Eladrth lay smothered under a veil of dread. Silence reigned, stretching across the capital like a shroud, broken only by the hushed murmurs of soldiers and the faint clank of their armor. The gleaming megacity, once vibrant with trade, magic, and laughter, now felt like a mausoleum. Every street, every shadowed alley, seemed to carry whispers of death. The citizens cowered indoors, fearful of a threat they couldn't see, yet couldn't ignore.
In a single, blood-chilling night, the entire Silverleaf Royal Family had been wiped out—struck down without a trace, leaving only young Arin as the last surviving heir. Yet, no one had seen the killer, nor could anyone imagine who could have accomplished such an unthinkable feat. Even the emperor, a formidable powerhouse known for wielding magic so powerful it seemed to make time itself tremble, had fallen. And in the palace, rumors spread like wildfire: the royal guards had found him alone, untouched by any blade or spell. A cold, eerie smile etched on his face was his only parting message.
All around Eladrth, thick layers of protective wards flared to life, humming with spells older than memory. Soldiers patrolled with their hands on hilts and eyes darting over every inch of the streets, while overhead, mechanical constructs moved in smooth, silent arcs, their beady crimson eyes casting sweeping beams of light through the dim haze. The capital's mage guilds erected hasty barricades around key structures, straining their magic to seal any weak points. They didn't know where the threat was, but they prepared, haunted by the sense that something unseen still lurked nearby, watching.
Within the palace walls, now fortified and desolate, lay Arin, the only surviving Silverleaf. Injured during the chaos, his body bore fresh wounds that throbbed under layers of cloth and spell-infused bandages. The Royal Healers hovered over him, their brows creased in concentration, hands aglow with healing energy. But no magic could soothe the ache in his heart as he lay on the silken pillows, eyes wide open yet dull, lost in grief.
He was barely fourteen, a "trap" by gender—one of the four accepted identities in the empire—but his appearance was delicate and hauntingly beautiful, something that had always distinguished him in the eyes of the court. Yet, in this moment, he felt utterly fragile, a child amid the ruins of a life torn apart. His sorrow wasn't for the emperor, whose shadow had loomed over his life with cold authority. No, it was his mother's face that haunted him, her gentle smile that no amount of magic or healing could ever restore. She had been the only one who had shown him true affection, and now, that light was gone forever.
The boy could only stare upward, eyes glazed, listening to the muffled sounds of the city in turmoil beyond his chamber. Even the soft glow of the magical lamps felt hollow, their light barely warding off the shadows gathering in his heart. The empire had lost its rulers, but Arin had lost the one person who had ever truly seen him. And in the quiet that followed, a single truth gnawed at him, as it did the empire: no one knew how it had been done, or who would be next.
Days passed, shrouded in fear and anger, as the empire's top investigators worked tirelessly to unravel the mystery behind the royal massacre. Every inch of the palace was scrutinized, every guard questioned, every scrap of evidence examined. It was a slow, meticulous process, driven by an insatiable hunger for answers. Yet, what they eventually uncovered sent a chill down their spines.
The entire Silverleaf Royal Family had not been brought down by a simple, sudden act of violence; this was a plot years in the making. Investigators discovered traces of a rare, nearly undetectable poison—a poison that only took effect after years of consumption. Slowly, insidiously, it had worked its way into the bodies of the royal adults, going unnoticed as it wove its spell of doom. The poison's purpose was as cruel as it was brilliant: on its own, it left no symptoms, but when it came into contact with a particular catalyst, it rendered the victim incapable of using mana. For a family whose very power and protection depended on their command of magic, it was as damning as a death sentence.
The night of the massacre, that catalyst had been introduced. Deprived of their magic, the royal adults had found themselves defenseless, their formidable powers silenced in a single, merciless instant. In the eerie stillness that followed, unseen assassins had moved through the palace like wraiths, extinguishing each life without resistance. The youngest children of the royal family had been the first to fall, killed silently in their sleep, taken from a world they had barely begun to know.
But Arin's survival was not due to luck. He had been saved by his mother, the only one who knew the true danger they faced. She had sensed the trap before it had fully sprung and acted, stalling their attackers just long enough for the palace reinforcements to arrive. When the guards had finally stormed the royal chambers, they had found her surrounded by fallen foes, her form slumped against the wall, weakened but unyielding. She had given everything to protect her son, holding her ground until her last breath. Even as the other guards had already fallen, she had bought him precious moments, securing him a chance at life. When Gaurds found Arin he was breathing even though covered with wounds, he was breathing.
Now, as the investigators pieced together the brutal truth, a dark understanding spread through the empire. Whoever had orchestrated this had done so with a patience and precision that defied belief, weaving their poison into the family's veins until the moment was ripe for slaughter.
After relentless days of investigation, the empire's agents began uncovering the individuals responsible for the royal family's poisoning. One by one, the conspirators were identified, scattered across Eladrth, hidden in plain sight among the populace. Yet, each time they were cornered, they chose death over capture, swiftly ending their own lives before a single word could escape their lips. It was as if they had been trained, drilled into silence, leaving no clue behind but their lifeless bodies.
The hunt grew more desperate as soldiers scoured the megacity's vast
districts, while arcane constructs patrolled from the skies, casting crimson light over the streets in an unyielding search for traitors. Operatives combed through the alleys and slums, uncovering assassins concealed within the city's very heart. After days of grueling, city-wide operations, a handful of
suspects were finally~" captured alive,
bound in chains " taken to the
imperial dungeon.
There, brutality became the empire's only tool. The captives were interrogated with methods designed to break even the hardest wills, their bodies and minds battered as the empire sought answers. And though most gave up their lives in silence, a chilling tale began to emerge from the few who cracked under the strain: they all pointed towards a mysterious organization, a shadowy group unknown to even the empire's most well-connected informants.No one had ever heard of them. No records, no whispers in the streets, no evidence of their existence-only the remnants of their deadly actions, which now stained the empire's halls.
Determined to root out this invisible threat, the empire declared a
megacity-wide purge. Every corner of Eladrth was swept, every shadow turned inside out in the search for this nameless organization. Soldiers and constructs stormed homes, businesses, and noble estates alike, using overwhelming force to crush any resistance. In the frenzy, hundreds of suspected members and collaborators
were hunted down, many of them slain in the streets.
Yet, as the empire purge unfolded it turned into something darker-a weapon for the nobles, who seized the chance to eliminate rivals and enemies, regardless of guilt. Innocent citizens, merchants, and even minor nobles with ties to those in power fell victim to the unrestrained bloodshed. Their cries echoed through the capital, lost amid the chaos as the empire cleansed itself with fire and steel, casting a long shadow over the people of Eladrth. In the end, the purge left the capital blood-soaked and shaken, a haunting reminder of how quickly justice could turn into a tool of cruelty.
Despite the empire's relentless hunt, the brutality unleashed upon Eladrth wasn't driven by loyalty to the fallen royal family, nor by a newfound commitment to justice. At its core, the purge was fueled by fear—a terror that gripped the nobles, each haunted by the possibility that they could be next. The royal family's assassination had shattered any illusions of invulnerability. If the emperor, the most powerful among them, could be felled without warning, then no noble, no matter how fortified or shielded by magic, was truly safe.
The ruling class, who had thrived in the empire's corruption, turned their wealth and influence toward rooting out the unknown threat with a desperation that bordered on hysteria. They poured all available resources into the search, hiring more soldiers, equipping the magical constructs with cutting-edge detection spells, and even drafting mages from distant provinces. No expense was spared, and no asset overlooked. Every layer of power the empire could muster was mobilized to sweep every street, corner, and home in Eladrth.
And yet, beneath the frenzy, the truth remained plain: the nobles weren't acting to restore peace but to preserve themselves. They tightened their own defenses, enlisting personal armies and hoarding magical artifacts, fortifying their estates and increasing the presence of hired mercenaries and guards. Whispers of paranoia spread through every noble circle as suspicions grew between allies and enemies alike. Trust dissolved, and alliances frayed as each noble house feared the other might have had a hand in the assassination or, worse, might secretly be part of the organization lurking in the shadows.
After months of purging peace finally returned to Eldarth. Past months were not peaceful but people who survived through it, got to know that no matter how much decadence and corruption is present, Elaria is the oldest Empire for a reason.
As people returned to their normal live with the complete annihilation or it was as such announced by the government of the organization responsible for the Muder of the Royal Family. But even after all their efforts they were not able to find who was behind it. Just people related to it were completely annihilated.
Now as Spring drew near, the coronation ceremony of the new Emperor was announced.