The cloaked figures moved in silent precision, their mechanical gauntlets whirring softly in the dim light. Celestine Vaeloria tensed, her instincts screaming that these were not mere Syndicate rebels. They carried themselves with an air of purpose, their posture disciplined—not chaotic like the criminals who lurked in the lower districts.
Alistair Dorne stepped protectively beside her, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword. "Friends of yours, Draven?" he asked coldly.
Elias Draven exhaled, unshaken. "Not friends," he corrected. "But not enemies either."
One of the figures stepped forward. A woman, clad in a reinforced cloak interwoven with brass plates and clockwork mechanisms. Unlike the others, her hood was down, revealing a half-metallic face, one eye replaced with a faintly glowing obsidian lens.
Celestine's breath hitched.
The Obsidian Order was supposed to be extinct.
And yet, here they were.
The woman's voice was smooth, deliberate. "Queen of Noctis-Lux," she said, her cybernetic eye narrowing. "We have watched your city for years, waiting for this moment."
Celestine refused to waver. "And what moment would that be?"
The woman's mechanical fingers flexed, the gears embedded in her hand shifting noiselessly. "The moment you realize your empire is not the beacon of light you believe it to be."
Celestine kept her expression impassive, but something twisted in her chest. "You speak in riddles," she said. "If you have something to say, say it."
Elias let out a quiet breath. "They're saying that Noctis-Lux's greatest enemy isn't in the shadows." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It's sitting on the throne."
Alistair's sword was drawn in an instant, its crystalline core igniting with a faint hum. "Watch your tongue, Draven."
But Celestine didn't stop him. Her heart pounded not with anger—but with uncertainty.
For years, she had fought to maintain balance in Noctis-Lux. The Light Council upheld order. The Shadow Syndicate threatened to disrupt it. But what if… what if the lines weren't as clear as she had believed?
The woman from the Obsidian Order took another step forward. "Come with us, Celestine Vaeloria," she said. "We will show you the truth buried beneath your city."
Celestine's hands clenched into fists. To go with them was to step into the unknown.
But to turn away?
That was to ignore the whisper of doubt already forming in her mind.
She turned to Alistair, who still held his sword aloft, waiting for her command. His silver eyes met hers. "Your orders, my Queen?"
Celestine exhaled slowly.
Then, she made her choice.
"Stand down," she ordered.
Alistair hesitated—but obeyed.
She turned back to Elias and the woman. "Show me."
The gears of fate had begun to turn.