Chapter 9: The Divine Conspiracy
The silence in the room was suffocating. Seraphina stared at the "Not Now" letter, which lay on the mahogany table like a dead leaf. Her father's laughter still echoed in her ears—a jarring contrast to the cold dread settling in her marrow.
"Killian," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We've spent days—months, if you count the life we lost—sharpening our blades for the wrong heart."
Killian stepped out of the shadows, his face ashen. He looked at his hands as if they were stained with the blood of a man he hadn't even killed yet. "If the Emperor didn't write it... then every nightmare, every suspicion... someone planted them. We were steered like cattle to a slaughterhouse."
They stood in a state of sheer, dizzying confusion. If the Emperor wasn't the monster, why did they remember the cell? Why did they remember the execution? The world felt like it was tilting on its axis.
The door to the chambers burst open. Eveline stumbled in, her white Saintess robes stained with soot and her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't look like the serene icon of the Temple; she looked like someone who had just looked into the mouth of hell.
"Seraphina! Lord Killian!" she cried out, clutching the doorframe.
"Lady Eveline, Where is Sir Alaric?" Killian asked, stepping forward.
"He's still at the Temple, monitoring the perimeter," she panted, her eyes wide with terror. "I had to come. I was in the confessionals, preparing the mana-drain for our 'revenge,' when I heard voices. The High Priest wasn't alone."
She took a shaky breath, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper.
"He was speaking to a shadow—a man in a mask. He said... he said the Emperor's 'friendship' with the Duke was a sickness. He spoke about how the people's hearts are too tied to the Throne. He said, 'Everything will be much better when the people are more devoted to God than to an Emperor.'"
The confusion in the room vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.
"They don't want to kill the Emperor because they hate him," Seraphina realized, the Ruby of Astra glowing faintly against her skin. "They want to destroy him because he is a symbol of secular strength. If they turn the Duke against the Throne, the Empire collapses into civil war. And in the ashes, the Temple rises as the only authority left."
"A Holy Empire," Killian hissed, his eyes burning with crimson fury. "A theocracy. The High Priest isn't an advisor; he's an architect of ruin. He forged that letter to ensure that when the time came, the Emperor's own shadow—me—and his best friend's daughter would be the ones to strike him down."
The "Not Now" letter hadn't been a king's delay; it was a priest's countdown. They had been playing the lead roles in a script written by the very man who claimed to bless their souls.
"Alaric is still there," Eveline warned, her voice regaining its strength. "He's waiting for the signal to drop the Temple's wards. If he does that, the Temple's 'Inquisitors'—their private army—will have the legal right to enter the Palace grounds under the guise of 'protecting the faith' during an emergency."
Seraphine stood, her emerald eyes flashing with the fire of her mother, the Eastern Knight.
"Killian, go to Alaric. Stop him from touching those wards. If he drops them, we give the High Priest his Holy Empire on a silver platter."
She turned toward the door, her hand instinctively touching the hidden dagger at her waist.
"I'm going to the Emperor. If he truly loved my mother, then he deserves to know that the man sitting at his right hand has been planning to turn her daughter into a regicide."
"Lady Seraphine," Killian caught her arm, his expression pained. "What if he doesn't believe us? We just tried to attack the high Priest in front of the entire court."
"Then I'll show him the one thing a priest can't forge," Seraphine said, looking at the Ruby of Astra. "The truth of a daughter who finally sees her father's friend for who he really is."