The sound of shattering crystal echoed through the ruined Sanctum.
High-Assessor Berick stood over the remains of the recording console. He held a heavy hammer, breathing hard, his boots surrounded by the glittering dust of destroyed data cores. He had just erased the only proof that Regius Aethel had endured the Crucible for ninety-two seconds.
"If the Crown sees this data, an extraction team will be here by morning," Berick said.
Lord Magnus sat on the floor, his back against the slagged remains of the pedestal. He looked at his unconscious son, then at his brother.
"Is it that bad?" Magnus asked. "A fifty-second ritual... usually that means a direct invitation by the Academy. Training and appointment to the Royal Guard, or even better..."
"This isn't a high score, Magnus. It's an anomaly." Berick wiped sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. "I have heard rumors in the Concord. Whispers in the lounges. Stories about children who had readings like this. No, nowhere as close as this. Anomalous energy densities. Times exceeding the sixty-second limit."
"What happens to them?" Lady Lucine asked.
She was kneeling beside Regius, caressing his hair. Her voice was steady, but her hands were trembling.
"They disappear. The Crown collects them. They say it's for 'advanced placement' or 'specialized training.' But those children are never seen again. No letters home. No online presence. They simply cease to exist."
He looked at the ruined sanctum.
"I don't know if they kill them, experiment on them, or turn them into weapons. I only know that the Crown fears what it cannot control. And this..." He gestured to the boy who had dismissed Rank 6 summons with a glance. "This is what they fear the most."
Magnus looked at the destruction surrounding them. The melted floor, the shattered observation deck, the blown-out machinery.
"We can hide the data," Magnus said, his strategist mind trying to build a fortification around the disaster. "But we can't hide this room. The servants will see the damage. The staff will ask questions. How do we explain this?"
"We don't," Lucine said. She stood up with Regius in her arms. The shock was fading, replaced by the icy calculation of the Lady in Blue. "We seal it."
Magnus frowned. "Seal the Sanctum?"
"Yes," Lucine said. "Tonight. We declare it outdated and inefficient. We announce the construction of a new, state-of-the-art Ritual Hall for the usage of the branch families. We claim we are tearing this one down to build something better for our relatives."
Berick nodded slowly. "That… could work. It's bold and expensive. The assessors will love the extra commissions. No one will look twice."
"Then it is decided," Magnus said.
———
Regius awoke to the smell of antiseptic and the constant beep of a heartbeat monitor.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling of the Palace Infirmary was white, clean, and sterile. For a moment, he expected to see the swirling galaxies of his Soul Palace.
"Regius?"
Lucine leaned over the bed, her face stern and drawn. Magnus and Berick stood behind her, looking like men who had survived a week in the front lines.
Regius tried to sit up but failed. His body was heavy—an increase in density he did not expect—anchored by a newly formed internal gravity. He looked at his hands. They were normal. Not filled with glowing veins.
"I'm back," Regius croaked.
"You're safe." Lucine brushed his hair from his forehead. "The entity is gone now."
He looked at the three adults. He saw the fear in their eyes, not just fear for him.
"I saw it," Regius whispered. "My Soul Palace."
"What is it?" Berick asked.
"It's an observatory with a machine, a Grand Orrery. Massive rings spinning in the dark. And thrones. There are seven of them."
Magnus exchanged a look with Berick. "Seven?"
"One for Him," Regius said, his voice gaining strength. "The one who spoke to you. And six others. They are sleeping. Blurry shapes in the dark. I couldn't see them clearly... except one."
He held up his left hand.
The adults looked. The skin of his left hand was marked. Silver lines traced the constellation of the Scales across the back of his hand and wrist.
"The rest of the Marks are gone." Magnus examined Regius's chest and neck. "The lines faded when he lost consciousness. Only this one remains."
"This gives us our loophole," Lucine said. She pulled her chair closer to the bed, her expression intense. "Regius, listen to me. We cannot tell the truth. If the Crown knows you bonded an entity that calls our world a desert, they will have you executed before sunset."
"W-what..."
Regius was silent for a moment.
"What should we do?"
"I'm sorry to do this to you, honey, but you have to lie. We have constructed a believable record. You must memorize it like your life depends on it."
She tapped her Sigil Link, and a holographic screen projected.
"Grade: Sovereign. Duration: Fifty-two seconds. High enough to explain your strength, low enough to be reasonable."
"Class: Divine," Berick said. "Elite-Tier. This will explain the light, the pressure, and the sentient nature of your bond without revealing your… otherworldly origin. Divine entities are rare, powerful, and arrogant."
"And the Summon?" Magnus asked. "Who is your partner, Regius?"
Regius looked at the silver mark on his hand.
"Libra. Her name is Libra."
"Then it is settled. To the world, you are Regius Aethel, the Sovereign Grade prodigy who bonded with the Elite-tier Divine summon, Libra."
Regius looked at his parents. He saw the desperation in their plan.
"I will play my part."
———
Recovery took six days.
On the seventh morning, Regius stood on the balcony of his room. The sun was high, a blinding disc of yellow fire in a blue sky.
Regius leaned on the railing, looking up.
To anyone else, the sky was empty. The sun washed out everything else. But Regius didn't see the moon and the clouds. He focused on a single point in the northern sky. He pushed his view past the atmosphere, past the glare of the sun, reaching out into the vacuum of space.
Polaris.
The North Star hung there, invisible to the naked eye but blazing like a beacon in his mind. It was an unmoving anchor in dark skies.
A sense of profound comfort washed over him. The anxiety of the lie, the terror of the dormant cosmic beings in his soul—it all quieted under the gaze of the North Star. He wasn't alone.
"Regius."
He turned. His father stood in the doorway. Magnus held a small, rectangular box made of dark wood.
"Father."
Magnus walked to the railing. He stood beside his son, looking out over the perfectly trimmed gardens of the palace.
"You look better."
"I feel..." Regius hesitated. "Full. Like I'm carrying a thunderstorm in my chest."
"That is a new beginning," Magnus said. "We carry the storm so our people can enjoy the calm."
He opened the box. Inside lay gloves. They were crafted from black wyvern scales and leather, supple and tough. Embroidered on the back of the hand in silver thread was the crest of House Aethel.
The Zenith Blade.
A vertical silver sword pointing upward on a field of midnight blue. Above the tip of the sword sat a single, eight-pointed golden star.
He handed the glove to Regius.
"Usually, this is ceremonial. We give these to you over the eyes of the public and the family. Handing you this glove means you will start your journey as a summoner. But now, this is not just a symbol, son. It also hides the truth."
Regius took the gloves. The leather was cool in his hand. He looked at the golden star stitched above the sword tip. It would sit directly over Libra's mark, physically layering the lie over the truth.
He slid his hand inside.
The fit was perfect. The leather tightened, concealing the shape of the Mark. He flexed his fingers. The Zenith Blade moved with his knuckles.
Regius stayed on the balcony for a moment longer. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and the cold hum of Polaris in his blood.
He felt safe.