The Core Citadel hummed with new life.
Once silent, cold, and reserved for those few deemed worthy by the old law, it now pulsed with movement, thought, and potential. No longer merely a throne room, it had become a crossroads—where the dreams of the Multiverse converged.
The Grand Hall, formerly a chamber of judgment, had transformed into a living amphitheater. Its marble columns had softened into fluid trees of crystal and thought, their branches weaving through starlit air, shedding particles of light that whispered fragments of philosophy and hope. Above them, a dome of swirling constellations responded to the mood of the room, mapping emotional resonance and ideological tension like celestial currents.
Here, Lucius would assemble his Council.
Not of nobles, not of conquerors—but of voices.
They arrived in waves.
