The marble gates of Netheria's inner sanctum creaked open with a weighty solemnity as the stranger strode inside, flanked by silent royal guards whose armor clinked softly—not from burden, but from an unspoken dread that gripped their hearts. They dared not meet his gaze; something in his presence seemed to unravel their resolve before a word was even spoken.
At the end of the vast corridor stood Princess Ophelia, a vision of cold regality. Her sapphire gown flowed like liquid night, her platinum hair spilling over her shoulders like woven moonlight. Her eyes, sharp and guarded, narrowed as she watched the man approach. Her fingers twitched near the hilt of the ceremonial dagger concealed beneath her sleeve, a silent warning to anyone who dared threaten the sanctity of her realm.
The man moved with slow, deliberate confidence, his polished boots clicking rhythmically on the obsidian tiles. His coat, long and high-collared, billowed like a cloak of living shadow. Silver trim curled in flame-like patterns along the shoulders, and golden embroidery shimmered with an almost unnatural light. Beneath the coat, a deep red silk vest hugged his frame, tucked neatly into fitted black trousers. A black sash, bearing a jagged insignia that glowed faintly with an eerie energy, circled his waist — no kingdom claimed it.
And those eyes. Crimson, otherworldly, piercing like twin daggers through the very soul.
"State your name," Ophelia commanded from atop the grand stairway that led to the council chamber, her voice cold but unwavering.
The stranger bowed his head slightly, hand pressed over his heart. "My name… is Caelus."
Ophelia's brow furrowed, suspicion tightening her gaze. "The royal guard said you bore a message for the throne. But you are no envoy. No noble. No ambassador."
"No," Caelus replied smoothly, voice low and rich like velvet soaked in smoke. "I am something far more valuable."
He ascended the steps with an audacity that sent a ripple of tension through the guards—yet none dared stop him. Their feet felt rooted by unseen chains.
Ophelia stood firm, jaw clenched tight.
"I was once a soldier of this land," Caelus said, his voice softening with a distant weight. "One of the strongest. A warrior who bled for this kingdom. A survivor of the great betrayal that consumed your father's castle in snow and shadow."
The mention made her pause, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.
"What is your purpose?" she asked, voice now quieter, curious despite herself.
"To restore Netheria," he said simply, now face-to-face with her. "To raise it from ashes, unified, eternal, divine."
He leaned in just slightly, the faint scent of smoke and iron curling around him. "And to take my rightful place… at your side."
The princess blinked, startled by the intimate tone.
Before she could reply, the heavy sound of footsteps thundered through the chamber. The gilded doors swung wide, revealing King Varron, silver-bearded and broad-shouldered, his majestic robe trailing behind him like a banner of authority. Queen Maerena followed, her presence sharp and imperious, eyes as cold and clear as frozen rivers.
"Who dares speak of the throne so freely?" the king's voice boomed.
Caelus turned to face them, bowing only slightly. "Your Majesty. I am Caelus. Former guardian of the Eastern Front. Survivor of the great betrayal. And now… your kingdom's last hope."
Varron's eyes narrowed sharply. "Caelus… was presumed dead."
"I was," Caelus acknowledged without bitterness. "But death… did not hold me."
He stepped forward, voice gaining steel. "This land is crumbling. Your armies falter. Your heirs are either missing or weak. Your enemies—the heirs of Thanatos—grow stronger by the day."
His gaze swept the room, locking onto Varron's. "I am the answer. Strength. Immortality. Dominion. Let me wed your daughter, and I will raise Netheria from its ruin."
"You dare speak of marriage with such arrogance?" the queen's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You are no prince. No noble. You reek of rebellion."
Caelus smiled—a smile warm, magnetic… and yet terrifying.
"Do you not wish to see your kingdom endure?"
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
Ophelia's eyes flickered with something unspoken. There was something hauntingly familiar in Caelus's presence—like a face glimpsed in a distant dream or memories not quite her own. His charisma stirred a strange warmth within her, and yet it sent a chill racing down her spine.
"Your confidence," she said carefully, "is bold. But if you seek a throne, you must earn it with more than words."
Caelus inclined his head, acknowledging the challenge. "Of course. I offer a demonstration."
With a flick of his wrist, his hand extended toward a marble pillar engraved with the kingdom's crest.
Without a sound, without flame or force, the pillar simply ceased to exist. Erased from reality as if it had never been.
Gasps echoed through the chamber. The king staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief. The queen raised her staff defensively.
"I wield technology and power from beyond your stars," Caelus said quietly. "A heart that can endure a nuclear sun. A skeleton forged of alien metal. A mind bearing the sum knowledge of all Thanatos scrolls. I am war and peace. I am the storm your enemies fear."
"And you want our daughter?" the king asked cautiously.
Caelus's crimson eyes met Ophelia's once more. "I want unity. Strength. And I want… her by my side. Willingly."
Ophelia's breath caught. Part of her was drawn to the stranger, a part she could not deny. Yet another part screamed to run.
Queen Maerena stepped forward. "You may remain a guest in the palace—for now. But know this: you will be watched. Speak treason again, and you will answer for it."
"I understand," Caelus said with that same disarming smile, bowing once more.
Turning to leave, his coat billowed behind him like a royal cape. Pausing at the door, he glanced back.
"I will make Netheria eternal. With or without your blessing."
Then, shadows clung to him like reluctant whispers as he vanished through the chamber doors.
---
That night, Princess Ophelia sat alone in her chambers, gazing out across the moonlit courtyard.
Below, standing under the pale light, was Caelus.
His crimson eyes lifted to meet hers, a slow smile curving his lips—the smile of a king.