I had assumed that with Evelyn's arrival, we'd soon set out again on our path as adventurers. But that was not to be. The near future held obligations far beyond the wilds and battles.
First, there was the debutante ball of the twin princesses in the Imperial Capital, Thalendris. My mother, ever strategic, seized the opportunity to merge this grand event with the celebration of my fourteenth birthday and Celia's as well. It was the perfect stage to announce Evelyn as my fiancée, the future Grand Duchess of Silvaria.
This was no simple gathering like the one for my tenth birthday. This was to be an affair on a scale that would draw the most influential figures in the empire. Nobles of every stripe, the other two dukes, and perhaps even the emperor himself would be present. The weight of Thalendris's opulent halls and the eyes of high society promised both grandeur and scrutiny.
After all, fourteen was the age at which one formally stepped into the dance of high society—a labyrinth of power plays, alliances, and unspoken rivalries. It would not just be me under the watchful gaze of the court. Celia, bearing the Silvaria name, and Evelyn, as my fiancée, would face their own assessments and judgments.
Of course, no amount of whispers or sidelong glances would rattle me. My mettle had been forged in trials far beyond the court's intrigues. But this ball was more than just a test; it was a chance to see this world—this Killion Empire—in its true form, to read between the lines of silken smiles and jeweled words.
Yes, this would be a different kind of challenge. One that required not a sword, but poise, wit, and the patience of a chess master.
Humans had never changed, even after the Towers descended from the heavens and reshaped the world. The thirst for power ran deep, an unquenchable hunger that persisted even in the shadow of annihilation. Politics, schemes, and ambition—those had been constants in my past life too.
'Though to be fair, extinction wasn't looming over us all two decades,' I thought, recalling the brief time when hope had flared bright. There was a moment when victory felt close, when Calamity-class alien bosses fell beneath our combined strength and the Towers crumbled like giants brought low. Yet that hope was snuffed out when Ozyrokth rose—a reminder that true despair did not come from weakness but from hope's cruel betrayal.
But those years of relentless education, battle-hardened instincts, and navigating humanity's ceaseless squabbles had left me more than capable of facing the courtly games of noble society in this world. I would manage, and so would Evelyn and Celia.
"We're using a warp gate, right?" I asked, glancing at my mother. She nodded, her eyes glinting with anticipation and perhaps a shadow of worry.
The warp gate that connected Verdantia, the heart of the Grand Duchy of Silvaria, to Thalendris, the Imperial Capital, was a marvel of magic and technology. For safety, it was stationed on the city's outskirts, guarded and watched with vigilant eyes. I assumed the same precautions were mirrored in Thalendris.
As we prepared for departure, the household buzzed with activity. Servants hurried to and fro, securing last-minute details and double-checking travel provisions. Evelyn, dressed in a deep green cloak that complimented her dark eyes, stood by Celia, who fidgeted with excitement beneath her silver-blue dress. My mother, the picture of regal composure, was issuing final instructions to her steward.
I allowed myself a fleeting moment of disappointment. Isadora had been absent, once again whisked away by her father on one of his duties. Being his successor demanded much of her, and it seemed fate was determined to keep our paths apart for now.
With a final glance at the city that had been my home, we stepped toward the warp gate, ready to face the world waiting beyond the shimmering veil of magic. Thalendris awaited, with its towers of marble and intrigue as deep as its history.
"Are you worried?" I asked Evelyn as she climbed into the carriage, her movements graceful but hesitant.
She paused, fingers lingering on the hem of her cloak, and scratched her cheek, a small gesture of unease. "I suppose," she admitted. "I don't really know how to act like a noble. I'm afraid I'll embarrass you, Lancelot."
"You won't," I said firmly. "You are the future Grand Duchess of Silvaria. In the Killion Empire, only a select few can even claim the right to stand above you, and even they have no grounds to disrespect you outright. We'll be by your side through it all. Just do your best, Evelyn, and remember that you belong here."
A moment passed, and then her lips curved into a bright, genuine smile. "Thank you, Lancelot," she said softly, the worry lifting from her face as she sat beside me.
Celia, who had been watching with wide eyes, let out an exaggerated gasp and shot Evelyn a look of mock betrayal before squeezing in beside our mother, her pout making everyone smile.
The carriage doors closed, and the gentle jolt as we set off toward Thalendris carried us into a future lined with challenges—and the promise of new beginnings.
"What exactly is your magic, Evelyn?" I whispered, leaning close so only she could hear.
She met my gaze, the flicker of thought shadowing her eyes before she replied, "My mother's magic is mirrors; mine is puppet magic."
I nodded, letting the weight of her words settle in the space between us. Magic in this world was a birthright, woven into one's essence, but its nature varied greatly. Most could wield the core elements to some degree, though the strength of their affinity determined their prowess. Witches, however, stood apart. Their power lay not only in the elements but in the singular, unique magic that defined them. It was this magic, passed through blood and bone, that set them apart from ordinary mages.
Evelyn's mother, Aurelia, wielded mirror magic—a sorcery as enigmatic as its reflection. I had seen only the edges of its power, yet it was enough to send a chill through me. It had bound Evelyn's will, anchoring her to that secluded village and compelling her to corrupt and destroy through a vast, unseen web. The tendrils of that magic reached far deeper than I had initially grasped.
"Mirror magic," I mused, the words heavy with unspoken memories. I wasn't certain of all that it could do, but it had proven formidable enough to bend a powerful witch like Evelyn and twist a place into a nexus of pain and shadow.
The most formidable witches, though, were those whose unique magic mirrored the traditional elements, yet surpassed them in mastery and raw force. Like the Witch of Time—a name that evoked reverence and unease alike. Her magic was time itself, wielded with such overwhelming skill that every other attempt at time magic paled in comparison, mere flickers next to her blaze.
Time magic was known, but it was not prized; it came with limitations that tethered its utility. Yet the Witch of Time had shattered those chains, bending time to her will, ignoring its constraints. It had made her the second mightiest figure of her age, surpassed only by the Hero, Raphael Valerian, whose legend loomed larger than life. He was the slayer of the Demon King, the bane that returned to plague humanity every few centuries, his rise foretold in blood and fire.
'There's going to be chaos, even without anyone knowing her true identity as Aurelia's daughter,' I thought, the weight of that realization pressing down on me. Evelyn was nearly fifteen, already at the Indigo stage and a Flow-level mage. Such power at her age was unheard of—ludicrous, even.
"Wait," I said, brows knitting together as a thought surfaced. "You didn't use puppet magic against me during our fight, did you?"
Evelyn's eyes met mine, shadowed with something between regret and defiance. "No," she admitted quietly. "I didn't want to hurt you, even then. But I had to fight back because of the spell my mother cast."
A faint smile tugged at my lips as I shook my head. "Did you think you could have hurt me?" I asked, the question light but with an edge of genuine curiosity.
She returned the smile, but hers was tinged with melancholy. "No," she said, a note of honesty ringing in her voice. "Even with just your spear, I knew I would lose. But fighting back wasn't about winning—it was about resisting that control. I couldn't bring myself to hurt you, even if the spell tried to force my hand."
"Well, you've nothing to worry about now," I said with a smile, the warmth in my voice masking the steely resolve beneath.
Aurelia was powerful beyond measure—so formidable that, as I was now, I couldn't hope to defeat her. But power comes with its own bindings. As the self-proclaimed Empress of Witches, her reach was vast, but so too were her responsibilities. The weight of her dominion meant she would be unaware of Evelyn's current circumstances, or, at the very least, unable to reach us quickly.
And by the time she did come for Evelyn, my sword would be ready. It would carve through that shadow, if Evelyn herself hadn't already found the strength to confront her mother. The thought simmered within me, not as bravado but as an unyielding promise.
Evelyn met my gaze, searching for reassurance, and perhaps for the first time, she seemed to find it. The corners of her mouth lifted, a tentative hope sparking in her dark eyes.