Standing before the empress, none of them had a clue what to expect. They still didn't understand why they'd been captured in the first place—let alone shackled like prisoners. Without warning, one of the guards delivered a firm kick to Chiaki's back, shoving her forward.
"H-Hey!" she yelped, stumbling but managing to stay on her feet. Gritting her teeth, she quickly quieted down and turned her attention to the regal figure ahead.
"You're Chiaki. Of the Yasuda lineage, yes?" the empress asked, voice smooth but laced with scrutiny. "Then you must be familiar with the act of aligning your soul to another. You call it... Soul Resonance, don't you?"
Chiaki blinked, confused but composed. "We call it a Soul Link now. Soul Resonance is the old term. But what does that have to do with any of this? Why were we brought here?" she asked, tension coiled in her stance, unease flickering in her eyes.
"Soul Link or Soul Resonance… it matters little," the empress said, her voice as smooth and commanding as fire dancing on silk. "These techniques are rare—extremely rare. Only those like you, the so-called Links, can perform such a union of souls. It is a power long lost to most of the world, preserved only in legends, forgotten rituals, and your kind."
She rose from her throne with practiced elegance, her fan unfurling like the wings of a golden bird. The light from the torches shimmered off her gown, the reds and golds of her attire flickering like a living flame. Her presence filled the room—regal, powerful, terrifying in how poised she remained.
"Soul Resonance was once considered divine. In the ancient times, it allowed warriors to unlock godlike potential. Their minds and hearts, fused in harmony, allowed them to wield immense strength, cross impossible distances, and even see into the truths of the world. A perfected Soul Resonance—when achieved between two fully compatible individuals—could amplify one's abilities beyond natural limits. In some cases, it was said to tear through the veil of mortality itself."
She descended the steps of her throne, not in haste but in a manner that made each movement deliberate. Her sharp gaze never left Chiaki.
"But… that power faded. Wars consumed those who carried the spark. Bloodlines thinned. And now… very, very few exist who still hold that potential. You, Chiaki Yasuda, are one of them."
The empress stopped only a few steps away from her, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Which brings me to our… proposal."
Chiaki could feel the tension build like a knot in her chest.
"You will be offered the highest honor within our empire," the empress said, voice echoing through the chamber. "We wish for you to become a bride. A sacred vessel. A mother to future generations of Soul Resonators. Your children would inherit the rare spark, and under our care, our teaching, our bloodlines would flourish once more. A dynasty of Resonators… born from you."
She turned, fanning herself gently as though she had just spoken of arranging a festival, not declaring someone's fate.
"You need not answer immediately. But do consider it. What we ask of you is no small thing… but neither is the gift we offer in return: status, safety, purpose. Your power would shape an age."
Chiaki stood silent, stunned. A bride? A vessel? Her hands curled into fists as the weight of the empress's words settled over her like a shroud.
Chiaki's eyes widened, trembling with disbelief, her voice catching in her throat as her mind reeled from the Empress's demand. "I—excuse me? A bride?" she sputtered, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You've got to be kidding. I'm not about to get married just because some royal decree says so!" Her voice rose, fierce and raw. "I'd rather live a life I choose than be handed one like it's a dress I never asked to wear!"
Before the tension could hang too long in the air, Razor burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, springing forward and pointing a wild finger right at Chiaki. "That's 'cause Chiaki's in loooove with Temoshí, wa-hahahaha!" she howled, her grin stretching ear to ear like a mischief-loving banshee. "She's already got her soul buddy, why trade him in for some stuck-up royal heir?"
Chiaki's cheeks flushed in pure exasperation. "That's not what I meant! That's nowhere close to what I meant!" she shouted, face contorting in a mix of frustration and flustered denial as she threw Razor a death glare.
Temoshí, meanwhile, blinked, looking more confused than anything. "…Wait, you are?"
"No!" Chiaki and Razor shouted at once—one furious, the other amused.
Yet despite the entire verbal circus unraveling in front of her, the Empress remained perfectly still. Unmoved. Unbothered. Not even the hint of a smirk twitched at her lips. She was the eye of the storm—unshaken by chaos.
"It doesn't matter," she said coolly, turning her attention back to Chiaki with an indifferent gaze that sliced sharper than any sword. "Whether your heart belongs to another is of no concern to me. You are a Soul Resonator. And that alone makes you valuable."
She stepped forward again, her voice like velvet over steel. "Do not pretend you're ignorant of your gift. You've begun to feel it already, haven't you? Visions… echoes… remnants of a time and place that don't belong to you. Memories from a world you've never seen, people you've never met." She tilted her head, eyeing Chiaki like a puzzle only she could solve. "That's what sets Soul Resonators apart. The ability to peer beyond the veil. To connect through blood and memory. The past breathes in your veins."
Chiaki froze. The Empress's words slithered into her mind like smoke. Those visions—vivid, strange, haunting. A war. A woman. A shadow that tore at souls. She had felt them, but never understood.
"You were born with this spark. But if left unbound, uncontrolled, it will either consume you or fade. That's why we offer structure. A purpose. Through our guidance, the power you possess can flourish. You could shape generations. Carve legacy into the very bones of the future."
There was a pause. A beat of silence thick with expectation.
"…Or," the Empress added, her voice softer now, yet no less cold, "you could throw it away. But understand, Chiaki Yasuda, some things—some gifts—don't get to be wasted."
And with that, the Empress turned away, her mantle sweeping behind her like trailing fire. The air in the chamber grew heavier, as if the very walls waited for Chiaki's next breath.
"I already said—no. Absolutely not," Chiaki snapped, her voice echoing across the vast chamber with a sharp defiance. "There is no way I'm marrying someone I don't even know. I haven't even thought about marriage yet! I'm not even twenty! Forcing me into something like this would be nothing short of… of destroying everything I've ever hoped for in my life!"
Her chest rose and fell with every breath, and though her hands were still bound, her spine stood tall with conviction. Her eyes locked on the Empress's, unwavering.
Behind her, Temoshí remained silent, the weight of the moment falling heavy on his shoulders. He didn't speak, didn't move. Just watched. Observing Chiaki's boldness as she stood her ground with fire in her heart, and a war in her words.
The Empress, however, didn't seem fazed. If anything, she looked... mildly inconvenienced, as if Chiaki's passion were a wrinkle in an otherwise perfect plan. Then, with a small flick of her fan, she finally spoke again—voice low, cold, and resolute.
"Then perhaps… persuasion must take a different shape."
She took a step forward, the golden light of her throne casting long shadows across the marble.
"If you will not comply willingly, Chiaki Yasuda, then perhaps your friends can inspire your cooperation."
There was no warmth in her tone—only a calculated chill.
"We can begin with the quiet one," she gestured lazily to Temoshí. "He seems... fond of you."
Chiaki's head snapped toward him, her pulse quickening.
"Or the girl with the mouth," the Empress went on, eyes narrowing as they flicked to Razor, who was currently gnawing on her chains just to see if they tasted metallic enough. "She's unstable. Easy to manipulate. Or to silence."
Razor paused, looking up with wide eyes. "Wait, are you threatening me? Oh-ho-ho! You better be careful, lady. I bite."
But the Empress barely acknowledged her. She had locked eyes with Chiaki again.
"Marriage is not a mere ceremony here," she continued, slowly pacing in front of them like a serpent weaving between prey. "It is the continuation of a legacy. The survival of a dying lineage. You are the last female of your kind, Chiaki. A Link who can bear Soul Resonators. That is no small thing. And in this land, our future depends on that gift being passed down."
Her fan snapped shut, the sound sharp as a blade.
"You may believe this is about your freedom. Your choice. But it is about the lives of thousands yet unborn. An entire generation that will never exist unless you fulfill your role. You carry more than just your name. You carry an era. You are a vessel for continuity… and we are running out of time."
She stopped walking, her heels clicking one final time on the stone floor. "So choose your path carefully. Because whether through will or through pressure… the ceremony will commence."
The silence that followed was suffocating, draped in power and dread.
"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?!" Fioren suddenly snapped, stepping forward with a fierce glare. Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. "You're standing there, dressed like a deity dipped in gold and silk, but the crap coming out of your mouth? That's not leadership—that's lunacy!"
The Empress turned her gaze toward Fioren, unamused, but said nothing just yet.
"You're telling her to just roll over, accept a life she never asked for, marry some stranger, pop out children like it's a royal factory, and call it duty? That's not tradition, that's slavery! You want her to be a symbol for your dying kingdom, but you're treating her like livestock!"
Fioren's fists clenched at her sides. Her eyes flicked to Chiaki—then to Razor, who looked like she was chewing on imaginary popcorn as the argument escalated.
"You can dress this up however you want. Say it's legacy. Say it's honor. Say it's survival. But we all know what it really is." She took a bold step forward. "You're scared. Your people are desperate. So you're looking for someone to chain down and call it salvation. That's not a queen's will. That's cowardice."
The Empress remained still for a moment, the fan in her gloved hand unmoving. Her lips, painted in royal red, parted only slightly as she spoke, her tone calm but laced with quiet fury.
"Bold words... from a guest in chains."
Fioren didn't back down. "Then break 'em. Let's talk like equals. Or is that too much for a so-called sovereign?"
The Empress descended her throne with grace, each step echoing through the silent hall as she approached Chiaki. Her voice was steady, but the weight behind it was impossible to ignore.
"You mistake this for romance. For choice. It is neither. This is duty." Her gaze pierced through Chiaki like fire under ice. "Our people are fading. The bloodlines of those who can channel Soul Resonance have thinned to near extinction. You are the only remaining female of your kind—the last Link capable of continuing that lineage."
Chiaki took a cautious step back, eyes narrowing. "So what? You want me to just marry someone I don't know and raise kids for your benefit?"
The Empress's expression didn't shift. "Yes," she said, without hesitation. "You will wed, and you will bear children—children who will inherit your gift. Through you, the future of Soul Resonators will be secured."
The silence that followed was deafening.
"This isn't about love, or desire," she continued. "It's about survival. A generation born of your power could restore what has been lost. You are the foundation for an entire revival… whether you accept that or not."
The sudden disruption in the chamber came from a sharp click of boots, as a female soldier stepped forward. She stood at attention, quickly bowing to the Empress but with an urgency in her voice that couldn't be ignored.
"Your Majesty," she spoke up, her tone firm yet respectful, "apologies for the interruption, but there has been a sudden disturbance in the southern quarter. The containment wards are beginning to fail. We cannot risk a breach, especially with the Resonator's presence. It's imperative that we move her—now."
The Empress raised an eyebrow. "A breach? In the wards?"
The soldier nodded, her expression serious. "Yes, Empress. The spiritual energy surges are causing instability. We can't afford to allow it to spread, not with such power so close to the sacred artifacts. The wards must be reinforced before it's too late."
Chiaki's eyes widened in confusion. "Wait, you're saying this is my fault?"
"I'm afraid it is, Resonator," the soldier replied without hesitation. "The resonance you carry is... affecting the sacred seals. We must relocate you for safety."
Fioren shot a glare at the Empress, voice rising with irritation. "This is your excuse to move us around? You can't even be honest about your intentions."
But the Empress gave a small, cold smile. "It's not about honesty. It's about necessity."
"Right. Well, we're going whether you like it or not," the soldier added, signaling to the others.
As the soldiers moved to restrain the group, Razor jumped in, her usual chaotic energy taking over. "Oooh, look at that! You guys can't even keep your own house in order. Want me to clean it up for ya? I could break some stuff while we're at it, wa-hahaha!"
Temoshí sighed, muttering, "Let's just get out of here before she gets us all into trouble."
With that, the group was ushered out of the throne room, Chiaki's mind spinning from the strange turn of events, while Razor continued to crack her wild jokes in the background.
To be continued...