Chapter 3 (Emperors Decision)
The court hall of Dazareth carried the weight of decisions that shaped the realm.
High marble pillars reached toward a ceiling painted with ancient constellations. The floor gleamed like still water. Every step, every breath, echoed. And today, the room felt suffocating—thick with nerves, anticipation , and fear.
Emperor Saya sat at the head of the long council table , posture straight, expression unreadable. Shadows clung to him naturally, gathering at his feet like loyal hounds. His emerald eyes remained lowered on the scroll in his hand, but every person in the hall sat stiff, terrified of even breathing too loud.
A meeting meant for state affairs had derailed long before it began. Because everyone was waiting for someone else to bring a particular matter up.
The councilmen sat around the obsidian table carved for war councils and kingdom decrees. Dozens of eyes flicked toward Emperor Saya but none dared be the first to speak.
Finally, a thin, nervous councilman pushed back his chair and stood.
He bowed deeply. Head almost touching the table.
"Your Majesty… may I request permission to address a matter of urgency?"
Saya didn't lift his gaze from the scroll in his hand.
"Speak."
The man swallowed.
"It concerns… Divine Artisan Azeriah."
The air became stiff. A few men exchanged looks. Chairs creaked as the councilmen shifted uncomfortably in their seat.
Another councilman stood quickly, as if the tension might choke him.
"Your Majesty, the darkness continues spreading. The relic remains unfinished."
A third leaned forward on the table, voice cracking.
"Your Majesty, three years have passed since the darkness began spreading. And yet Divine Artisan Azeriah has failed to complete the relic. The realm grows weaker each day."
"And now she has lost her divine power entirely. The gods do not strip their chosen without reason. she must have sinned!"
Whispers flared like sparks.
Voices rose one by one, overlapping, growing harsher.
"We cannot allow her failure to endanger the realm."
"She must confess what crime she committed!We cannot overlook this failure any longer."
"Lock her in the dungeons! If she will not speak, let punishment force the truth out of her."
Each accusation was sharper than the last, dripping with impatience and spite.
"Your Majesty, banishment would be merciful compared to what she's risked!"
Chairs scraped. Men leaned forward, talking over one another, desperate to be heard.
It was hypocrisy at its purest.
The same men who once bowed to Azeriah as if she were a living miracle… now clawed at her with their tongues like scavengers circling a wounded beast.
And all the while, Saya said nothing.
Not one word.
Auren—the emperor's right hand. His most trusted, standing beside the throne, glanced at the emperor's face. As always—nothing. No hint of anger. No sign of agreement. Only chilling silence.
The noise eventually faltered.
One elder, encouraged by the others, rose slowly and bowed.
"Your Majesty," he said, breath unsteady.
"We await your judgment on the punishment of Divine Artisan Azeriah."
Silence. Thick, heavy and suffocating.
Saya raised his gaze for the first time… His eyes sharp as a blade , controlled and cold swept across every man at the table.
"Are you finished?" he asked softly.
No one dared answer.
Handing over the scroll he had been reading to Auren, he spoke.
"You speak of punishment, Of banishment. And of cruelty. Toward the very woman you once begged blessings from."
A few nobles turned away, shame evident on their faces.
"My decision," Saya said quietly, "is already made."
Not a whisper dared interrupt.
"Azeriah will not be punished," he continued. "She will not be tortured, nor banished, nor locked away like a criminal."
Several councilmen paled instantly.
"She will serve under Auren," Saya said. "Effective immediately."
Shock rippled through the room.
Auren oversaw state affairs when Saya disappeared into war . He managed the empire's confidential matters and was a high ranking official. To place Azeriah there was… mercy. And protection. And a warning.
"You will address her as Assistant to the Emperor's Hand," Saya added. "And you will not speak of her failure again. Not in my presence. Not in whispers."
Caelus a young councilman newly welcomed to the council table spoke .
"Y-Your Majesty, surely reconsidering— " Saya's gaze slid to him.
The air in the throne room thickened instantly.
Heavy and unbreathable. it pressed against lungs and throats, suffocating.
The man's mouth closed without finishing his sentence.
Saya rose from his seat. "You forget yourselves too easily. Perhaps it's been a while we painted the court floors red… hmm?."
The temperature dropped with every word.
"Court meeting is over. And I expect you all put this energy into your delegated task and stop slacking." He turned, his steps sturdy against the cold marble floor , and strode out of the court hall without another word.
The doors shut, echoing like thunder.
Not a single councilman stood until long after the emperor had vanished.
—-
It was dark and quiet.
The palace had finally retreated into silence, no guards murmuring, no servants rushing through corridors. only the steady and unhurried rhythm of saya's footsteps moving through the long halls could be heard. He moved like the shadows welcomed him, folding around him each time he passed a lantern.
His steps came to a halt at the door at the right end of hall. His expression was unreadable as he placed a hand on the handle, pausing for a second before twisting it open. He stepped inside quietly and closed the door behind him. He blended in with the shadows, moving smoothly across the room.
The moonlight slipping through the window outlined the bed, the curve of blankets, and the faint rise and fall of soft breathing.
Soleil laid still, hair spilling like gold across the pillow, her features calm in sleep, a stark contrast to the storm she had left behind in the Sanctum.
Saya remained where he was for a moment, studying her.
It shouldn't bother him, he told himself.
It shouldn't have bothered him earlier, when she collapsed in the Sanctum.
But it had.
The scene replayed in his mind. Her fear, the chaos, her faint gasp before darkness claimed her consciousness and for the first time that entire day, his expression shifted—Anger. Quiet and controlled, but unmistakable.
He wasn't supposed to feel anything. Not for her. Not for anyone. His curse made sure of it. And yet…
From the moment their eyes met in the Sanctum, something had tugged inside him. Something old, deep and buried .
Something was wrong with her.
Not wrong like the council accused.
Wrong in a way only he could sense.
He stepped closer.
He had always been able to tell who someone was just from their presence, breath and aura without seeing their faces. His senses remembered them forever.
So why…
Why did it feel like he met her for the first time today?
He moved to the bedside slowly, almost cautiously, leaning down as though approaching something fragile and dangerous at once.
Her breathing was soft, steady and peaceful.
He lifted his hand.
His fingers hovered above her cheek for a second before brushing the back of his hand along her face. He gently swept a strand of hair away from her face. The gold caught the moonlight, shimmering faintly. He had always admired her hair from a distance. Her hair always reminded him of the light he lacked, the light he was never meant to have.
He was pure darkness and she was light.
But now, standing beside her like this felt so right. Like she belonged right beside him.
His voice came out low, barely above a whisper.
"…Who are you?"