Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

Sylphia sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at Shion, who stood before her, tension evident in her shoulders. The exhaustion from the previous day still lingered in her movements, though she stubbornly tried to hide it.

"How are you feeling?" Sylphia asked, frowning slightly.Shion lifted her gaze and gave a small nod, though the fatigue in her eyes was unmistakable.

"I... think I'm fine," she answered softly.

Sylphia sighed, crossing her arms.

"When I told you to absorb Qi until you couldn't anymore, I didn’t mean that literally."

Shion shifted uncomfortably, clutching the fabric of her dress for a brief moment.

"I'm sorry..." she murmured, avoiding Sylphia’s gaze.

Sylphia rolled her eyes, though her tone softened.

"There's nothing to apologize for. Just be more careful next time. You're starting to make me worry."

Shion looked up at her in surprise, as if she hadn't expected those words. She remained silent for a moment before slowly nodding.

"Shion, there's something I need to tell you." Sylphia tilted her head slightly, watching the girl's reaction. "If you truly want to cultivate, you need to ask my mother yourself."

Shion stiffened, her fingers tightening around her dress.

"By myself...?" she whispered, as if the very thought was difficult to process.

Sylphia nodded.

"It's not that I don’t support you." Her tone was gentler than usual. "But cultivation isn’t just about training. It’s also about mindset. If you truly want this, you need to say it out loud."

Shion lowered her gaze. Was she ready? Did she even have the right to want this?

Sylphia remained quiet, giving her space to think. After a long pause, Shion clenched her fists.

"I’ll think about it," she whispered.

Sylphia gave her a small smile. That was already a step forward.

***

Veynessa stepped into her chambers, where Selene immediately straightened upon seeing her.

"Your Majesty," Selene greeted with a slight bow. "Your battle attire is ready."

The queen nodded and allowed Selene to assist her in changing. The silken robes were replaced with a fitted black armor, crafted from a lightweight yet incredibly durable material.

It was not only practical but stunning—golden dragon embroidery curled along the sleeves and high collar, while a dark leather belt accentuated her slender frame. Subtly carved pauldrons gleamed on her shoulders, offering protection without restricting movement.

Veynessa glanced at the mirror, assessing her reflection. Despite its elegance, the outfit was designed for battle—comfortable, light, yet reinforced in key areas.

"Perfect," she remarked coolly, fastening her gloves.

Selene handed her a weapon—a slender, curved blade that Veynessa secured at her waist.

"Inform my husband that I’ll return in a few days," she instructed, meeting Selene’s gaze. "And don’t let him panic too much."

Selene inclined her head.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Veynessa didn’t linger any longer. It was time to depart.

***

By the time Veynessa arrived at the meeting point, she could already hear familiar voices laced with irritation.

"You old, insufferable geezer!" Calista snapped.

"Oh? Already forgetting yourself again, little Cali?" Pharos replied, amusement dripping from his tone.

Veynessa arched a brow as she approached. The old man was clearly entertained, an irritating smirk on his face, while Calista practically radiated frustration. He idly tapped his wooden staff against the ground, as if testing its durability—or simply playing with it. His clothing was simple, everyday robes that stood in stark contrast to her own refined attire.

The queen took a moment to study her friend. Calista had also changed into her battle gear—a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit made of flexible, cut-resistant leather, perfectly accentuating her lithe figure. Golden, swirling patterns along the sleeves and hips resembled flames, as if her attire breathed with her. Armored guards on her forearms and legs were crafted from a lightweight magical alloy, enhancing her strikes without compromising speed.

A long, black coat with a high collar draped over her shoulders, reaching mid-thigh. Subtle, mystical runes adorned its edges, and the fabric seemed to ripple faintly, as if infused with Calista’s Qi. Her knee-high boots were reinforced for swift maneuvering, while her hands were clad in thin, black gloves—not only for protection but also to enhance her grip.

"Should I be aware of what you two are arguing about this time?" Veynessa asked, stepping closer.

Calista rolled her eyes, but before she could answer, Pharos spoke first.

"Oh, nothing important, little Veyna. I was merely... admiring her new attire." His eyes gleamed with amusement. "I told her she looks like a demon ready to devour the first unfortunate soul who crosses her path."

Calista clenched her fists.

"Maybe I’ll start with you."

Pharos raised an eyebrow, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh.

"Little Cali, you’re at least fifty years too young to be making threats at me."

He cast a mock-thoughtful glance at her before adding playfully,

"Speaking of appearances… I still remember you running around in diapers, and now you’ve grown into a demon ready to devour people."

Calista narrowed her eyes, her lips twisting into an annoyed grimace. Crossing her arms, she regarded the old man with clear disdain.

"Oh? So you do remember such things?" she said with feigned surprise. "I thought at your age, memories from decades ago were nothing but hazy fragments." Her tone was sharp as she arched a brow.

Veynessa shook her head, struggling to suppress a smile. This was going to be a long journey.

***

A gentle breeze rippled across the crystal-clear lake, casting shimmering reflections onto the wooden terrace floating just above the water’s surface. White flowers drifted lazily on the waves, their petals trembling with every soft gust of wind. The air was filled with a subtle floral fragrance, and the entire scene felt almost surreal—like something that existed beyond the natural flow of the world.

But it was nothing more than an illusion.

Seated on cushions around a low, intricately carved table were three figures—The Masked Man, Rahn, and Vaelin. Each was lost in their own thoughts, yet a palpable tension hung in the air.

"So, the royal family has started moving," The Masked Man finally spoke, idly turning a teacup in his hands. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but his gaze held something deeper—a calculated sharpness. "The Queen, Calista, and Pharos have been dispatched. I suppose we should prepare an appropriate welcome for them."