The last hues of gold faded behind the horizon as Erebus stood alone near the stone balustrade, his sword resting upright beside him, hands clasped around the hilt. The air was heavy with blooming night jasmine, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere—toward Wahrheit, toward the uncertain future of his children, and the mounting pressure to act.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Cornelius approached with his usual calm gait, hands folded behind his back. "Your Lordship."
Erebus turned slightly, offering a subtle nod. "Cornelius."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Erebus exhaled slowly, cutting to the matter.
"I won't waste your time. I came to speak to you—not as Luciana's husband, but as the one building a future for those born outside the grace of this Empire."
Cornelius studied him carefully. "You've never been one for idle talk. Go on."
Erebus turned fully to face him. His tone was low, measured. "I intend to return to Wahrheit. With Luciana. And with our children."
Cornelius's brow furrowed slightly, though he did not react with surprise. "Does she know?"
"No," Erebus replied. "Not yet. I will speak to her, when the time is right. But first, I must know if I can count on the support of the Alchemist Tower. If things… turn volatile."
Cornelius crossed his arms. "And what support, exactly, are you requesting?"
"Advisors. Alchemical strategists. A liaison presence within the new settlements. More than brute strength—I need intellect and stability. I know the Tower values order, even if it keeps one foot in secrecy."
"You're asking for a serious commitment," Cornelius said bluntly. "The Tower does not involve itself lightly in political relocation—especially not when it risks tension with the imperial throne."
Erebus's jaw tensed. "You think I haven't considered that?"
"I think you've considered many things," Cornelius replied evenly. "But Luciana is not a banner you can simply carry off when you please. She is a crowned princess. And you are not the only one with claims or expectations."
Erebus's eyes darkened slightly, but his voice remained controlled. "I did not come to demand. I came to ask—to offer a path forward. One where our children are not watched with suspicion, where Luciana does not walk among whispers."
Cornelius sighed and glanced away, toward the dim glow of the birthing chamber. "Then you should face this with her. Before involving any Tower or throne. What does she want, Erebus?"
There was silence. Erebus said nothing.
Cornelius pressed, more gently now. "If she asked you to stay here… would you?"
The question lingered, unanswered.
Before Erebus could reply, the doors to the birthing chamber creaked open. Aria stepped out, startled to find the two men standing in such quiet tension.
"Everything alright?" she asked, her voice cautiously light.
Cornelius straightened. "We were just finishing."
"I see," Aria said, glancing briefly at Erebus. "Luciana has asked for a moment to rest. She's exhausted. I'll escort Cornelius back to the villa."
Cornelius offered Erebus a parting nod. "I will not speak to the Council until I know your intentions are shared by her."
Then he turned and followed Aria down the corridor, leaving Erebus once again in silence beneath the darkening sky.
Moments passed.
A sharp cry pierced the air—a raven. It swooped down from above, landing on the stone edge beside him. Its black feathers gleamed like ink in moonlight. A sealed scroll was fastened to its leg with a crimson ribbon.
Erebus unrolled the parchment, immediately recognizing the joint seals of Callum and Alessio.
> To His Imperial Lordship, Erebus of House Stygian,
The outposts have been secured. The southern frontier bends to our command. Three new settlements now stand where the wastelands once held dominion. But there is unrest. They look for a leader.
We cannot maintain order through military command alone. The people ask for more—
a vision, a sovereign, an Emperor.
We both agree. It is time.
Wahrheit needs you. Return, and claim what was built in your name.
—Callum, Warden of the Eastern Front
—Alessio, Steward of the Southern Reaches
Erebus stared at the words for a long moment. A breath left him—equal parts pride and burden.
They were calling him back.
Not as a warlord. Not as a harbinger.
But as an Emperor.
Yet his eyes lifted once more toward the chamber where Luciana and Ra'el lay. His children—part of this realm, yet never truly belonging.
A choice loomed—titanic in its reach.
And this time, he knew... he could not make it alone.
Outside the Villa, Night painted the sky black
The moon had climbed high above the imperial villa, casting silver webs across the cobblestone courtyard. The scent of fresh herbs from the garden lingered in the warm summer air.
Aria walked silently beside Cornelius as they made their way back toward their quarters. She glanced sideways at her husband, catching the subtle tightness in his jaw.
"You were quiet back there," she said gently.
Cornelius didn't look at her immediately. "There was much to consider."
Aria stopped walking, her hand brushing his arm. "What did he ask you?"
Cornelius paused, then turned to face her fully. "He wants the Tower's assistance. When he takes Luciana and the children back to Wahrheit."
Aria's breath caught. "So it's true… he plans to take them?"
Cornelius nodded. "Not just plans. He's preparing. He wants advisors, scholars—our minds and our presence, not just brute force."
"Did you say yes?"
"I told him the Tower won't act unless Luciana chooses this too. And I meant it."
Aria looked away, her voice quiet. "I hope she's ready. Because I don't think he's going to wait much longer."
---
Morning light poured in softly through the embroidered curtains. The imperial nursery was filled with warmth and the gentle hum of life.
Nemesis sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a plush lion in one hand and baby Ra'el's tiny foot in the other. Hades lay beside him, babbling and giggling every time Ra'el sneezed or wriggled.
Luciana watched them from the chaise, her hand resting lightly over her abdomen where the weight of childbirth still lingered. Her heart was full—and yet, unease festered like a shadow behind her ribs.
The door creaked open. She looked up.
Erebus entered, his cloak draped loosely over his shoulders, eyes scanning the room before settling on her.
"We need to talk," he said quietly.
She nodded. "Augusta, please take the boys outside for a short while."
The nursemaid collected the children, Hades reaching reluctantly for her hand, while Nemesis leaned down and whispered something to Ra'el before slipping out.
Once the room was silent, Erebus stepped closer, standing in front of her—but not sitting.
"I received a raven last night," he began. "From Callum and Alessio."
Luciana already knew this would not be a simple conversation. She folded her hands over her lap. "And?"
"The frontier has stabilized. Wahrheit has grown. New settlements have risen in the southern region. People have started to flock there—exiles, dissidents, survivors. And they ask for one thing: leadership."
She didn't speak.
"They want an emperor," he said slowly. "They want me."
Her lips parted slightly, a chill running through her. "So… what you feared. What I feared. It's here."
"I built it for them. For us. For the children. A world where their names aren't whispered in fear, where their lineage isn't dissected like a disease." His voice grew more intense. "I never intended to keep you here longer than I had to."
Luciana looked away, toward the crib where Ra'el had been moments ago. "You didn't even tell me this was already in motion."
"I wanted to wait until you'd recovered."
"No," she said, her voice sharper than she meant. "You wanted to wait until I couldn't stop you."
He fell silent.
Luciana stood slowly, each step careful. She faced him, eyes fearful and tired. "I'm afraid, Erebus. You think I haven't anticipated this moment? That I haven't wondered what it would mean for me to leave this place behind? But every time I think of it, I see the world turning its wrath toward us. Toward our sons. I see chaos."
"I would burn that chaos down," he said quietly. "I would make the world kneel if it ever tried to touch you."
Her breath hitched. "That's what I fear. Not your protection. But the war it would take to earn it."
Erebus stepped closer, his voice low—no longer just a man of deep longing, but a ruler.
"They fear what they do not control. And I will never allow them to control us. I've seen what compromise looks like in their eyes. I know what Helios offers—a gilded cage. You may wear your crown here, but it comes with shackles hidden in silk."
Luciana trembled. "So what now? You take me, by force? Raise a banner and demand the empress back?"
"I would never take you unwillingly," he said, his voice softer now. "But I will return. Not as a wandering general or the forgotten lord. I will return as an emperor—with nations bound under one banner. A name that echoes across the realms. And when I do…"
He looked into her eyes, unwavering.
"I will come for you."
Luciana's heart ached with conflicting emotions. Her voice cracked as she replied, "You're speaking of destiny, Erebus. But what of desire? Do you even ask if I want to leave? If I want to raise our children in a land still rising from blood and ash?"
"I ask you now," he said. "Do you want to stay here—where our sons are cursed under their breath? Where every day you must prove yourself just to be seen as a mother, not a threat?"
She swallowed, tears rising unbidden. "I don't know."
They stood in silence, the divide between them growing with every passing heartbeat.
"I don't ask for an answer today," he finally said, stepping back. "But know this, Luciana—my return is inevitable. And when I do come… it won't be as a man who once bowed to thrones. It will be as the throne itself."
Then, with a final glance toward the cradle, Erebus turned and left—his cloak trailing behind him like the shadow of an empire on the rise.
Luciana sat again, her knees trembling beneath her.
since Ra'el's birth…
She felt the full weight of the future pressing against her spine.