The chamber was quiet—too quiet for what was happening inside.

The runes etched along the walls flickered like dying embers, their light dimming with every pulse of the heart that shouldn't have been beating. Xavier's fingers twitched first. Then his breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as if he were drowning in silence.

And then the storm began inside his mind.

Flashes.

Memories.

Faces.

Viola, smirking under a broken neon sign.

Reva, crying under the red moon.

Angel, whispering something against his neck.

Lyra, smiling with food on her lips.

All of them blurring together—until they weren't faces anymore, just echoes.

Then came the darkness.

It swallowed everything, thick and infinite. Xavier felt himself sinking through it, no sense of direction, no feeling of time. Just falling. Faster. Further. Until—

Light.

He wasn't in the chamber anymore.

He was standing barefoot on a massive stone platform, suspended in nothing. Above and around him stretched the cosmos—stars spiraling like rivers, fragments of planets drifting through the void. Everything glowed with a faint golden hue, alive yet dead at the same time.

At the far end of the platform stood a figure. Watching the stars.

Xavier squinted, his steps slow and cautious as he approached. The closer he got, the more familiar the presence became. That faint pulse of authority. The weight in the air. The memory buried deep inside his blood.

When he stopped beside the figure, he saw him clearly—

Zephyros.

The Emperor of Eternity. The founder of Zenith. The ancestor whose name made galaxies bow.

But this wasn't the same Zephyros he had seen in the memory before.

His once-radiant body was fractured, thin lines of light leaking through the cracks. His armor was faded, his long white hair tangled, drifting aimlessly. His eyes—once two galaxies burning with command—were now empty and lifeless. Like a statue that forgot what it was meant to represent.

For a long time, neither spoke. There was no sound here except the hum of dying stars.

Then Zephyros's voice broke the silence. It wasn't a voice of power anymore, but of something that had seen too much.

"Life," he began, his tone distant, "is the longest lie the universe tells itself. A cycle of birth and dust. Every soul hungers for meaning, but meaning is nothing more than a pause between two voids."

He turned his head slightly, and Xavier saw the cracks spread a little more across his neck.

"Love…" Zephyros whispered. "Love is the cruelest mercy. It gives you warmth so you can remember what the cold feels like. It makes eternity bearable, but never kind."

Xavier stood still, his chest tightening. He didn't know if he was supposed to speak—or if he even could.

"Conquest," Zephyros continued. "The song of fools who dream of control. Yet we conquer not to rule others, but to silence the fear that rules us. Power devours everything—friends, lovers, gods—until it consumes itself."

The old emperor finally turned toward Xavier. The void inside his eyes stared through him. "And when all that is left is silence… you will find me there."

Zephyros lifted his hand—cracked and trembling—and pointed at Xavier's chest. "You are the echo of what I was… the consequence of my hunger. The end that began when I thought I was infinite."

He paused. Then, in a voice that carried through the cosmos like a dying prayer, he said,

"To love is to die.

To die is to rise.

To rise is to conquer.

The Emperor conquers."

The world shattered.

Xavier felt something yank him backward—like the cosmos itself rejecting his presence. The stars folded in on themselves, collapsing into a single point of light that swallowed him whole.

And suddenly—he was back.

The isolation chamber came rushing into existence around him. The runes on the walls blazed crimson for a heartbeat, then faded. Xavier's body jerked as if hit by lightning. His eyes fluttered open, faintly glowing cosmos for a moment.

He whispered a name that came from somewhere deeper than memory.

"Astraea…"

Then his vision darkened again. His head fell to the side, his breathing steady but slow.

Outside the chamber, the runes along the door pulsed once—synchronizing with his heartbeat—before going silent again.

After a while.

The hall outside Reva's chamber was dim, lit only by the pale glow of red lanterns swaying in the draft. The guards stood stiff when Luther appeared. None dared to speak as he approached, his expression carved from cold stone.

"Open it," Luther ordered.

The lead guard fumbled with the runic lock before the massive steel door gave way. Inside, Reva sat on the floor, her wrists and ankles bound by crimson chains that hummed with sealing magic. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes dull yet burning with fury. The moment she saw Luther, that fury sharpened into pure hatred.

He dismissed the guards with a flick of his hand. "Leave us."

When the door closed behind him, the chamber fell silent except for the faint crackle of magic. Luther raised his hand and snapped his fingers once—the chains and seals dissolved into red smoke.

The instant she was free, Reva lunged. Her nails extended, her aura flared crimson, and her fangs glinted as she aimed for his throat.

Luther didn't even move. He caught her wrist mid-air, his grip like iron. The ground cracked beneath her feet as she struggled. "Enough," he said flatly.

"Why?" Reva hissed, eyes wet, voice trembling. "So you can gloat? So you can tell me how right you were, after killing him?"

"I didn't kill him," Luther replied.

"Liar!" she screamed, thrashing against his hold. "You always hated him! You wanted him gone the moment I said his name! Why should I believe anything you say?"

Luther let go. She stumbled back, panting, her aura still flaring around her. He watched her for a moment, then said, "Believe it or don't. It changes nothing. He's alive. He's being treated in the Isolation Chamber."

Reva froze, her anger faltering for a heartbeat. "If you think I'll fall for that—"

"You can't go there," Luther interrupted. "The chamber is sealed with runes meant to contain things stronger than you can imagine. Step inside uninvited and it will tear your soul apart."

"I don't care," she spat. "I'll see him myself. If he's alive, then I'll—"

"You'll do nothing." Luther's tone hardened. "You hate me. Fine. You think me cruel. You think me heartless. But I gain nothing from lying about this. The boy lives. That's all you need to know."

Reva glared at him with every ounce of venom she could muster. "You're not my father anymore. You're just a tyrant hiding behind your title."

Luther turned toward the door, his cloak brushing the floor as he moved. "I'm not here for your approval, Eleanor. What I want will happen, regardless of your tantrums."

He paused at the threshold, his voice cold and certain. "The engagement with Lucas Blackwood will proceed this week. Prepare yourself."

"I won't," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Even if I have to burn this castle down, I'll stop it."

Luther didn't look back. "Then you'd best hope he wakes up soon," he said, and left.

The door shut behind him with a heavy thud.

Reva sank to her knees, trembling. The fury that had driven her cracked, leaving only fear beneath it. Her fists clenched until her nails drew blood. She muttered under her breath, "You better be alive, Xavier. Because if you're not… I'll make him pay for it myself."

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