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*.

The night after the poisoning, Thalorion didn't sleep.


Tension cracked between the allies. Whispers flooded the halls — was Sophia compromised? Was the Heart of Nyx corrupting her? And worst of all… was Kyrillos too blinded by love to see it?


In the stillness of dawn, *Niko* made his move.


Kyrillos stood atop the Obsidian Tower, overlooking the floating city. His eyes were weary, his grip on his blade tighter than usual.


"Niko," he said without turning, "you've been quiet."


Niko took a breath. "It's Alethea. She's the leak."


He explained what he'd seen — the shadow mirror, the code phrase, the whisper of phase two. Kyrillos listened, each word adding weight to the fury already rising inside him.


Niko nodded. "If we confront her directly, she'll vanish. Or worse, trigger something hidden."


Kyrillos's voice dropped. "Then we don't confront her yet. We use her."


Elsewhere, *Alethea* moved with elegance — the perfect Council member. She approached *Leonidas*, feigning concern.


"I fear Kyrillos is blinded. If Sophia truly is a risk, we must act before he drags us into damnation."


Leonidas narrowed his eyes. "So, you're saying we betray our leader?"


"I'm saying," she whispered, "we protect the realm from what he cannot see."


Leonidas didn't respond. But a flicker of doubt — exactly what Alethea wanted — took root.


Locked away in her quarters, Sophia meditated, trying to cleanse the curse-touched magic that had clung to Evangelos. The more she examined it, the more familiar it felt.


A memory sparked — a face from the Oracle Sect. A friend. A sister once: *Alethea*.


And with that memory, came understanding.


That night, Kyrillos gathered *Niko*, *Andreas*, and *Calliope*.


"Let her keep playing her game," Kyrillos said. "We'll bait the next move."


Niko added, "She's targeting someone close. I think she's going after Calliope next."


Calliope grinned. "Finally. I was getting bored."


In a hidden chamber, Alethea stood before the shadow mirror again. The cultist voice rasped:


*"Plant the doubt. Break the shield next. Calliope falls, the circle shatters."*


Alethea's hands trembled. "And when they're broken?"


*"Then we release the Leviathan Seed."*


The trap is set. The enemy moves within. And the Council walks blindly toward its own collapse.


Chapter 18: Blades Behind Smiles