Solara Majestic—The Jewel of the Empire
The Solar Empire had stood for over 800 years, its power unshaken, its influence stretching across continents.
At its heart lay Solara Majestic, a city of gold and fire, wealth and ambition.
Its towering spires reached for the heavens, each one a testament to the empire's unmatched strength. The streets were paved with polished stone, bathed in the eternal glow of sunfire lanterns, relics of ancient craftsmanship.
Merchants and nobles walked the grand avenues, dressed in robes of crimson and gold, their conversations laced with arrogance and wealth.
At the city's center stood the Imperial Palace, a monolithic fortress of white marble and solarsteel, its golden banners stretching high, adorned with the sigil of the Solaris bloodline—a burning sun eclipsed by a rising star.
Here, in this city of power, only the strong thrived.
And within the palace, schemes were already being woven.
---
The Hidden Court
The chamber was dimly lit, the scent of incense curling in the air. Unlike the grand halls of the palace, this was a place for shadows.
Only a handful of figures sat around the long ebony table, their faces obscured by low hoods and veils.
At the head of the table sat Prince Lucian Solaris, the Third Prince of the Solar Empire.
He did not wear the extravagant robes of his siblings. His attire was simple yet refined—black tunic, dark gold embroidery, a ring bearing his house sigil. His golden eyes gleamed in the candlelight, sharp and unreadable.
But beneath his calm exterior, his patience was wearing thin.
The man kneeling before him trembled.
Lucian's voice was smooth, collected. "The relic should have arrived by now."
Silence.
The kneeling man hesitated—a mistake.
Lucian leaned forward slightly, his tone soft—too soft.
"Where is it?"
The messenger swallowed. "No word has come, Your Highness."
A slow exhale. Lucian set down his goblet of wine, his fingers trailing along its edge.
He did not lash out.
He did not curse.
Instead, he simply stared, allowing the silence to stretch.
The air grew heavy.
The others in the room shifted uneasily.
Then—a flicker of movement.
Lucian's hand shot forward.
A dagger buried itself in the man's shoulder.
A scream. Blood pooled onto the marble floor.
Lucian leaned back, unfazed, swirling his wine. "Find them."
His golden eyes darkened. "Kill them. And bring me what is mine."
The kneeling man collapsed, clutching his wound. The other shadowed figures simply bowed before disappearing into the darkness.
Lucian exhaled through his nose, expression unreadable.
This was not part of the plan.
---
A lone figure stepped forward.
Lord Varian.
Lucian's most trusted advisor. A man of silver hair, calculating eyes, and a sharp mind.
Varian did not react to the blood on the floor. He had seen worse.
"You seem displeased, my prince."
Lucian let out a quiet scoff. "Astute as always, Varian."
He rose from his chair, striding toward the window. Beyond the palace walls, Solara Majestic stretched into the horizon, bathed in the golden light of dusk.
A city ruled by power.
A city that, one day, he would control.
Varian stepped beside him, his tone measured. "Even without the relic, you remain strong."
Lucian's smile was sharp. "Strong?"
His fingers curled slightly against the stone railing.
"My dear brother has a Divine Bloodline."**
Varian was silent.
Lucian turned, eyes glinting. "You know what that means."
Divine Bloodlines.
The rarest and most powerful of all bloodlines.
A gift from the gods. A mark of supremacy.
There had only ever been a handful throughout history.
And the Crown Prince had one.
Which meant that no matter how skilled, how cunning, how ruthless Lucian was—he would always be lesser.
Unless he changed the rules.
Varian studied him for a long moment. "You plan to challenge him."
Lucian exhaled, his smirk returning. "Of course. I will not bow to a man simply because of his birthright."
Varian tilted his head slightly. "You are playing a dangerous game."
Lucian's gaze did not waver. "Then I will ensure I win."
--
For over 800 years, the Solar Empire had followed one rule—only the strongest shall rule.
The Emperor, Regulus Solaris, had not yet named his successor.
But tradition dictated that the Crown Prince would inherit the throne.
Unless he was challenged.
Any royal with enough strength, support, and political power could claim the right to a Trial of Succession.
A battle. A contest of strategy. A test of absolute dominance.
But no one had ever dared to challenge a Divine Bloodline before.
Because Divine Bloodlines did not lose.
Lucian's smile was cold. "There's a first for everything."
Varian raised a brow. "And what will you do if your relic is gone?"
Lucian's fingers tapped idly against the railing.
"Then I will find another path."
He turned, eyes gleaming. "And I will carve my way to the throne."
---
As Lucian's orders spread, another figure listened from the darkness.
A woman dressed in silver, her presence unnoticed.
She was not one of Lucian's spies.
She worked for someone else.
And as she vanished into the night, she whispered to herself—
"The Lost Bloodline has awakened."
"The game is about to change."