Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The throne remained empty.

The voice, however, had no difficulty filling the entire hall.

"Recognized petitioners."

Kael did not answer immediately. After his experiences in Eiren Valley, he had learned to distrust even the simplest words whenever an ancient structure decided to assign meaning to them. Instead, he carefully observed the hall, searching for the source of that presence. There was no concentrated mana in the seat, no visible spirit, no shadow hidden between the columns. Even so, the feeling of standing before someone remained so strong that his body instinctively maintained the posture of someone received by a superior authority.

That irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

Irelia moved only close enough to read the circular inscriptions carved into the floor, keeping her hands away from the white stone.

"Don’t argue with the classification directly," she murmured. "If it considers us petitioners, that category may come with rights."

Kael glanced sideways.

"Finally, an advantage to being treated as inferior."

"Don’t abuse it."

"I haven’t even started."

The black surface of the throne glowed faintly, and silver lines began traveling across the floor toward them. It was not an attack. Each line stopped before a different person’s feet and formed a small inscription.

Before Irelia:

PETITION: ACCESS TO SOVEREIGNTY RECORDS.

Before Seraphine:

PETITION: RESTORATION OF HISTORICAL IDENTITY.

Before Sylphie:

PETITION: PROTECTION OF THE PRIMARY PETITIONER.

When the line reached Kael, it took longer.

The letters appeared.

Vanished.

Returned.

PETITION: INVESTIGATION OF AUTHORITY.

The inscription trembled.

Then changed.

PETITION: CONTESTATION OF AUTHORITY.

Another pause.

Finally:

INCOMPATIBLE CLASSIFICATION.

Kael looked at Irelia.

"It doesn’t know what to do with me."

"That seems to happen often."

"I’m starting to consider it a positive quality."

The voice filled the hall again.

"Petition incompatible with jurisdiction."

"Great," Kael said. "Then we can leave."

The door they had entered through closed.

Kael looked back.

"I was joking."

"Withdrawal prior to judgment unauthorized."

Irelia inhaled deeply through her nose.

"Now do you understand why I asked you not to provoke the system?"

"It was one sentence."

"With you, it always starts with one sentence."

Seraphine was not following their argument. Her eyes remained fixed on the black seat, as though something in it was pulling at a memory she still could not reach. Kael noticed her fingers trembling faintly beneath her cloak, but he did not interfere yet. If that memory truly belonged to her, it needed to emerge without someone else telling her what she was supposed to find.

Umbra was the first to notice something different.

Kael’s shadow stretched across the floor, touched the base of the throne, and immediately recoiled.

"Someone is sitting there."

Everyone looked at the empty seat.

Kael frowned.

"I don’t see anyone."

"I didn’t say there was a body."

Umbra slowly emerged from his shadow. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the base of the throne.

"There are two shadows. One belongs to the seat. The other belongs to a man."

Sylphie moved a little closer.

"Can you touch it?"

"I can."

"Don’t yet," Kael said.

Umbra looked at him.

"I wasn’t going to."

"You were thinking about it."

"Thinking is still allowed."

Kael turned his attention back to the throne.

"Who is sitting there?"

The answer came immediately.

"Aldren Vael."

"I didn’t ask for the name of the authority. I asked who is sitting on the throne."

Silence.

It was brief.

Maybe two seconds.

But after everything they had seen, two seconds was a long time.

Irelia noticed too.

"Repeat it."

Kael did.

"Who is sitting on the throne?"

"Aldren Vael."

"Body?"

"Absent."

"Consciousness?"

Another pause.

"Not required."

Kael felt his expression harden.

That answered quite a lot.

"So Aldren is not here."

"Aldren Vael remains sovereign."

"That isn’t what I said."

"Aldren Vael remains sovereign."

Irelia placed a hand on Kael’s arm before he could keep pressing.

"Let me."

She walked to the inscription intended for her and stopped directly over the circle marked PETITION: ACCESS TO SOVEREIGNTY RECORDS. Her posture changed subtly; not into submission, but into the confidence of someone who understood rules better than the structure trying to enforce them.

"Under the terms of the classification granted by the Throne itself, I request access to the identity of the authority responsible for judging this petition."

Light crossed the floor.

"Authority: Aldren Vael."

"I request distinction between person and function."

The hall became still.

Kael smiled faintly.

Irelia continued before the system could evade the question.

"Person: Aldren Vael. Function: sovereign of the Kingdom of Vael. Confirm."

The voice replied:

"Confirmed."

"State of the person."

"Deceased."

"State of the function."

"Active."

Irelia looked at Kael.

That was exactly what they needed.

She turned back to the throne.

"A deceased person cannot formulate new will."

"Preserved authority possesses continuity."

"I didn’t ask about authority. I asked about will."

Silence.

Longer this time.

Seraphine closed her eyes.

"I’ve heard this before."

Kael turned toward her.

"What?"

"This argument."

Her breathing grew heavier, but she continued.

"Not these words. The distinction."

An image seemed to form behind her eyes.

"There were men standing before the throne. One of them said the king did not need to remain conscious. Another said that without will, there was no king."

"When?" Kael asked.

"After his death."

Seraphine opened her eyes.

"I was in this room."

The statement changed the pressure in the hall.

The lines beneath her feet lit up.

PETITION: RESTORATION OF HISTORICAL IDENTITY.

The voice reacted:

"Witness recognized."

Seraphine went pale.

Kael immediately stepped between her and the throne.

"Don’t touch her."

"Witness Seraphine."

The woman raised a hand to her chest.

"It knows my name."

"Because the First Archive knows," Irelia said. "Or because you were recorded here."

Seraphine looked past Kael.

"I want to remember."

"Are you sure?"

She took several seconds before answering.

"Yes."

Kael moved only half a step out of her way.

"Then you choose how much."

Seraphine nodded and advanced.

The moment she crossed the first inscription on the floor, the hall changed.

Not physically.

The memory calcite in the walls began to awaken.

The columns stopped looking abandoned. Red banners appeared hanging between them. Guards occupied positions that had not existed for nearly two centuries. Nobles appeared along the sides as translucent images, all staring toward the same point.

The throne.

Now someone was sitting on it.

Aldren Vael.

He was already an elderly man, with gray hair tied behind his head and a short beard. His face was thin, almost feverish, and a dark band crossed his abdomen beneath the royal clothing. Blood had dried around it.

He did not look dead yet.

Seraphine drew in a breath.

"That was the final audience."

Kael observed the memory.

Twelve people stood before the king.

The number did not go unnoticed.

The same twelve refusals taken from Eiren.

But back then, they still belonged to their owners.

A kneeling man at the front of the group raised his head.

"Your Majesty, we need a decision before the eastern army crosses the border."

Aldren gripped the arm of the throne.

"I already gave my decision."

"There is no recognized successor."

"There is."

A murmur passed through the court.

Kael looked at Seraphine.

"The records said he refused succession."

"I know."

The memory continued.

Another man approached. Kael did not recognize the face, but he immediately recognized the ring on his hand.

Divided crown.

It was not Oren.

That man was too old to be him fifty years later.

Another Archivist.

"The prince died yesterday," the man said.

Aldren closed his eyes for a moment.

"I know."

"The princess does not have the support of the Military Council."

"I didn’t ask whether she had support."

"Your Majesty..."

"She is my heir."

Kael went still.

So did Irelia.

Aldren had named a successor.

The memory continued.

The man with the ring opened a book.

"The Council rejects female succession during wartime."

"Then the Council may reject it."

"Without recognition, there will be conflict."

"There is already conflict."

"Thousands will die."

Aldren raised his face.

Despite his age, his wound, and his obvious weakness, there was an uncomfortable strength in his voice.

"Then tell the Council to recognize my daughter."

The man remained still.

"They will not."

Aldren replied:

"That is their problem."

A third man stepped forward.

"There is another possibility. Lord Caelis possesses Vael blood through the maternal line. The army will recognize him. So will the Council."

Aldren’s face changed.

For the first time, hatred appeared.

"No."

The word crossed the entire memory.

Seraphine staggered.

Kael caught her arm.

On the real floor beneath the illusion, the Hollow Throne’s inscriptions began to glow.

The memory continued.

"Your Majesty..."

"I said no."

"Lord Caelis will end the war."

"After starting half of it."

"He possesses legitimacy."

"He murdered my son."

Silence.

Kael felt everything click into place.

The Archivist in the memory approached the king.

"If Your Majesty dies without recognizing Caelis, the kingdom will be divided."

Aldren tried to rise from the throne.

He could not.

Fresh blood appeared beneath the band around his abdomen.

Even so, he stared at everyone before him.

"Then let it be divided."

"Your Majesty."

"I will not hand Vael over to that man."

His voice lost strength, but not intent.

"As long as anything of me remains in this throne, Caelis will not be my successor."

The memory stopped.

The modern hall slowly returned.

The banners vanished.

The guards disappeared.

The nobles turned to dust.

Aldren’s image remained on the seat for a few seconds longer before disappearing.

Kael stared at the empty throne.

Irelia was the first to speak.

"We found it."

Seraphine nodded slowly.

"That was the sentence."

Kael looked at the record on the floor.

SUCCESSION: REFUSED.

Two hundred years of control.

And it had all come from stripping the context from a single statement.

"He did not refuse a successor," Kael said.

"He refused Caelis," Irelia finished.

"And he recognized his daughter before that."

The Throne replied:

"Succession refused."

Kael looked at it.

"Wrong."

"Succession refused."

"You recorded a sentence and lost its object."

"Valid sovereign record."

"No. Incomplete record."

The pressure in the hall increased.

For the first time, the Throne seemed irritated.

The columns vibrated, and an invisible wave crossed the floor. Irelia was forced back a step. Seraphine braced herself against the wall. Sylphie remained beside Kael, ready to pull him away if his channels reacted.

The voice deepened.

"Aldren Vael refused succession."

Kael pointed toward the calcite in the walls.

"We just watched the memory."

"Memory does not alter decree."

"It wasn’t a decree."

"Sovereign declaration."

Irelia raised her voice:

"Declaration directed at a specific individual."

"Succession refused."

"Caelis refused."

"Succession refused."

Kael breathed slowly.

The Throne could not correct its own interpretation.

Not because it lacked information.

Because it had been built to preserve authority, not intent. What the king had said had become an order separated from the man who produced it. After Aldren died, no one remained to explain.

So they kept only the command.

For nearly two centuries.

Kael looked at Umbra.

"You said there is the shadow of a man sitting there."

"Yes."

"Can you pull it?"

"I can try."

Irelia immediately intervened.

"If that shadow is considered part of the authority, touching it may be interpreted as an attack on the sovereign."

Kael agreed.

"Then we don’t pull."

He looked back at the throne.

"We ask."

Sylphie turned her head.

"Ask who?"

"The man."

Kael walked until he stood directly before the seat.

The pressure on his shoulders increased, trying to force respect for the formal distance of the court. He ignored it. He did not kneel, raise his sword, or use mana.

He simply spoke.

"Aldren Vael."

The Throne answered:

"Recognized sovereign."

Kael was not speaking to it.

"Aldren."

Silence.

"If any part of you still exists here that is not this chair, I need you to answer one thing."

Nothing.

The Throne tried to interrupt.

"Communication with sovereign occurs through petition."

Kael continued:

"Did you want Caelis as your successor?"

The walls trembled.

"SUC—"

The voice failed.

Umbra raised her head.

"The shadow moved."

Kael did not look away from the seat.

"Did you want Caelis?"

The Throne answered more forcefully:

"SUCCESSION REFUSED."

Beneath that voice came another.

Very weak.

So quiet that without the absolute silence of the hall, no one would have heard it.

"No."

Seraphine raised a hand to her mouth.

Kael remained still.

There it was.

Not an authority.

Not a decree.

A person.

The throne’s shadow slowly raised its head.

Kael stepped closer.

"Aldren, did you refuse all succession?"

The entire structure trembled.

The Throne’s voice nearly roared:

"SUCCESSION REFUSED."

And beneath it, the man answered.

"No."

A crack ran along the base of the seat.

Irelia looked at the inscriptions.

"The two declarations are conflicting."

Kael continued.

"Who did you refuse?"

This time, the answer took longer.

The shadow seemed to struggle against something that had kept it seated for one hundred and ninety years.

At last, a tired voice crossed the hall.

"Caelis."

The Hollow Throne lost its glow.

Aldren was still there.

And for almost two centuries, his own authority had prevented him from correcting what they had done with his final words.

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