Chapter 53: The Gathering Storm
The sun had barely risen over the Everhart estate when Leonhardt opened his eyes. His breath was steady, his mind sharp. The lingering cold of dawn seeped into his bones, but it did nothing to deter him. He had long grown accustomed to discomfort.
For years, he had been training relentlessly—morning, noon, and night. It was not for glory, not for power, not for the expectations that others placed upon him.
It was for her.
For Aetheria Nyx Lunaris Solis.
The only one who mattered.
She was still out there, still sealed, still waiting. And until he shattered the curse that bound her, nothing else held meaning.
He pushed aside the silk sheets and stood. The room was grand, decorated with tapestries of the Everhart lineage, but Leonhardt paid them no mind. He quickly dressed in his training attire—a fitted black tunic and durable trousers. His long, ashen-black hair fell past his shoulders, streaked with deep red where the sunlight touched it. His crimson eyes, flecked with gold, held a piercing glow in the dim morning light.
A soft knock echoed through the chamber.
"My lord, training has been prepared."
It was Ser Rowan, his escort and one of the strongest knights under his father's command.
Leonhardt didn't respond immediately. He tied the straps of his boots, adjusted the dagger at his side, and moved toward the door.
As he stepped into the hallway, the castle's stone corridors stretched endlessly before him. Massive windows overlooked the Everhart estate—a land that belonged to the strongest Grand Duke in the empire.
The world saw him as the heir to an unshakable legacy.
But Leonhardt didn't care for legacies.
His true destiny lay elsewhere.
A Father's Expectations
Aldric Everhart was already waiting in the private training hall.
The Grand Duke stood tall, his powerful frame exuding dominance. His crimson eyes, identical to Leonhardt's, assessed his son the moment he entered.
The moment Leonhardt stepped inside, the air grew heavier.
Aldric crossed his arms. "You're late."
Leonhardt met his father's gaze without hesitation. "By only a minute."
Aldric scoffed. "A minute can determine life and death on the battlefield."
He tossed a wooden sword to Leonhardt, who caught it effortlessly.
"Show me."
Leonhardt didn't hesitate.
With one step, he lunged—fast, precise, and ruthless.
The air cracked as his wooden sword struck toward his father.
But Aldric was faster.
The Grand Duke sidestepped at the last second, his own sword slamming downward with overwhelming force.
Leonhardt twisted his body, narrowly dodging the strike before countering with a sweeping attack toward Aldric's ribs.
Clash!
Their wooden swords met in a violent collision.
The impact sent shockwaves through the hall, the sheer force of the clash splitting the training floor beneath them.
For several long minutes, the only sound was the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of their blades meeting.
Then—Aldric's sword came crashing down.
Leonhardt braced himself but was sent skidding backward from the impact.
"Your speed is improving," Aldric remarked.
Leonhardt exhaled sharply. "It's not enough."
Aldric studied him. "You are strong, Leonhardt. Stronger than anyone your age. But strength alone is not enough. You must sharpen your instincts, refine your strategy. If you become careless, you will lose."
Leonhardt met his father's gaze, his expression unreadable. "I will not lose."
For a brief moment, Aldric was silent.
Then—he smirked. "Good."
Whispers in the Empire
Later that evening, Leonhardt sat in the study, surrounded by stacks of books and maps.
There were whispers spreading throughout the empire.
Talks of tensions between kingdoms.
The borders were growing unstable.
The empire, devoted to the God of War and Peace, was on the brink of conflict with the neighboring kingdom, which stood under the banner of the Sun God.
Leonhardt traced a gloved finger over the map before him, eyes narrowing.
War is coming.
He knew it.
And in the depths of his being, he could feel it—the moment of their reunion was drawing closer.
Aetheria.
She was waiting.
No matter what it took—he would find her.
Even if he had to burn the world to do it.
In the Shadows of the Temple
Far from the Everhart estate, beneath the grand temple of the Sun God, Ra, a group of priests knelt in reverence.
At the center of the chamber, Aetheria Nyx Lunaris Solis stood.
Her silvery-white hair cascaded around her like a waterfall of moonlight. Her deep violet eyes, speckled with silver, glowed like the endless night sky.
Her aura was regal, commanding, yet touched by an ethereal coldness.
The high priest knelt before her. "Goddess, your will is absolute. What would you have us do?"
Aetheria did not answer immediately.
Instead, she turned her gaze toward the sky beyond the temple's glass windows.
She could feel it.
Him.
Leonhardt.
The connection they shared, though veiled by time and distance, had never faded.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
It won't be long now.
Her lips curled into a faint smile—one of longing, of certainty.
Soon.
Very soon.