The sky split open.

Thunder didn’t roll—it roared, howled, like a beast wounded by fate. The heavens bled crimson as celestial lightning arced through the skies, searing the firmament. Rain poured down, not water, but something heavier—mixed with ash and divine residue. Olympus itself trembled.

High upon the *Altar of Judgement*, chained by glowing celestial runes, knelt a boy.

*Kyrillos*.

Barefoot, beaten, and broken—not by combat, but by betrayal. His once radiant robes were in tatters, his body scorched with marks of restraint, divine bindings pulsing against his skin.

He was seventeen.

The boy once praised as the Prodigy of the Silver Flame, the Heir of the Celestial Phoenix Sect… now a heretic, condemned by those who once toasted his victories.

Around him stood the *Twelve Grand Houses*, their banners flapping wildly in the divine storm. Faces half-shadowed under golden helms and jeweled crowns, yet none dared look him in the eye. Only one figure, hidden in the rear, wept silently behind a silver veil—*Aphrodite*.

Perfect! We'll treat *Ch. 1–100* as the *Rebirth Arc*, building Kyrillos's new 


The Council of Forgotten Flames was growing in strength, but so too was the illusion of security it provided. Behind every oath, there lingered ambition. And in the shadows of oaths, spies whispered.


*Alethea*, a respected emissary from the Eastern Oracle sect, moved like silk between councils. To most, she was composed, loyal, and wise. But when night fell, she answered only one voice.


It came embedded in a gift — a golden flower, supposedly from a supporter in Vel'Mir.


*"Ashen Moon rises. The bond must fracture. Begin with Sophia."*


Her heart trembled — not from guilt, but from doubt. In another life, she and Sophia had trained together. But her people were hostages now. Loyalty was a chain she couldn't cut.


She placed the petal in her book, cloaked herself in illusion, and went to work.


The Assassination Attempt That night, as Kyrillos and Sophia debated next moves with Leonidas and Calliope, a scream rang out in the council hall.


*General Evangelos*, a powerful war tactician, collapsed — veins black, mouth foaming. Poison. And planted within his robes: a letter implicating *Sophia*.


Dionysios was first to speak. "She's linked to the Heart of Nyx — the same energy that twists minds. Maybe she's already fallen."


Sophia stood frozen, not in fear, but in betrayal. Someone had planted a memory seal spell — a technique only *three people in the council* knew. One was her. The other two? Both already dead.


Kyrillos stepped in front of her, eyes blazing. "Anyone who lays a finger on her… dies."


The council erupted. Andreas pushed back against the guards. Calliope reached for her blade.


Tension peaked. But Sophia raised her hand.


"Let them search me. I have nothing to hide."


Alethea, hidden in the crowd, watched. Her eyes glistened. "She's still the same," she whispered.


Unknown to all, *Niko*, the youngest strategist on the council — a silent observer — had been watching Alethea closely for weeks.


He followed her through the corridors that night.


What he saw froze his blood: Alethea removing her disguise, whispering into a shadow mirror.


*"Target destabilized. Phase two begins. Prepare for fracture."*


Niko returned to his quarters, heart pounding. He now held the truth — but exposing it meant choosing between Sophia's survival… and unleashing war within the council.


The enemy had already moved inside the gates.


Chapter 17: Masked by Loyalty