The coronation had ended, but the echoes of that moment still lingered in the atmosphere of Oynstar. The palace floated above the heartworld like a second sun, casting its golden radiance across the skies. Billions of citizens still knelt, whispering the name of their new ruler as though it was already woven into the fabric of history.
Yet Igaris, now seated on the crystalline throne, knew the truth of what he inherited.
The Empire of Oynstar was magnificent on the outside, but inside, it was a colossus weakened by cracks. Its armies were vast, but scattered. Its people were loyal, but weary. Its Sovereigns were proud, but fractured by petty rivalries. And its throne had been held by a dying man cursed by an enemy he could never defeat.
This was no empire of unshakable power. This was an empire on the brink of collapse.
