Chapter 307 – The Empire Shudders

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, bleeding crimson and gold across a sky that bore no warmth.

In Solmar, the beating heart of the empire, the color of sunrise no longer symbolized beauty—it heralded death.

The grand bells tolled like funeral dirges, their mournful clang echoing through streets still slick with dew and fear. Soldiers stormed through the avenues, their armor clanking with urgency, their faces etched with disbelief. Horses snorted, carriages overturned, and cries of confusion spread as if the very city was waking from a nightmare only to find it was real.

And it was.

The Archons were dead.

The divine shield of the Empire, protectors said to be born of the heavens themselves—gone in a single night.

Whispers filled the air like smoke:

"Kael killed them."

"Even Eryndor…"

"The Emperor has no gods left."

"What happens to us now?"

Within the great plazas and noble estates, servants wept in confusion. Market stalls remained shuttered. Priests gathered in their sanctuaries, their prayers hollow and trembling. The stained-glass windows of the Holy Church reflected only chaos now, fractured colors spilling onto marble floors.

By midmorning, the capital had descended into something it had not known for centuries—raw, unfiltered fear.

Inside the Imperial Palace, the throne room had become a tomb.

Emperor Castiel paced before his dais like a panther sensing its cage. His hair was unkempt, his golden robes clung to his sweat-slicked skin, and his once-commanding voice had been reduced to muttered fragments of disbelief.

"How…? How did he breach the inner sanctum…?"

No answer came. Only the hollow echo of his boots across stone, and the trembling gazes of his guards lining the room. These were elite warriors, men sworn to die for their Emperor.

And yet, even they had seen the truth.

They had seen gods fall.

The Archons—immortal, invincible—had been slaughtered like cattle.

A sharp knock broke the tension.

Castiel froze, hand twitching near the hilt of his ceremonial blade. "Enter," he commanded, his voice sharp but hoarse.

The doors creaked open. A figure entered, cloaked in crimson robes edged with gold.

Cardinal Veymar.

His presence was like a blade—sharp, purposeful, and utterly without compassion.

"Majesty," Veymar began, his tone clipped, "we must respond immediately. The city is teetering. The nobles are in disarray. The people speak Kael's name more than yours."

Castiel scoffed, striding toward the high windows that overlooked the burning horizon.

"I am the Emperor. My name is law."

Veymar stepped closer. "Not anymore. Last night broke something sacred. The Archons were more than warriors—they were symbols. Their deaths mean the gods no longer protect us."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Faith has a price. If we do not pay it now, Kael will take everything."

The silence between them stretched. Then, quietly, Castiel asked:

"And what would you have me do?"

Veymar's eyes gleamed with something ancient and dangerous.

"We break the seals," he said. "We call upon the Sentinels."

Castiel stiffened. "The Divine Sentinels? Those things were locked away for a reason."

"They were locked away because we feared what they might cost. But we no longer have that luxury."

The Emperor turned, eyes dark. "You would unleash creatures from the Age of Ascension?"

Veymar didn't blink. "They're the only force left that could challenge Kael."

Silence fell again.

Castiel stared at the crimson horizon, jaw clenched.

"Do it."

Across the city, on the tallest spire of his estate, Kael watched as Solmar unravelled.

The city burned with chaos—but not from fire. No, it burned from within. Panic, doubt, fear. Like a perfect storm set in motion with one blade through Eryndor's chest.

Selene stood beside him, a flask in hand, her leathers stained with dried blood and ash. Her eyes followed the movements of soldiers below like a hawk watching prey.

"They're scattering," she noted. "Half the nobles have already barricaded themselves. The other half are sending messengers to the Church for guidance."

Kael's golden eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

"Perfect," he said softly. "Let them look to false gods. When those fail, they'll look to me."

Selene smirked. "And if they don't?"

Kael finally looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"Then they'll die."

That evening, the great cathedral of Solmar became the epicenter of something ancient—something not meant to return.

The Holy Priests assembled in the lower sanctum, a chamber older than the Empire itself. Arcane symbols glowed faintly on the obsidian floor, pulsing with forbidden energy.

Cardinal Veymar stood in the center of the circle, arms raised. His voice echoed in tongues lost to time, summoning powers once banished beyond mortal reach.

One by one, the priests joined in.

Chanting.

Bleeding.

Offering pieces of their own soul into the ritual.

The torches dimmed.

The stained glass wept tears of crimson.

The cathedral itself groaned, as if something massive stirred beneath it.

And then.

A crack.

Not of glass.

Not of stone.

But of reality.

A rent opened in the air, jagged and seething. Light spilled out—not holy light, but something raw, divine and monstrous.

From that wound stepped six figures.

Tall. Armored. Burning with celestial fire.

Their faces bore no features—only light. Their hands held no weapons—only judgment.

They were the Divine Sentinels. Constructs forged from heavenly wrath and sealed away after the War of Falling Stars.

Now they had returned.

To hunt Kael.

Veymar collapsed to his knees, eyes wide with reverence and horror.

"The gods have answered."

Kael felt it the moment the first Sentinel crossed into the realm.

He staggered, just slightly.

The air around him thickened, as if existence itself recoiled.

Selene noticed.

"What is it?"

Kael stared into the sky, pupils narrowing.

"They made their move," he said quietly.

He reached into the inner folds of his coat and retrieved a small obsidian crystal. It pulsed softly in his palm.

"The Sentinels," he muttered. "Of course."

Selene's smirk faded. "You expected this?"

"I planned for it," Kael said.

"But that doesn't mean I like it."

In the lower catacombs beneath Kael's estate, the War Council convened.

Illaria, the fallen Seer, stood beside Alric the Blackfang, and two shadow-cloaked figures—former nobles turned loyalists. Maps littered the table, marked with symbols of invasion and divine locations.

Kael entered without fanfare.

"They've summoned the Sentinels," he announced.

Illaria's eyes widened. "That's… madness. Even the gods feared them."

Kael didn't blink. "And that's why I must kill one."

Alric stepped forward. "You have a plan?"

Kael's gaze turned cold.

"I always have a plan."

Far away, in a temple forgotten by time, Lilith stirred.

The Queen of the Abyss. Kael's mother.

She had felt the Summoning as well.

And she was smiling.

"They think their divine beasts can stop him?" she whispered, her voice like velvet draped over knives.

Fangs bared, she rose from her throne of bone.

"Let the world tremble. My son is ready."

As midnight neared, the city of Solmar held its breath.

The Sentinels descended from the cathedral with wings of radiant flame. Citizens fell to their knees in awe and terror.

Above it all, Kael stood upon his balcony, staring down at the so-called divine.

"They send angels," he murmured.

Selene joined him, her dagger glinting.

"What now?"

Kael's voice was calm. Inevitable.

"Now," he said, "we teach the gods why they were forgotten."

And behind him, in the darkened halls of his estate, a new circle began to glow.

One not of the Church.

But of something far older.

The Abyss was stirring.

To Be Continued…