Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 219 Corona Exversa

The highest room in the Obsidian Tower had never felt colder, an unsettling chill that went beyond the arcane energies swirling in the air. It was a deep-seated coldness prompted by the monuntal decision poised to be made beneath a sky darkening into a gloomy tapestry of purples and grays—an ominous herald of the tempest approaching, both in the heavens and within the intricate folds of the political landscape.

Corona Exversa, the exalted executive council that convened only when the world stood on the brink of transformative upheaval, was once again assembled. Kaeso Vallaricus presided regally at the center of the black circle, his cloak billowing around him like the shadow of an ancient deity. His bright, piercing eyes, reminiscent of an ancient dagger, surveyed the three new mbers with an intense scrutiny.

To his left, Thalissa Verundel, the formidable Regent of Gaetherim, radiated an aura of potent sorcery mixed with the fierce blood of dragons. She leaned with casual grace, yet her eyes burned with an unquenchable anxiety that betrayed her composed deanor. To his right stood the fearso Lucente de Veyra, the High Inquisitor, a chilling presence known for his ruthless decrees that could erase entire regions overnight. He lood in silence, a grim specter from dark tales whispered to frightened children. Nestled between them was Archon Magistrate Hector Alfrenzo, the general and strategic sorcerer, his gaze vacant as if he were locked in communion with phantoms only he could perceive, concealing deep and dark secrets beneath his tranquil exterior.

"We have received a report from Stones," Kaeso's voice resonated through the dimly lit room, shattering the binding spell of silence that had wrapped around the gathering since the eting's inception, the heaviness of the atmosphere now palpable. "Rinoa has returned."

Thalissa raised an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of intrigue and disbelief. "The Avatar of Harmony... in its perfect form?"

Kaeso's serious gaze t hers, betraying the weighty burden he carried. "Not just perfect, Thalissa. She has opened the Third Gamma Gate. Even Fitran Fate has allowed her to delve deeper into the core of that entity than anyone ever has before. We are faced with unprecedented risks."

"Fitran," Lucente breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, as though uttering the na of a long-forgotten demon, lancholic and enigmatic, a na he understood could not be silenced by re prayer. "Always him."

Yet the Archon remained silent for a mont, his voice eventually erging, laden with profound sorrow. "This world cannot be tad by law and love as we once envisioned, Thalissa. Rinoa is but a mory from a ti long past, a tragic embodint of dreams that have withered away."

"We must secure her," Thalissa asserted, her voice resonating with unwavering determination, though laced with a hint of trembling concern. "Not rely because she embodies the Avatar, but because she is our sole path to the Grand Harmony. She holds the key to sealing the Gamma if it ever threatens to open too wide."

Lucente interjected with an authoritative confidence, his gaze sharp and provocative, cutting through the tension in the air. "Secure? No. We must control her. If Harmony speaks through her, then that voice must be ticulously filtered through our doctrine. Otherwise, a new worship will arise—of a young woman who does not even submit to the established structures of our magic."

Kaeso listened intently, his expression neutral, yet his eyes subtly shifted towards the Archon, silently seeking guidance from the weight of tradition. "Archon, you have yet to voice your opinion in this critical discussion," he inquired in a asured and resolute tone. The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on the Archon, the atmosphere thickening with anticipation. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his stance regal yet burdened by unspoken mories and the gravity of his words.

With a tremor in his voice that hinted at profound regret, he began, "I know her not just as the Avatar. She is the little girl who stumbled while learning to walk on the steps in front of my house, her laughter echoing like the sweetest lody." His heartache resonated in every syllable. "Rinoa is not rely a symbol to be wielded at our convenience. She is not a tool for our ambitions. Yet... I comprehend that she will inevitably beco the nucleus of this world, regardless of our desires."

Lucente narrowed his eyes, his sharp assessnt honing in on the Archon. "You are weakened by these blood ties. This is perilous."

"Perhaps," the Archon murmured, his voice wrapped in lancholy, embodying a profound weight he alone carried from the past. "However, the world knows no rcy from those who have never experienced the deep wounds of loss."

Kaeso firmly tapped the tip of his black staff on the polished marble floor, the resounding thud echoing through the chamber. In an instant, a burst of vibrant purple light erupted, coalescing into a magnificent thirteen-point star that shimred like a distant galaxy. "Enough," he declared, his voice cutting through the tension with an authoritative tone. "This is not rely a moral discussion; this is an executive decision that we must make." He turned his gaze northward, peering out the grand window, where the towering Stones lood ominously, veiled in thick fog and scattered dark debris, like forgotten giants in a realm of shadows.

"I propose: the Seventh Magic Armada will be deployed. The Deepest Armada," he continued, the conviction in his words resonating with urgency. "Our goal is singular—to bring Rinoa back. Alive. By any ans at our disposal." His eyes glinted with determination, reflecting the gravity of their mission.

Lucente, feeling the weight of Kaeso's resolve, eagerly agreed to the proposal. "We will provide the Purification Division," he asserted, his tone brimming with purpose. "If she brings any anomalies from Gamma, we will be ready to seal the soul, ensuring that no further disasters threaten us." The air around them crackled with the promise of their impending actions, a charged atmosphere filled with hope and trepidation.

Thalissa nodded, her brow furrowed, reflecting the gravity of the mont. "However, if she pleads not to be taken, we must listen, even if just for a fleeting mont. Her voice carries the weight of fate in this monuntal decision."

A heavy silence enveloped the room as Archon remained still, not yet ready to voice his thoughts. It was only when Kaeso called upon him that he broke his silence. When he did, his voice erged like a thunderclap, fierce and unwavering: "I will lead the forces myself."

As night fell over Atlantis, the news of the activation of the Seventh Armada spread like an unstoppable wildfire through a parched forest. In the grand hall of the weavers of magic, many were seen crying silently, their tears not born from fear, but from a deep, collective understanding of the impending consequences. If the armada moved, it would signal not just apprehension, but a relentless conquest, one that threatened to shake the very foundations of their world.

In the solitude of his dimly lit chamber, Archon approached a beautifully carved small box that sat on a mahogany table, its intricate designs glimring softly in the flickering candlelight. He opened it with reverence to reveal two hauntingly poignant items: an aged portrait of Rinoa as a child, her joyful laughter immortalized in the charming strokes that danced across the paper, and a shattered pendant crafted from black silver—a treasured gift from Fitran, who had solemnly entrusted Rinoa to Archon so many years ago. "Protect her, even from yourself," Fitran had urged, and now, as Archon contemplated that solemn vow, he felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on him, a heavy stone lodged painfully in his chest. Yet, that command now felt like a razor-sharp dagger pressing against his throat, compelling him to reckon with the agonizing choices that lay ahead.

Amidst the soft hissing of magic that echoed through the engine room of the airship "Vel Vareth," Hector Alfrenzo took a mont to center himself before sealing the door to his strategy room with an ornate personal seal, a mark of both security and authority. Inside the dimly lit space, he had summoned only one individual to receive a ssage of grave importance—an ancient communication written in the dark, shimring blood of dragons, which pulsated with a dangerous and enigmatic aura.

In the shadows waited Viscount Althur Malgraven, his silhouette cloaked in thick darkness that seed to breathe around him. The heavy folds of his black cloak carried the chilling scents of cold tal and charred remnants of fire, creating a palpable atmosphere of dread. A man once trusted, now forsaken by many, he lingered like a ghost—necessary for those too hesitant to confront the consequences of their own recklessness.

"He will co," Hector declared, his voice steady as he took a asured sip of deep crimson wine from a finely crafted crystal glass, the light flickering on its surface reflecting his resolve. "Fitran will protect Rinoa. And you know... as long as he stands, none of us will have the power to resurrect the Avatar."

Althur's lips curled into a sneer, the twisted smile hinting at sothing sinister lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, at last. You appeal to not as a Viscount but as a hunter desperate for prey."

"More than that," Hector murmured, his tone dipping low and authoritative. "You must extinguish his life. But heed this—his sword shall be yours."

The gleam of avarice could not be concealed in Althur's eyes, sparkling like a predator eyeing a long-coveted treasure. "Excalibur... the legendary blade that cleanses sins, severing the Veil that divides magic from mortal will. You know I have sought it long before this world was cast into the shadows of Harmony and Void."

Hector nodded slowly, the weight of unspoken tension settling in the air between them. "And I know Fitran will not easily surrender Excalibur. But when his ti cos to fall—whether by lethal speed or an unforeseen betrayal—you can seize it as a destiny fulfilled."

Althur leaned in closer, his brow furrowing as he caught the faint flicker of dark intentions lurking in Hector's gaze. "Are you certain this isn't driven by fear of Fitran... or perhaps what he knows about Rinoa?"

Hector fell silent, contemplating the implications. With a calm, deliberate gesture, he opened the inside of his cloak, revealing a ticulously folded map nestled within the dark fabric. A single red dot blazed on that map, signifying the location of Althur's secret landing—an island of safety amid the ever-watchful eyes of Lucente and Kaeso, whose vigilance was renowned.

"Carry this out under the cover of darkness," Althur whispered, his voice low and rasping with a sense of ominous purpose. "Create the illusion that he simply vanished. Leave no trace behind. Let there be no questions left unanswered."

Althur's fingers curled tightly around the hilt of his black sword at his waist, feeling the cold tal that had long thirsted for the warmth of worthy blood. "With pleasure," he replied, a fierce eagerness igniting in his tone as he prepared for the impending action.