There are moments that end empires but are remembered only as silence.
The throne room was no longer a place of order.
Smoke curled above cracked marble.
The court's laughter was gone replaced by fear so deep it made even seasoned generals falter.
And Aelios just a servant a moment ago stood with outstretched hands, his pulse syncing with the thunder outside.
The child was safe behind him now, eyes wide, clutching the shredded fabric of Aelios' robe.
The prince's sword lay split in two, its magic aura gone.
"Who are you?" the emperor rasped, rising from the throne like a decaying god.
Aelios didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Every noble in the room felt it now:
A pressure not from this world.
A presence older than blood.
And in the shadows above, cloaked figures shifted the Veil had seen enough.
Three stepped forward, silent as death, their faces hidden behind glyph-marked masks.
"Power without sanction is heresy," one intoned.
"The boy must be taken."
Instead, he knelt beside the broken prince and whispered:
"You bleed too easily to rule."
Then rose to face the masked enforcers.
Their blades hissed free silver curved sabers etched with the names of those they'd slain.
The child behind Aelios cried out, but he lifted a hand: wait.
The court watched.
Magic flickered across the air symbols of ancient design.
Aelios didn't move.
But something did.
The Veil enforcers took one step
And their masks cracked.
Their weapons froze.
Their bodies locked in place caught in a binding far beyond mortal spellwork.
"This… is forbidden," one hissed, voice shaking.
Aelios blinked. "Then unlearn your laws."
And with a word none of them understood — he vanished.