[POV Liselotte]
The Throne Hall of Whirikal had never felt so cold—and this ti, it was not because of my own magic. The air was saturated with an electric tension, an invisible clash between the royal authority of the crown and the dogmatic arrogance of faith. As we entered, the echo of our boots against the polished marble seed to silence the murmurs of the nobles lining the lateral columns.
King William sat upon his throne, his right hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial sword. To his left, the seat was empty, waiting for us. The mont our gazes t, I saw a flash of relief in his tired eyes, followed by renewed resolve.
“My daughter, Liselotte, Chloé… co closer. Your place is here, beside the throne,” William said, his voice resonating through every corner of the vast chamber.
We advanced with steady steps, feeling the weight of hundreds of gazes upon us. Leah took her place imdiately to her father’s right, while Chloé and I stood a step behind, like the protective shadows destiny had assigned to us. Before us, in the center of the hall, stood a delegation of five n dressed in the white-and-gold robes of the Church of Orestia. They were not kneeling; they had barely inclined their heads, maintaining a posture that openly defied the King’s sovereignty.
One of the highest-ranking nobles, the Marquis of Oriz, stepped forward to formalize the eting according to protocol.
“We hereby open this royal audience,” the Marquis announced, clearing his throat. “We invite all present to greet His Majesty, King William of Whirikal, and thereafter to welco the emissaries of the Holy Church of Orestia, bearers of the word of the Goddess Gaia.”
After the formal greetings—which felt more like an exchange of warnings than courtesies—King William leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His patience was a thread on the verge of snapping.
“Emissaries,” William began in an icy tone, “you requested this audience with extre urgency. I have halted the affairs of the realm to hear you. State now the reasons for your visit and why you have crossed our borders with such a large ard escort.”
The leader of the envoys, a middle-aged priest whose gaze distilled a near-feverish fanaticism, stepped forward. His smile was unbearably smug.
“Your Majesty, we will not waste ti on unnecessary pleasantries that only delay the divine will,” the priest said, raising his silver staff. “We co by direct order of Pope Benedict IV. We demand that you imdiately hand over the woman you call Princess Leah and her so-called bodyguards, Liselotte and the demi-human. After profound sacred visions, our Church has declared that they are nothing but high-ranking demons who have usurped the identity of the true princess to rot the kingdom from its very core.”
A wave of indignation rippled through the hall. Leah clenched her fists, her inner fire vibrating beneath her skin, while Chloé let out a low growl that made the nearest guards step back.
“Enough!” William roared, rising to his feet. The thunder of his voice silenced the crowd. “For three years you have repeated the sa blasphemy, three years attempting to take my daughter from with baseless accusations. I did not hand anyone over at the quarry, and I will not hand anyone over today. My daughter has proven her humanity and her loyalty more than any of your priests seated on ivory thrones.”
The emissary did not flinch. On the contrary, his smile widened into a mask of false pity. He turned toward the assembled nobles, as though performing on a stage.
“Ah, the blindness of a father!” he exclaid theatrically. “How tragic to see a sovereign choose his own sinful affection over the salvation of his people. Your Majesty, if you persist in your refusal to purify this palace, the Church will have no other choice. From this mont on, the Kingdom of Whirikal shall be officially recognized as an ‘Enemy of Humanity’ and an accomplice of the shadows. Your trade treaties, your alliances… all will be rendered null under sacred anathema.”
“How dare you?!” shouted the Duke of Valerius, stepping forward from the line of nobles. “Your knights have been attacking our border territories indiscriminately under the pretext of ‘purges’! You have massacred entire villages of innocent people!”
“They were not innocent,” another priest replied coldly. “We were rely purging the seed of the demon that your negligence allows to flourish. You should be thanking us.”
“You are murderers!” Leah shouted, stepping forward. Her voice trembled with fury. “I know what you have done in the north. You serve no goddess—only your own ambition.”
The leader of the emissaries suddenly grew serious, and an aura of absolute confidence emanated from him. His eyes shone with triumphant malice.
“Say whatever you wish, demon child. Our confidence today does not rest on words, but on facts. A few weeks ago, the Goddess Gaia bestowed upon us a great gift. A miracle that Whirikal cannot ignore.”
I imdiately rembered the letter Leah had received at the Academy. They had discovered sothing. A chill ran down my spine. My mind raced: what kind of power could make the Church openly challenge a militarily strong kingdom like ours?
“What is it that you have, Priest?” William asked, his voice now heavy with suspicion. “Show your hand at once.”
The priest gestured toward the great doors of the hall. “The Goddess’s gift is sothing that will change the fate of Lyre forever. While you lose yourselves in diocre studies at your academy, the Goddess grants us—her true followers—gifts and prophecies beyond your comprehension.”
The man began to boast, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped. “According to divine ssages, this gift has been brought from another world. A world of lost warriors who were prepared and purified by the Goddess herself for decades in the celestial plane. They are the ultimate sword against the darkness.”
“Bring forth the Heroes!” the priest shouted toward the outside.
The doors of the hall flew wide open. The sound of tallic, rhythmic, heavy footsteps echoed through the expectant silence. A group of five people entered the chamber. They wore white-and-gold armor of a design foreign to Lyre’s aesthetic—more streamlined, almost futuristic in its runic details. Their expressions were fierce and resolute, marked by an arrogance that surpassed even that of the priests.
The mont my eyes fell upon them, the world seed to stop.
The ocean of energy within lurched violently. My breath caught. They were not re warriors. Their faces… I knew those faces. Despite the years that had passed, despite their bodies now being those of young adults at the peak of physical condition, their features were unmistakable.
It was them.
“Lotte? What’s wrong? You’re shaking…” Leah whispered beside , noticing my physical reaction. Her hand sought mine, worried. “Lotte, look at —are you alright?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t speak. My mind was dragged backward—back to the hallways of a high school on Terra, to laughter during recess, to the day an entire group from my class simply… disappeared.
“Welco the Heroes of Gaia!” the emissary announced thunderously. “Behold those who have descended to cleanse this world!”
The priest presented the leader of the group: a blond young man with a manic gaze, walking at the front with a golden sword resting on his shoulder. “This is Ulric, the Hero of the Celestial Sword!”
I was stunned. Ulric. In my past life, his na had been different, but his face was the sa as the boy who used to sit three rows behind . And the four who followed him—the girl with the predatory stare, the massive, muscular giant… they were all my forr classmates. Those whom Edward Celium had believed lost forever in a mysterious mass accident.
They were Edward’s friends. They were the souls Gaia had abducted to turn into her puppets. And now, they were here, standing before , transford into the Church’s executioners.
“This can’t be…” I finally whispered, in a voice that didn’t feel like my own.
Leah squeezed my hand tightly, her eyes filling with growing alarm at my extre pallor. But I was no longer in the Throne Hall. I was watching the pieces of the goddesses’ ga finally fall into place in the cruelest possible way. My forr friends had returned—but not to save , but to destroy everything I now loved.
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