The heavy doors of the royal palace shut with a deep echo that lingered in the courtyard air. Emperor Alaric descended the marble steps with steady, unhurried strides, his black-and-gold cloak whipping against the rising wind. Beside him, Supreme Commander Darius kept pace, his armor clinking softly with every measured step.
The night was crisp, the scent of rain faint in the air, but beneath the calm sky burned the weight of unspoken urgency.
Without looking back, Alaric spoke.
"Have we identified the Terra King's species?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Darius replied, his tone clipped, professional. "From the elemental aura and the crimson markings upon the shell, our magisters are certain. The egg belongs to a Flamore Lionous—a fire-elemental Terra King Beast."
Alaric stopped mid-step. His cloak settled around him as he turned slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. For a brief moment, the emperor's expression darkened—something between understanding and dread flickered in his gaze.
"So…" he murmured, almost to himself, "that is why."
Darius hesitated. "My Emperor?"
Alaric's tone turned low, grave, almost bitter.
"No wonder Infris moved so quickly. Their royal bloodline burns with fire. The power of the sun runs through their veins. If they were to tame a Flamore Lionous, their flames—and those of their armies—would surge beyond mortal limits. Their strength would not just grow… it would become unstoppable."
The air between them felt heavier, as though the realization itself carried weight.
Alaric's jaw tightened. "We cannot allow it. The egg must never fall into Infris's hands. Should they succeed, the balance of Elyra will burn with them."
Darius dropped to one knee, his gauntlet striking the marble. "As you command, my Emperor. The egg will be ours."
For a moment, neither spoke. The wind carried the distant toll of a bell—an omen, or perhaps a warning. Then Alaric's voice cut through the silence, cold and resolute.
"Ready the march. We move before dawn."
And with that, the two men disappeared into the heart of the fortress, the storm of war already stirring on the horizon.
---
Three Hours Earlier — The Ruins of Vislisk
Smoke drifted lazily through the blackened sky, curling from the remnants of what had once been Baron Vislisk's proud stronghold. The earth still glowed with embers, and the stench of ash and blood clung to the air.
Where once stood towers of pale stone, there now lay jagged ruins and scorched banners—the sigil of Voltaire half-buried in the dirt.
Amid the devastation stood a tall figure cloaked in black and crimson. His hair, a dark burnished gold, caught the flicker of firelight. His eyes—molten gold, bright and merciless—watched the destruction without a trace of remorse.
The air around him shimmered faintly with heat, as though the flames themselves bent toward his presence. Soldiers knelt in rows before him, their heads bowed low. None dared to speak until one finally stepped forward, trembling.
"Y-Your Majesty… we searched every corner of the ruins."
The soldier's voice wavered. "The egg—it's not here."
The man did not turn immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the blackened horizon, his tone calm but sharp enough to draw blood.
"Then tell me," he said, "where is it?"
The soldier swallowed hard. "According to our informants, it was transferred to Earl Saer's keep under Duke Viron's command."
Silence followed. The kind of silence that prickled at the skin—alive, suffocating. The flames nearby flickered lower, as though afraid of him.
Finally, the man spoke, his voice quiet but laced with venom.
"So… the Voltaire dogs moved it quickly."
The soldier dared to lift his eyes, voice shaking. "Your Majesty, your orders?"
A slow, cruel smile tugged at the man's lips. The firelight glinted off his sharp features, casting him in hues of gold and red.
"We take it," he said simply. "At all costs."
As his words fell, the air erupted into a sudden gust, and the flames roared higher, as if the world itself bent to his command.
For this man was Rayling Infris, Emperor of the Infris Empire—
a sovereign whose fire was said to rival the sun,
and whose wrath would soon ignite all of Elyra.
___