Kaelen Varis sat in the verdant tranquility of the garden greenhouse attached to his home, perched high on the ridges of Aegis’s tiered city ter. From this vantage point, he could see the city’s structured elegaretg out below, a marvel of the Snty’s meticulous order. Each tier was a testament to their philosophy, rising with perfect symmetry toward the summit of governand faith. The greenhouse was a respite, filled with fragrant blossoms and the gentle hum of bees flittiweeiculously cultivated flowers. It was a sanctuary where duty could be momentarily set aside—or at least softened.

  He sipped his tea thoughtfully, seated across from his ordained wife, Calista. The marriage, arranged by the clergy of Praxus at their births, had been as much a tract as a union, but Kaelen found no fault in her. Calista in woman by most standards—unadorned, with features that could fade into a crowd—but to Kaelen, there was a certain uated elegan her simplicity. More importantly, she possessed a sharp mind and a steady presence, qualities that made her not only a petent partner but also a panion he had grown to respect deeply.

  “How goes the preparation for the war, dear?” Calista asked, her voice calm and measured, as if she were inquiring about the health of the greenhouse pnts rather than a campaign that could shape the fate of nations.

  Kaelen pced his teacup down on the polished table, the por king softly against its saucer. He smiled faintly, the expression tempered by the weight of his responsibilities. “It goes well. The generals have finalized pns for a major front into the steppes through Greyreach. The terrain will be challenging, but our forces are well-prepared. We’ve also had some success in skirmishes against the northwestern tribes. They remain a thorn in our side, but manageable.”

  He paused, his tone darkening slightly as his firaced the edge of his teacup. “The Serkoth , however, tio be the most formidable obstacle. As always.”

  Calista tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. The golden sunlight filtering through the greenhouse gss caught in her auburn hair, giving her a soft halo-like glow. “I don’t uand why they resist. We’ve extended every opportunity for them to join us. We tried being diplomatic, didn’t we? It seems the beast folk refuse to uand the glory of order.”

  Her words carried an edge of exasperation, though her demeanor remained posed. Calista’s belief in the Snty’s vision of order was as unwavering as her faith in Praxus, the god whose will they both served. To her, the Serkoth’s resistance was not only baffling but also an affront to the natural hierarchy of the world.

  Kaelen’s expression hardened slightly, though not toward her. “Diplomatic overtures were made, yes. But to the Serkoth, our order is an insult to their way of life. They value freedom, or what they perceive as freedom, above all else. To them, we are not liberators but querors. And they will fight us tooth and cw to preserve their chaos.”

  Calista’s lips pursed as she sidered his words. Her hands rested lightly oable, her fingers brushing the edge of her saucer. “Freedom,” she murmured, almost disdainfully. “What freedom is there in disarray? In ging to old ways that bring only flid ruin? They could have peace. Prosperity. A p something greater.”

  Kaelen leaned back slightly, folding his hands in his p as he regarded her. “They don’t see it that way. To them, our unity is a cage. Our prosperity is stolen. And our peace is enforced at the cost of their identity.”

  “Then they are fools,” Calista said, her voice calm but resolute. “And their folly will cost them dearly. Order is not something to be resisted. It is the foundation of all things, the only true path to greatness. Those who ot see that... perhaps they do not deserve to be part of it.”

  Kaelen watched her closely, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the er of his lips. Calista’s unwavering vi was one of the reasons he had grown to admire her. She might not have been born into a warrior’s life, but her strength of spirit was undeniable. She believed in the Snty, in the divine order they served, as deeply as he did—perhaps even more so.

  “The Serkoth will learn,” Kaelen said finally, his voice carrying a quiet determination. “One way or ahey will learn.”

  An acolyte quietly ehe greenhouse, his posture humble, his movements deliberate as he waited at the edges of the serene space. The fragrant st of blooming lilies and orchids filled the air, a stark trast to the tension that followed him.

  “You may approach,” said Kaelen with a ile, his tone polite but sharp enough to cut through the acolyte’s nervous energy.

  The young man nodded and stepped forward briskly, dropping to one knee before Kaelen. “Champioheris is here, my lord. They wish to speak with you.”

  Kaelen pced his teacup on the gss table with a faint k, his expression calm but his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Tell them I will be there soon. Take them to the waiting room.”

  The acolyte hesitated, his gaze flickering up briefly before he bowed his head lower. “A-actually, they said it was urgent. They’re already on their way here.”

  For the briefest moment, annoyance fshed across Kaelen’s features—a cra the otherwise seamless mask of posure he always wore. It passed quickly, repced by a easured nod. “I see. You may leave.”

  The acolyte stumbled over himself to obey, quickly bag away. But before he could reach the exit, the door swung open with deliberate force, revealing a tall figure who anded immediate attention. Their white-and-gold robes draped elegantly over the intricate ptes of armor beh, the metallic edges glinting faintly in the dappled sunlight streaming through the greenhouse.

  Kaelen and Calista rose from their seats at oheir movements synized, and bowed their heads respectfully. The tension in the room greable as the presence of the Champion seemed to fill every er of the space.

  “Rise,” Entheris said, their voice smooth and unyielding, devoid of any disible emotion. It was the kind of voice that carried authority without effort, each word perfectly enunciated, every sylble sharp as the edge of a bde.

  Kaelen straightened, his faposed, though his sharp eyes lingered on the Champion for just a fra lohan polite. “Champioheris,” he greeted smoothly, “How was your visit to Serkoth?”

  Calista remained silent, her hands folded before her, her demeanor poised but deferential. She watched the Champion with a quiet curiosity, noting the faint hum of energy that seemed to radiate from their form—a presehat felt almost alive, as though the very air around them shifted subtly in respoo their will.

  Entheris’s gaze swept over the room, their eyes—glowing faintly with aetheriergy—seemingly indifferent to the beauty of the greenhouse.

  “I failed to rescue most of the faithful. A neion has arrived in Nymoria.” They said without irritation.

  “A champion? Are you sure?” asked Kaelen, his voice tinged with skepticism.

  “All champions feel the mark of a god on each other. It felt underdeveloped and new… yet powerful,” replied Entheris, their voice calm but filled with an underlyi. “I tried to erase it from the tapestry when I realized what it was, but it shrugged it off.”

  Kaelen bli them. “I apologize, they what?”

  “It resisted my spell,” Entheris said matter-of-factly, as though the notiorivial. “It was harmed rather than erased. I wasn’t there to fight, so I simply rescued the faithful.”

  “Excuse me if I overstep myself, but would it not have beeer to erase the champion of a lesser god before it grew too powerful?” Kaelen asked, his tone shifting into something more pointed, an edge matic logic.

  “As I said, it resisted my aether. I am also the weakest of my siblings. Darius or Alisaria would have had a better ce against the creature,” replied Entheris. There was no bitterness in their voice, just a clear, almost dispassionate acceptance of their own limitations.

  “That’s… disheartening to hear,” Kaelen said after a long pause, his brow furrowed in thought. His mind raced with possibilities, none of which were particurly f. The arrival of another champion could alter the course of everything.

  Entheris stood tall, a figure unyielding in both body and spirit, the faint hum of their automaton form buzzing softly in the sileween them. “The task was never about elimination,” they finally said, their gaze unblinking, cold in its iy. “But preservation.”

  “Of the faithful,” Kaelen murmured, the realizatioling on him like a heavy weight.

  Entheris heir masked fareadable. “You uand. I failed, but I did what I could. It’s all we do sometimes.”

  “That’s admirable,” Kaelen replied, his voice suddenly softer, though tinged with something else—admiration, perhaps, or something deeper still. “But you refer to the champion as ‘it,’ and you call them a creature. Why is that?”

  Entheris’s gaze never wavered, their eyes fixed on Kaelen with the motionlessness of an automaton. A long pause stretched between them, and then they spoke, each word precise, eae carrying the weight of experiend bitter truth. “It was aher beast. Ohat could talk. Ohat had a soul.”

  The words hung in the air like an ominous fog, their implications far-reag and unfortable. Kaelen took a step back, his mind struggling to make sense of the impossible sario Entheris described. He could feel the fai stirrings of unease in his chest. Aher beast with a soul? That was something else entirely, something that defied everything he knew about the natural order. It was unnatural, yet a champion of order would not lie.

  “Do you at least know which god it belongs to?” asked Kaelen, his voice tinged with curiosity and unease.

  “I know each champion for every god,” Entheris replied, their toeady and measured. “Every one of them has always been human, lekine, siren, or dryad. This was, as far as I could tell, a nightmare.”

  “A nightmare? Those persistes?” Kaelen frowned, his lip curling in mild disdain.

  Entheris nodded. “Yes, though its capabilities were far beyond that of a typiightmare. It could take on solid forms and shift seamlessly between each, though it seemed to favor the shape of a woman—twisted and corrupted as it was.” They paused, a meical hum apanying the stillness of their form. “I believe it might be the champion of Akhenna.”

  Kaelen’s brow furrowed deeply, the mention of the Goddess of Chaos uling him. “But there has never been anything recorded about her having a champion before. Why now?”

  Entheris’s gaze flickered slightly, as though pting how much to reveal. “Akhenna is uable by nature, her motives inscrutable to mortal minds, even to us champions. Perhaps she has grown bored of the chaos without a prent to stir it. Or perhaps this creature isn’t a champion iraditional se something else. Something desigo upend expectatioirely.”

  “If it was fighting our brave faithful in the Serkoth nds,” Kaelen mused aloud, stroking thoughtfully at his -shaven , “then it might be safe to assume it is aligning itself with them. That would prove troublesome. The Serkoth are already a thorn in our side without the aid of a champion.”

  “Indeed,” replied Entheris, their voice steady aionless. “I have e to you with this information because it ot be ignored. You must inform the Circle and accelerate the pns to expand into the steppes. The Serkoth s are formidable on their own, but with this creature, their resistance could escate to something far more dangerous.”

  Kaelen nodded, his expression hardening with determination. “Uood. I will summon a meeting immediately, Champioheris. The Circle will o adjust its strategies accly.”

  “Good,” Entheris said simply, their golden eyes flickering faintly with what might have been satisfa—or perhaps just the py of light across their metallic features. Without further words, they turned sharply on their heel, their movements precise and meical.

  Kaelen watched as the automatohe greenhouse, their golden and white robes flowing behind them like the banners of a war mae. Ohe doors had closed and the soft click of their departure faded, Kaelen sat ba his chair, exhaling slowly.

  Calista, who had remained silent throughout the exge, finally spoke. “The Circle will not be pleased to hear about this, Kaelen. Expanding into the steppes so soon will require reallog resources. And ving the cil…”

  Kaelen’s lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes carried a weight that belied it. “The Circle will see reason, as they always do when fronted with the truth. A champion aligned against us is not a matter for debate. It is a threat to the Snty’s divine order.”

  Calista hesitated for a moment, then pced her haly over his. “And if they resist your call to a?”

  Kaelen’s smile did not falter, though it grew colder. “Then they will be remihat order is not maintaihrough passivity but through strength. Praxus does not choose champions lightly, aher will I tread lightly in ensuring his will is carried out.”

  Calista nodded, her expression sere faintly troubled. “As you say, my husband.”

  Kaelen stood, his gaze drifting to the cityscape visible through the gss walls of the greenhouse. “The Serkoth and their allies will uand the cost of defying the Snty. And if this champion of Akhenna truly is as formidable as Entheris suggests…” He trailed off, his fingers drumming oable for a moment. “Then we will remind it, too, that chaos ot triumph over the glory of order.”

  He straightened his robes and turoward the exit, the determination in his step unmistakable. “Summon the scribes,” he ordered a servant waiting just outside. “I o send messages to the other champions.”

  SupernovaSymphony

  SupernovaSymphony