BOOK 5: CHAPTER 5: EMPRESS

Far, far away, an empress sat in a deep meditation, her core temporarily deconstructed, mind focused on examining the hidden pathway her chi tended to travel. It was a precarious road to walk. A single misstep would leave her crippled if she was lucky, dead if she was not. It was fortunate, then, that oceans separated her kingdom from the meeting now concluding on a distant continent—such knowledge, learned in this moment, would end her.

Empress Aletheia let out a controlled breath as she finished tracing the length of her core in its entirety. She’d originally succeeded in separating it months ago, her usually spherical nexus of power shifting to resemble a knot of roots, but this was the first time she’d managed to explore it all without needing a break. She thanked the heavens for this victory, remaining in the moment for a score more breaths.

Finally, she opened her eyes. At the state she found her five attendants in, confusion threatened to extinguish her lingering peace. “Might I ask what you’re all doing?”

“Forgive me, Empress!” Evan yelled, not looking up from his prostrate position. “I almost let the veil slip!”

“I’m not trying to place blame here, but wasn’t it Grace that almost faltered? You saved it.”

Grace flinched, but it was Evan that replied. “As head mage, the fault is mine, Empress! The fact you were interrupted enough to identify where the error began only further incriminates this lowly servant!”

“I’m not sure that’s the case. With that logic, wouldn’t it then be my fault? It was I that chose you all for this task, was it not?”

“I would never imply such a thing, Your Holiness!” Evan somehow got even closer to the ground. “On the service my house has given House Veritus over the centuries, I beg your forgiveness! I will accept any punishment necessary!”

Aletheia frowned, sending out tendrils of essence to check if the man derived pleasure from chastisement. He didn’t, of course, and when she realized what she’d just done, she laughed—which only made Evan, and the rest of her mages, flinch.

Her meditative haze remained, allowing her to see the humor in this one-sidedly fraught exchange. She shook her head and reached out with her senses again, this time with thick tendrils, sharing her thoughts and feelings. It was taxing, especially after hours of mindful examination, but she owed it to them—the least she could provide was reassurance after accidentally inflicting panic upon such reliable followers.

All five of the hooded attendants inhaled sharply, their bodies snapping upright, their eyes wide.

“Empress…” Evan swept his hood back, revealing dark, shoulder-length hair. “You offer too much. Kindness and effort both.”

“Nonsense. This introspective method of advancement is only possible because of your efforts. If not for you mages of the Prime Cadre, it would be too dangerous to even consider.”

“But…” Grace cleared her throat. “If my failure had caused you to get distracted. If you’d lost control of your chi the way I had—”

“Then it would have been the will of the heavens.” She gave them a wink. “And I wouldn’t be the bridge after all—that’d put a burr in the Seer’s breeches.”

Grace laughed, as did her twin brother, Esmond. They swiftly realized their error, faces going still.

“Please,” Aletheia said, getting to her feet. “How many times have I told you all that you need not be so formal when we’re in private? Loathe as I am to admit its necessity in public, there’s no one else here right now.”

“We understand your position,” Evan replied, “and, as ever, we appreciate your kindness. But—”

“‘But it’s best to err on the side of caution, lest decorum slip,’” she quoted, reciting the thoughtful and carefully worded response she’d heard a thousand times. “Very well. You win this round.”

“I look forward to the next,” the head mage replied, flashing a cheeky grin for so short a time that only a divine cultivator wouldn’t miss it.

Aletheia got to her feet and stretched, enjoying the sensations of taut muscles and warm skin, the latter coming from the sun that beamed through mosaic glasswork high above. The ritual room they occupied was near the top of the castle, dozens of floors from the ground, and though that was not much distance when it came to celestial bodies, it made her feel closer to that burning giver of life. She sank into the moment, staring directly at the star, its brilliance not damaging her enhanced—

A soul called out. Kilometers from the kingdom’s walls, right at the distant edge of her influence. The panic in its wordless plea melted away the pleasant sensations, along with any meditative peace still lingering. “Evan!”

“At once, Empress!”

Aletheia rushed to sit, this time on the outside of the ritual circle she’d left only moments ago. “You have the strength?”

“Yes, Empress!” they called in perfect unison, their self-reproach gone, their gazes fixed and cores reaching for power.

“Here, or…?” Evan asked.

“Here.”

The head mage’s eyes flicked toward her, displaying a hint of a question, but it passed a fraction of a second later. No matter how much Evan cared for Aletheia’s safety, he knew now wasn’t the time to voice suspicion about her agents.

Riddled with fatigue and worry, the empress raised her arms high, drawing in the sun’s divine rays as she pictured her target’s face. The ritual circle shifted and swirled, its intricate lines writhing like so many snakes. The moment they ceased dancing, a feeling of rightness flooded out. Aletheia opened her core, instantly powering the ritual. A flash of light. A consoling warmth. And a man appeared, back arched and limbs splayed in ecstasy at being directly touched by the will of the heavens.

As the golden aura disappeared from the room, the spy shuddered, falling to his knees, taking a gasping breath. Aletheia took a single step that sent her to the middle of the massive circle.

“Empress!” Evan yelled.

Aletheia didn’t listen. She caught the man, actively stopping her muscles from squeezing him too tight. “Sven...” she said, eyes darting from her trusted agent’s eyes to his bare chest—the artifact. It was gone

. “Your amulet…”

Hating that she had to do it, she let her divine chi flood and suffuse his skin, the essence ready to shine out and cleanse her spy from his realm if evil had taken root in his soul.

“Lost,” Sven groaned, his throat sounding as dry as his chapped lips looked. “At sea, Your Holiness. Not… corrupted…”

It was the truth—the complete truth. Aletheia didn’t suppress the tears of relief that swelled in her eyes. “Fetch this man water,” she said to the room. “Food, too. The thin soup from this morning, if any remains. Bring nothing too heavy.”

“At once!” Grace replied.

“Yes, Your Holiness!” Edmond added, the twins sprinting away.

Aletheia smiled weakly at Sven as she lowered him to the ground. “Forgive me, but I can’t let you eat too much, no matter the strength of your cultivation. Even I can be hurt by prolonged malnourish—”

“Unimportant, Aletheia,” he interrupted. “I bring news—” He broke off with a hacking cough, anger flaring from his core at his body’s failure.

She couldn’t help but raise a brow. She was bothered by neither the interruption, nor the lack of “Your Holiness,” “Empress,” or some such honorific... But for this particular agent to drop them…? His tidings must be dire.

A displeased noise escaped Evan’s throat, and Aletheia shot him a look before returning his attention to the man she’d sent to a far-away continent. “Save your strength, Sven. You’re already weeks past your reporting date. We can wait ten more minutes.”

The spy must have known it would take no longer than that to recover, yet his eyes remained panicked. “Weeks? Spirit beasts in the capit—” He coughed once more, dry and sharp and pained.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Spirit beasts? Aletheia thought, not allowing herself to speak, lest Sven feel pressure to reply.

“Sorry!” Grace yelled, flying into the room. “No water jugs this high up! Had to go all the way to the kitchens!”

She was at Sven’s side in an instant, her limbs aglow with thin strands of golden chi. The entire time, Aletheia’s enhanced mind raced. Spirit beast in the capital—that was what he’d tried to say. She had sent Sven to the capital city of Gormona, on the continent of the same name. Ostensibly, he was a honey merchant. In truth, he was a spy, assigned to investigate the royal family, along with the existence of ancient relics.

Her gaze flicked up, eyeing two such artifacts. So long had they sat inert that they were just another part of the room, akin to useless tables unless one actively looked at them. Phostheia, capital of the Kingdom of Light, had once owned a vast horde of the treasures, amassed by ancestors and exploits long forgotten. What wasn’t forgotten, however, was why Phostheia no longer possessed them.

Gormona.

They had stolen them by force, employing methods of cultivation that defied the low level of chi suffusing the world. The records spoke of enslaved cultivators, which Aletheia, if she was being honest, had suspected was a lie—propaganda deployed to instill hatred of that antagonistic kingdom. Until, that is, Sven’s first trip there almost two years ago revealed the disgusting truth of it. To think humans, beings shaped by the heavens, could do such a thing to others of the divine form…

Spirit beasts in the capital, she repeated internally, centering herself.

If that wasn’t heavenly punishment, she didn’t know what was. For Sven to return so panicked, these spirit beasts he spoke of were clearly not weak. Gormona’s royal family would have fled or fallen. It was the only possibility that made sense.

Which boded well for the requisitioning of artifacts. Spirit beasts were mindless creatures of consumption; they wouldn’t go out of their way to destroy or steal anything they couldn’t gain power from. As soon as that thought passed, Aletheia felt a wave of vitriolic self-disgust. What kind of woman would celebrate such a tragedy? People must have died. Even if the royal family had remained to fight the beasts before fleeing, the collared cultivators would have been sent in first.

Her core grew flush with anger. She had wanted to free them. Their safety was the only reason she hadn’t raised the banners of war and sailed for Tropica the moment she had learned of their enslavement.

Her abdomen turned radiant, a tiny sphere mirroring the sun’s brilliance.

She had delayed in hopes of attaining another breakthrough first. She knew her forces were already strong enough to shatter that continent’s seat of power, but without hurting a single of the collared? She’d needed overwhelming might for that. Enough potency to disarm every cultivator there. She had been too late.

The star within doubled, tripled, doubled again. Aletheia wished she could take it all back. She should have gone to Gormona earlier. She should have destroyed the royals, even if it meant their death. If she hadn’t clung so tight to her peaceful intentions, the slaves would have lived. In denying violence, she had caused suffering.

“I was a fool,” she declared, her voice resonate with truth. Taking a deep breath, she stated that which the world demanded. “If an ideal does not serve me or humanity, it is my obligation to burn it away.” She swallowed, her core humming in agreement, urging her to continue. “Discard old ideology if it now longer suits. Kill the few, save the many.”

Radiating with fury and regret, her abdomen thrummed alongside her thoughts. Suddenly, it unwound, turning into a familiar knot of roots. The incandescent passion flowed into them, racing along the infinite loop of her soul.

All too late, she realized her error and focused on the outside world.

All eyes were on her, their faces lit by the deepest gold imaginable. Her breakthrough. It was happening—it would destroy them all. Her strongest mages and finest spy, all burned away by her lack of care. Her heart should be breaking, but all she could feel was ecstasy, her soul rejoicing at the ideal she’d finally found. To rejoice in such a moment… it was wrong.

Were the Seer’s predictions incorrect? Has evil infected my spirit, creating another weapon of war instead of a unifying bridge?

No, her very identity replied, urging her to actually see them—her allies, her friends.

A grin on Evan’s face, shock on Sven’s, resolve on all the others. The ritual circle. They were touching it. Shaping it. Edmond had just run into the room. His bowl of soup was in freefall. Even as it tumbled to the ground, its contents spilling, his foot brushed the ritual’s edge, his essence flowing down and powering the only thing keeping Aletheia’s breakthrough from incinerating them all.

The lines snapped into place. Divine light raced along the infinite path of her core. Not a knot of roots at all—a serpent eating its own tail. Ouroboros, the endless cycle of life and death. She finally understood. This is what she’d been missing. One could not flourish without the other.

There was no sound as her core’s new form solidified. Golden rays shot in every direction, passing through stone and mortar like the sun’s light through mosaic glass.

She felt all of her subjects. Their surprise, joy, love. All understood what had happened. Thousands of them, each stunned by the weight of her brilliance. She sent them her thanks. If not for all of them, she would be nothing. Above all else, a single word came her way, repeated sporadically, then all at once, her followers’ voices combined as they chanted.

“Empress! Empress! Empress!”

The golden light returned, knocking the wind from her lungs as their intention slammed into her core.

Empress. She could feel the title within, a brand upon her identity. No longer was it an honorific. She had been recognised—by the System, her subjects, and the very heavens.

“Your Holiness,” Sven said, eyes wide and vigor returned. “Empress Aletheia. Please forgive this one’s earlier insolence. I bring dire news from the capital city of Gormona. Spirit—” He cut off abruptly, every head turning to look at a far wall.

Despite her lingering breakthrough and recently discovered ideal, she was also stunned into silence. A whirring sound came from two artifacts, the twin prizes her forbearers had managed to hide from an invading force. The noise was soft, yet it ground at her enhanced hearing. Both screens flickered, lit, and enacted their ancient directive, the leftmost producing a result sooner.

Local Domain detected.

Effect: 20% Suppression, 20% Bolstering, 20% Growth

Evolution: Holy, Indestructible, Hidden

A Domain. Her Domain. She’d long known about it, but never had the effects been quantified. It was no wonder her forces had been progressing so swiftly. How long had the growth been—

More lines printed out below the others.

Warning! Foreign Domain detected

…

[Error: Tier 3 Village]

“Gormona?” she wondered aloud. Surely it could be no other. What was the significance of it being called a ‘Tier 3 Village’? Had the royal family survived after all if their Domain remained? “Sven, what were you going to—”

More words in bold interrupted her. This time, they were directly in her field of view.

New Quest: In Defense of Phostheia

Objective: A Tier 3 Village has been detected. Are its denizens enemies, or allies to your cause? Gather relevant intelligence.

Progress: 0/3

Reward: Domain evolution

She blinked, clearing her vision. The heavens… they had acknowledged her! She couldn’t believe it. A grin tugged at her lip, but it wasn’t just because of the System’s direct contact. Gormona’s royals might have lived after all. If they’d survived, perhaps the collared cultivators had, too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then a surge of chi caught her attention, the other relic fulfilling its purpose for the first time in centuries, if not millennia.

Phostheia, capital of the Kingdom of Light, has chosen a ruler!

Long live Empress Aletheia of House Veritus!

She had to look away from it. Her breakthrough being acknowledged by the heavens was too much for her. She stared up at the midmorning sun, its brilliance and warmth embracing her. The brand on her soul seemed to tingle. It was just as the Seer had said—she, Aletheia Veritus, empress of Phostheia and ruler of the Kingdom of Light, was the divine bridge that would connect this lower realm to the heavens above.

“Sven!” she yelled, voice exuberant as her eyes darted toward her loyal spy. “Tell me all about what you saw! There might yet be time to save the collared! I got a quest! If I can learn three secrets, our Domain…” she trailed off, confusion shining from within. “Sven?”

He remained unaffected by her words. His core was numb, and only when she focused in on it did she sense the vaguest hint of fear. She followed his sight to gaze at the screen which had him he was transfixed by. The second relic. More lines had appeared below those that referenced her breakthrough. She read the first.

Tropica, capital of Gormona, has chosen a ruler!

Before she could continue onto the next, the System spoke directly to her again.

Quest: In Defense of Phostheia

Intelligence gathered: Tier 3 Village is named Tropica

Progress: 1/3

She flailed, sending that message, a direct missive from the heavens, hurtling away as if it were trash. She had to read the rest of the artifact’s message. Who had they chosen, and what facilitated it? Had Gormona’s—Tropica’s?—king somehow used the spirit beasts in the capital to leverage a breakthrough?

She read the line. Then she read it again. And again. And again.

Another heaven-sent message arrived, telling her she had gathered more intelligence. There was only one more to go before the quest was completed and her Domain evolved. She found she didn’t much care anymore, the joy of that possibility having turned to ash in her mouth.

She licked lips that felt drier than Sven’s had looked earlier. When she spoke, it came out in a hoarse whisper. “God-King…?”

She stepped to the side, an empress reduced to a child of the heavens, seeking the sun’s guidance. Its brilliant rays provided neither warmth nor comfort as she read the lines again, hoping—praying—they had changed.

They hadn’t.

Tropica, capital of Gormona, has chosen a ruler!

Long live God-King Fischer, [error] of [error]!