To Aaron’s surprise, the group was led directly to the palace. For nearly half an hour, they walked on foot, surrounded by guards and watched by a steady stream of gawking onlookers.

  Aaron felt exposed. He had no swords, no knives, not even the ring of holding Lauriel had gifted him. Though he did his best to hide how much it bothered him, he found it hard to shake the discomfort. Still, he kept the conversation going with Magda. She had raised a topic that had been on his mind as well. Now that he had reached the rank of True Saint, he had a new set of active and passive perks to choose from.

  Normally, he would never have gone through the upgrade process while under duress. The strain and disorientation that followed such changes made it unwise. Even if he had been able to focus, he still had not decided what to choose.

  That was part of the problem. He had several paths available. Some would make him tougher or more well-rounded. Others would let him heal slowly over time or add minor magical effects to his abilities. Then there were upgrades that enhanced his sword skills more directly. The decision came down to a simple but difficult question. Should he specialise further now that he had a party to support him, or should he treat his current team as a temporary advantage and build himself for flexibility?

  Either way, it would require a proper conversation with the Saintesses, one they were not ready to have just yet.

  What made the choice harder was that none of the options currently available would have helped him against Volgathar. Not really. There was nothing on offer that came close to the scale of growth he had received from Sword Soul or Crescendo Temporis. He suspected that if he kept developing in other ways, perhaps the system would present new options that could meaningfully elevate his strength again.

  That, however, would have to be a question for another day.

  They were led through towering archways into a wide echoing chamber that could only be a royal court. The marble floors gleamed under the light of stained glass windows, casting patterned shadows across a long carpeted aisle. At the far end, elevated on a dais, sat Aelrida, Queen of Lutharion and ruler of Isyndor.

  Rows of courtiers stood along the sides of the hall, dressed in layers of fine silk, embossed leather and ceremonial gold. Their eyes followed the group from the moment they entered, a mix of curiosity, disdain and apprehension flickering across noble faces. More than one pair of eyebrows lifted at the sight of Aaron’s still-glowing halo, the symbol of his sainthood casting a soft white light around his head. He made no effort to suppress it. Let them see.

  The guards led them forward but halted just before the centre of the chamber. They had not yet been summoned. So they waited. Watching and being watched in return.

  Aaron stood with his arms crossed, doing his best to appear unbothered despite the dried blood on his armour, the crusted blood and grease on his face and the stares pressing in from all sides. Alex shifted beside him, eyes scanning the ceiling and the stained glass depictions of ancient heroes and ascended. Debryn watched the guards more than the nobles, her tail twitching like a flag in the wind. Magda remained quiet, likely meditating and regaining her energy. Cassandra stood tall and still, her back rigid and jaw clenched.

  Then came the whispers.

  It started on the left, a soft murmur that spread quickly across the chamber like a chill wind.

  “Kin-killer…”

  “Princess returned?”

  “She dares…”

  Aaron saw the moment it reached Cassandra. Her expression did not change, but her hands tightened at her sides, the motion subtle but telling.

  At last, the herald stepped forward.

  “Now presenting the Saint of Swords, Aaron Heuber, and companions,” he announced, his voice ringing through the chamber. “Accompanied by Cassandra Ljoswyn Aenvaldr, former Second Princess of Lutharion.”

  The room fell silent. Every gaze fixed on them.

  The others looked to Aaron.

  He stepped forward.

  The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoed in the hush. He stopped just short of the Queen’s dais, aware of the weight of attention from every direction.

  “I am Aaron Heuber, Saint of Swords, as called upon by Archangel Lauriel on behalf of the Vox Vitae,” he said with a bow, his voice steady and clear. “I come from beyond Isyndrael to stand against an imminent threat that endangers many within this land. I serve no faction, no kingdom, and seek no title. I come only with purpose.”

  The Queen said nothing. Her face betrayed nothing. She sat like a statue carved from moonlight, beautiful and still. Her silver-gilt hair was arranged in a high coronet and her eyes shimmered like sapphire glass. If she was surprised by his halo or his declaration, it did not show.

  Aaron paused. The silence lingered. His usual charm, which had carried him through many difficult moments, faltered under her gaze.

  So he shifted tactics.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Much of what we carry is not meant for public ears. What we have seen, what we know, concerns more than one realm. I ask that you grant Cassandra a private audience. She brings information that may decide the fate of your people.”

  Murmurs stirred among the onlookers. After a long pause, the Queen’s gaze moved from Cassandra to Debryn, then to Aaron’s halo, which shimmered white in the dim hall.

  “You presume much,” she said at last. Her voice was soft and composed, yet carried an unmistakable edge. “But such an affliction is rare, and my sister’s return is more than unexpected.”

  She gestured to a steward. “Clear the balcony. Petitioners shall wait.”

  The courtiers began to murmur again, but the guards moved quickly, ushering the nobles and petitioners out. The swish of silk and the clack of boots echoed off the walls until the great doors closed behind them.

  Only a handful remained.

  The Queen turned her gaze to Cassandra. Her sky-blue eyes, mirrored by her sister’s, scanned her from head to toe, as though recording every detail.

  “You have been missed, sister. Come.”

  The balcony was quiet apart from the wind. It carried the scent of jasmine and the distant murmur of a city still alive beneath the palace walls. Isyndor stretched far below, its rooftops bathed in fading gold. Long shadows reached from towers and rooftops, touching cobbled streets and crowded market squares.

  Cassandra stood still. She had not expected to see this view again. Not the familiar shape of the towers. Not the gilded light on the market stones. Not the city that had cast her out. She had imagined her return many times during her exile. Usually, it ended in fire or triumph. But never like this.

  Her heart beat faster. The ache of old wounds pressed close to the surface, memories of whispered accusations, the scent of her sister’s blood, the cold dismissal of her name from court. And yet, here she was. Standing once more on the high balcony where they used to hide as girls. Watching the same streets, the same sky. But it no longer felt like home.

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  “You've changed, Rhea,” Cassandra said at last. Her voice was soft but steady.

  Aelrida stood beside her with both hands resting on the stone railing. She did not look at Cassandra.

  “So have you, Cassie.”

  The words fell into silence. Cassandra looked out toward the hills. The skyline had not changed. It was the same view they used to sneak out to watch. The same towers and same wind. But everything felt different now.

  “You wear the crown well,” Cassandra said.

  “Do I?” Aelrida’s voice held no warmth. “Some days it feels more like a weight pressing down on my spine.”

  “You always knew it would be hard.”

  “I thought I did. But Father’s death didn’t purge the rot. It made the hunger worse. The council uses his crimes to strip power from the throne. All in the name of reform. Meanwhile, they indulge in the very excesses that broke him.”

  “I had hoped things would be better.”

  “I know. I don’t blame you. I would have done the same if it had been you lying on the floor. And me holding the knife.”

  Cassandra closed her eyes. Her breath caught for a moment. “Then why the cold welcome?”

  “Because you made me queen,” Aelrida said. “Before my time, and with that crown came blades I had to survive alone.”

  For a time, neither of them spoke. The hum of the city rose faintly below.

  Aelrida turned, her voice quieter now. “So tell me. What is all this about Saints and angels? Is it true?”

  “It is,” Cassandra said. She was glad to be talking about anything else. “Though I barely understand it myself. The world is wider than I thought. There are powers I cannot name. Forces older than the crown. Older than the realm.”

  “And you?”

  “I was chosen. I don’t know why. I’ve seen things I cannot explain. I have fought with others who bear halos of light. I’ve witnessed miracles. And horrors. There is a war coming. One that will not care about noble blood or council seats.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “We do. Notes and journals written in demonic script, maps with dates and count downs, and a few demon heads inside those rings confiscated by the guard. The Demons have crossed from beneath reality. These creatures are stronger than any account I have read. Our realm is vulnerable. And I fear Isyndor is their first target.”

  “Why here?” Aelrida asked. “Why us?”

  “Because we have more Ascended than any other realm. The demons want power. They do not just destroy. They consume. And Ascended blood is ripe with power and essence.”

  Aelrida’s expression tightened. She nodded once. “The stronger the prey, the richer the prize.”

  “This city could fall. Not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon. The barriers between realms are weakening. The creatures from beyond are growing bolder.”

  Cassandra’s voice carried no drama, only certainty. Her gaze never left the horizon, where the rooftops of Isyndor caught the fading light. Beneath them, the city moved with the confidence of a place that had never known true war.

  Aelrida’s reply came after a pause. “And what would you have me do?”

  Cassandra turned to face her. “Prepare.”

  Aelrida arched an eyebrow. “That is not a strategy, Cassie. That is a warning without a shape.”

  “You want shape?” Cassandra stepped closer. “"Double the watch along the inner ward and station extra guards at all potential access points, especially the upper balconies and servant corridors. Quietly recall any Ascended whose loyalty you trust completely. Spread out your Sentinels and begin training trusted city volunteers in basic defensive tactics and alarm signalling.

  Check food reserves for signs of tampering or sabotage. Strengthen the wards on the palace, especially those guarding against illusions, teleportation and scrying. And above all, remain discreet, do it without causing panic or tipping off the enemy. Assassins are already in the city. Tonight, they strike. Be ready."

  The Queen gave a quiet laugh. “Is that all? Goodness Cassie. You’ve been gone a long time, but not long enough to forget how many strings that would pull. The council will demand explanations.”

  “Then give them some. Say you received word of unrest in the outlying territories. Say a plague was spotted in the southern ports. Lie if you must. After tonight things may be self evident. But do not wait for more proof. You know what happens when good people hesitate.”

  Aelrida crossed her arms. “And what if I believe you, but no one else does?”

  “Then let them doubt you. Until the sky opens and they scream for your help.”

  The wind rose slightly. Below, the cathedral bells rang the hour. Aelrida’s face remained calm, but her eyes betrayed calculation.

  “If I move too soon, I weaken my standing. If I move too late, we all burn. You ask for balance on a wire that is already fraying.”

  “I’m not asking you to walk it alone,” Cassandra said. “You’re not the only one risking everything.”

  “And what of your companions? The Saint of Swords. The girl with the artefact? Your kitsune shadow. Will they fight for this city?”

  “They already have. They will again. So will I.”

  Aelrida looked at her sister for a long moment. Then her shoulders softened.

  “You were always better at lighting fires than calming them.”

  “I’ve had practice.” Cassandra smiled.

  Another pause.

  Aelrida exhaled. “Very well. I will begin the preparations. Quietly. And if you’re wrong?”

  Cassandra’s expression didn’t change. “Then you’ve simply reinforced the city against an enemy that may arrive later instead of sooner.”

  “And if you’re right?”

  Cassandra turned back toward the horizon. “Then we’ve bought ourselves a fighting chance.”

  Aelrida followed her gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Aelrida exhaled and brushed an errant lock of hair from her face and sighed. “And what of you? Do you have a halo?”

  “Not yet. The dark haired human woman can manifest one, though unlike the mans, I’ve only seen it once.”

  Aelrida looked at her sister again, long and thoughtful. “You speak with less fury than you used to. More weight. What changed?”

  Cassandra blinked. “You mean besides being exiled and nearly killed more than once?”

  “I mean something deeper.” Aelrida’s eyes narrowed slightly. “There’s… less of a void in you. Less of that restless fury. More stillness. Maybe even peace. Have you found someone?”

  Cassandra stiffened, caught completely off guard. “I—what? That’s… no. I mean, I don’t—.”

  “Oh, you have.” Aelrida grinned, the first genuine smile to crack her regal poise. “Oh, Cassie. Who is he? Not that human, is it? The one with the glowing halo? He looks like a walking bruise.”

  Cassandra flushed. “Aaron is… complicated. And yes, it’s him. Not like that. Or, not yet. Maybe. It’s… oh, Rhea, don’t look at me like that.”

  “Does he make you laugh?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Does he protect you?”

  “He saved my life. More than once.”

  “Then I like him already,” Aelrida said simply. “Even if he’s scruffy.”

  Cassandra exhaled, half laughter, half sigh. “This isn’t a storybook, Rhea. This is real.”

  “I know. But if you’re walking into danger anyway, you might as well have someone at your side who matters.”

  Cassandra’s eyebrow lifted. “How is that what you’ve determined?”

  “Oh please. He entered court like a comet. Glowing and bloodstained.”

  “Quite.” Cassandra chuckled.

  “Very charismatic,” Aelrida said, voice flat. “And we both know you like them brooding and bloody.”

  “He is not without his admirers,” Cassandra admitted. Her voice dropped. “I doubt I could hold his attention.”

  “Why not?” Aelrida scoffed, taking offence on Cassandra’s behalf.

  “He’s not the most emotionally available man I’ve met.”

  “And?”

  “And there’s Magda. They have a history.”

  “Ah.” Aelrida leaned in slightly, conspiratorially. “The pale one with the purple hair and the high cheekbones?”

  “Yes. And it’s a history I don’t think either of them have quite sorted through yet.”

  “Sounds like a challenge,” Aelrida said, tone deliberately casual.

  Cassandra gave her a look. “Don’t you dare.”

  “What?” Aelrida lifted a hand in mock innocence. “I am merely concerned. After all, I have not had the opportunity to properly assess him. What kind of big sister would I be if I didn’t put him through a few tests?”

  “Rhea.”

  “Maybe a duel or two for your honour? Poetry recital? Oooh, can he play the lute? Or perhaps a formal dance—”

  “I swear to yggdrasil—”

  “Maybe have him aid me with one of the many political negotiations with foreign lands? Or dinner with the council.”

  “Rhea!”

  Aelrida laughed then, a clear and rich sound that bounced off the marble columns and drifted over the balcony. It was the first genuine laugh Cassandra had heard from her in years.

  “I’m teasing, Cassie. Mostly.” Cassandra groaned, turning to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.

  “He’d probably pass, too. Well, all except the dancing.”

  “Oh?” the queen pressed. Cassandra merely shrugged.

  “Well then,” Aelrida said, voice warm and teasing, “now that you finally think so highly of a man, maybe this world really is ending.”

  They stood in silence again for a moment, sister to sister, watching the sun inch closer to the horizon. “Come then, Saintess Cassandra,” Aelrida said at last, her voice steady once more. “We have work to do.” Cassandra turned, the smile tugging at her lips not quite hidden.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And tell your sword saint to be on his best behaviour. Big sister is watching.”