Not far from the battlefield, within the shadowed confines of a half-ruined building, a group of knights y in wait. Cd in darkened armor, their weapons held ready, they remained motionless, their breathing steady despite the distant sounds of cshing steel and dying screams.

  The rebellion was failing; they could all see it. The disorganized rebels, already wavering, were beginning to fall apart. Yet these knights did not move.

  They were not here to fight in the initial csh.

  They were the hidden force, a contingent meant to tip the scales once the moment arrived. Their mission was not to engage recklessly but to strike decisively when the time was right.

  A single messenger, cd in lighter armor, crouched near the window, eyes darting between the battle and the still group behind him. His hands were tense, gripping his dagger anxiously as if expecting an order at any moment.

  A signal.

  A lone courier, dressed in the colors of the hidden faction, dashed into the building. His breath was ragged, his face damp with sweat, but his voice was firm as he addressed their commander.

  “Orders received. Mobilize." At once, the knights stirred.

  Bdes slid from their sheaths with a whisper of steel. Shields were strapped into pce. Eyes gleamed with cold, merciless purpose.

  They had remained in waiting long enough.

  Now, it was time to move.

  A sudden pulse—violent, unseen—rippled through the heart of Luminaris.

  Like a tidal wave crashing against the soul, the surge of raw energy swept across the capital, shaking the very foundation of the ancient city. Stone trembled, gss shattered, and even the air itself seemed to hum with something primal and overwhelming. Knights gripping their swords felt the weight of their weapons double, their arms trembling as an unnatural pressure bore down upon them. Civilians in the streets clutched their chests, gasping for breath as their legs buckled beneath them.

  Then, a second pulse.

  A third.

  A fourth.

  Each one struck harder than the st, an invisible force pressing into flesh and bone, digging deep into the marrow of those caught within its wake. The city itself groaned in protest—cracks splintered through towering walls, nterns burst into sparks, and banners whipped violently in the windless air. The once-deafening battle cries and the csh of metal against metal faded into stunned silence, as though the capital itself had been swallowed by a great and terrible force.

  For a brief, horrifying moment, there was nothing.

  No sound.

  No movement.

  Only the lingering echoes of the pulses reverberating through the bones of the living, leaving behind a gnawing dread that coiled in the pit of every stomach.

  Then, the silence was broken.

  A distant thud.

  Then another.

  Figures fell where they stood—some warriors, seasoned in battle, dropping to their knees as their bodies gave out beneath them. Others colpsed entirely, their faces pale, their minds unable to comprehend the sheer weight of the presence that had just revealed itself. Among the fallen, more than a few y in disgrace, their fear manifesting in warm pools beneath them as they trembled uncontrolbly.

  Then, amidst the trembling ruins and the battlefield littered with paralyzed bodies, the sky itself seemed to crack apart as a voice—ancient, raw, and filled with unrelenting fury—roared across the nd like rolling thunder.

  " YOU DARE !"

  The words tore through the city, shaking the very heavens above.

  The sheer force behind them sent another shockwave surging outward, hammering through stone and flesh alike. The ground split in jagged cracks, fmes flickered and died as if snuffed out by an unseen hand, and an unholy wind swept through the streets, carrying with it the weight of something beyond mortal comprehension.

  Another pulse followed, heavier, more furious, raw with unfiltered rage.

  And then another.

  And another.

  Those who had clung to their weapons found them ripped from their grasp, sent skittering across the cobblestones. Others, already trembling, colpsed fully, their bodies unable to withstand the oppressive weight pressing down upon them.

  Allies and enemies alike stood frozen, their gazes darting wildly, searching for the source of the devastation.

  This was no ordinary power.

  This was no mortal wrath.

  It was something greater. Something terrifying.

  For in that moment, the battle no longer belonged to men.

  Something far beyond their understanding had awakened

  Suddenly, the sky above Luminaris darkened—not from clouds, but from something far more ominous. The very air shimmered, warping like heat rising from a scorched battlefield, before tearing open with a deafening crack. From this unnatural rift, a figure emerged.

  An old man.

  But to call him merely old would be a disservice to the presence he carried. He was ancient—far beyond the measure of mortal years. His skin, weathered and lined with deep creases, bore the marks of untold centuries. Wisps of silver-white hair cascaded past his shoulders, strands moving unnaturally, as if stirred by an unseen force. His long, flowing robes, once regal but now faded and tattered at the edges, shimmered faintly with the remnants of old enchantments woven into their fabric.

  His piercing eyes, pale and clouded like a sky before a storm, scanned the battlefield below with slow, deliberate precision. There was no urgency in his movements, no haste—only a deep, almost unsettling patience, as though he was searching for something lost long ago.

  He turned to the left, then to the right, his gaze sweeping over the broken remnants of soldiers, the shattered streets, the noble houses standing in defiance of time. His expression remained unreadable, neither anger nor curiosity betraying his thoughts.

  He hovered there, suspended above the capital, a lone figure in the sky, untouched by the chaos below. The howling winds of the lingering energy pulses twisted around him, yet they did not disturb his form. The unnatural weight pressing upon the city seemed to part around him, as if the force itself recognized and yielded to his presence.

  Then, at st, he moved.

  Slowly, his head turned, and his unblinking gaze locked onto the royal pace. More specifically—onto the king.

  NOTE

  House Vienar: A proud house of warriors, their lineage is tied to the first Holy Knights. They value discipline, loyalty, and the preservation of order. Their leader, Lord von Veinar, a stoic and imposing figure, wore armor adorned with symbols of Lumara’s light.

  House Calystria: A house of schors and clerics, renowned for their deep connection to Lumara’s teachings and magic. Lady Elyssa Calystria, soft-spoken yet sharp-eyed, represented the house. Her robes shimmered with intricate embroidery, symbolizing her house’s spiritual authority.

  House Trelvain: Wealthy merchants and ndowners, they control much of Pentra’s trade and resources. Their head, Duke Rowan Trelvain, was a pragmatic man, more interested in maintaining his wealth than spiritual matters.

  House Viremont: A house of strategists and tacticians, their members have served as advisors and generals for centuries. Their matriarch, Lady Cassandra Viremont, a shrewd and calcuting woman, was known for her unyielding nature and decisive leadership.

  Among the minor houses present were House Bellinor, known for their masterful shipbuilding; House Draylen, a family of renowned bcksmiths whose craftsmanship was sought across the kingdom; House Karwyn, vigint guardians of the western borders; and House Elvrin, famed for their schors and healers.

  Alongside them stood House Velnars, a house of skilled horse breeders whose cavalry had served the crown for generations; House Orthells, known for their vast lumber yards and expertise in carpentry; and House Thalrins, a dwindling but fiercely loyal family that had stood by the royal lineage for centuries.

  Additionally, House Faelthorne, celebrated for their skilled falconers and messengers, ensured swift communication throughout the realm; House Lyndorin, experts in alchemy and potion-making, supplied both healers and warriors with their invaluable concoctions; House Ravencourt, whose spies and information networks stretched far beyond the kingdom’s borders; and House Caerholme, protectors of the northern mines, controlling the kingdom’s most valuable metal and gem deposits