Morning arrived.
But the sun that rose over the empire did not bring warmth. Its light only revealed the scars of the night. The celebration that was meant to bring joy… had turned into a nightmare.
It was Princess Charlotte's birthday. The capital had been decorated in flowers, golden banners, and enchanted lights. Streets were filled with music. Laughter had echoed from every corner. Children danced. Families smiled. Nobles drank and laughed in the palace garden.
But now…
All of that was gone.
The once vibrant capital was silent. Smoke still rose from the distant corners of the city. Houses lay in ruin. Blood stained the stone roads. The festival stalls were crushed. The scent of ash clung to the air. Buildings had crumbled like sandcastles in a storm.
Civilians stood outside the remains of their homes. Some cried. Some stared at the broken wood and stone. Others clutched the bodies of loved ones who didn't survive.
They were angry.
Not just at the shadows. Not just at the demons.
They were angry at the Empire… at the heroes who had come too late.
"Where were they when my daughter was crying for help?"
"My son was just a child..."
"The palace had guards! We had none!"
Their voices rose. Grief turned to rage. But none of it mattered now.
They couldn't bring the dead back.
High above the city, the Headmaster stood silently, his robes torn and bloodied. He lifted his hand—and time began to flow in reverse. Stones reassembled. Broken homes stood again. Gardens bloomed once more. The wind shifted as time rewound.
But as he lowered his hand, his expression did not change.
He had restored the buildings.
But not the people.
The dead could not be brought back.
He stood in silence, watching the city below.
-------
Inside the royal palace, it was no different.
The grand hall where the birthday was held was now unrecognizable. The golden chandeliers lay shattered. The marble floor was cracked. The once bright paintings were scorched and torn. Wine mixed with blood on the ground.
The garden, once full of glowing lights and heavenly music, was trampled and burned. Trees lay fallen. The lake had dried. Lanterns hung from broken branches.
On the palace balcony, the Emperor sat.
He stared at the horizon with empty eyes.
He had lost his only son just a year ago… a decision he made with his own hands. And now, he had lost his wife too.
He was the Emperor.
But today, he was just a broken man.
His shoulders were heavy. His hands trembled. He didn't speak. He didn't blink.
Charlotte stood beside him. Her dress was torn, hair a mess. She had blood on it due to attack last night.
She placed a soft hand on her father's arm.
"Father…" she whispered. "Please stop blaming yourself. We both lost her. We both lost them. But they wouldn't want us to suffer forever."
The Emperor's lips trembled. He said nothing.
Tears slipped down his cheek.
"I killed them," he whispered. "With my own hands… I gave the order. I didn't believe her. I… was a fool."
Charlotte's own tears fell as she knelt beside him.
"Then let's carry this sin together."
--------
Most of the nobles had already left. They bowed their heads to the Emperor before stepping into carriages. Fear filled their eyes—not grief. Their own homes, their own cities… could be next.
Only a few remained.
Richard and Julia stayed, their faces grim. They had seen the shadow prince's power… and the one who ended it.
Alea stayed too. Her daughter was here. She would not leave.
Layla's parents wanted to remain, but they had duties back home. Still, they left with peace in their hearts. Their daughter was no longer a girl. She was a warrior now. A protector.
Inside the guest wing, the ones closest to Noah had gathered.
Scarlett sat on the bed. Her eyes were swollen from crying.
Layla stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the sky.
Olivia, Lyra, sat in the quiet room. All of them were silent.
They had seen Noah's final attack.
Celestial Void.
No one had ever seen power like that.
But the price was heavy.
Noah had collapsed, bloodied, unconscious, drained of everything. He hadn't opened his eyes since.
They all waited.
They all hoped.
Outside, the empire mourned.
Inside, heroes rested.
But in one quiet corner of the palace, in a sunlit room with soft blankets and a window that looked out over the ruins of the garden—
A certain someone was sleeping soundly.
The blankets had slipped off one leg. His silver hair glowed faintly in the light. A small trail of drool clung to his cheek.
Despite everything…
Noah Von Augustus slept like a child.
–To be continued..