The sunlight of the Triple Suns filtered through the high lancet windows of the royal bedchamber, hitting Riha's eyelids with the force of a physical blow. For fifteen years, she had existed in the timeless, rhythmic pulse of the Void. Time had been a concept she dictated. But this morning, the concept was dictating her.
"Master... the suns are at their second rotation," Ignis's voice rumbled from the corner of the room, sounding far too amused.
Riha bolted upright, her long, dark hair a chaotic nest of silk. "The Council! The Grand Reunion is this morning!"
In an instant, the poised, god-like Sovereign of the Void vanished, replaced by a girl who had forgotten how to exist in a world with schedules. She tripped over the hem of her silk sheets, staggered toward the washbasin, and nearly knocked over a vase of priceless moon-lotuses.
"Breakfast, Highness?" her butler asked, stepping in with a tray of steaming tea and toasted brioche.
"No time!" Riha shouted, her voice muffled as she struggled into her military-style tunic. She shoved a single piece of toast into her mouth, grabbed her obsidian staff, and bolted toward the door. "I cannot be late for the first meeting in fifteen years! It would ruin the entire terrifying aura I've been cultivating!"
She sprinted through the palace corridors, a blur of violet and black. Guards scrambled to get out of her way, startled to see their silent Empress running like a cadet who had overslept drill practice. As she reached the massive golden doors of the Grand Hall, she skidded to a halt.
She took three deep breaths, smoothed her hair, and straightened her collar. She signaled to the guards.
The doors groaned open.
The Return of the Empress
The atmosphere in the hall shifted instantly. The murmuring officials fell dead silent as Riha walked in. She didn't run now; she glided. Each step was measured, heavy with the weight of her 100% synchronization. Her crimson eyes scanned the room with a cold, terrifying light that made the veteran ministers bow their heads in instinctive fear.
She ascended the dais and sat upon the obsidian throne, her staff clacking against the stone.
"Report," she commanded, her voice a low, resonant chime.
For three hours, she listened. She heard of the Shadow Rails spanning the globe, the new Aether-Cannons developed by the twins, and the economic prosperity that had turned the Homeland into the wealthiest empire in history.
"The foundation is solid," Riha announced, her gaze sweeping over the council. "But we owe this world to the one who held the shadows before me. Next month marks the 10,000th Birthday of the Old Shadow Lord. It will not be a mere dinner. It will be a Ten-Day Festival."
A murmur of excitement rippled through the hall.
"Ten days of events," Riha continued, her authority absolute. "Tournaments of magic and technology, feasts for every citizen, and on the final night, a Grand Ball where every person on this planet is invited to the capital. Ten days of holiday for the council. But," her eyes narrowed, "all preparations must be completed ten days before the festival starts. If a single lantern is out of place, I will hold the department head personally responsible."
"We obey, Sovereign!" the council shouted in unison.
The Intruder in the Mirror
The weeks that followed were a blur of logistics. Riha monitored everything, but as the guests began to arrive from across the stars, she finally found a moment to breathe.
Ten days before the festival, the palace was teeming with foreign dignitaries. Riha retired to her private suite late in the evening, her muscles aching. She stripped off her heavy robes and stepped into a steaming hot shower, letting the water wash away the scent of ink and old parchment.
She emerged wrapped in a plush, white silk bathrobe, drying her damp hair with a towel. She walked toward her vanity, but as she looked into the mirror to check her reflection, her heart stopped.
Behind her, standing on the balcony ledge, was a figure draped in charcoal black, wearing a sleek, expressionless mask.
Riha didn't scream. She spun, her hand catching the obsidian staff that flew into her grip from the bedside. The intruder lunged, moving with a fluid, heavy power. They clashed in the center of the room—a dance of shadows and steel. Riha used her mental power to predict his movements, but he was fast—faster than any assassin she had ever faced.
During a close-quarters struggle, Riha's hand shot out, catching the edge of the stranger's mask. With a sharp tug, the ceramic shattered.
The man who stood before her was breathtaking. He had a robust, powerful build that spoke of years of combat, and skin that looked like polished marble. But it was his hair—a striking, vibrant mint blue—and his eyes, the color of a deep royal blue ocean, that held her frozen.
"Who are you?" they both demanded at the same time.
The man lowered his hands, his gaze sweeping over Riha. He looked confused, then indignant. "Who am I? I am the son of the Emperor! I came through the balcony to surprise my father for his birthday tomorrow. Why are you in my royal chambers?"
Riha's mind raced. The son? Xaris? But she wasn't ready to reveal herself yet. A mischievous spark lit up her crimson eyes. She decided to play along.
"I am a guest," Riha lied smoothly, tilting her head. "Invited from a far-off country for the Jubilee. The staff must have given me this room since the Prince hasn't been home in fifteen years. They probably thought you weren't coming."
The man's face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "They gave my room to a guest? While I was away in the stars? Unacceptable!" He turned to leave, his mint-blue hair swaying. "I'm going to have a word with the head butler."
"Wait," Riha called out, stepping closer. "There's no need to cause a scene and ruin your surprise. You stay here. It's your room, after all. I'll go stay in my friend's suite for the night."
The Prince paused, his royal blue eyes flickering with hesitation. "You would do that? For a stranger?"
"It's a festival for your father," Riha smiled. "Let's keep the peace."
"Fine," he muttered, though he refused to look at her directly. "I suppose that is... fair."
Riha gathered her things and headed for the door, still clad in her white bathrobe. As she passed him, she noticed the faint blush creeping up his neck. He looked at the floor, suddenly very shy now that the adrenaline of the fight had faded and he realized his "guest" was barely dressed.
Her eyes, he thought as the door clicked shut behind her. They're like rubies. And there's a mystery in them... something that feels like home and the abyss all at once.
The Sleepover
Riha hurried down the hall and knocked frantically on Nalani's door. The healer opened it, yawning, only to find the Empress of the Homeland standing there in a bathrobe, clutching a towel.
"Riha? Did the palace catch fire?"
"No," Riha giggled, pushing past her and flopping onto the bed. "I just got kicked out of my own room by a very handsome, very angry Prince with mint-blue hair."
Nalani's eyes went wide. "You met Xaris? And you didn't tell him who you were? You mischievous girl!"
"He thinks I'm just a guest," Riha laughed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "Let him wonder for one more day. I want to see his face when I sit on the throne tomorrow."
Nalani shook her head, smiling. "You never change, Riha. Even after fifteen years in the Void, you're still a brat."
They fell asleep to the sound of the city's distant cheers, unaware that in the room next door, a Prince with royal-blue eyes was staring at the ceiling, unable to forget the girl with the crimson gaze.