The faint scent of medicinal herbs still clung to Luciana's sleeves as she made her way through the grand halls of the imperial villa. Her footsteps echoed softly against the polished marble, her mind heavy with Nemesis's words, his tears, and her own silent failings.
The palace guards bowed in passing as she approached the private solar of Emperor Helios. His summons had been expected—perhaps inevitable.
The chamber doors opened, revealing the sunlight-drenched space where Helios sat near the balcony, the pale glow casting sharp angles across his regal features. His injured leg was propped discreetly upon a cushioned stool, and his cane rested nearby. Scrolls and ceremonial fabrics were unfurled across the marble table beside him—signs of the preparations underway for Ra'el's blessing ceremony.
"Luciana," Helios greeted without looking up immediately, his eyes scanning a parchment containing the blessing rites. His tone remained measured, but there was a tension beneath it—a quiet awareness that this meeting was more than ceremonial.
"Father," she replied softly, bowing her head in respect as she stepped closer.
"You're late," Helios observed, though his voice lacked true reprimand—only quiet understanding.
"I… needed to tend to Nemesis first," Luciana admitted, folding her hands before her, unsure how much to reveal when she suspected he already knew.
Helios's sharp eyes lifted from the scrolls, studying her with the cool, piercing gaze that had unsettled kings and generals alike. Yet, behind that cold exterior, there was a familiar weariness—a father's concern carefully buried beneath the emperor's mantle.
"How is he?" Helios asked, no pretense of ignorance in his voice.
Luciana exhaled softly, stepping toward the table. "Shaken. More from grief than injury. He's still so young, yet he carries more than his heart was meant to endure."
A heavy pause settled between them as Helios considered her words. The sounds of the bustling palace—servants preparing for the ceremony, the distant clatter of armor—faded beneath the weight of their conversation.
"We will proceed with Ra'el's blessing ceremony as planned," Helios stated firmly, his fingers tapping lightly on the polished wood. "The High Priests have confirmed the rites. The nobles, foreign emissaries, and even the hesitant allies from Amanécer will be in attendance. His birth must be presented as divine favor—strong, unified bloodlines, regardless of the whispers."
Luciana's throat tightened. "You believe they'll be convinced by ceremony alone?"
Helios's gaze hardened. "Ceremony creates perception. Perception governs loyalty. The people will believe what they see—a prince honored by both imperial and celestial rites. It matters not what doubts stir in hushed corners."
She nodded faintly, though the ache in her chest remained. "And Nemesis?" she asked cautiously, suspecting Helios would not ignore the incident so easily.
Helios leaned back, the faintest hint of exasperation lining his expression. "The boy attempted to ascend the palace skies alone. In full view of the guards, no less."
Luciana's shoulders tensed, shame coiling beneath her ribs. "He—he only wished to find his father… to beg him to return."
A flicker of something—disapproval, frustration, or perhaps quiet sorrow—passed through Helios's eyes before his expression steadied.
"This cannot continue," he declared with quiet finality. "Nemesis, Hades, even Ra'el in time—they cannot be raised in seclusion, coddled within guarded chambers while the world sharpens its knives outside these walls."
Luciana's brows drew together. "What would you have me do? The people fear them… fear what their blood represents."
"Which is precisely why they must stand among the people—not hidden from them," Helios countered, his tone crisp, strategic. "We can no longer rely solely on distant promises or Erebus's empire to shield them. Their strength, their legacy, must be cultivated here."
He gestured to a sealed document resting beside the ceremonial plans. Luciana recognized the imperial crest, though she had not yet seen this decree.
"I've drafted plans to formally establish an academy—a sanctioned institution within the imperial villa grounds, at least initially," Helios revealed. "A training ground for noble offspring, future leaders… and your children."
Luciana's eyes widened faintly. "An academy? Within the villa?"
"Temporarily," Helios confirmed. "Until its permanent foundation is complete. The grounds are vast, secure, and politically neutral. It will offer Nemesis structured education, peer interaction, combat preparation… and distance from his current grief. He'll have purpose beyond longing for Erebus's return."
Luciana hesitated, her gaze falling to the table where the ceremonial fabrics lay—a stark contrast to the cold strategy now unfolding.
"You believe structure will ease his grief?" she asked quietly, though part of her knew it was true.
"I believe purpose mends wounds more effectively than empty hope," Helios replied with quiet certainty. "Nemesis needs peers—not just tutors, not just guards. He needs to understand his place among those he will one day stand beside, or above."
Luciana pressed her lips together, her mind weighed with doubt and cautious hope. "He's still mourning. He's… so young."
"All the more reason not to delay," Helios stated firmly. "You cannot shield him from whispers, Luciana. But you can ensure he walks among them with his head held high."
She exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting toward the open balcony where sunlight poured in—a quiet promise of the world beyond these guarded walls.
"Let the blessing ceremony pass," she said softly. "Then… we'll begin."
Helios inclined his head, satisfied. "Good. The boy is strong, even if he doesn't yet realize it."
Luciana's heart clenched as she thought of Nemesis's trembling hands, his brave words spoken through tears: Mama is strong.
Perhaps, in time, they all would be.
---
The Blessing Ceremony of Prince Ra'el and Hades was commenced in silence.
The imperial villa had never looked so meticulously adorned. Sunlight poured through the colonnades, casting amber hues upon cascading silken banners, each embroidered with the imperial sigil entwined with the ancient emblem of Amanécer—a visual testament to bloodlines both celestial and terrestrial.
The grand courtyard, vast and marbled, now transformed into a sanctuary of whispered reverence, was lined with nobles, emissaries, and high-ranking military commanders. The priests of the High Temple stood poised near the altar, draped in ceremonial white and silver, their faces solemn beneath jeweled circlets.
And at the heart of it all, Luciana stood with Ra'el cradled in her arms—the newborn prince swaddled in ivory cloth embroidered with golden constellations, his small face a quiet mirror of his lineage. His tuft of silvery-white hair, inherited from her, shimmered beneath the sunlight, drawing hushed gasps from some attendees—the proof of Amanécer blood undeniable.
Nemesis stood beside her, his small shoulders squared in ceremonial robes. His injuries, now hidden beneath delicate fabrics, still bore faint signs of his earlier fall. His eyes, though tired, flicked warily over the gathered crowd, instinctively protective of his mother and siblings.
Hades, held gently by a nurse just behind them, fidgeted restlessly—oblivious to the politics suffocating the air.
At the forefront, Emperor Helios sat upon his elevated throne—one leg discreetly braced, the other crossed in regal formality. His sharp gaze swept the gathering, calculating every expression: awe, envy, suspicion. It was all expected.
The ceremony commenced with a low hum of chanted blessings, the High Priests invoking ancestral spirits and celestial patrons. Incense curled upward, its fragrant tendrils weaving between marble columns as ancient hymns echoed across the courtyard.
Luciana kept her expression serene, her mind disciplined—yet beneath the surface, she felt the weight of every stare. The nobility watched Ra'el not with unified admiration, but with concealed hesitation. His existence—like Nemesis's and Hades's—was a delicate political fracture, mended only by appearances and orchestrated rites.
The High Priest stepped forward, an ornate chalice in hand, filled with blessed spring water drawn from Amanécer's sacred peaks.
"By divine right and sovereign decree," the priest intoned, voice resonating with ritual authority, "we present Prince Ra'el—heir of imperial blood and celestial descent—to the people and the heavens."
The crowd bowed their heads in reverence, but Luciana's peripheral vision caught the subtle shifts—nobles exchanging glances, soldiers gripping sword hilts a little tighter. The alliance with Erebus had quieted open rebellion, but suspicion festered like an unseen wound.
As the priest anointed Ra'el's forehead with the blessed water, the infant stirred slightly but did not cry—a small mercy in an otherwise volatile gathering.
"May he walk under the twin banners of unity and strength," the priest declared, raising his hands. "And may his bloodline forge peace, even where shadows gather."
Polite applause followed—the kind born more of expectation than genuine celebration.
Luciana turned, carefully presenting Ra'el to the assembly, his small form elevated for all to see. Whispers rippled through the crowd, subtle yet undeniable. Some gazes softened—others sharpened with unspoken judgment.
She lowered him gently, her arms steady despite the storm beneath her composed exterior.
Nemesis's small hand slid into hers—a quiet, grounding gesture.
"He's so small," Nemesis whispered, watching his baby brother's peaceful face.
Luciana nodded faintly, squeezing his hand. "And yet… already the world weighs upon him."
From the dais, Helios's voice rang out, firm and commanding.
"Let it be known—this blessing affirms not only Ra'el's birth, but our resolve," Helios declared, standing with calculated effort. "The unity between Amanécer and the Krovzaryan Empire stands unbroken. And soon, with the academy's foundation, the next generation—our sons, our daughters—will rise prepared to face the trials ahead."
His gaze found Nemesis briefly—a fleeting, intentional gesture that only Luciana caught.
The academy was no longer a private conversation—it was being declared, woven into public policy and legacy alike.
A calculated murmur swept the courtyard—approval from some, quiet apprehension from others.
The ceremony closed with final rites, the priests retreating as musicians struck the first chords of subdued celebration.
Luciana remained still, her hold on Ra'el unwavering as nobles approached with rehearsed smiles and guarded pleasantries.
Helios descended the dais, pausing beside her briefly, his voice low enough for only her to hear. He was using his wings now to even a small descent which made his subjects the cause of it.
"The people have seen your strength, and your children. Now… let them see your strategy."
Luciana's eyes never left the crowd, her expression unreadable. "And if they refuse to accept them?"
Helios's lips curved into something between a smirk and a warning. "Then they'll learn acceptance… the hard way."
Her gaze drifted to Nemesis—stoic, small, but quietly watching everything.
A storm was brewing, but for now, they had weathered this moment.
The blessing was complete. The real trials were only beginning.