The bells of the Palace of Veil tolled thrice - a sound that had not echoed through Elarion in an age. It was the signal of an emergency convocation, called only when the stability of the realm trembled. The air itself seemed to dim with the sound, each chime ringing through the bones of the city like the toll of a great clock counting down to something inevitable.
The Eternal Queen sat upon her throne, her gaze distant, her hands still. The marble beneath her feet shimmered faintly - her power pulsing in rhythm with her breath. The high court gathered in a crescent of shadow: nobles, priests, and envoys who feared her more than they feared the heavens.
At their centre stood High Inquisitor Valen Thorne, his armour black as prayer, his eyes fever bright.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. "I bring a petition. One that may yet preserve the balance of this world."
Seraphyne's tone was cool, measured. "Speak, Valen."
"The Wane spreads. The stars dim. The Veil trembles. These are signs that the covenant between heaven and Elarion weakens. You, my queen, are the vessel of that covenant."
He straightened, his voice sharpening like a blade. "But something — or someone — is corrupting the vessel."
A murmur swept the court.
Seraphyne's gaze narrowed. "Choose your words with care."
Valen gestured to the shadows near the hall's entrance. From them stepped a man in scholar's robes, pale and uncertain, clutching a stack of ancient texts bound in faded silk. He bowed deeply before the throne.
"This is Scholar Iren Vale, Keeper of the Southern Archives," Valen said. "He has uncovered records that may explain the cause of the Wane."
The queen regarded the scholar with detached calm. "Speak, then."
Iren opened one of the books, his fingers trembling slightly. "Your Majesty… the records tell of a pattern — of a mortal woman reborn through ages, each life ending in your presence. Each time her death marked a new fracture in the Veil. The chronicles call her the Mirror Soul."
A quiet fell over the hall — the kind that feels like breath held too long.
Valen stepped forward. "We have seen her again, Majesty. She walks your gardens. She dares to touch your hand. And since her arrival, the Wane has grown. You know this to be true."
Seraphyne's jaw tightened, but her voice remained steady. "The Wane began long before her return. It is born of my silence, not her existence."
Valen's expression darkened. "Forgive me, my queen, but your silence has never broken the heavens. Your love, however, has — again and again."
The court rippled with whispers. The queen's eyes flashed — not with fury, but sorrow.
"Do you think I do not know?" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "That every heartbeat I claim as mine condemns another to die? You think I do not feel the weight of it? I have buried worlds for the sake of a single touch."
Her voice filled the hall like a hymn turned elegy. "Do not speak to me of corruption, Valen. You cannot corrupt what was never pure."
Valen bowed his head, but there was triumph hidden beneath the gesture. "Then you admit the bond exists."
"I admit nothing," Seraphyne said. "Except that love is the only thing in this world that still defies my command."
As the court dispersed, Valen lingered. "Your Majesty, I beg you — let us act before she destroys you."
Seraphyne's gaze drifted toward the window, where the moon hung fractured behind a veil of clouds. "If she destroys me," she said softly, "then perhaps the world will finally know peace."
Valen's voice hardened. "And what of Elarion? What of the people who worship you?"
She turned her eyes to him, luminous and cold. "Would you rather a kingdom ruled by a corpse, or freed by a heart?"
Valen bowed, but his silence was dangerous.
When he left the hall, his footsteps echoed like prophecy.
That night, in the solitude of her chambers, Seraphyne found Lyssara waiting. The mortal's presence filled the space like a soft glow in the dark.
"They know," Lyssara said. "The Inquisitor, the scholars. They'll come for me."
Seraphyne crossed the distance between them. "Let them. You are under my protection."
Lyssara shook her head. "You can't protect what the gods themselves condemned."
The queen's voice trembled — a sound that had not existed for centuries. "Then let them condemn me too."
Lyssara looked at her, eyes wide, searching. "You'd give up eternity?"
"For a single moment that feels alive," Seraphyne said. "Yes."
In the corridors beyond, unseen, Valen's spies moved like shadows.
The queen's defiance would soon set the heavens against her — but for now, in the stillness of her chamber, she chose love over light.
And somewhere far above the palace, the first star fell.