The Grand Hall of Solmara
The Ivory Citadel was a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens as if yearning for the god's approval. The Grand Hall, where the gathering took place, was a vast chamber of white marble and golden trim. Columns lined the sides, carved with the histories of past kings, their eyes hollow and ever-watching.
The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and polished steel, a combination of reverence and authority. A massive dome overhead bore the symbol of Balance, glowing faintly with celestial energy. Stained-glass windows cast fragmented colors across the polished floor, the images depicting the god's law—order through control, balance through submission.
At the center of the room, ten thrones stood in a semi-circle before the High King. Each seat was meant for a ruler, but today, the Cursed Ten knelt before them instead. Chains of light wrapped around their wrists, an unnecessary display of power.
The nobles and warriors who filled the hall murmured among themselves, their eyes filled with curiosity, pity, or disdain.
They weren't here to honor the cursed ones. They were here to witness their obedience.
The Tension Builds
The silence in the Grand Hall was suffocating. The rulers of the five great kingdoms sat upon their thrones, their gazes heavy with judgment. Around them, nobles and warriors observed like vultures, waiting for weakness, for a sign that the cursed ones were as broken as they were meant to be.
The ten teenagers remained kneeling, their chains of light glowing faintly. It was unnecessary. None of them had chosen to come here, but all of them understood one thing—this was a show of dominance.
Kael's silver eyes flickered with cold amusement. He could hear the whispers, the shifting of robes, the shallow breaths of those who feared him. Truth was his domain, and in this room, filled with deception, he found it ironic.
"They fear us."
Lysara knelt beside him, her golden eyes blank, her posture rigid. She had been trained for this moment—to obey, to submit, to accept her role as a divine enforcer. But inside, something burned. She could feel the weight of Solmara's judgment upon her.
Orin remained still, his massive frame casting a long shadow, but his silence was more than physical—it was absolute. His curse prevented him from acting without purpose, and right now, there was no purpose in speaking.
Sylphie, ever restless, shifted on her knees, her delicate green wings fluttering in agitation. Her memory was already beginning to fade, the faces around her turning into vague blurs. She hated this.
Dain, slouched forward, let out a tired breath. His scarred armor looked out of place in such a pristine hall, but he didn't care. He was already dead inside.
The others—Raze, Nyx, Vale, Mira, and Solas—remained still, their emotions buried beneath years of suffering.
And then, the High King spoke.
---
The King's Declaration
"By the will of the god of Balance, you stand before us as the chosen bearers of the Commandments," King Elric Solmar's voice boomed across the chamber. "You are the enforcers of divine law, bound to maintain order in this world."
The nobles nodded in agreement, but the ten remained silent.
"You may believe yourselves cursed," the king continued, his sharp eyes scanning their faces, "but this is not a punishment. It is an honor."
A sharp laugh echoed through the chamber.
Kael.
The demon-born slowly rose to his feet, ignoring the sharp tugs of his glowing restraints. His obsidian-black skin shimmered under the torchlight, the runes across his arms pulsing faintly.
"An honor?" he repeated, tilting his head. "Tell me, your highness, how does it feel to speak such blatant lies in my presence?"
The room froze.
Elric's jaw tightened. Around him, guards gripped their weapons, but Kael remained unfazed. He knew none of them would dare attack him with the eyes of the world watching.
Lysara exhaled slowly, knowing that Kael's curse—the Commandment of Truth—made it impossible for deception to go unpunished.
The High King did not flinch. "Watch your tongue, demon."
Kael merely smirked. "Watch your words, king."
---
The First Signs of Rebellion
Tension crackled through the hall. The nobles shifted uncomfortably, whispers growing louder.
Solas, still kneeling, lifted his gaze. He had been raised in Solmara, trained to be an obedient prince, yet even he found it difficult to swallow the High King's words.
Beside him, Vale's green eyes burned with quiet defiance. The elf prince had spent years enduring the weight of the Commandment of Patience, but even patience had its limits.
Raze, the beastkin, let out a low growl, his wolf-like ears twitching. He could smell the fear in the room, the unspoken truth no one dared to say.
They were not enforcers of balance. They were prisoners.
And this gathering?
This was their sentence.Hall of Silent Judgment
The High King's piercing gaze swept across the room, but the air had already shifted. The murmurs from the gathered nobles and warriors turned uneasy, like the whisper of a coming storm. The cursed ones were supposed to kneel. They were supposed to accept their fate.
But Kael had shattered that illusion in a single moment.
The chains of light binding the ten pulsed, as if reacting to the tension, a divine reminder of their place. Yet not a single one of them looked broken. Some of them barely concealed their smirks.
Elric Solmar did not let his irritation show. He merely exhaled, steepling his fingers. He was a king, a man of absolute control. He would not allow a demon-child to rattle him.
"You test the patience of gods, Kael of Nethos," Elric said smoothly, voice like polished steel. "Do you think your defiance will change the truth of your existence?"
Kael's smirk widened, but before he could speak, another voice cut through the chamber.
"Perhaps the truth of our existence isn't yours to define, Your Highness."
All eyes turned to Vale, the elven prince of Viridwyn. He still knelt, but his posture was graceful, composed. His emerald-green robes shimmered with silver embroidery, the sigil of his house—a twisting vine—stitched along his sleeves. His golden hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his green eyes held a quiet, deadly sharpness.
"Balance is a fragile thing," Vale continued, his voice smooth but laced with something dangerous. "It can be forced into submission, but eventually, it rebels."
A murmur ran through the hall.
The rulers shifted. Some seemed amused by his words—others, displeased.
Nyx, the dragonoid, scoffed under her breath. She was not one for poetic speeches. Her crimson wings twitched with irritation, and her horns gleamed in the candlelight. "Great. Now the elf prince is lecturing kings."
Sylphie giggled beside her, though her expression flickered with brief confusion. Her memory was fading again.
Dain cracked his knuckles. "At least it's entertaining."
Lysara shot them both a warning look. "Enough."
She turned her gaze to the High King. "We are here because you demand our obedience." Her voice was cold, even. "Then tell us, Your Majesty, what is it you wish from us?"
Her words hung in the air.
The truth was finally spoken.
This was no mere gathering. This was a verdict.
And they were waiting for their sentence.
---
The Purpose of the Gathering
The High King finally rose from his throne, his robes flowing like cascading sunlight. The divine sigil of Solmara glowed upon his chest—a golden sun entwined with a silver crescent.
"You are bound to the will of the god of Balance," Elric declared, voice steady, commanding. "You will act as enforcers, ensuring that none dare defy the laws set upon this world."
A hush fell over the room.
Some of the rulers nodded in agreement. Others—like the Queen of Viridwyn—remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Kael clicked his tongue. "Enforcers," he repeated, eyes glinting. "You mean executioners."
No one refuted him.
Because he was right.
The cursed ones were meant to be used as tools, their Commandments a divine chain around their throats. They were not warriors. They were not kings. They were weapons.
The nobles in the hall did not look at them with reverence. They looked at them like they were monsters barely on a leash.
Mira's fingers twitched. She could feel their emotions, the sorrow, the tension, the hidden contempt. Her Commandment made sure of that.
Lysara's hands curled into fists. She had spent her entire life being told this was her destiny. That submission was the only way to bring peace.
But as she looked around the hall, at the faces of the other nine cursed ones…
She wasn't so sure anymore.
---
The Spark of Rebellion
Solas, the human prince of Solmara, had remained silent. But now, he lifted his gaze, staring straight into the eyes of his father—the High King.
"If we refuse?"
The question sent a ripple through the chamber.
Elric's expression did not change. "You cannot refuse. The Commandments bind you."
Solas swallowed, but his jaw tightened. He knew that already. But something about this moment felt different.
Perhaps it was because, for the first time, he was not alone.
Raze bared his teeth, his beastkin ears flattening against his skull. "We have no choice but to obey?" His voice was low, dangerous.
"No," Elric answered, his gaze unwavering. "You have no choice but to accept your place in this world."
A finality to his words.
A decree.
A cage being locked.
The chains of light pulsed again, as if tightening, as if sensing the resistance brewing beneath the surface.
But they did not kneel lower.
They did not bow.
If anything, their eyes burned brighter.
For the first time in their lives, despite their curses, despite their burdens…
They felt the same thing.
The ember of rebellion had been lit.
And soon, it would become a wildfire.