart burning with his resolve.
He would not let House Luminaris fall. Not while he still drew breath.