The Final Day of Sovereign’s Repose

The morning sun painted the sky in delicate hues of gold and pink as the final day of the Sovereign's Repose dawned over the empire's edge. The vast field of flowers, normally serene and undisturbed, bore witness to an event that should have been impossible—a temporary truce between two of the most powerful, warring houses.

Meanwhile, far from the camp, the echoes of political intrigue stirred the capital. The news of an abandoned orphanage, a mysterious child, and the strange cooperation of House Avarnel and House Crimsonvale had reached the highest circles. Concerned by the implications, two key figures had been dispatched with urgency—Ilyra Vesryn, the esteemed Chief Archivist and royal scholar of House Crimsonvale, and Magnus Raithe, the trusted advisor to House Avarnel.

Two days prior, the pair had set forth from the capital, their journey swift and unrelenting, driven by the weight of their respective house's expectations. And now, as their carriage came to a halt at the border of the contested lands, they stepped out to a sight they could not have anticipated.

The sprawling field of wildflowers stretched endlessly before them, the breeze rustling the petals as if whispering forgotten secrets. But what caught their immediate attention was not the picturesque scenery—but the gut-wrenching sight at the heart of the encampment.

Both houses—Avarnel and Crimsonvale—were sharing a meal at the same table.

Silence reigned.

Magnus adjusted his cuffs, his sharp gaze scanning the scene with poorly veiled disbelief. "Ilyra, tell me I'm hallucinating. Because I swear on my house's name, I see both Avarnels and Crimsonvales consuming food in the same proximity... and not actively murdering each other."

Ilyra, an unreadable expression on her face, pushed up the spectacles perched on her nose. Her cool, calculating gaze swept over the group before them. "Your eyesight is impeccable, Magnus. What we are witnessing... defies all logic."

Magnus exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his dark hair. "What kind of sorcery is this? Did they poison each other?"

The tension in the air was thick enough to slice with a blade. The soldiers of both houses sat stiff-backed, their expressions ranging from visible discomfort to outright horror, as if acknowledging the presence of their sworn enemies for too long would bring about divine wrath. The only one seemingly at ease was the small, silver-haired child seated between Caelum Avarnel and Seraphina Crimsonvale, humming contentedly as she nibbled on a piece of bread.

Lyra.

Ilyra narrowed her eyes at the girl, sensing something inexplicably off about the child. There was an aura about her—something ancient, something other. But before she could process the unsettling realization, a sudden, loud scrape of a chair against the ground broke the silence.

Caelum stood abruptly, his expression dark, his jaw clenched as if holding back a thousand unspoken words. A heartbeat later, Seraphina followed, her movements eerily synchronized with his, as if bound by an invisible tether neither of them had acknowledged.

Magnus folded his arms, smirking at the absurdity before him. "Ah. There it is. The universe is right again."

Caelum shot him a glare sharp enough to sever heads. "Raithe. You took your time."

Seraphina's voice was equally clipped as she turned her gaze to Ilyra. "And you, Vesryn. I assume the capital sent you both for more than just idle observation."

Ilyra's lips twitched in what could barely be called a smile. "Indeed. There is much to discuss."

Lyra, oblivious to the tensions unraveling around her, simply giggled. "Oh! More people to eat with us!"

Every knight in the vicinity visibly stiffened.

Magnus exhaled. "Ilyra, remind me to have a drink after this."

Ilyra adjusted her glasses, unimpressed. "Magnus, remind me never to come here again."

The final day of the Sovereign's Repose had begun, and with it, the fragile balance that had miraculously been maintained was now teetering on the edge of collapse.