“This Council will come to order.” High Chancellor Varian slammed his staff against the marble floor of the Grand Council Chamber, silencing the storm of voices that had risen the moment Empress Ariadne entered.
 Eryx stood at her left. Lady Ianthe at her right. Behind them, nobles crowded the curved rows, muttering in fear, anger, and awe.
 The chamber itself was enormous—circular, domed, its ceiling painted with the three Empires of Luminary intertwined by golden threads. Yet today, not one person looked up.
 All eyes burned toward the center podium. Toward Ariadne. Toward the empty space where most expected a girl with silver hair to stand.
 “Where is the Princess?” barked a noble from the Lux Court. “You demanded we gather at once. Where is the girl?”
 Ariadne’s gaze sharpened like a blade. “She is resting.”
 “Resting?!” another noble shouted. “She shattered the Sanctum dome! She is a danger to herself!”
 “And to the Empire!” cried another.
 “Dual-core users are unstable!”
 “She could be cursed!”
 “She should be contained!”
 Eryx slammed his palm onto the table so hard the nobles jolted.
 “Say that again,” he growled, “and I’ll show you instability.”
 Gasps erupted. Varian cleared his throat loudly. “Prince Eryx, please—”
 “No.” Eryx stepped forward, fury blazing in his eyes. “You speak of my sister as if she is a weapon you can lock away.”
 A noble scoffed. “Is she not?!”
 Ianthe moved. One step. That was all but the entire council flinched as her presence darkened the chamber like a storm cloud swallowing the sun.
 Her voice was soft, cold, and deadly. “Choose your next words carefully.”
 The noble swallowed. “L-Lady Ianthe, my apologies, I simply meant—”
 “You meant,” Ianthe said, “that you fear her. Good. You should.”
 Whispers rippled outward like wildfire. Ariadne raised a hand, and the room fell silent again.
 “The Princess does not need to stand before you,” she said. “Her actions speak clearly enough.”
 A Lux noble stood shakily. “Your Majesty, the girl is dual-core. Caligo and Lux together—this should not be possible!”
 Ianthe snorted softly. “And yet it is.”
 “Twice she has nearly destroyed sacred structures!” another shouted. “What if next time she—”
 “Survives?” Eryx cut in. “You’re terrified a sixteen-year-old girl is stronger than you.”
 An elderly councilman banged his cane. “We demand a vote!”
 Varian turned toward him. “A vote on what?”
 The old man jabbed his cane toward Ariadne.
 “A vote on whether the Princess is fit to remain in line for the throne!” Gasps erupted.
 Eryx nearly lunged, but Ianthe grabbed his sleeve without looking at him.
 “Not yet,” she murmured.
 Ariadne’s eyes narrowed—slowly, dangerously. “You wish to vote on our successor?” she asked quietly.
 A noble shouted, “We do!”
 “She must prove herself!”
 “She must be contained!”
 “She may bring disaster!”
 Ariadne stepped forward, the air tightening as if pulled taut.
 “My daughter,” she said, voice calm, “survived an assassination attempt by a shadow priest.”
 The nobles fell silent. Ariadne continued, “She broke a mark placed upon her by the old gods themselves.”
 Whispers erupted again—fearful, frantic.
 “She awakened power deeper than this Council has witnessed in three centuries.”
 Silence echoed inside the hall. “And she did so,” Ariadne said, “without losing control. Without harming anyone. Without falling into darkness.”
 A noble shouted, “That is what frightens us!”
 Ariadne smiled—slow, sharp, terrifying. “Then be frightened.”
 The chamber was dumbfounded.
 Ariadne’s expression hardened, her voice ringing through the dome like thunder.
 “You forget yourselves. I am Empress. Alessia is the princess of Solaris. Blood of Lunaris. Heir to the First Light. She is not yours to judge.”
 “But—”
 Varian raised a hand. “Your Majesty, with respect, the Council must ensure the Empire’s safety.”
 “And the Empire,” Ariadne said, “has never been safer.”
 “How,” another noble scoffed, “is this safety?!”
 Ariadne’s gaze turned to Ianthe. “Tell them.”
 Ianthe stepped forward, cloak shifting like a field of stars. “Princess Alessia’s awakening broke the tether of an old god’s mark,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”
 The nobles shook their heads. Ianthe smiled coldly. “It means the old gods fear her.”
 The gasps were heard again, but they were also shocked. “It means their hunters cannot claim her.” 
 Stiffened postures. Some of them cough in fear. 
 “And it means,” Ianthe added, voice low, “that the Princess is likely the only being alive capable of severing the old gods' influence on this Empire.”
 The room erupted in shouts.
 “That’s impossible!”
 “Her power cannot be trusted!”
 “The First Empress was a legend!”
 “She is a child!”
 “WE CANNOT PLACE OUR FUTURE ON A GIRL!”
 Kael’s voice sliced through the chaos, “Then you should have killed her sooner.”
 The room went dead silent. A few nobles looked ready to faint.
 Eryx whispered, “Kael, why would you phrase it like that—”
 Kael didn’t look away from the Council. “Because now,” he continued calmly, “you cannot. She is stronger than all of you.”
 Ianthe gave a small, satisfied nod. Ariadne didn’t smile—but her eyes gleamed.
 A noble sputtered, “A-Are you threatening us?!”
 Kael tilted his head and smirked, “No. I’m warning you.”
 The chamber fell completely still. Kael secretly grinned at them on his head. 
 Eryx stepped beside Kael.
 “You want a verdict?” he growled. “Fine. Here’s mine: Alessia is the rightful First Successor. She is the Empire’s future. She is the one who lived when all of you would have died.”
 Seraphine peeked in from the doorway, trembling, but shouted, “Princess Alessia saved KAEL and beat a creepy shadow priest! None of you could do that!”
 Dozens of nobles turned to stare at her. Seraphine paled. “O-Oh moons—what did I just do—”
 Ianthe smirked. Ariadne’s lips twitched. Varian stepped forward.
 “Enough,” he declared. “We vote now.”
 The chamber held its breath. One by one—the nobles raised their hands. Some were trembling, some were reluctant, some were furious, and some were reverent.
 At last, Varian counted and spoke, “The Council acknowledges Princess Alessia Keren Endymion as First Successor. Unchallenged.”
 Eryx exhaled sharply. Ianthe crossed her arms in satisfaction. Ariadne lifted her chin. “Then let the Empire remember today,” she announced. “The day my daughter stood against gods—and the Empire bowed.”