LOGINThe Cathedral of St. Jude was bathed in a light so pure it felt like a judgment. Today was the day of the Royal Investiture, the moment Leo Draven would officially become the Protector of the Realm. Thousands gathered outside, their cheers muffled by the thick, ancient stone walls, while the high
The weeks following the "Great Glitch"—as the official palace records called it—were the most delicate in the history of the realm. While the public celebrated a swift recovery of the kingdom’s infrastructure, the Draven estate became a high-security sanctuary for a population that didn't officially
The North Wing of the palace was a place of soft carpets and muted sunlight, designed to be a sanctuary for the future of the realm. But as the Dravens sprinted through the gilded corridors, it felt like a labyrinth of ice. The silence here was worse than the screaming of the machines in the High Co
The High Court chamber, usually a sanctuary of measured speech and ancient law, became a slaughterhouse of chrome and code. The grey smoke was so thick that the only things visible were the glowing blue optics of the Twelve Judges. "Lucien, get down!" Kaiser’s voice boomed over the hiss of the gren
The surface of the harbor was a churning cauldron of black grease and freezing foam. Kaiser, Izora, and Caspian collapsed onto the swaying deck of the salvage barge, the massive crane still groaning under the tension of the warehouse roof it had just ripped away. "Leo!" Izora scrambled to the edge
Benedict paused by the tall window, the rain casting streaks across his reflection. He stared at himself, at the monster he had willingly become, and smiled. Monsters did not regret. Monsters survived. Let her mother protect her now, he thought, a sneer tugging at his lips. Let her husband shield
Her voice trembled, but her eyes held firm as she lifted them back to Izora’s. “It’s dangerous, Izora. Every day you stay with him, you carry the weight of his enemies, the weight of his choices. And yet…” Her lips curved into a faint, resigned smile. “You are holding up far better than I ever did.”
Benedict paused by the tall window, the rain casting streaks across his reflection. He stared at himself, at the monster he had willingly become, and smiled. Monsters did not regret. Monsters survived. Let her mother protect her now, he thought, a sneer tugging at his lips. Let her husband shield
He rose to his feet, pacing across the study. The wooden floor creaked beneath his polished shoes, the storm’s light briefly illuminating his sharp features, silver hair swept back meticulously, his suit pressed to perfection, his face marked by the kind of fury that time could never soften. He was
Enoch leaned against the wall by the entrance, the faint scrape of his boots against the floor breaking the silence. His platinum-white hair caught the torchlight like a pale flame, and the black leather jacket he wore looked almost slick with shadow. His voice, when it came, was low but edged with







