We bid the Valyrian farewell, and two Praetorians firmly pulled the heavy doors shut, their silver armour clanking as they assumed their posts on either side of the entrance.
With the Targaryen finally secured, I dropped the aloof, mocking facade entirely. The exhaustion of the siege crashed over me in a sudden, heavy wave.
"Come," I sighed, gesturing down the corridor. "Let us join Father in the antechamber. I imagine what comes next is just as important as the entirety of the war."
…
We arrived at the heavy, iron-bound doors of the antechamber to the Imperial Throne Room.
Pushing them open, we stepped into a space that was simultaneously breathtaking and deeply unsettling. The entire room was constructed of polished, seamless black stone—both the walls and the floor—giving the immediate, oppressive sensation of stepping into the belly of a leviathan. It oozed an ancient ominousness.
The colossal emerald crystals that jutted violently from the walls of the main throne room found their roots here in the antechamber. They grew directly out of the black stone floor, their bases wrapped in deep, intricate carvings. The floor was a sprawling tapestry of runic magic. Entire stanzas of Norse and Latin were etched into the dark stone, weaving together with geometric arrays and aspects of older, esoteric languages that even I could not completely decipher.
The room was illuminated by wrought-iron sconces along the walls, casting long, dancing shadows. But the true light came from the magic itself. Multiple spell and rune circles were etched onto the walls and floor, each one housing at its precise centre a floating sphere of pure, luminescent white light.
Father stood by a massive, dark wood desk in one corner of the antechamber. He was entirely focused on his work, using a sharp silver quill to meticulously carve glowing, binding markings directly into the surface of the dark sphere housing the soul of Akua.
Standing dutifully beside him was Hermione. Her unruly, bushy brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in a cascade of thick, untamed curls, framing a face lit by striking, vibrant green eyes that missed nothing of the world around her. She was dressed in an elegant stola of pristine white, bordered with deep, rich emerald that perfectly complemented her gaze. As she moved to organize her scrolls, a few delicate gold bangles chimed softly against her wrists. Resting against her collarbone was a heavy gold pendant, gleaming warmly in the ambient light. Suspended from a fine chain, the pendant bore the intricate, embossed symbol of their Imperial House at its base—an undeniable mark of her royal heritage. When she heard the heavy doors groan open and saw Lily and myself enter, her face immediately lit up with sheer joy.
She abandoned her scrolls, rushing forward to throw her arms around Lily in a tight embrace. "I missed you!" she beamed, and Lily warmly reciprocated.
"I missed you too Mione"
Hermione then pulled back, turning her bright, inquisitive eyes toward me. A wicked, teasing smile stretched across her face. "How was the war, brother? Did you enjoy the battle? Father mentioned you almost retched after Apparating."
I narrowed my eyes. "Mind your tongue, little sister," I warned, stepping forward to playfully smack the back of her head.
But my hand met only empty air.
With a sharp CRACK, space violently distorted, twisting around her form for a fraction of a second before she vanished entirely, reappearing three paces to my left.
My jaw literally dropped. I stared at the spot where she had been standing, and then slowly turned my head toward her. "N-no. Surely not," I stammered, pointing an accusing finger at her. "But you are only fifteen! This cannot be happening to me."
Hermione erupted into full-blown, triumphant laughter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, but it is, brother! I have finally mastered Apparition. And you, at forty-seven years of age, have still not managed it."
My face contorted in sheer misery. To make matters worse, Lily began laughing alongside her, loudly praising her prodigiousness. "Excellently done Hermione if you keep this up you may even be able to apparate outside the Imperium."
Hermione's eyes gleamed with pride "I shall do it"
"This is a disaster," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands, thoroughly dejected. "I cannot be the only one in this family so profoundly inept at spatial magic."
"We will have plenty of time to discuss your ineptitude in Apparition later, Octavian," Father's voice cut through the laughter, calm and commanding. He set his silver quill down upon the desk, the dark sphere now fully secured. He turned to face us, his emerald eyes serious. "Now come. It is time."
Father moved to the center of the empty spell circle not housing a sphere slowly placing the phylactery over the center. With this act the runes were triggered as the sphere began to spin 2 feet above the spell circle.
"Form a triangulation around me children." Father commanded and we obeyed. "I will be purging the demonic soul and the energy released from killing the Black Goat will be absorbed by the Imperial Array if energy yet remains after the task I will be siphoning it to myself and the final bits of residue will be imbued in you strengthening you physically or magically whichever suits your genes more."
As father spoke the death stick appeared in his hand as began weaving the final stages of the rune work. I watched him as he moved and weaved the runes into the room and around us while Hermione was completely focussed on the runes and his wand movements. Lily firmly kept her stare onto the phylactery. All of us had our wands in hand.
Father raised his wand, the tip glowing with a concentrated, heavy light. He brought it down upon the black sphere resting at the centre of the runic array.