The council chamber was bathed in a soft, almost unreal light.
The polished ivory walls reflected faint glimmers of pale gold, as if the light itself hesitated to disturb the solemnity of the place. Tall columns engraved with ancient symbols supported the celestial vault of the palace, and through the translucent dome that crowned the room, the immensity of the star-filled cosmic void stretched endlessly above.
It was a place where every whisper seemed to weigh more than a shout.
At the center of the hall stood a large circular table sculpted from white marble threaded with fine golden veins. Around it sat the most important members of the royal Arcanyrus family.
At the head of the table sat the king.
Izanori Arcanyrus.
He sat upright, motionless, like a statue forged from light itself. His long white hair fell behind his shoulders like a veil of silver, catching the golden reflections of the hall. His face, noble and calm, betrayed no inner turmoil.
But everyone present knew that beneath that serenity lay the mind of a sovereign capable of governing kingdoms stretching across entire galaxies.
The royal cape rested on his shoulders, white and gold, trailing behind his seat like a wake of light.
To his right sat his brother.
Sarvador Arcanyrus.
Unlike the king, Sarvador seemed to pay little attention to the formalities of the council. He was slightly slumped in his seat, leaning against the backrest as if the entire meeting were nothing more than a passing distraction.
His gaze seemed lost elsewhere.
Very far away.
In a depth that no one else seemed capable of perceiving.
He listened to the conversations without truly participating, like a spectator contemplating a game whose outcome he already knew.
Around the table sat the other members of the royal family.
Serenith Arcanyrus sat across from her brother, the king.
Her beauty was striking.
Her long white hair reflected the light of the hall like eternal snow, and her clear gaze held an almost glacial intensity. She held an ivory cup filled with a richly fragrant liqueur, turning it slowly in her fingers.
Her bearing was dignified. Almost imperial.
Serenith had always been close to the mortal peoples she governed, but behind that closeness lay a formidable will.
Not far from her sat Valther Arcanyrus.
The king's elder brother.
Grand General of the royal armies, Valther possessed the presence of a man accustomed to battlefields and decisions that condemned entire worlds. His gaze, hard and precise, seemed to analyze every movement in the room.
At his side sat his wife.
Elyndra Arcanyrus.
One did not notice Elyndra straight away.
And that was exactly what she intended.
Her long black hair, streaked with fine silver strands, fell elegantly over her shoulders. Her metallic grey eyes seemed to reflect the light like a cold blade. Her face always wore the same calm smile — a smile that never revealed her true thoughts.
She was sometimes called the Iron Lady, and the name was not unearned.
Elyndra belonged to a secondary branch of the Arcanyrus family. The daughter of a royal concubine, her rise had once stirred whispers and intrigue among the nobility. But with time, she had proven her worth. Her mastery of ancient seals and occult arts had ultimately commanded respect.
Today, even those who had once doubted her were careful not to show it.
Around the table, conversations inevitably revolved around a single subject.
The war.
Even on this day of celebration, even after the festivities in the Ivory Isles, the subject remained impossible to avoid.
The world never truly stopped.
Valther spoke calmly as he cut a piece of meat on his plate.
« To return to the negotiations… »
His deep voice resonated softly in the hall.
« They will soon take place between our generals and the representatives of the enemy armies. »
He took a moment to swallow before continuing.
« I will unfortunately not be present. But General Valerian Vaelis will lead our delegations. »
Serenith raised her eyes slightly.
The name was not unknown to her.
Valther continued.
« He is a promising young general. He has my full confidence. And his father wishes him to become more involved in political affairs. »
Serenith set her cup down slowly.
« The eldest of the Vaelis will lead the negotiations? »
Her voice was calm, but a slight reserve crept into it.
« Is that not too heavy a responsibility for such a young general? »
Valther wiped the blade of his knife calmly before answering.
« Valerian is talented. »
He raised his eyes toward her slightly.
« During the war, he often chose the path of peace when it was possible. He interrupted several pointless battles and saved many soldiers… including enemy ones. »
A brief silence followed.
« The opposing troops themselves respect him. »
Valther offered a faint smile.
« That is precisely what is needed to negotiate peace. »
Sarvador, who until then had observed the scene with obvious detachment, let out a faintly amused breath.
A thought had just crossed his mind.
An image.
Ridiculous.
But amusing.
He straightened slightly in his seat.
Then he spoke.
« Why not send Nihraël? »
Silence fell immediately over the hall.
Sarvador continued, almost innocently.
« After all… he is the crown prince. His word would surely carry more weight. »
Valther let out a quiet laugh.
Serenith shot him a dark look.
Elyndra did not move.
She simply let her gaze fall on Nihraël for a fraction of a second.
Then looked away.
Her smile remained perfectly unchanged.
Izanori, for his part, simply offered a calm smile.
As if he refused to give too much weight to the provocation.
At the far end of the table sat Nihraël.
Slightly set back.
Darkness seemed to always accompany him.
Discreet, but persistent.
As if shadow itself refused to detach from his existence.
The prince silently observed his family.
Sarvador's words had not surprised him.
On the contrary.
He could perfectly picture the scene.
A negotiation room.
Diplomats.
Promises of peace.
Then blood.
He did not picture the chaos with any pleasure.
He simply pictured it as a logical conclusion.
Words always ended up giving way to acts. That was how the world worked.
He had never seen things any other way.
His gaze moved around the table.
Each of these beings possessed a power capable of destroying kingdoms.
And yet they spoke of peace.
Valther finally answered.
« Sending Nihraël to the negotiations would certainly be… efficient. »
A brief silence.
« In a certain way. »
A few smiles appeared around the table.
Then Valther added calmly:
« But Valerian remains a far more reasonable strategic choice. »
Sarvador closed his eyes for a moment.
Then murmured:
« The Vaelis… »
His voice seemed to come from another time.
« I remember an era when that family produced true monsters. »
He opened his eyes slowly.
« An era when the Ten Great Ancestral Families represented something truly terrifying. »
The Ten Great Families.
After the royal family, they constituted the most powerful lineages in the original universe. Each controlled immense territories. Galaxies. Solar systems. Mortal and divine kingdoms alike.
For millennia, they had sworn eternal loyalty to the Arcanyrus family.
They formed the pillar of the empire.
But also a power that even kings could not ignore.
Izanori finally spoke.
His voice was calm.
But indisputable.
« The Ten Great Families are still what they have always been. »
His gaze moved around the table.
« And they proved it once again during this war. »
He slowly crossed his hands.
« Without them, victory would not have been possible. »
His gaze turned toward the celestial dome above them.
Toward the universe.
« This region of the universe is now stabilized. »
A silence weighed over the hall.
Then he added, his voice growing graver:
« But elsewhere… »
His eyes hardened slightly.
« The enemy forces have been pushed back, their strongholds destroyed. But elsewhere… the war continues, and will continue. »
A brief silence followed the king's words.
The declaration carried nothing of a triumph. It sounded more like a lucid observation.
Elyndra, who until then had not spoken, raised her head slightly. Her metallic eyes rested for a moment on Izanori, then on the other members of the table.
When she spoke, her voice was soft, perfectly controlled. A natural elegance seemed to accompany her every word.
« Alas, Your Majesty… I fear wars never truly end. »
She paused briefly.
« As long as there exist beings capable of desiring more power… as long as there exist kingdoms willing to conquer those of their neighbors… peace can only ever be a fragile balance. »
Her voice was neither pessimistic nor dramatic.
She was simply stating a truth.
A slight stir moved through the assembly. Gazes crossed around the table. Some faces expressed a kind of weariness, as if her words confirmed a reality they already knew too well. Others seemed simply to accept the observation.
Izanori inclined his head slightly.
He understood perfectly what she meant.
The king was not naive. He had known for a long time that war would never disappear completely. In the immensity of the universe, where countless peoples existed, conflict was inevitable.
And deep within himself, Izanori also knew something else.
War was not only destructive.
It pushed peoples to evolve. It forced civilizations to transform, to adapt, to grow stronger. It revealed heroes as much as it exposed tyrants.
War could be terrible.
But it could also be necessary.
Yet Izanori was not a conqueror.
Many sovereigns, throughout the centuries, had attempted to plunge the entire universe into flames to impose their dominion. None had managed to maintain such an empire eternally.
That path led only to ruin.
It had taken him centuries to truly believe the words he was about to speak.
And there were still nights when he was not certain he believed them anymore.
The king raised his chin slightly.
« Yes. »
His voice was calm.
« And that is precisely why we must maintain peace when it is possible. »
He placed his hands on the table.
« Our people were born to create, to build, to guide. Not to reduce the world to ashes. »
His words held no naivety.
Only a deep conviction, hard-won over centuries of war.
Sarvador, who until then had been content to listen with obvious detachment, did not seem particularly interested in the debate.
These conversations…
He had heard them hundreds of times.
Kings, generals, sages… all had delivered similar speeches across the centuries.
The words changed.
The ideas, rarely.
He could have remained silent.
But something in this gathering stirred his curiosity.
Sarvador straightened slightly in his seat.
And almost immediately, his mere presence seemed to weigh down the atmosphere of the hall.
Without needing to raise his voice, all gazes turned toward him.
« And what of the future in all of this? »
His voice was calm.
Almost distracted.
But the question resonated through the hall with an unexpected intensity.
Sarvador slowly observed each person seated around the table.
All wore controlled expressions.
Polite.
Measured.
But a subtle tension had just settled in.
After a brief silence, Sarvador finally turned his head.
His gaze fell directly on his nephew.
« Nihraël. »
The name resonated through the hall.
« You who were at the heart of this war… what is your view? »
A pause.
« What do you expect of the future? »
The hall froze.
All gazes converged on the young heir.
Some waited for a diplomatic answer.
Others dreaded what he might say.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Long enough to become heavy.
Nihraël slowly raised his eyes.
His gaze was calm.
Too calm.
He fixed Sarvador without looking away.
For an instant, a strange impression moved through the assembly.
As if two identical reflections faced each other.
Two similar existences, separated by time.
Two silent forces observing one another.
Nihraël's voice finally rose.
Calm.
Devoid of the slightest hesitation.
« The war… »
He paused briefly.
« I had little to think about it. »
His gaze remained fixed on Sarvador.
« I simply did what the war demanded of me. »
No one interrupted the silence that followed.
Then he continued.
« As for the future… »
A brief moment passed.
His words fell into the hall with an absolute coldness.
« The future belongs to me. »
No arrogance.
No provocation.
His voice did not tremble.
It simply expressed a certainty.
Glacial.
A muffled murmur moved through the hall.
No one dared truly comment.
What made his words so unsettling was not their audacity.
It was their total absence of emotion.
As if the future he spoke of was not a hypothesis.
But a reality already written.
Sarvador observed him for a long moment.
Always with that same faint smile.
A smile impossible to interpret.
Izanori remained silent.
The king stared at his son.
A shadow of perplexity crossed his gaze.
He knew Nihraël's nature.
But sometimes… certain words revealed truths that even a father preferred to ignore.
Around the table, no one spoke.
And in the silent shadow of the council chamber…
the name of Nihraël had begun to weigh upon the future.