Alan pressed the call button on his desk, inviting Alia in. She opened the door and stepped inside, taking a few careful paces forward before bowing deeply.
"I'm sorry, Prime Minister," she said softly. "I could not stop him."
She lifted her head. Alan gave her a brief, reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Alia. He did indeed have some urgent news, so think nothing of it."
"Thank you, Prime Minister," she replied. "Should I escort him out?"
Alan turned back toward the window. "There is no need. He is already gone."
His words confused her. Even stranger, the young soldier was nowhere in sight—as if he had simply vanished. A faint uneasiness crept over her, a sensation she had never felt before.
"Set a meeting with the Emperor," Alan continued. "There are some things he must hear."
"Of course, sir."
Alia quickly left the office, returning to her desk with that same unsettled feeling lingering in her chest.
Back inside, Alan stood as the air rippled like water. He stepped into the distortion, and his form shifted once more—returning to the golden-haired figure beneath the disguise.
Before him spread a a world with no void—no dark expanse between the stars. Instead, the sky was vast, reflective sea of silver, stretching infinitely above. The light there didn't twinkle as stars do, nor did it flicker with the fire of distant suns. It was steady, soft, and ethereal, casting a cool glow across the land. The sky itself seemed like a living thing, its surface glowing with a mysterious, otherworldly radiance that reflects off the land in a soft shimmer.
The mountains that dominate this world were unlike any others. Towering spirals of stone twisted upwards in endless graceful arcs, as though they were born of some ancient forgotten design. Their jagged, irregular peaks curved and winded in impossible patterns, climbing higher and higher in spirals that stretch toward the glowing heavens above. These mountains were alive with a strange beauty, their surfaces streaked with veins of silver that pulsed with a quiet energy, reflecting the constant shimmer of the sky.
From a distance, they seemed like twisting, shimmering pillars that reach into the very heart of the heavens, but upon closer inspection, they were much more: vast, ancient spires carved by time and forces beyond comprehension. The air was cool and crisp, and though it was still, there was an undercurrent of movement to it—an invisible current that hummed through the land. The wind, gentle and slow, danced around the peaks in spirals, carrying a faint scent of something metallic, something sweet. Even though it felt like the world was suspended in time, there was always a quiet energy here, an ever-present hum beneath the surface of the land.
The mysterious man hovered before one of the mountains, slowly ascending.
The castle rose from the mountain like a luminous titan, an entire civilization sculpted into spiraling tiers of stone and gold. In the silver haze of drifting sky, its colossal terraces curved outward in vast concentric rings, each one carved with rows of towering columns that gave the structure an ancient, almost divine grandeur. From a distance, the entire city-fortress seemed to glow from within.
Thousands of golden lights flickered across its surface—along walkways, beneath archways, and inside the countless chambers stacked like glittering jewels upon the mountainside. Warm light spilled through tall colonnades, illuminating the snow-dusted ledges and casting shimmering reflections into the mist below. The highest tier rose into a crowned summit, a radiant citadel perched above all others. Its parapets and domes shone like molten gold against the eternal sky, glowing so brightly it seemed carved from starlight itself.
Every pathway spiraled gracefully around the mountain, forming luminous ribbons of architecture that connected hall to hall, shrine to hall, tower to keep. These paths flowed like rivers of gold, winding upward in perfect harmony with the mountain's natural curves, giving the entire structure the appearance of a living, breathing organism—part fortress, part temple, part dream. Below, the foundations disappeared into swirling fog, making the fortress seem even more impossible, as if it rested not on stone, but on the very essence of the sky.
In all its splendor and immensity, the castle stood as a beacon—eternal, radiant, and indescribably ancient. It was a place where myth and reality intertwined, a sanctuary of light suspended between the heavens and the mountain's eternal stone. Now inside the castle he walked the halls, stretching out before him, light poured through towering stained-glass windows, each pane glowing with soft golds, rose hues. The light cascaded inward in long, gentle beams, washing over the marble floor and scattering into shimmering patterns—turning the polished surface into a living tapestry of color. Intricate mosaics were inlaid directly into the stone beneath his feet, their scenes and symbols catching the light so perfectly that they seemed almost illuminated from within. Slender columns lined the hall in stately formation, each one crowned with ornate gold-leaf capitals.
The stone above them arched into impossibly high vaults, ribbed and branching like the limbs of ancient trees turned to marble. Between the arches, the ceiling unfolded into a breathtaking expanse of gilded patterns and painted frescoes—celestial scenes, sacred emblems, and swirling motifs that made the entire chamber feel like the inside of a grand, sanctified dream.
He reached two enormous silver doors flanked by two knights.
Their armor was a masterpiece—polished steel shaped in sharp angles and flowing contours, both elegant and lethal. Gold accents crowned every joint and edge, gleaming like captured sunlight, tracing each line with deliberate precision.
Their helmets were most striking: tall, sweeping horns of gold framing a narrow, ominous visor slit that revealed nothing of their faces. White cloth wrapped their shoulders and fluttered faintly, contrasting with the dangerous design.
A deep blue cloak trailed behind them, adding regal grace to their war-forged presence. Beneath it, darker plating defended their legs, etched with geometric patterns echoing the helm.
The giant doors opened slowly.
The giant doors slowly opened reveling a sweeping circle of polished stone forming the floor, its intricate inlays spiraled toward the center like a celestial map. Each step taken within the chamber echoed with quiet authority. Colossal pillars ringed the hall, carved from pale marble and veined like frozen lightning. Between them stood statues of beings, sages, and warriors.
Along the curved wall, twelve thrones of gold lined the ascent toward the highest seat—each adorned with sharp crest work and unmistakable grandeur. But the greatest throne of all stood alone at the summit. Raised above the others, it blazed with ornate filigree and towering spires of gilded metal. Its presence dominated the chamber.
Standing at the center, the mysterious man clapped his hands. Particles of light materialized upon the thrones, coalescing into twelve luminous beings seated in their places, clad in radiant cloaks.
The figure on the highest throne rose.
"To what do we owe this summons," the being asked, "Saint-Germain?"