Darkness.
It wasn't merely the absence of light — it was a presence. Heavy. Absolute. A suffocating velvet void that pressed against Renher's very being, sealing away every sense until even his breath felt like a forgotten memory.
He floated — or perhaps existed — somewhere between thought and oblivion. His body was gone, stripped away like an unnecessary shell. Only his mind lingered, restless and unanchored.
Fragments of memory flickered through the void like dying embers. Kaileen… the army… the battlefield... Each image burned sharp and cold, a chorus of regrets whispering against the silence.
He wondered, bitterly, if this was punishment — to wander eternally among the shadows of his failures.
And then—
A flicker.
A distant glow shimmered faintly through the black. It was small at first — barely perceptible — but unmistakably there.
The sight tugged at something deep within him.
That light… I have to reach it.
He didn't know why. The thought simply appeared, and before he could act on it, his formless self began to move — or drift — drawn toward that luminous promise like a moth to flame.
There was no sense of time in that descent. It might have lasted a heartbeat, or a millennium.
The light expanded, folding and unfolding like an ocean wave. It wasn't a tunnel, nor a gate — but a vast, undulating curtain of radiance woven from threads of every color imaginable, yet somehow… blindingly pure.
A warmth spread through him. Gentle. Familiar. The ache of death, the suffocation of the void — all began to fade.
The air — if one could call it that — thrummed with a low, melodic hum. It resonated deep within his soul, in a rhythm his heart somehow recognized.
It felt… alive.
As Renher drifted closer, he felt something slip from him — a layer of sorrow, of exhaustion, peeling away like old skin. He wasn't vanishing; he was becoming lighter, freer.
Faces shimmered within the light. Familiar smiles. Loved ones long gone. Their expressions were soft, welcoming.
He almost reached out — but the pull of the light grew stronger, almost tender, as if inviting him into its embrace.
Is this the afterlife?
The thought barely formed before the world shifted.
When he next blinked, he stood upon solid ground.
Before him rose a structure that defied all mortal comprehension — a palace of impossible scale and unearthly beauty.
The Palace of Angels — that was the name his mind supplied.
It towered against a sky not of blue, but of liquid starlight. The palace shimmered like a living constellation, its walls breathing, its towers spiraling endlessly upward.
And most startling of all — he could feel his body again.
Renher flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of his limbs return, the familiar rhythm of breath.
How… am I alive?
He opened his mouth — but no sound came out. Only his thoughts echoed, clear and resonant, within his mind.
What is this place? Am I dead or alive? Are these thoughts… my voice now?
A tremor of unease rippled through him.
Then — a sound.
A voice thundered from deep within the palace, so powerful it seemed to shake the stars themselves. The words were alien, ancient — incomprehensible — yet heavy with divine command.
Renher's instincts screamed to kneel, to obey.
And then the voice spoke again — this time in his tongue:
"Come inside."
The command wasn't merely heard — it was felt, crawling beneath his skin, gripping his very will.
Renher's feet moved of their own accord. Each step forward felt like a betrayal of his own mind.
Panic flickered in him. I can't disobey…?
He forced himself to stop. To think.
He summoned that same iron resolve that had once made him an emperor — and willed his body to halt.
And it did.
He stood firm, trembling, but victorious.
My thoughts… they're influencing my actions? Then thought must be the key here.
The palace trembled again — this time with fury.
"Fasten your feet, mor—"
The voice was suddenly cut off by a tremendous crash.
The very air convulsed, and the palace — the entire world — shook violently.
Renher braced himself, heart pounding. The ground beneath him rippled like disturbed water.
And then — another voice spoke.
Softer. Gentle. Yet brimming with an authority that came not from dominance, but from presence.
"Take your time, little Emperor. Explore. Then, come to the center."
The moment it spoke, the tremors ceased.
Renher stood in silence.
Two voices — one wrathful, one composed.
Which should I trust?
He exhaled slowly. The first commands obedience. The second… invites it. My heart already knows which one to follow.
He began to move toward the palace.
The closer he came, the clearer its beauty became.
The palace wasn't built of stone or marble, but of solidified starlight and whispered prayers.
Its walls shimmered in ever-shifting hues, their surfaces alive with reflections of distant galaxies. Each spire pulsed gently, in rhythm with some unseen cosmic heartbeat.
Through translucent layers of what seemed like opal mist, he glimpsed celestial gardens — trees that bore fruit made of light, rivers that sang, skies where constellations drifted lazily like clouds.
"Valhalla?" he murmured under his breath. "No… my body is here. Not just my soul."
His footsteps echoed as he entered a vast courtyard — the heart of the palace.
There, a fountain pulsed with radiant energy, like the beating core of creation itself.
Archways of woven starlight opened into countless chambers — each one emanating a strange familiarity.
Curiosity gnawed at him. He stepped closer to one.
Inside — a scene unfolded.
His scene.
A child with wooden sword in hand. His mother's laughter. The scent of the rain-soaked courtyard from his youth. His coronation. Kaileen's first smile at him.
Each chamber played a piece of his life — perfect, vivid, intimate.
Renher's heart tightened. "Someone's been… watching me," he whispered. "Recording everything."
He moved to another chamber — and froze.
It was the battlefield. His final moments replayed — the clash, the fury, the sharp pain in his chest, the shouts of his generals. His death.
His breath quickened.
He tore himself away — only to find the next chamber filled with… color.
Not simple color, but something beyond it — a cosmic spectrum twisting and weaving in impossible harmony. The hues shifted like emotions, forming and collapsing upon themselves in mesmerizing cycles.
What does this mean?
He peered into another chamber. The same. Then another — the same swirling kaleidoscope of incomprehensible light.
And then — movement.
A flicker at the edge of his vision. A small shadow darting through the corridor.
Renher turned sharply. "Who's there?"
Silence.
Only the echo of his voice answered.
He followed the fleeting silhouette through turns and hallways, his pulse quickening with every step.
He didn't know how long he chased it — but soon, he found himself at a dead end.
Before him stood a door, shimmering faintly.
Behind him — a wall had formed, sealing his path.
No escape. Only forward.
Taking a breath, Renher pushed the door open—
—and the sight before him stole his words.
The chamber was infinite.
A cosmic expanse contained within a room. Nebulae swirled across its shifting walls; constellations danced slowly in the void above. Stars pulsed like living hearts, their light reflecting on surfaces of crystalline infinity.
At the center sat a little girl — perhaps eight, no more — on an ordinary chair that looked comically small amidst such grandeur.
Beside her stood a tall man, silent and composed, radiating the stillness of a mountain.
The girl turned toward Renher, her voice soft but firm.
"Sit down now, Emperor of Skairus."
With a flick of her hand, another chair materialized.
Renher hesitated — then smirked faintly. "Ordering me already, are you?"
He walked forward, masking his unease behind practiced poise, and took his seat.
The girl's eyes — no, her galaxies — glimmered. Stars shimmered within them, infinite and ancient.
Every other part of her seemed ordinary. Simple. Innocent. That dissonance was what unnerved him most.
She turned to the man beside her.
"Fetch the finest petals of Osmanthus."
The man bowed deeply. "As you wish." His movements were precise, graceful — the bearing of a being accustomed to divine service.
As he departed, Renher noted how the air seemed to bend around him. Even the silence held reverence.