Volnir Adrin died at the age of seventy-two. A heart attack took him quietly in his chambers, alone and unseen — a pitiful end for so honorable a warrior. His servants found him hours later, cold and still, with the weight of his reign hanging in the silence of the room. On the eighteenth of November, 15159, the Emperor Volnir Adrin passed away, and the throne of one of the most powerful nations in the universe passed to his son, Johan Adrin, who rules the Terrian Empire to this day.
Under Johan, the Empire did not falter. It thrived. Its banners stretched further than ever before. It flourished beyond its founders' wildest dreams, with expansion following every decree and conquest trailing behind every campaign. The keys to that dominance were the Emperor's brilliant generals, his unmatched command of war, and the ultimate symbol of Terrian might — the God Orbitons, weapons so powerful that their presence alone commanded fear across the stars.
Back in the present, an urgent session of the Consul had been called, and the summons reached the Kaelthorn estate quickly. As head of her house, Leonora was required to attend, and the timing could not have been worse. She had been preparing to leave in search of Youri, the husband everyone had believed dead, and now her mission had to be postponed yet again. The message infuriated her. She had been waiting for days, restless and burning to go, but the duties of her rank had chained her to the estate. With Youri officially declared dead years ago, every burden of leadership had fallen back on her shoulders.
When Roland came home that evening, he found her sitting alone on the porch with frustration written all over her face. He lowered himself onto the step beside her with a sigh. "What's wrong, sister?"
She let out a heavy breath, and her silver hair caught the warm light of the dusk. "There's an urgent Consul meeting tomorrow, and I'm required to attend. Which means I can't leave for at least another two days."
Roland leaned back and looked out at the horizon. "Don't worry. I don't think he's going anywhere any time soon. We'll find him, no matter what."
His words were not the comfort she had hoped for, but he was right. The Tartarusios was stranded on Antia, busy with repairs, and for the first time in five years, as vast as the universe was, she felt that he was within reach.
The next day, the Consul assembled beneath the great dome of Terria's Imperial Hall. Every noble of importance was there — Wistoria, Mikhail, Antonio, and the other lords of the Imperial bloodlines. Their faces were grim, the air tight with uncertainty, as they waited in silence for the Prime Minister. Minutes passed before the massive doors opened and Prime Minister Alan walked in. Beside him came the Emperor himself, Johan Adrin, tall and broad-shouldered, with silver streaking his black hair, moving with the calm confidence of a man who had carried the weight of an empire for decades. The golden crown on his brow caught the light of the chandeliers. His deep brown eyes seemed to pierce every man and woman in the room. The whole hall rose and bowed as one. When Johan lifted a hand, silence followed. He took his place on the ornate throne at the center of the hall, and once the ceremonial greetings were over, Alan began to speak, calmly but with the strain of grave news in his voice.
"Greetings, everyone. You have been gathered here at His Majesty's request to discuss a matter of the utmost importance, one that cannot wait. Most of you will remember our last session, when we discussed the Zellion incident and the death of Marquis Miller. What I am about to reveal concerns those same events." Murmurs rippled around the hall, and his next words cut through them like a blade. "The group responsible for both is a single outlaw faction that calls itself the Tartarusios, after its ship. For two years they have raided our sectors, defied our patrols and shattered our fleets. Our forces have failed to match them — not because of numbers, but because of their weaponry." His tone darkened. "What I am about to say will not be easy to hear. One of the God Orbitons — the very weapons that protect this Empire — has turned against us. And the pilot of that machine is none other than the late Duke Youri Kaelthorn."
Gasps filled the hall. Leonora shot to her feet with her hands gripping the railing in front of her. "What are you saying, Minister?"
Alan met her gaze coolly. "Compose yourself, Duchess. This is no place for outbursts."
She glared at him with fury burning in her eyes, but she sat down again, silent and shaking.
"It appears," Alan continued, "that the late Duke Youri Kaelthorn was never dead at all. He has been operating from the shadows for some time, attacking our borders."
Whispers swept through the Consul, disdainful and venomous. "To think we gave that peasant a noble title…" "The audacity of it."
"Order, please!" Alan called. "His Majesty wishes to speak."
The chamber fell silent at once. Every eye turned to the Emperor, who gripped the gilded arms of his throne with an expression carved from stone, and slowly rose. His voice was deep and resonant. "As you all know, this Empire has thrived on one principle: no defeat goes unpunished, and no triumph unrewarded." His gaze swept the hall. "So tell me, my lords — why has this triumph gone unrewarded? Are these outlaws truly so powerful that they can stand against the Terrian Empire? Or have you simply grown too afraid to face a band of peasants?" The silence that followed was suffocating. "I was forced to put a bounty on their heads, and still none of you has claimed it. Does Altopereh frighten you so much?"
Mikhail rose from the benches and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, forgive our failures. But in our defense, we were ordered to engage only when a God Unit was present."
Johan's gaze hardened. "Did Norda have a God Unit when he faced them?"
Mikhail hesitated. "No, Your Majesty."
"Then tell me — was Norda a fool? Or did he simply have more courage than the rest of you?" He stepped forward, and though his voice dropped, every word was as sharp as steel. "This Empire was forged in blood — in the defeat of our enemies and the courage of those who dared to rise. My father and I stood without fear against countless odds, and we prevailed. Everything you enjoy today was bought with that sacrifice. So I ask you — not as your Emperor, but as a fellow warrior — destroy them. Eradicate the Tartarusios."
His words echoed through the hall like a war drum. For a moment the silence lingered, and then, one by one, the nobles began to rise, until their voices merged into a single cry that filled the chamber. "Hail the mighty Johan Adrin!" The chant rolled on and on, fervent and unrelenting.
And in the middle of all that roaring devotion, Leonora sat perfectly still with her eyes fixed on nothing. The Emperor's decree had changed everything. Bringing Youri home alive was no longer something anyone would allow, and for the first time, the distance between them felt as vast as the space between the stars.