The Empire was a miracle of silence.
Every night before sunset, the skies over Rammasett shimmered faintly red but not with fire, but with something far older. The light rippled across the horizon like the pulse of a living thing, radiating from the Cathedral Spire that crowned the Capital.
Citizens called it the Blessing of the First Flame. A blessing from the veins running below the whole continent. An structure with a mind of it's own.
From Arata's balcony on Downing Street, the city looked perfect. Silver rooftops gleaming and stained-glass light, banners fluttering with the Empire's sun crest . The streets below hummed with trams powered by the Divine Engine. Temples rang with mechanical hymns as the clergy recited sermons about order, progress, and divine harmony.
It all sounded holy.
But beneath the hymns, he could hear a hum very faint but rhythmic and alive.
The Vein's pulse.
Every drop of light in the city came from blood the world had been told was extinct. The people prayed to a god whose veins ran through the empire and the continent. And the Empire's greatest talent was convincing them it was faith, not science, that kept the world running.
...
The radio murmured in the corner, the voice through it, precise and polite.
"The Chancellor today praised the success of the Divine Engine Program, assuring citizens that the Empire remains blessed under the watchful eye of the First Flame. A new generation of cadets will soon begin their studies at the Imperial Academy of Military and Tactical Sciences, where devotion and duty forge our defenders of tomorrow…"
Arata turned the dial off.
The Empire had mastered the art of saying everything without revealing anything.
He had seen the truth once, in the ruins of Catharsis, in the blood that screamed when it touched his skin and nothing had been the same since.
The Magisterium called men like him resonants. The Church called them divinely touched. The soldiers had another word entirely: cursed.
He wasn't sure which was closer to the truth.
...
It had been almost a month since the meeting with Magister Kohler, Monica. The talk with Darwin. Rhea's Forge. And the incident in the bathroom.
Monica popped by to check up on him from time to time, make sure the young soldier didn't lose himself.
Darwin had been sent somewhere, to fight the battles for humanity.
The next morning, a knock came, firm and deliberate.
When he opened the door, Magister Kohler stood framed against the stormlight. His expression was neutral, posture too perfect to be human. Rain dripped from his coat, hissing softly as it hit the heated tiles.
"Permission to enter, Squadron Leader" Kohler said.
Arata stepped aside. "You don't need permission. This house was never really mine."
Kohler entered without comment. His gaze swept the room, papers stacked neatly on the desk, the faint metallic scent clinging to the air, the thin cuts still healing along Arata's knuckles.
"Monica tells me your recovery is progressing" he said.
"If that's what we're calling it" Arata replied, flexing his bandaged hand. "Then yes. I'm exemplary."
Kohler ignored the sarcasm. "You've been selected for higher study. A privilege reserved for the devout and the exceptional."A pause. "That is the version the Empire prefers."
"The Academy" Arata said.
Kohler inclined his head. "That is what the world calls it. To us, it is a crucible, one that burns until only who is able to endure remains."
"Endures..." Arata echoed. "Or conforms"" He met Kohler's gaze. "You mean those closest to the Magisterium's idea of a perfect Wyrmbound."
For the first time, something like amusement touched Kohler's expression. "You speak boldly for someone who has never met one."
He turned toward the window. The city sprawled below, quiet beneath the glow of evening lamps. A faint crimson Vein-pulse reflected in his eyes.
"This Empire stands because its people believe in light" he said. "They do not ask where it comes from."
"Because they are fed lies, in firm if faith" Arata said softly.
Kohler turned back, voice calm, dangerous. "Careful, Squadron Leader. Outside these walls, that thought is considered heresy."
The door opened before Arata could respond.
Monica stepped inside, rain glistening on her umbrella, a sealed folder tucked beneath her arm. The tension in the room eased, just slightly.
"Magister" she said, inclining her head. "You're unsettling him again."
"Understanding should unsettle the unknowing" Kohler replied.
She smiled faintly. "And yet we keep trying."
Kohler faced Arata once more. "Your induction carriage arrives at dawn. Rest if you can. The Academy prefers minds unclouded by dreams."
Then he left.
The door closed behind him with finality.
For a moment, neither Arata nor Monica spoke. Rain pattered softly against the window. The city lights blinked below like veins under skin.
"Do you ever get used to him?" Arata asked finally.
"No" Monica said simply. "But you learn to stop listening to what he says and start listening to what he fears."
"And what does he fear?"
She met his eyes. "That one day, the dragons might stop bleeding for us."
She placed the folder on the table, It was an official invitation stamped with the imperial seal.
"The Academy wants you. They call it a school because it sounds civil. But what they'll teach you isn't knowledge. It's containment."
Arata's eyes drifted toward the cracked mirror again. The fissures caught the faint crimson glow from outside.
"Containment" he repeated softly. "For who?"
Monica looked at him long and hard. "That depends on how long you can pretend you're still human."
She rose to leave but paused at the door, her voice softer. "Remember, Arata — the public believes dragons are dead. No need to remind them otherwise."
...
That night, the city glowed beneath him in a perfect, beautiful lie pulsing on the blood of gods.
As he stared out over Rammasett, he could almost hear the heartbeat of the Empire beneath the cobblestones.
It wasn't human.
It had never been.
And somewhere in that pulse, a whisper spoke again — quieter than a sigh, sharper than a blade.
"The world burns quietly, brother. Listen closer."
Arata closed his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the entire Empire was breathing through him.