Within the intricately adorned marble corridors of the Imperial Harem—home to the ruler's wives and their handmaidens—a heavy silence prevailed, as if the palace itself sensed the approach of something unusual.
A servant walked with measured steps toward a carved wooden door, carrying an urgent verbal message.
"Go and inform Her Majesty that His Grace, the Sovereign, is coming to visit her—now!"
The officer standing at the harem's threshold spoke with commanding authority.
The servant bowed quickly and moved with practiced grace toward the wing of one of the ruler's wives—a woman known among the others for her serene beauty and esteemed position.
She knocked gently.
"Enter,"
came the lady's voice from within—calm and familiar, yet slightly tense.
The servant opened the door and entered with a respectful bow, her eyes carefully avoiding the lady's gaze.
"My lady… His Grace is coming to visit you today. I've been sent to deliver this message."
The wife's eyes lifted in mild surprise, then she nodded quietly.
"Truly? Very well. Thank you."
"Of course, my lady."
The servant bowed again and slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Moments later, the royal trumpet echoed throughout the palace.
"Swear your loyalty to His Sovereign Majesty!"
the herald's booming voice rang out.
At once, everyone in the harem stopped what they were doing, lining up and bowing deeply toward the main passage.
The ruler entered—his steps calm, dressed in white ceremonial robes that shimmered with a soft, divine glow. A radiant aura of majesty surrounded him. He was strikingly handsome, as if shaped from light itself, and his silent shadow followed closely, sacred and still.
The guards halted at the edge of the harem—no man but the ruler was allowed to pass within.
He walked slowly between the columns, his eyes catching every detail, until he reached the door to his wife's chamber. He didn't command it opened—he knocked.
Even with all his authority, humility still lingered in his actions.
"Come in,"
came her quiet voice.
He stepped inside with measured poise, wearing a warm smile.
"It's been too long, my dear. I've missed you."
She looked up at him. Her eyes were calm, but her face bore the shadow of something unspoken—like a weight on her chest.
He noticed it immediately.
"Is something troubling you, my dear?"
She hesitated, then spoke with a sharper tone:
"Aren't you ever going to stop this… game? This game of war and conquest?"
His expression shifted briefly, though his voice remained composed.
"You mean the Union and Auraya? They're fine… we're protecting them."
"You took their lands by force!"
Her voice rose, her eyes burning with a fire behind their beauty.
He didn't raise his voice. Instead, he sat down gently, placing his hands on his knees, choosing his words carefully.
"I ordered my soldiers to spare those who did not resist—no children, no women, no elders, no sick. I gave them the right to govern themselves… but under my banner."
She turned her face away, unconvinced.
"That changes nothing. It's still tyranny… no matter how gently you dress it."
He remained silent, then let out a soft sigh.
"You don't understand, my love. Before I returned… we once thought we were equals to those beings—but in truth, we were weak in the face of creatures from the Otherworld. Humanity was slowly collapsing. During my journey, I was sent deep into that realm… and there, the god himself chose me as a successor and servant. He granted me the power of one of their rulers—known among the Elves as the Sovereign of Light."
Her eyes fell, a shadow of fear and worry clouding her face.
"I'm no longer the man who left this world so long ago. I returned with power—and with it, a light that protects this realm. We are still at war with the Otherworld's creatures. The transition points have not closed, and the danger grows daily. I am no conqueror. I am a guardian."
Silence weighed heavy between them.
She looked at him again.
"But you've never told me… what really happened to you on that journey. I'm your first wife. We've been through so much together. Don't I deserve some of your trust?"
His face froze for a moment—as if her question reopened old wounds.
Then he spoke with deep calm:
"There are things… that must not be spoken of. Not for my sake, but out of reverence to the god's decree. I am sworn to silence."
He reached for her hand, touching her fingers gently. His hand glowed with a faint light—warm and pure.
"Please… understand me."
She stared at him for a long while, then lowered her head.
In that moment, they were no longer ruler and wife, but a man burdened with the weight of the world… and a woman afraid of losing him.
---
In the heart of gleaming Lumiera, as sunlight streamed through crystalline towers, a man walked his usual path, dragging his feet slowly through the city's vibrant streets. He began to hear a growing noise—first vague, then rhythmic, like war drums or the roar of an eager crowd.
But soon he realized it wasn't tension—it was joy. The city pulsed with a euphoric energy.
He followed the sound until he reached a massive open plaza, where the crowd had gathered in full. It felt as though the entire city had turned out for a celebration.
Above them, there were no traditional fireworks, but floating bubbles and glowing bursts of colored light, drifting through the air in sacred symbols. Ethereal energy filled the skies—manifested by the combined powers of sorcerers and gifted individuals.
He pushed through the crowd until he saw it: a grand stage made of black and white marble, pulsing with glowing runes etched along its edges.
On the platform stood soldiers in ceremonial armor—brilliant white with golden inscriptions, long ivory sashes draped from their shoulders. They stood with a stillness that belonged only to those who had earned the symbolic "Immortality Emblem" in service to the Empire.
The man turned to someone beside him.
"What's going on here?"
The onlooker replied with excitement:
"Don't you know? It's the ceremony of ascension. Three warriors are being promoted to the rank of Valghar—the highest honor a soldier of the Light can achieve. They survived impossible missions… and served directly under the Sovereign himself."
As the crowd roared and clapped, the Emperor appeared, walking with divine grace.
He wore robes of pure white, a jeweled royal sword in his right hand, and a sacred scroll of peace in his left. The crowd erupted:
"Long live the Light! Long live the Sovereign! Glory to Lumiera!"
One by one, the three warriors stepped forward and knelt. The ruler raised his sword high, tapping each of their shoulders with royal solemnity before awarding them the Emblem of the Skyflame—a sacred mark bestowed only on those who fought not just for Lumiera, but for Light itself.
The ceremony ended in sacred silence, and reverence blanketed the square.
But one question lingered in the man's mind:
What purpose does the Sovereign need such warriors for?