The spiral staircase into the Aethel Sanctum wound deep beneath the foundations of the palace, carved from cold, grey stone that seemed to sweat in the subterranean chill.
With every step Regius took, the air grew heavier, charged with rich energy that made the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. The walls were lined with tubes and etched with high-grade containment wards, pulsing with a suffocating blue light.
Lord Magnus walked ahead. His heavy boots struck the stone with the weight of a mountain. The earth seemed to hum in resonance with his presence, a subtle vibration that spoke of the High-Tier Elemental—the Grand Titan—slumbering within his soul.
Lady Lucine followed behind Regius. She moved with divine grace, her steps silent on the stone. A faint, golden shimmer of authority clung to her, sharp and judging, a manifestation of the Radiant-Valkyrie she commanded.
They reached the bottom. The Sanctum opened into a vast, circular chamber dominated by a central pedestal of white marble. Surrounding it was a complex array of sensors, machinery, crystal dials, and silver inlays that formed the intricate process of the Soul Bond.
High Assessor Berick stood at the control console. He had shed his casual demeanor from the night before. He wore the full ceremonial vestments of his station: a heavy robe of charcoal silk embroidered with the crest of an eye on his back.
He opened the small latch and pressed a button. A low hum filled the room as the energy condensers engaged, filling the sanctum with even more energy, to the point of making the air shimmer.
Behind the console, the air distorted. A translucent, multi-armed Construct materialized from the shadows, hovering silently. It held spectral chains and suppression cuffs in its many hands.
The Silent Warden. Berick's High-Tier Construct. Nicknamed as The Jailer.
"Safety protocols active," Berick said, his voice clinical. "If the summon proves hostile, or if the Initiate fractures, the Warden will sever the connection immediately."
Magnus nodded. "Understood."
Berick turned to Regius. "Step forward, Initiate."
Regius stepped onto the marble pedestal. The stone was freezing against his bare feet. He shivered, stripping off his ceremonial robe and shirt to stand exposed in the center of the diagram. The silver inlays spiraling out from his feet glowed faintly.
"Before we begin," Berick said, his eyes locking onto Regius, "we must calibrate your intent. The ritual is a negotiation, and you must know who you are inviting in. Tell me, Initiate. What are the classes of the summons?"
Regius straightened his spine. "There are five: Beasts. Elementals. Constructs. Daemons. Divines."
"Define them," Berick's fingers dancing across the calibration dials. "What is the nature of a Beast?"
"Instinct," Regius answered, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Adaptation. Physicality. They're beings of the Wild in the form of fauna."
"And the Elemental?"
"Force," Regius said, glancing at his father's broad back. "Raw power. Environmental control. The elements that govern the world given form."
"The Construct?"
"Logic. Order. Calculations. Beings that value precision, efficiency, and facts over emotion."
"Correct. Now the Rare Classes." Berick leaned forward, his expression darkening. "The Daemon."
"Wildcards," Regius recited, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Playful. Deceitful. Have their own self-interest. Entities from the Infernal Planes. They are powerful, sentient, and transactional. Extremely powerful summons, but dangerous at the same time."
"And the Divine?" Berick looked at Lucine.
"Judgment," Regius said. "Truth. Healing. Beings of the Ethereal Planes who operate on a code of absolute morality."
"Good. You know the classes. Now, tell me the hierarchy, the tiers of summons."
"Low-Tier," Regius began. "Summons of minimal sentience—the most common in society—used for labor and utility. Mid-Tier. Summons of distinct form and purpose, the backbone of the military and authority."
"Higher."
"High-Tier," Regius said, ambition bleeding into his tone. "Summons capable of altering battlefields. They're the signs of prestige for nobility and high command."
"And finally, the Elite-Tier."
"The Mythical Class. Unique."
"And their rarity?"
"Extremely rare. Even among Sovereign Grades, the chance of attracting an Elite-Tier is abysmal. Most Sovereigns bond High-Tiers."
Berick smiled, a sharp, predatory expression. "Then let us see if you are fit for one. Brace yourself."
Regius closed his eyes. He visualized the shape of his Soul Palace—a small, blank dome in his mind.
"Activate the array," Berick ordered.
His construct pulled a lever. The silver inlays on the floor flared with blinding white light. This was the secret of the Aethel Sanctum. It was a proprietary, immensely expensive diagram designed to expand the summoner's spiritual perception.
Regius gasped as his consciousness was ripped from his body.
The physical room vanished. The stone walls, the console, his parents, Berick. They all dissolved into mist.
He stood in the vacuum of space, surrounded by stars, to his perception.
It was a vast, dark ocean of potential, stretching out to infinity. Thousands of motes of light floated in the space, bioluminescent souls waiting for a partner. They drifted in currents of energy, a plethora of options.
Usually, the compatible lights would drift toward the summoner, drawn by the gravity of their soul. Regius prepared to make his choice.
He reached out with his spirit.
The sphere of lights fled.
The moment his presence touched the space, the motes scattered. They darted away, fleeing into the vastness of the sea as if a predator had entered the water. The vacuum of space emptied around him, leaving him isolated in a cold, dark vacuum.
Regius stood alone in the emptiness. Panic spiked in his chest. Am I empty? Is my soul broken? Why are they running?
He pushed harder, his desperation rising.
Then, the silence changed.
The space around him grew heavy. A low, resonant thrum began to vibrate in the fabric of the plane. It felt ancient. It felt familiar. It was the same hum he had felt his entire life when looking at the night sky through his bedroom window, but now it was amplified a billion times over.
He looked up.
High above, in the deepest corner of the ether, something stirred. It wasn't a mote of light. It was a gaze. A consciousness so vast and ancient that merely being perceived by it made Regius's spiritual knees buckle.
It descended, leaving a comet trail.
In the physical world, the needles on Berick's holographic console slammed to the right, burying themselves in the red zone. The glass face of a pressure gauge cracked.
"What in the..." Berick muttered, his hands flying across the controls. "The atmospheric energy just spiked by 400%."
"Berick?" Magnus shouted, stepping forward, his Earth aura flaring instinctively to shield Lucine. "What is coming?"
"Don't move!" Berick roared. "Something is breaking through!"
Regius threw his head back and screamed.