The morning sun climbed steadily into the sky, spilling a warm, golden radiance across a world that had forgotten the taste of ash. Below the celestial scars of a shattered moon, the rhythm of life beat with a steady, peaceful pulse. In the bustling streets of the capital, merchants unrolled their awnings, craftsmen struck their anvils, and the common folk went about their daily routines—no longer looking over their shoulders for the shadow of an immortal enemy.
Within the towering white stone of the Imperial Palace, the transition was just as seamless. Sentinels in polished armor paced the corridors on high-alert patrols, their boots echoing against marble floors, while others stood like statues at their posts, watching over a peace that had been bought at the highest price.
"Ozan!"
The voice of Empress Alexandra rang through the grand throne room, vibrating with a mixture of authority and motherly exasperation. "Ozan!" she called again, her voice echoing off the high-vaulted ceiling.
"Yes, Mother!" a high, spirited voice chirped back.
A moment later, a small blur of motion raced into the throne room. It was a young boy, barely a few years old, but he was currently unrecognizable—caked from head to toe in thick, drying mud.
Alexandra sighed, crossing the floor and dropping to her knees regardless of her royal silks. She reached out, hovering her hands over the mess. "What on earth are you doing? Why are you covered in mud?"
Ozan puffed out his chest, his eyes bright with a fierce, innocent fire. "I was training! I'm going to be a strong warrior—strong enough to surpass even the Great Hero, Valerus!"
Alexandra paused, her expression softening at the mention of the name.
"Oh? You aspire to surpass Valerus himself, I see," a warm voice chimed in from the shadows of the colonnade. Jon, the Empress's husband, stepped into the light with a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
Ozan turned to his father, nodding solemnly. "Yes, Father."
"Well, Ozan," Alexandra said, regaining her composure as she stood back up. "Go to your quarters, clean up, put on fresh clothes, and come back down. Breakfast is almost ready. That is an order."
The boy turned to go, but then stopped, looking back with a hopeful tilt of his head. "Mother?"
"What is it, Ozan?"
"Will Perez, Uriel, Xaviel, and the others come to visit today?"
Alexandra's brows furrowed in curiosity. "I'm not sure. Why do you ask?"
Ozan raised his small, muddy hands toward the sun-drenched ceiling, his voice ringing with conviction. "The Shield needs to train and get stronger. Like the Great Hero Valerus, I'll lead the Shield to victory!"
Alexandra's breath hitched. She stood tall, pointing a firm finger toward the grand staircase. "Prince Ozan El Drodragon… go and wash up. Now!"
Ozan didn't wait for a second warning. He giggled and bolted for the stairs, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.
Jon stepped closer, placing a hand on Alexandra's waist as they watched the boy disappear. "It was a good choice, honey. Naming him after your grandfather. He has that same spirit."
Alexandra turned to her husband, her eyes shimmering with a sudden, quiet grief. "I've really missed him, Jon. Every day."
"I find it fascinating," Jon mused, looking toward the open balcony. "Valerus has become such a titan of inspiration for the new generation. Every child plays at being him. Our son is certainly no exception."
"It's been five years," Alexandra whispered, walking toward the balcony to look out over her kingdom. "Five years since Valerus shattered the Curse and ended the war. We owe this entire era of peace to him."
Jon joined her at the railing, looking up at the pale, ghostly arc of the pulverized moon visible even in the daylight. "When I look at the sky at night… I see him. I see what he did for us."
"He was more than a hero," Alexandra said softly. "He was a valuable friend. I miss him. And I miss Caius." She looked out over the horizon, her mind drifting to the distant corners of the empire.
"Speaking of which," Jon added, his voice low and thoughtful, "I wonder what the other members of the Shield are doing right now."
Not far from the Imperial Palace, the morning sun glinted off the glass panes of the Rodgers Newspaper Company. Inside, Rodgers stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched a group of children chasing each other through the plaza. Their laughter, light and untainted by the fear of air raids or conscription, brought a contemplative shadow to his eyes.
His mind drifted back to a dimly lit room and the haunting, melodic rhythm of the Seer's prophecy.
"What matters is the present," The Seer's voice seemed to whisper in the quiet of his office. "Three nations are currently locked in this violent embrace. These are the Three Stars of the prophecy. It is a crucible—a stepping stone meant to usher all three nations into a new era filled with peace and joy."
He closed his eyes, and the memory shifted. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd from five years ago, standing beneath the balcony as Empress Alexandra delivered the speech that changed the world.
"This war is a curse that has plagued our souls," her voice rang out in his memory, strong and clear. "But a friend of mine once said, let us create a future full of light, laughter, and hope. He created this country and called it Chronohelix because he believed that within its borders, there is no Thorenzia… there is no Vylonia… and there is no Aethelgard."
Rodgers leaned his forehead against the cool glass and smiled. "Great One," he whispered to the empty room, "you were right. This era is better." He watched the crowd below, unable to distinguish a Vylonian face from a Thorenzian one. They were simply people. This was what they were always meant to be.
Across the vast span of the empire, in the vibrant province of Flux, the legacy of the war took a more physical shape. In the courtyard of the Tetrarch's palace, a young girl named Elena stood several paces back from an archery target. She gripped a small recurve bow, her knuckles white with focus. With a sharp exhale, she released.
The arrow whistled through the air, striking the bullseye with perfect precision—but instead of sinking into the straw, it clattered harmlessly to the floor.
"Oh no! Why won't it pierce the board?" she grumbled, stomping her foot.
"You will get there someday, Elena," a deep, warm voice rumbled.
"Father!" Elena dropped her bow and sprinted across the grass, leaping into Orion's waiting arms. He caught her with a laugh, swinging her high.
"Your father is right," Elara added, stepping out from the terrace. The two members of the legendary revolutionary team known as the shield looked at their daughter with a pride that reached her eyes.
"In time, you will even surpass me." Elara said
"Mother, please teach me!" Elena pleaded, her eyes wide. "Right now!"
Elara reached out, gently poking the tip of the girl's nose. "Your father and I have work to do, little one. He is the Tetrarch of Flux, and our job is to attend to the people."
Seeing the disappointment clouding Elena's face, Elara's heart softened. She knelt down, brushing a stray hair from the girl's forehead. "Tell you what, love. When I return from the Empress's castle, I will teach you personally."
"Really?" Elena's face lit up like a sunburst.
"You've got to believe it!" Elara laughed, her voice bright and full of the life she once thought she'd never have. Elena threw her arms around her mother's neck, while Elara looked up and shared a knowing, peaceful smile with Orion.
Meanwhile, in the tranquil province of Whisper, the morning was anything but quiet.
"Honey! I'm heading out! I'll be back soon!" Thane shouted, hopping on one foot as he struggled to pull on his second boot near the entrance of the Tetrarch's manor.
"Okay!" Isolde's voice drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of fresh bread.
Thane straightened his tunic and turned toward the exit. Suddenly, the air grew heavy with a familiar, sharp ozone scent. A small figure blurred out from behind a decorative pillar, his body suddenly wreathed in frantic, dancing arcs of blue lightning.
Thane's instincts, forged in a hundred battles, kicked in instantly. He pivoted and shoved the attacker off with a practiced, non-lethal parry. He landed in a defensive crouch, his eyes darting for an assassin—only to freeze in utter shock.
"Rod-el?" Thane gasped, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "What are you doing? I almost mistook you for an enem—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping as he watched the blue sparks continue to crackle around the four-year-old boy's tiny fists. "Wait a minute… is that Hera? At four years old? And lightning-type at that?"
The commotion brought Isolde running from the house. "Honey, what happened? I heard—"
She stopped dead, her eyes widening as she stared at her son. Rod-el stood there, looking a bit sheepish but radiating a raw, untamed power that shouldn't have been possible for his age.
"Honey," Thane said, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and soaring pride. "Can you believe it? Our son… he's already tapped into the Hera."
Isolde looked at Rod-el, then at her husband, her shock melting into a beaming, tearful smile. In a world of peace, the next generation was already growing stronger than the last.
In a secluded cemetery south of the Imperial Palace, the air was still and scented with wild jasmine. The silence was not heavy, but rather a soft blanket broken by the melodic sound of children's laughter. Between the weathered headstones, a trio of boys played a game of legends. Two of them, identical twins with mischievous grins that mirrored the late Caius, sprinted through the grass with toy guns held high. They chased a third boy who moved with a grace far beyond his years, brandishing two wooden swords with a fierce, joyful grin.
The boy with the swords was the image of a legend reborn—golden eyes sparkling with a familiar mischief as he dodged and weaved between the monuments.
"Universal Damnation!" the twins chorused in unison. Their high-pitched voices pierced the quiet, sending a flock of birds scattering into the golden sky. The sound was a defiant, joyful noise, as if their laughter was enough to bring the cold stones back to life.
Nearby, three women watched the play with bittersweet smiles. Athena and her mother, Luisa, stood before a headstone that stood taller than the rest, the name 'Valerus' etched deep into the marble.
Luisa stepped forward first, her fingers tracing the letters. "Valerus," she began softly. "The world is peaceful now, thanks to you. I wasn't there to witness your final stand against Lysandra and Arthur… but I have always wished there was a way to end the war that didn't take you with it." She paused, her voice thick with emotion. "I know we will meet again, the father of my grandson." She squeezed Athena's shoulder tenderly before moving toward a second grave nearby.
Left alone, Athena took a ragged, deep breath. In her hands, she gripped the hilts of Apex and Valor. The sentient blades hummed, a low, mournful vibration that only she could truly understand.
"Babe," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Five years. Five solid years. It doesn't get any easier. My life feels so empty without you, but Apex and Valor… they talk about you every day. They won't let me forget."
She turned her head to look at the children. Her gaze lingered on the boy with the golden eyes, the one who fought with wooden swords. A small, proud smile broke through her grief. "Our son, Perez El Joranda, is doing well. Apex and Valor have already made their choice—they have named him their next worthy master. I miss you so much. I love you… let's find each other again in the afterlife."
With a final, lingering touch, Athena placed a bouquet of fresh flowers on the edge of the grave. She then walked over to join her mother and the third woman, Gwen, who stood trembling before a different stone. This one bore the name 'Caius'.
Athena stood beside her, looking down at the resting place of their fallen comrade. "He was a strong warrior," Athena said firmly. "He had a very strong sense of duty."
"Yes," Gwen whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Athena and Luisa placed a second bouquet at the foot of Caius's grave and stepped back, giving Gwen a moment of privacy. They watched from a distance as the young woman collapsed into a sob.
"Strangely enough, we had twins," Gwen wept, her voice carrying on the wind. "Uriel and Xaviel are growing so fast. I wish you were here to see them, Caius. I wish you could see what you saved."
After a time, Athena went to her friend's side, gently helping Gwen back to her feet. Together, the three women gathered their children, their silhouettes shrinking against the horizon as they walked away from the city of the dead and back toward the world of the living.
High above the atmosphere, far beyond the reach of human voices, the remnants of the moon hung in the silent void. The 79% that had been pulverized remained as a shimmering field of rubble, caught in a permanent orbit—a crown of stardust that illuminated the world below.
...…THE END