Sol Palace, Heartfire Plateau
Apollo, Sol star system
Regulus galaxy
Pleiades star sector
16th Krios cycle, Solaris prime
The corridor that led to the Sun Throne was silent, save for the faint hum of radiant conduits pulsing beneath the obsidian-tiled floor. Leon walked alone, his steps measured and unhurried, the soles of his boots brushing against sun-carved sigils etched into the path—ancestral scripts of the Haravok bloodline, humming softly with his presence.
The air was warm with residual solar energy, the kind that gently radiated from the core of the palace itself. Tall pillars of translucent sunstone flanked either side of the corridor, glowing with internal luminescence that reacted to his proximity, casting elongated shadows behind him. Here, in the upper sanctum of the Sol Palace, the architecture was both functional and ceremonial—designed not merely to house the ruling line of Apollo, but to affirm its supremacy with every step taken.
Ahead, the arched gateway to the Sun Throne Hall loomed—massive, circular, and forged from starlaced obsidian alloy, veined with molten gold that traced a solar sigil across the entire surface. As Leon approached, the gate recognized his bio-signature. Without a sound, the structure separated down the middle, each half folding away in a spiral motion, like petals withdrawing from a bloom.
Inside, the Sun Throne Hall revealed itself—a circular chamber the size of a starport dome, ringed by solar pylons that channeled energy from the Solar Core Crystal above. Beams of concentrated sunlight streamed down through the lattice of the high ceiling, striking designated plates in the floor to provide heat, light, and mana-saturation throughout the hall. Everything in the room existed in harmonic balance with the Red Sun above. It wasn't just a throne room.
It was a living solar circuit.
At the heart of the chamber, raised on a stepped platform of polished volcanic glass and solarstone, stood the Sun Throne itself. It was less a chair and more a structure—a seat of power grown from a fusion of archaic solar forge design and divine reinforcement. Its back stretched high into the air like a solar flare, curving into a crown-like arc adorned with ancient runes. The base of the throne pulsed with light, a reservoir of radiant mana channeled directly from the planetary leyline beneath the palace.
As Leon stepped onto the dais, the throne activated in response. Runes ignited, slowly spreading out from its base in concentric circles, interfacing with his presence. The chamber brightened slightly, the sunlight shifting in color to match his internal energy signature—deep gold with hints of crimson at the edge. He paused before sitting, turning instead to look at the guests standing a respectful distance away near the edge of the hall.
Leon said nothing at first. He simply observed.
Each of the guest were tall—cloaked in a robe woven with Earthbound fibers and plated with adaptive armor. A traveler's uniform, shaped by practicality more than formality. From this distance, Leon could see traces of Terran technology embedded in the figure's vambraces and cloak nodes, subtle but refined. A visitor from Terra, standing at the threshold of the solar bloodline's inner sanctum. Eleanor stood at the guest's side, silent but vigilant. Her eyes flicked briefly to Leon, offering the faintest nod. The guest was unarmed—physically, at least. Leon studied them for a long moment before descending a step from the dais.
"Welcome," Leon said, his voice steady and resonant, echoing faintly through the radiant chamber. "You've come a long way to stand before the Sun Throne."
He didn't ask who they were—not yet.
Because he already knew.
His gaze settled on the robed figure, noting the cut of the cloak, the Terran fibertech lining, and the slight tilt of the head that always gave her away. His expression remained unreadable.
"How goes Terra, Vuelo?"
A soft giggle broke the air—light, melodic, and far too controlled to be spontaneous.
The figure reached up with delicate, gloved fingers and pulled back her hood.
Vuelo Vysileaf stood revealed—her pale complexion almost porcelain beneath the filtered solar light of the throne chamber. Her long silver hair spilled over her shoulders like woven moonlight, catching the golden hues around them in soft reflections. But what stood out, as always, were her eyes: one crimson, one silver—an omen's gaze, beautiful and unsettling.
Leon studied her closely, remembering the last time they had met. She had been a Seer-for-hire then, selling cryptic visions and fractured truths, her allegiance unknown. At the time, he hadn't realized she was part of something larger—a shadow node in his mother's far-reaching web.
"Terra," Vuelo said, bowing low in fluid, almost ceremonial grace, "is undergoing significant changes, Your Highness. Changes that I know will be of great interest to you."
There was a glint in her dual-colored eyes—a shimmer of intent she made no effort to hide. It wasn't malicious… but it wasn't innocent either. It was that same quiet calculation he had seen a thousand times before in another set of eyes.
His mother's.
Leon's gaze shifted past her, narrowing slightly as he noted the second figure still cloaked, still silent.
"You don't have to hide yourself, Cousin," he said, his tone neutral but laced with subtle challenge.
At his words, the second figure hesitated, then reached up to lower her hood.
Aria Delphi.
Her features emerged beneath the cloth—light brown skin, smooth and unblemished, framed by soft yellow hair pulled back in tight braids. Her blue eyes, clear and alert, glinted with restrained tension. Once, her eyes had mirrored Leon's own, back when he still bore the gaze of a mortal. That shared trait had always unsettled him in some small, unspoken way.
"Cousin," Aria said, nodding respectfully. Her tone was formal, but something in it resisted warmth.
Leon blinked, his expression unreadable. Of all the people he expected to see standing in his hall, Aria had not been one of them. They were blood, yes. But barely family. His memories of her were scattered—moments spent in training halls, brief interactions at political gatherings, visions seen in passing. What tied them more than anything was the fact that while his mother trained Aria personally, he had been left behind—sent off to distant martial sects, passed from one teacher to the next like a burden too heavy for any single person to carry.
Leon had never resented Aria for it. Not exactly. But it was hard not to feel the imbalance.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Leon admitted. "Last I heard, you were busy whispering to stars in the Dreaming Halls."
"For a time" Aria replied. "I'm here because Vuelo has showed me a future that requires my presence here."
Of course she did. Leon resisted the urge to scoff. He had little patience for seers, even less for those who believed foresight exempted them from consequence. Visions came and went, and too often, they served agendas disguised as prophecy. He turned his attention back to Vuelo.
"So tell me," he said, his tone sharpening slightly, "why have you dragged my cousin across systems to meet me now? What future are you trying to manipulate this time?"
Vuelo's smile deepened. She clasped her hands in front of her, her aura soft but steady.
"Not manipulate, Leon. Catalyze. Terra is awakening… and you're at the center of what comes next." Vuelo said.
"Have you heard from my mother," Leon said. He directed both question to Vuelo and Aria. Aria's face tightened, the expression on her face revealing something to Leon.
"I'm afraid I haven't spoken to Julia since the Metamorphosis of Terra," Vuelo said.
"What about you cousin," Leon asked. "Surely the Delphi clan knows where their head is,"
"Aunt Julia has not been seen within the Dreaming hall for decades," Aria said. "The last I saw of her she dropped me off in Terra to lead the clan,"
"I see," Leon said. His face was expressionless. There were so many things Leon wanred to