[POV Liselotte]

  The Throne Hall of Whirikal had never felt so cold—and this time, it was not because of my own magic. The air was saturated with an electric tension, an invisible csh between the royal authority of the crown and the dogmatic arrogance of faith. As we entered, the echo of our boots against the polished marble seemed to silence the murmurs of the nobles lining the teral columns.

  King William sat upon his throne, his right hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial sword. To his left, the seat was empty, waiting for us. The moment our gazes met, I saw a fsh of relief in his tired eyes, followed by renewed resolve.

  “My daughter, Liselotte, Chloé… come closer. Your pce is here, beside the throne,” William said, his voice resonating through every corner of the vast chamber.

  We advanced with steady steps, feeling the weight of hundreds of gazes upon us. Leah took her pce immediately to her father’s right, while Chloé and I stood a step behind, like the protective shadows destiny had assigned to us. Before us, in the center of the hall, stood a delegation of five men dressed in the white-and-gold robes of the Church of Orestia. They were not kneeling; they had barely inclined their heads, maintaining a posture that openly defied the King’s sovereignty.

  One of the highest-ranking nobles, the Marquis of Oriz, stepped forward to formalize the meeting according to protocol.

  “We hereby open this royal audience,” the Marquis announced, clearing his throat. “We invite all present to greet His Majesty, King William of Whirikal, and thereafter to welcome the emissaries of the Holy Church of Orestia, bearers of the word of the Goddess Gaia.”

  After the formal greetings—which felt more like an exchange of warnings than courtesies—King William leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His patience was a thread on the verge of snapping.

  “Emissaries,” William began in an icy tone, “you requested this audience with extreme urgency. I have halted the affairs of the realm to hear you. State now the reasons for your visit and why you have crossed our borders with such a rge armed escort.”

  The leader of the envoys, a middle-aged priest whose gaze distilled a near-feverish fanaticism, stepped forward. His smile was unbearably smug.

  “Your Majesty, we will not waste time on unnecessary pleasantries that only dey the divine will,” the priest said, raising his silver staff. “We come by direct order of Pope Benedict IV. We demand that you immediately hand over the woman you call Princess Leah and her so-called bodyguards, Liselotte and the demi-human. After profound sacred visions, our Church has decred that they are nothing but high-ranking demons who have usurped the identity of the true princess to rot the kingdom from its very core.”

  A wave of indignation rippled through the hall. Leah clenched her fists, her inner fire vibrating beneath her skin, while Chloé let out a low growl that made the nearest guards step back.

  “Enough!” William roared, rising to his feet. The thunder of his voice silenced the crowd. “For three years you have repeated the same bsphemy, three years attempting to take my daughter from me with baseless accusations. I did not hand anyone over at the quarry, and I will not hand anyone over today. My daughter has proven her humanity and her loyalty more than any of your priests seated on ivory thrones.”

  The emissary did not flinch. On the contrary, his smile widened into a mask of false pity. He turned toward the assembled nobles, as though performing on a stage.

  “Ah, the blindness of a father!” he excimed theatrically. “How tragic to see a sovereign choose his own sinful affection over the salvation of his people. Your Majesty, if you persist in your refusal to purify this pace, the Church will have no other choice. From this moment on, the Kingdom of Whirikal shall be officially recognized as an ‘Enemy of Humanity’ and an accomplice of the shadows. Your trade treaties, your alliances… all will be rendered null under sacred anathema.”

  “How dare you?!” shouted the Duke of Valerius, stepping forward from the line of nobles. “Your knights have been attacking our border territories indiscriminately under the pretext of ‘purges’! You have massacred entire vilges of innocent people!”

  “They were not innocent,” another priest replied coldly. “We were merely purging the seed of the demon that your negligence allows to flourish. You should be thanking us.”

  “You are murderers!” Leah shouted, stepping forward. Her voice trembled with fury. “I know what you have done in the north. You serve no goddess—only your own ambition.”

  The leader of the emissaries suddenly grew serious, and an aura of absolute confidence emanated from him. His eyes shone with triumphant malice.

  “Say whatever you wish, demon child. Our confidence today does not rest on words, but on facts. A few weeks ago, the Goddess Gaia bestowed upon us a great gift. A miracle that Whirikal cannot ignore.”

  I immediately remembered the letter Leah had received at the Academy. They had discovered something. A chill ran down my spine. My mind raced: what kind of power could make the Church openly challenge a militarily strong kingdom like ours?

  “What is it that you have, Priest?” William asked, his voice now heavy with suspicion. “Show your hand at once.”

  The priest gestured toward the great doors of the hall. “The Goddess’s gift is something that will change the fate of Lyre forever. While you lose yourselves in mediocre studies at your academy, the Goddess grants us—her true followers—gifts and prophecies beyond your comprehension.”

  The man began to boast, pacing back and forth with his hands csped. “According to divine messages, this gift has been brought from another world. A world of lost warriors who were prepared and purified by the Goddess herself for decades in the celestial pne. They are the ultimate sword against the darkness.”

  “Bring forth the Heroes!” the priest shouted toward the outside.

  The doors of the hall flew wide open. The sound of metallic, rhythmic, heavy footsteps echoed through the expectant silence. A group of five people entered the chamber. They wore white-and-gold armor of a design foreign to Lyre’s aesthetic—more streamlined, almost futuristic in its runic details. Their expressions were fierce and resolute, marked by an arrogance that surpassed even that of the priests.

  The moment my eyes fell upon them, the world seemed to stop.

  The ocean of energy within me lurched violently. My breath caught. They were not mere warriors. Their faces… I knew those faces. Despite the years that had passed, despite their bodies now being those of young adults at the peak of physical condition, their features were unmistakable.

  It was them.

  “Lotte? What’s wrong? You’re shaking…” Leah whispered beside me, noticing my physical reaction. Her hand sought mine, worried. “Lotte, look at me—are you alright?”

  I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t speak. My mind was dragged backward—back to the hallways of a high school on Terra, to ughter during recess, to the day an entire group from my css simply… disappeared.

  “Welcome the Heroes of Gaia!” the emissary announced thunderously. “Behold those who have descended to cleanse this world!”

  The priest presented the leader of the group: a blond young man with a manic gaze, walking at the front with a golden sword resting on his shoulder. “This is Ulric, the Hero of the Celestial Sword!”

  I was stunned. Ulric. In my past life, his name had been different, but his face was the same as the boy who used to sit three rows behind me. And the four who followed him—the girl with the predatory stare, the massive, muscur giant… they were all my former cssmates. Those whom Edward Celium had believed lost forever in a mysterious mass accident.

  They were Edward’s friends. They were the souls Gaia had abducted to turn into her puppets. And now, they were here, standing before me, transformed into the Church’s executioners.

  “This can’t be…” I finally whispered, in a voice that didn’t feel like my own.

  Leah squeezed my hand tightly, her eyes filling with growing arm at my extreme pallor. But I was no longer in the Throne Hall. I was watching the pieces of the goddesses’ game finally fall into pce in the cruelest possible way. My former friends had returned—but not to save me, but to destroy everything I now loved.