[POV: Duke Thalorin, Royal Capital – Dawnlight Hall]
The great stained-glass windows of Dawnlight Hall shimmered with morning rays, casting gold and crimson hues upon the marbled floors. Duke Alaric Thalorin, clad in a dark sapphire doublet embroidered with the sigil of House Thalorin—a silver hawk pierced by a sword—stood at the edge of the war table, his knuckles white.
"Still nothing?" he asked, his voice iron-wrought, the weight of command pressing behind each syllable.
Captain Elric bowed his head. "No missives, no ransom demands. No sightings beyond the northern valley. It's as if she vanished."
Thalorin turned away, jaw tight. Behind the cold fury in his eyes lay an exhausted father.
"Mobilize the third scouting regiment," he ordered. "Triple the reward. I want every informant from Velaria to the Frosted Coast aware: Celene Thalorin is missing. And I will burn half this cursed continent if someone doesn't bring her back."
His steward hesitated. "And the boy? The one traveling with her?"
Thalorin paused. Aayu.
The mysterious youth who had saved her life twice in Velaria, wielded unknown abilities, and now was gone with her.
"Bring him back too," the Duke said finally. "If he's harmed her, I will see his bones fed to the crows. If he saves her..." He did not finish. He didn't need to. Loyalty earned had greater currency in Thalorin's world than gold.
---
[POV: Aayu, Unknown Underground Complex]
The cell wasn't cold—that would have been merciful.
Instead, it was damp, thick with metallic air, and alive with the scent of rot and mold. The walls pulsed faintly with glyphs. Not runes of protection, but imprisonment.
Aayu sat against the wall, his breathing steady. Across from him, Celene stirred, her silken travel cloak caked in dust and dried blood, yet her eyes remained sharp.
"How long since they left us alone?" she asked.
"Three hours. Maybe four," Aayu murmured. "They watch in shifts. Never the same face twice."
He had mapped the footfalls. Counted the intervals. Smelled the incense that masked magical auras in the hall. Everything in this place was designed to disorient. To erase time and mind.
He would not allow it.
> [Status Effect: Suppressed Access (70%)] Most active abilities sealed by Enchantment Field. Store Points inaccessible.
Even his System whispered less now. As if subdued by the weight of this place.
He had learned one name from a slip-up.
The Architects.
Whispers of a group whose fingers stirred the roots of kingdoms. A silent Order. And above all, the "Thrones" — seven seats of unimaginable power.
One of them ruled here.
"They want something," Celene said.
"Information. Or leverage," Aayu replied. "Possibly both. But they haven't broken protocol yet. That means they're cautious. Afraid."
Celene snorted, brushing dust from her cheek. "Afraid of what?"
Aayu looked up.
"Us."
---
[POV: Thalorin, Royal War Council]
The candlelight flickered as generals and spies filled the oak-paneled chamber. Thalorin stood at the head.
"The trail ends at Scorched Wastes."
"That's suicide," murmured one knight.
"And yet it's where my daughter was last seen."
He unfurled a map. "My daughter is more than noble blood. She is heir to my House and carries within her a relic tied to the First Flame. If they know that—if they awaken what sleeps—it won't just be her life in danger."
Whispers erupted.
"You suspect the Architects?" a magister asked.
Thalorin's glare was answer enough.
---
[POV: Aayu, Underground]
They came at night.
Three masked figures in obsidian robes. No visible weapons, but the air shifted with their presence.
The tallest leaned in. "You are the anomaly. The Chosen not on any list."
"I get that a lot," Aayu said calmly.
"Who gave you access? Who activated your System?"
He met their gaze, unblinking. "Why do you think I know? Maybe the stars liked me."
The leader moved as if to strike.
Celene stood. "Touch him, and I swear—"
"Silence, asset," the second figure hissed.
But Aayu's mind raced.
They didn't know.
They feared what they couldn't control.
He smiled slightly. "Keep watching. I promise you won't like what you find."
---
[POV: Throne of Chains, Unknown Location]
In a chamber far removed, a man of featureless mask and silver robes sat upon a seat woven of blackened links.
"Report."
"The Chosen resists. His data is fragmented."
"And the girl?"
"The relic is dormant. For now."
The Throne's fingers tapped the armrest.
"Do not kill them. Yet. A storm brews in the capital. We will need leverage."
He stared into the scrying mirror—where Aayu sat in chains.
"Soon, we shall break the world that broke us."
---
[POV: Aayu, Cell – Later That Night]
His hands bled.
But not from punishment. From slow, methodical movement. Scratching glyphs beneath the bench, matching forgotten runes with fragments remembered.
Celene watched silently, her breath catching as light briefly sparked.
He smiled faintly. "Just a crack in the wall. But all we need is one."
And deep in the complex, something old stirred.