Somewhere on the northern continents, a frozen, almost apocalyptic landscape stretched as far as the eye could see.
The cold was so intense that it froze all existing forms of life.
Violent winds sliced through the air, shattering even the most solid rocks.
On the horizon, dozens of tornadoes devoured everything in their path.
Absolute chaos.
At the center of this hell stood an immense metallic tower, as wide as an entire kingdom, so tall that it pierced the sky.
Despite this catastrophic climate, it remained unshaken, like an indestructible monument.
A soft melody, sung by dozens of people, echoed through the vast throne room.
Individuals dressed in white, their faces covered by long veils, sang in unison within the shadows.
A gentle, peaceful melody… almost melancholic… yet deeply disturbing once one understood the lyrics.
At the center, bathed in light, a wounded man sat upon the throne, his head lowered.
His hair, so long that it fell to his knees, completely concealed his face.
His weakened body bore numerous visible scars.
On his back, two long scars, deeper than the others.
Metal tubes were embedded into his body, directly connected to the walls, injecting a red substance resembling blood.
Around him, at a distance but still within the main light, several individuals had gathered for a very specific reason.
Otelo, an old man dressed in elegant garments blending black, blue, and white, stepped forward, leaning on his cane.
— Time is running out, my dear comrades. Princess Atela, guardian of the Ava Corrector, has been lost from our informant's sight. We must do everything in our power to find her and bring her back to Sélestia.
Damnation, a man wearing a permanent smile, spoke next.
— Are we really forced to intervene ourselves? I find that extremely annoying.
— Listening to you, Damnation… let me remind you that it is also in your interest to find her.
So spoke a young woman with black and white hair, her voice calm yet sharp.
Beside her, Tchen, an elf with refined features, red eyes, and long blonde hair reflecting the light, dressed in royal garments, let out a soft laugh.
— One of the twenty generals losing sight of a teenage girl… that's priceless. I'd really like to see your face right now.
From the shadows, a man wearing a white lab coat over a black shirt, holding a yellow sun-shaped medallion, spoke.
— It does seem rather unrealistic… Are you sure he's not playing a double game?
Minerva, a young woman wearing black lipstick, her hands clasped in prayer, slowly raised her head.
— As for me, I cannot conceive the possibility of his betrayal.
She opened her black eyes and stared at the man on the throne.
— Especially since it is also in his interest that Miguel does not lose his life.
— Alright… so what do we do now? Apparently, she's heading toward the Eastern Empire.
These words came from Soni, a red-haired teenager with a tone as sharp as a blade.
A hand resting on Minerva's shoulder, an imposing man with slicked-back white hair, blindfolded eyes, and a well-groomed beard, intervened.
— The territory of the Eastern Empire is entirely under the control of the Hyperion family. Intervening there will be extremely problematic.
From the shadows, another voice rose, blending perfectly with the chant of the faithful.
— No matter the risks. We must bring Atela back to Sélestia. We must fulfill the mission entrusted to us by Lord T.D.K… no matter the cost.
An icy breeze filled the room.
A freezing mist spread across the walls and covered the veiled figures with frost… yet they did not stop singing.
Vandale Psaimone then stepped into the light.
A man with an imposing build, dressed almost like a soldier, his face hidden beneath a black hood. Only his eyes, nearly white-blue, were visible.
— We will fulfill our mission. Whether you like it or not, you are all under the authority of Lord T.D.K.
He stepped forward to the center.
— We must find Princess Atela. No matter the cost.
The followers continued their chant as the tension rose. The melody grew fainter the farther one moved away from the hall.
Back in the Empire, with our protagonist.
Noa was washing his wounds at the sink, lost in his thoughts.
A dream… one he had been having for some time.
A vast garden, filled with flowers and vegetation, surrounded by white pillars. A peaceful atmosphere.
A young woman with red hair stood with her back turned, facing the horizon.
Her long hair gently swayed in the wind.
As if she had felt his gaze, she turned around.
Their eyes met.
She spoke a few words…
But Noa could never remember them.
He suddenly snapped back to reality.
His hands gripped the sink… which cracked under the pressure.
His right eye began to burn.
Slowly… it turned black, just like his left eye.
The mirror in front of him began to tremble, then cracked.
The pieces fell to the ground.
Silence returned.
Noa regained his composure.
He looked at his reflection in the fragments still hanging.
His eyes had returned to normal…
But his expression was far more tired than usual.