The nobles gathered beneath the vaulted ceiling of the grand chamber, their faces pale in the flickering light of the braziers. Heavy cloaks rustled. No one spoke.
At the front stood Queen Ilvane.
She did not sit on her throne.
She stood tall, cloaked in mourning black, her eyes hollow yet burning. The silence between them was not out of respect—it was dread. And she shattered it with a voice as sharp as winter steel.
"The Winter Sovereign is dead," she said. "The Southern Sect has been conquered."
The effect was immediate. Gasps rang out. A few nobles rose in protest, others stared in stunned disbelief.
"No… that's impossible!" one cried.
But Ilvane did not flinch.
"They burned the banners. Buried their leaders. It's over."
A noble, face red with tension, stepped forward.
"What about our allies? Seravia? Dracia?"
Ilvane's expression darkened. She tilted her head, barely perceptible.
"Seravia intends to surrender. Dracia has sealed its borders. "
The blow landed hard. Nobles exchanged anxious looks. Even the most battle-hardened among them seemed to falter.
Another voice broke through the growing panic.
"And the Empire's strength? Their numbers?"
Ilvane's voice lowered, laced with quiet fury.
"They command 200,000 soldiers. Mostly Knights. "
She took a breath—slow, heavy.
"We have a quarter of that. Scattered, divided, weary from years of holding the line."
Murmurs turned into panic. Some nobles began to pace. One whispered a prayer. Another cursed beneath his breath.
Ilvane raised her hand—and the room froze.
"There's more," she said, voice tightening. "Three Aura Masters of the sixth star. Four more of the fifth."
She met their eyes now, one by one.
"Not just in numbers. In will, in power, in sheer force—they are crushing us."
Silence returned, but this time it trembled with raw fear.
And then, quietly, someone asked what no one dared:
"Should we... surrender?"
The word tasted like poison in the air.
A few nodded, defeated. But others clenched their fists in defiance, tears in their eyes, pride choking them more than fear ever could.
Ilvane closed her eyes briefly, the weight of her crown pressing harder than ever before.
She did not answer—not yet.
Because in her heart, she knew: surrender might save lives…
But it would also mean the end of everything they had ever called their own.