The air in the throne room seemed to sharpen as Seraphina stepped forward, her hand instinctively coming to rest on the hilt of the blade she had carried every day since the Spire fell. In the first life, she had been a bird in a gilded cage; in this life, she was the storm.
The Emperor looked at her, his eyes drifting to the sword at her hip—a fine, serviceable piece of steel that bore the marks of constant practice.
"Seraphina," the Emperor said softly, "you have already endured more than any noblewoman of the realm. I would not think less of you if you stayed within the safety of these walls while the men handled the blades."
Seraphina let out a short, cold laugh that made the Duke flinch. She looked at Killian, then Alaric, remembering the visions of her broken legs and the silent cell where she had once waited for a rescue that never came.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Seraphina said, her voice ringing with an iron authority that filled the hall, "I didn't learn the sword to just stand by and watch. I didn't spend every sunrise for a year bleeding on the training grounds just to be a spectator to my own destruction again."
She stepped into the center of the circle, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Alaric and Killian.
"This is the best opportunity," she continued, her eyes flashing with a lethal amber light. "The cult thinks I am still the fragile Duchess they can break. They think Eveline is just a girl with glowing hands. Let them keep thinking that. It will be the last mistake they ever make."
Killian reached out, his gloved hand gripping her shoulder briefly—a silent gesture of pride. Alaric, the Holy Knight who had once died for his failure to protect her, felt a different kind of strength stir in his chest. He wasn't her shield anymore; he was her brother-in-arms.
"The Lady has spoken," Killian growled, a feral smirk tugging at his lips. "If the Emperor wants ghosts, we'll give him ghosts. But if the shadows want blood, Seraphina will be the one to draw it first."
Eveline stepped up beside them, her hands beginning to shimmer with a low, dangerous hum of holy energy. "We are the only ones who know exactly how the High Priest thinks. We know his patterns because they are burned into our souls."
The Duke looked at his daughter, seeing a stranger and a hero all at once. He realized then that the girl he had tried to protect was gone, replaced by a woman who had conquered death itself.
"Then go," the Duke whispered. "The Silent Archives are yours. Find the rot, and cut it out."
As the four of them turned to leave the throne room, Seraphina drew her sword just an inch from its scabbard. The ring of the steel was the only sound in the vast hall. She wasn't just going to an investigation; she was going to a hunt.
"No more waiting," she muttered to the others as the heavy doors swung open. "Tonight, we remind the Empire why the Astra name starts with a star—and ends with a blade."