The days following the grand Ranking Ceremony felt almost… ordinary.
Atherion's streets bustled with life. Markets brimmed with vibrant fabrics and exotic fruits, merchants calling out their prices. In the districts, children played by the crystal fountains while guards patrolled with easy smiles.
For Ariv, life had taken on a steady rhythm under Rudraen's guidance. Mornings began with scroll work — learning the layered laws of the realm, understanding its people, and occasionally accompanying Rudraen to hear minor petitions.
Vaishnavi was often seen crossing the palace halls, deep in conversation with masters from the Soul Transferring Unit. Rohit trained under his father, Dareth Solvarn, mastering protocols of the Terra Veil's command. Neel had already begun new duties under Selvarn Lunaris, busy yet still finding time to visit.
There was no sense of unease, no whisper of danger.
And yet… the world moved.
In the far distance, beyond Atherion's shimmering boundaries, the sky seemed to ripple once — a faint distortion no one noticed.
In the royal archives, a lone scribe paused over a scroll, frowning at an odd notation about "energy patterns shifting in the border realms" before shrugging and sealing it away.
The palace bells rang for evening prayer. Life continued, perfectly normal.
For now.
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