The grand chamber of the Light Council was a masterpiece of polished brass and shimmering crystal, its domed ceiling etched with constellations that pulsed faintly in the dim light. A great mechanical clock loomed at the far end of the room, its golden gears clicking in an unsettling rhythm.
Queen Celestine Vaeloria stepped inside, her violet-hued cloak trailing behind her. The tension in the air was palpable as the councilors turned their gazes toward her. Each of them wore pristine white robes embroidered with golden sigils, symbols of their unwavering allegiance to the city's law.
At the center of the chamber, Grand Chancellor Aldric Vaughn, a man with steel-gray hair and sharp blue eyes, rose to speak. His expression was grave.
"My Queen," he began, his voice steady but edged with unease. "An incident has occurred."
Celestine kept her posture regal, though her heart pounded. "Explain."
Vaughn motioned to one of the council's messengers, who stepped forward hesitantly, holding a small, metallic case. The young man's face was pale, as if he had seen something unspeakable. With shaking hands, he set the case on the council's central table and opened it.
Inside was a bloodstained gear, its edges jagged and broken. But it wasn't just any gear—it bore the royal insignia.
Celestine's breath hitched.
"This was found in the Undercity," Vaughn continued. "Near the abandoned Blackspire District. Alongside it was… a message."
He gestured to a parchment resting beside the gear. The ink was deep crimson, the handwriting elegant yet unnerving.
"The Queen's reflection is cracking. The shadows remember. The clock strikes soon."
A chilling silence settled over the room. Celestine's fingers twitched at her sides.
The voice in her dreams. The whispers in the dark. Now, a message in blood.
"This could be the work of the Shadow Syndicate," one of the councilors murmured.
"Or," another interjected, "a remnant of the Usurper's followers."
Celestine's mind whirled. The Usurper—the rebel who had tried to seize Noctis-Lux a decade ago—had been executed. His followers had been scattered. But if they were stirring again…
Alistair Dorne, standing at her side, spoke at last. "With your permission, my Queen, I will lead an investigation."
Celestine's emerald eyes met his silver ones. Alistair was one of the finest strategists in the kingdom, and she trusted him. But something in her gut told her this was more than a simple resurgence of old enemies.
Still, she nodded. "Do what must be done. I want answers—fast."
Vaughn hesitated before speaking again. "There is one more thing, Your Majesty."
He reached into his robe and pulled out a second object—a delicate golden pendant, shaped like an eclipse, its center embedded with a fragment of obsidian.
"We found this at the scene as well," he said.
Celestine's blood ran cold.
She knew this pendant.
It had belonged to Elias Draven—a man long thought dead.