No matter how much one tried to suppress it, the air itself seemed to carry the news. It began with whispers among the temple maidens, then spread like wildfire across the kingdom: a goddess had descended upon the Temple of Moonpetals.
From the marble courtyards of noble houses to the dirt paths of the marketplace, gossip bloomed. Everyone spoke of the veiled woman clad in divine white, who sealed the gates against devils with nothing but the sweep of her hands and the hush of her prayers. Was she truly a goddess? Or a sorceress hiding behind sacred veils? No one could say for sure, but the kingdom had not seen such a spectacle in centuries.
In the royal court, where matters of state were weighed with heavy brows and whispered schemes, the atmosphere was unusually tense. The faint echo of hurried boots on stone floors broke the heavy silence.
A royal messenger burst into the chamber, panting heavily. His armor was scuffed, his cloak torn, and blood stained the edges of his sleeves. Every noble eye turned to him at once, and one could practically feel the collective tightening of chests.
The man dropped to one knee before the throne, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the cold floor. In his trembling hand, he held a sealed scroll.
"Urgent news from the Northern Reign, General Hebruski, Your Majesty," he gasped out, his voice rough with exhaustion.
King Arthro, who had been reclining on his throne with a brooding look, immediately straightened. He took the scroll without a word. The seal was unmistakable — the crimson wolf crest of General Hebruski.
Arthro cracked the wax open, his sharp eyes scanning the parchment swiftly. As he read, his face hardened, the lines around his mouth deepening.
"What—?" The word slipped from his lips, rough and low.
The court shifted uneasily.
Without a moment's pause, King Arthro passed the scroll to Prime Minister Zusak, who caught it with both hands, as if afraid it might burn him. Zusak's already cautious face grew more strained with every line he read. By the time he finished, he looked as though someone had drained all the blood from his body.
He turned to face the assembly, voice trembling despite his best efforts. "A war... A war has broken out in the Northern Reign. The demons have breached the border."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the court. Even the seasoned generals at the sides exchanged wary glances.
The Northern Reign was not merely a distant outpost. It was the kingdom's shield, the first line of defense against the cursed lands beyond the mountains. If it fell, darkness would spill into the heart of the kingdom itself.
Chancellor Shansha, an elder known for his sharp tongue and sharper mind, rose from his seat with a grim expression.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing respectfully before speaking, "forgive my bluntness, but we must not ignore the timing of these events. A so-called goddess appears at the Moonpetals Temple... sealing the devils back beyond the mortal gate... and now, almost immediately after, devils break through the north?"
His gaze swept the chamber, daring anyone to argue.
"Is it truly coincidence? Or something... orchestrated?"
The words hung heavy in the air.
The court lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Suspicion, fear, and the poisonous birth of conspiracy flickered behind every set of eyes.
King Arthro rose slowly, the golden wolf sigil on his robe catching the flickering light of the torches.
"Ready the backup soldiers immediately," he commanded, his voice like the crack of a whip. "Send reinforcements to the Northern Reign without delay."
A chorus of ministers bowed and scrambled to fulfill the order.
"And summon the court astrologists," Arthro added sharply. "We need readings—immediately."
His hand tightened on the edge of the throne. "Also," he said, voice dropping into a graver tone, "send the fastest bird to Grand Astrologer Veylen. Tell him a calamity has struck the kingdom. His presence is required without delay."
A few ministers exchanged looks.
Grand Astrologer Veylen — not yet twenty-four summers old — was a prodigy born under a rare celestial alignment. While young, his insights and predictions had already averted disasters and won battles. Currently, he was studying in a sacred place far beyond the western deserts — a place few mortals dared to tread.
To summon him meant one thing: they were desperate.
As the court dissolved into a storm of orders, scrolls, and scribbled letters, King Arthro remained seated, his hands clasped before his mouth, lost in dark thoughts.
He could still hear Shansha's words echoing in his ears.
Was it coincidence? Was it fate? Or was it treachery masked behind divinity?
Hours passed.
By evening, the royal court had shifted into a war council. Maps were unfurled, troop movements discussed, old alliances weighed and measured. Smoke from the incense coils twisted into the high ceiling, carrying the sharp tang of burning pine resin.
Then — a sudden commotion at the door.
Another messenger, this one bearing the silver badge of the Star Watchers, entered swiftly.
He bowed low. "Your Majesty, the court astrologists have arrived."
At Arthro's nod, the heavy doors swung open, and a group of robed figures entered. Their faces were hidden behind half-masks painted with constellations, their hands marked by ink and ash. They bowed deeply before stepping aside to allow their leader forward — a gaunt man whose gray-streaked beard suggested long years of service.
The chief astrologer knelt and placed a thick, worn chart before the king.
"My readings are clear, Your Majesty," he said, his voice thin but certain. "The stars are in turmoil. An omen of disaster hangs over the Northern Reign — and over our kingdom."
He pointed to a cluster of stars inked in blood-red dye. "The Seal of the Bound Ones... is weakening. Forces once kept at bay now claw their way back into our realm."
King Arthro's fists tightened.
"And the so-called goddess?" he asked coldly. "What of her?"
The astrologer hesitated, then said, "Her arrival... is intertwined with this fate. She is no ordinary mortal."
"What is she then?" Chancellor Shansha demanded sharply.
The astrologer bowed his head. "It is unclear. Divine... or damned. Hope... or doom. Only time will reveal her true nature."
A heavy silence fell once more.
King Arthro dismissed the astrologists with a wave of his hand, his mind working furiously behind cold eyes.
He needed Veylen. Only the Grand Astrologer — blessed and cursed by the heavens themselves — could read the deeper tides of fate.
Until then, every decision, every move, would be a gamble in the dark.
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