Thunder cracked across the skies of Valleria as Empress Althea stood atop the stone watchtower, her eyes reflecting the blood-red horizon. Word had arrived that the Crimson Crown—the last royal faction opposing her reign—had retreated to the ancient city of Kalvaron, their ancestral stronghold. This was not just a military objective—it was personal. Kalvaron was where her mother had been executed by the former High King under false charges of witchcraft.
"It ends where it began," she whispered, drawing her sword as her Royal Guard prepared for one final siege.
The Gathering Storm
By noon, the Imperial Legion had encircled Kalvaron. The city stood like a jewel of blood and stone, its crimson towers etched with old glyphs of power, shielding it with ancient magics. The last remaining noble house loyal to the old regime—the Raventhorns—held the gates.
General Lian approached her, silver armor glinting. "Your Majesty, they've summoned the Flameborn, the old sorcerers once loyal to King Arman."
Althea's brows furrowed. "Then we will summon something older."
She turned to her war council. "Unseal the Obsidian Gate."
Gasps echoed.
"But, Empress… that would unleash—"
"I know what it will unleash," Althea said coldly. "And they deserve no less."
The Obsidian Unleashed
From deep within her arcane vaults, the Obsidian Gate—sealed since the war of the Shadow Court—shuddered open. Darkness poured like black fire, and from it stepped Seraphon, the Forgotten Warlord of the First Flame. Once an enemy, now bound to Althea by blood-oath.
"Who dares call me forth?"
"Your Empress."
He knelt.
The siege began.
The skies turned black as Seraphon's shadow-creatures tore through Kalvaron's outer defenses. In retaliation, the Flameborn summoned pyrohydras and burning djinns, their firestorms scorching half the battlefield.
Althea rode through the flames, her armor enchanted, her blade burning with celestial fury. Every enemy that stood in her way fell, screaming.
Then she saw her.
Lady Virell Raventhorn. Daughter of the slain king. General of the Crimson Crown. The final obstacle.
Duel of Blood and Honor
"You've come far, Empress," Virell said, dismounting and drawing twin sabers.
Althea dismounted too. "Too far to turn back."
Their blades clashed under the burning sky. Sparks flew as magic met steel, will met vengeance. Virell was graceful and fast, but Althea had grown too powerful, too determined.
She forced Virell to her knees.
"End it," Virell spat.
Althea paused. Her soldiers surrounded them, cheering for blood.
But instead, Althea turned her blade.
"No. You will live to see what peace looks like. You will kneel—not to me—but to a world reborn."
Rebirth and Coronation
Kalvaron fell by sunset. The Crimson Crown was no more. Althea stood on the Grand Balcony of the Flame Hall, the shattered banner of the Raventhorns at her feet.
She raised a new banner—black and gold—bearing a phoenix rising from a broken crown.
"People of Valleria," she shouted, "Today ends the era of false crowns! Today, we rise as one nation, one realm, under a sovereign born not of bloodlines but of justice!"
The crowd roared.
That night, under twin moons, she crowned herself once more—not as Empress of Flame, but as Guardian of Peace.
But even as peace dawned, a whisper in the wind murmured:
> "The gods watch. And the game is not yet over."