Part 1
Emperor Simon remained on bended knee, hardly daring to breathe. The angelic emissary's polite but perplexed question had left the grand reception hall in awkward silence, courtiers exchanging uncertain glances. Not a soul dared respond. Simon realized it fell to him, as Emperor, to guide the moment back to order—if his voice would even obey him.
Swallowing against a dry throat, Simon kept his head bowed as he mustered his courage. "H‑Honored celestial messenger," he began in a reverent tone that still quivered, "might we… be permitted to stand, so that we may properly receive you?"
Selene's emerald gaze drifted to the Emperor. For a heartbeat, Simon feared he had overstepped, but the radiant figure smiled kindly. "Of course," she said, her tone as gentle as a mother inviting a child to rise. She even added a gracious wave of her hand. "Please, rise. There is no need for such formality."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the court. Armor clinked and silks rustled as nobles and guards carefully rose from their knees. Many kept their eyes lowered at first, unsure whether it was acceptable to gaze directly upon an angel. Yet inevitably, curious glances lifted. At full height, Selene was breathtaking—wings half‑furled in a halo of snowy feathers behind her, porcelain‑pale skin aglow in the torchlight. Several onlookers felt their hearts stutter at the sight of her gentle smile.
Emperor Simon drew a long breath, steadied by Selene's graciousness. "On behalf of Vakeria," he proclaimed, his voice stronger now, "we humbly welcome you, Lady Selene. We are profoundly honored by Seraphina's mercy in sending you." He then turned to address the assembly, his tone ringing with relief. "Let all here bear witness: the Archangel of Hope shows us favor this day!"
His stern face actually softened as his gaze found General Bisera, who stood near the dais with tears of joy brimming in her eyes. "General Bisera," Simon said warmly, "your loyalty and faith are beyond reproach. You were willing to risk everything to defend an innocent man. Vakeria could ask for no truer servant."
Bisera flushed and bowed her head. "Your Majesty… I only did what was right," she said quietly. Emotion trembled in her voice. She dared a glance toward James, immense gratitude shining in her expression.
Simon followed her glance to the young man at her side—the foreigner who had caused such uproar. James stood tall despite what had just transpired, meeting the Emperor's gaze with humble resolve. Simon stepped forward. For a moment, the ruler simply regarded the man who had nearly been seized moments earlier—now clearly vindicated by heaven's intervention.
"Great mage," Simon said, not unkindly, "it seems I owe you an apology… and my thanks." He spread his hands in a gesture of regret and respect. "I misjudged you. In these dire times, I let fear overrule my judgment. But General Bisera's faith in you never wavered—and evidently," he managed a faint smile, "neither has Seraphina's."
A stunned hush fell as Emperor Simon, in a rare act of humility, inclined his head to James. "Please forgive my haste. You have risked much for Vakeria and earned the Archangel's favor. You have my gratitude and my trust, from this day forward."
James, who had stood rigid with anxiety, exhaled in relief. He bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, there is nothing to forgive," he said earnestly. "I am only thankful that Seraphina's light guided us to understanding."
Around them, the assembled nobles began to breathe again. With the immediate crisis past, they now dared to truly gaze upon Selene in all her glory. Awestruck faces, young and old, drank in the sight of the angelic woman standing protectively by James's side. Men and women alike felt their hearts stir in ways they could barely comprehend. A few ardent souls found themselves on the verge of outright infatuation, though they hurried to disguise it as pure piety. If pulses quickened or cheeks flushed at her unearthly beauty, they told themselves it was merely the overwhelming grace of the heavens moving them.
Any detail that might have seemed strange or improper about Selene—such as her attire—was swiftly rationalized in the minds of the faithful. The daring cut of her gown, far too revealing by pious standards, was accepted as a sign of angelic purity unconcerned with human modesty. After all, they reasoned, celestial beings must be beyond earthly notions of shame. Likewise, the faint mechanical glint at her wing joints or the odd phrasing of her earlier threats was conveniently glossed over as a mystery of the divine. In short, the Vakerian nobility collectively decided that an angel could do no wrong, eagerly bending their understanding of the world to accommodate that adjustment in their belief.
For his part, James marveled at how completely Selene had mesmerized everyone. He suddenly felt a familiar tickle in his mind—Seraphina's telepathic presence. Quite the spectacle, isn't it? she remarked dryly. Good thing the engineers of your world could only craft an android a tenth of my beauty—any more, then… let's just say many homes would be wrecked. James suppressed a twitch of his lips. Seraphina's tone turned sly. Now you know why you only get the voice and not the face. If even this android can captivate you, then… when you are faced with the mistresses of the Abyss… it will be quite a show.
James felt heat rise to his face. Across the hall, his eyes found Bisera—beaming at him with pride and relief—and he knew exactly where his heart truly lay. Seraphina's warm laugh echoed in his head as her presence gently receded, leaving James to focus on the scene unfolding before him.
Then, just as attendants tentatively stepped forward to inform Selene that they would escort her to the best available chamber, the angelic visitor turned to Emperor Simon with a serene smile. "That will not be necessary," Selene said politely. "I will stay in the same chamber as James. I must stay by his side to ensure his safety."
The hall went so quiet one could hear a feather drop from Selene's wings. An unmarried man and woman—even a heavenly woman—sharing private quarters? In ordinary times, such a notion would have scandalized the court beyond measure. Bisera's heart gave a conflicted lurch—relief that James would be guarded through the night, yet also an irrational flicker of possessiveness that she struggled to quash. Pull yourself together, she scolded herself, cheeks warming at her own foolishness. She is not a woman. Still, she couldn't help the tiny frown of concern that tugged at her brow.
A few courtiers did indeed sputter in disbelief, and one elderly baroness swayed as if she might faint. Sensing trouble, Emperor Simon swiftly raised a hand to forestall any protest. Though his own eyebrows had shot up at Selene's pronouncement, he spoke with unwavering authority. "The Lady Selene is free to do as she wills," he declared, brooking no argument. "If she deems it necessary to stay by James's side, then so be it. It is Seraphina's will."
As quickly as the shock arose, it evaporated. Ministers and nobles bobbed their heads in vigorous agreement, scrambling to align themselves with what was now deemed a divine mandate. If an angel wished to share a gentleman's quarters, who were they to question it? By the logic of the moment, the arrangement was beyond reproach. More than one courtier could be heard murmuring phrases like "higher purpose" and "beyond mortal customs" as they convinced themselves that this, too, was righteous. James could only stand there, caught between embarrassment and gratitude, his face aflame under the collective approval of the entire room.
Simon cleared his throat, doing his best to maintain an air of normalcy. "We will arrange the royal guest suite in the east wing for James and Lady Selene," he announced, tactfully offering a spacious, comfortable chamber as their shared quarters. Servants bowed and scurried off at once to prepare it. With that, the Emperor signaled that the audience was at an end.
Moments later, as the courtiers finally dispersed in a buzz of excited prayers and astonished chatter, Emperor Simon found himself lingering in the throne room, a bit dazed. The adrenaline of the confrontation ebbed, leaving him weak‑kneed with relief. But beneath that relief lay a seed of bewilderment and worry. Seraphina had sent an emissary—an unprecedented act that Emperor Simon knew the Archangel of Hope would not take lightly.
Simon sank onto the steps of his dais, replaying the extraordinary scene in his mind: Bisera's desperate plea, the blinding burst of light, Selene's awe‑inspiring descent and effortless strength. It felt like a waking dream. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks to the Universal Spirit and to Seraphina for delivering them from disaster. In the midst of all the chaos gripping his empire, the pure, selfless love in Bisera's eyes as she fought for James had somehow summoned a miracle. That thought touched Simon deeply. Bisera's love for this young man and her faith in Seraphina had proven strong enough to garner the intervention of an Archangel; in the darkness of recent days, that was a beacon of hope he hadn't realized how desperately he needed.
Yet Simon could not ignore a gnawing worry. If Seraphina had intervened—even indirectly, by sending an emissary—what did it imply about the trials ahead? He recalled hushed reports from the capital—whispers of unnatural shadows sweeping over the city, of eerie, malicious laughter echoing during the coup in Arinthia, of dark magic and demonic figures rumored to be manipulating the rebellion. He had dismissed those tales as panic and superstition. Now he wasn't so sure. Light like this did not appear unless darkness loomed in answer. If an angel now walked among them, then…
Part 2
Saralta marched through the palace corridors with her head held high, refusing to show the slightest awe. The steppe warrior in her bristled at the confinement of these stone halls and the scheming courtiers. Still, her heart thumped with anticipation. She was about to meet General Bisera and the Great Mage, James, at last. She would take their measure with her own eyes—rumors be damned.
As she neared the throne room, a pair of gilded doors opened ahead. Saralta's escort halted, and three figures emerged. Front and center glided a young woman in flowing white … with wings. Saralta blinked hard. Two white, feathered wings rose from the woman's back. For one bewildered moment, she thought a spirit from legend had appeared on Earth. Then reason reasserted itself: it had to be ceremonial garb, some Imperial trick. Even so, the sight was mesmerizing. The winged woman moved with graceful, unhurried steps, her golden hair shining in the torchlight. Saralta refused to gape or bow; she must remain true to her own gods.
Her attention shifted to the woman's companions—a lean, dark-haired man in foreign attire and a tall, armored woman who could only be Bisera. The man had an unexpectedly youthful, open face—more pretty than battle-hardened—and he stood alert at the winged lady's side, his brown eyes flicking warily around. "That must be James," Saralta thought, a wry glint in her eye. He certainly didn't fit the image of a mystical sage; in fact, aside from his physique, his aura was more that of a normal scholar. By contrast, General Bisera radiated authority, one hand resting calmly on her sword as if daring anyone to threaten her charges. Saralta felt a surge of respect and a flash of playful pride. So, these were the Great Mage and the Lioness of Vakeria—both appeared a bit weary and tense, yet they stood firm and very much real.
Without waiting for permission, Saralta stepped forward. She brought a closed fist to her chest in a crisp salute. "General Bisera," she greeted, her voice clear and warm. "Saralta of Rosagar. It's an honor to meet the Lioness at last." Saralta's dark eyes shone with genuine admiration as she sized up the famous commander. Bisera returned a polite nod.
"Welcome, Lady Saralta," the general replied evenly. Her gaze was steady, though Saralta caught a glimmer of curiosity as the two women appraised each other.
Saralta then turned to the man at Bisera's side. She couldn't help a faint grin from breaking through her composed façade. "And you must be the Great Mage, James," she said, half statement and half question. A hint of playful disbelief colored her tone. "I didn't expect my welcome to include a… shaman?" She tilted her head toward the winged beauty beside him, one eyebrow arched.
James let out a breath—a short, nervous laugh. Up close, Saralta noticed a bit of color on his cheeks. Whether from earlier chaos or her bold greeting, it was endearing. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Saralta," he managed, offering a tentative smile. He spoke in a gentle voice with an accent she couldn't place, and he glanced at his feathered companion as if still coming to terms with everything himself. "Today has been… full of surprises," he added wryly.
Before Saralta could press for details—a hundred questions buzzing in her mind—the Emperor's chamberlain appeared at her elbow. "My lady, His Majesty is ready to receive you," he murmured, with a pointed look toward a set of doors at the side that led to a passage toward the throne room. Clearly, the Emperor did not like to be kept waiting. Saralta suppressed a sigh. Not the best timing.
"Duty calls," she said, stepping back. She cast a final look at Bisera and James, flashing a friendly grin. "We'll continue our conversation soon," she promised, her eyes meeting James's for a heartbeat longer. "I have a feeling there's much we could discuss." It was an innocent remark, delivered with a spark of challenge that made James's brow lift slightly. Bisera merely nodded in polite agreement, and the winged woman—Selene, someone had whispered—watched with a serene, unreadable gaze.
With that, Saralta allowed the chamberlain to guide her onward. As she strode away, she glanced over her shoulder one more time. James and Bisera stood together in the corridor, watching her depart. What an unlikely trio they made—a legendary general, a mystic, and a ceremonial shaman. A thrill of excitement ran through Saralta. She couldn't wait to learn how those three had come together—and what role she might play in whatever came next.
Her pulse still quick from the encounter, Saralta headed toward the throne room. The formal audience with Emperor Simon lay ahead, but her thoughts were already drifting back to James. Beneath his modest demeanor, she sensed depth and secrets worth pursuing—and perhaps a kindred spirit who didn't quite belong in this stuffy palace. A small smile played on her lips as she was announced at the entrance into the Emperor's throne room.