[Silthara Palace — Coronation Hall — Evening]

The palace of Zahryssar glowed beneath endless stormlight. Silver lanterns illuminated every corridor while ceremonial incense drifted through the enormous halls of Silthara Palace.

And tonight the empire gathered not for mourning but for ascension. The throne chamber overflowed with nobles, priests, military commanders, noble serpents, and royal bloodlines from every corner of Zahryssar.

Silver ceremonial drums echoed slowly through the palace.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

Meanwhile, outside, the storm continued raging violently, as though the heavens themselves refused to bless the coronation.

Yet inside the palace nobody dared mention such things aloud because tonight Slyvarakh would officially ascend the throne of Zahryssar and fear already ruled the empire stronger than loyalty ever could.

At the center of the throne hall, the ancient throne of Zahryssar stood elevated beneath towering serpent pillars. The silver crown of imperial rule rested atop crimson silk before it, waiting.

The nobles whispered carefully among themselves.

"The Malika has not appeared yet..."

"I heard he refused ceremonial preparation."

"Silence. Do not speak recklessly tonight."

"But still..." A noblewoman glanced nervously toward the upper balconies. "...does it not feel cursed? The Malik Slyvarakh is different than he was before when he was an acting emperor."

"I agree..."

The whispers died immediately when the ceremonial doors opened.

BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!

And Slyvarakh entered. Silver ceremonial robes draped elegantly across his body. Black-and-silver corrupted scales are partially visible near his throat beneath jeweled fabric.

His silver hair was tied with imperial ornaments, and upon his face rested the calm smile of a serpent who already believed the throne belonged to him.

Immediately the entire hall bowed. "We greet the future Malik of Zahryssar."

Slyvarakh slowly walked toward the throne platform afterward. Every step echoed heavily through the chamber.

And behind him, Sarash followed silently, expression unreadable. Though beneath his robes his hands remained tightly clenched.

And somewhere within the crowd—Arkhazunn, Rakhane, and Sharukh Varoth silently watched everything, their cold eyes carefully observing Slyvarakh.

As though waiting for something terrible to happen.

Then finally, the high priest stepped forward carrying the sacred serpent crown and immediately the hall fell completely silent.

"On this sacred night beneath Lord Urzan’s gaze..." The priest’s voice echoed grandly through the chamber. "...we gather to crown the next ruler of Zahryssar."

Then finally, the high priest stepped forward carrying the sacred serpent crown.

The ancient silver crown gleamed beneath the ceremonial flames, serpent engravings curling across its surface like living creatures.

Immediately the entire hall descended into absolute silence.

Not even breathing could be heard clearly anymore.

"On this sacred night beneath Lord Urzan’s eternal gaze..."

The high priest’s voice echoed grandly through the massive throne hall.

"...we gather to crown the next ruler of Zahryssar."

Thunder roared violently beyond the palace walls.

BOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!

Yet inside the hall nobody moved; nobody dared interrupt, and Slyvarakh slowly stepped toward the throne platform. Silver ceremonial robes trailing heavily behind him. His silver eyes remained fixed entirely upon the imperial throne of Zahryssar.

Hungrily and possessively.

Because after centuries of history...after exile...after blood...after betrayal...the throne finally stood within his reach again.

The high priest raised the sacred crown carefully, both hands trembling faintly beneath its weight. Because everyone inside the chamber understood, once crowned, Slyvarakh would become untouchable.

Then slowly the priest lowered the crown toward Slyvarakh’s head and at that exact moment the storm outside exploded violently again.

BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!

The ceremonial lantern flames flickered wildly. Several nobles visibly flinched. Even the priests exchanged nervous glances, but Slyvarakh did not care.

No...he smiled because to him even the heavens roaring against this coronation felt like acknowledgment.

Then finally the sacred crown settled upon his silver hair, and immediately the entire hall lowered their heads deeply.

"HAIL THE MALIK OF ZAHRYSSAR!"

The declaration thundered across the throne hall.

"HAIL MALIK SLYVARAKH!"

Yet strangely, the atmosphere did not feel victorious. It felt cold and wrong, like the empire itself had just swallowed poison willingly.

Then Slyvarakh slowly turned afterward. Silver robes flowing behind him as he faced the ancient throne of Zahryssar. The throne once belonged to emperors, conquerors, monsters, and gods among serpents.

And now it belonged to him.

Slowly he ascended the steps, one after another. The nobles lowered their heads deeper with every step he took. Even the captains remained silent because resistance no longer mattered.

Then finally Slyvarakh reached the throne. For several long moments he simply stared at it and perhaps for the very first time in years, real emotion surfaced openly within his silver eyes.

Not love, not relief, but triumph.

Then slowly, beautifully, and dangerously, Slyvarakh seated himself upon the imperial throne of Zahryssar.

The moment he sat, his pheromones spread violently across the chamber. Rotten silver pressure crashing through the hall like a desert storm. Several lower nobles immediately dropped to one knee from sheer instinct.

Others lowered their heads further, unable to meet his gaze, and then Slyvarakh rested one hand lazily against the armrest of the throne. Silver eyes scanning the empire now kneeling beneath him.

And then...slowly he smiled.

"...at last."

Thunder roared again beyond the palace, but this time it sounded less like celebration...and more like a warning.

Like Lord Urzan is mourning for the entire empire this time.

***

[Same Time — Beneath Silthara Palace — Imperial Dungeon]

Far beneath the glorious coronation hall beneath the silver lanterns, the celebrations, and the throne newly claimed, the imperial dungeon of Zahryssar remained buried in darkness.

Water dripped endlessly from ancient stone ceilings. The air smelled of blood, rust, and forgotten suffering. And somewhere far above the empire celebrated a new king.

Heavy footsteps echoed slowly through the dungeon corridors.

Then finally Arkhazunn descended the final staircase, black robes dragging softly behind him. His mage markings glowing faintly beneath the darkness.

The red knights guarding the lower prison immediately straightened.

"High Mage—"

But before they could finish, Arkhazunn calmly raised one hand, and softly he whispered an ancient forbidden incantation.

The air distorted instantly.

SHHHHHHHHHHH—

The red knights’ eyes widened briefly. Then one after another their bodies collapsed heavily onto the stone floor.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

Silence returned immediately afterward. And inside one of the nearby prison cells Naburash slowly lifted his head; his condition looked horrifying. Lashes covered his entire body. Dried blood stained the prison floor beneath him.

And yet despite looking half-dead, his sharp serpent eyes still remained awake and watching.

"...High Mage..." His voice came out hoarse and weak. "Why are you using forbidden spells inside the imperial dungeon?"

Arkhazunn did not answer, did not even glance toward him. He simply stepped over the sleeping knights calmly and continued walking deeper into the dungeon, and Naburash slowly forced himself closer toward the bars.

"...are you here to free me?" 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Arkhazunn finally stopped but only briefly, and then without turning around, he spoke coldly:

"Do you truly believe my world revolves around you, Naburash?"

Naburash visibly flinched, and Arkhazunn’s eyes darkened beneath the dim lantern light as his voice lowered, colder afterward.

"I do not free traitors. So whether you rot here or survive..." A dangerous pause followed. "...it means nothing to me."

Then immediately he continued walking again, leaving Naburash silent behind him. Until finally Arkhazunn stopped before another heavily sealed chamber.

Inside the massive cell, Lyresaph remained enchanted, chained heavily, his body curled protectively around the smaller cage beside him.

Inside that smaller cage, Iru sat silently in eagle form, wings lowered and exhausted. And nearby Asha remained bound tightly with chains around her legs.

Growling softly and dangerously.

The moment they saw Arkhazunn, Iru’s wings immediately fluttered violently.

"High Mage!"

Arkhazunn stepped closer quietly. Then slowly he began breaking the enchanted locks one by one.

CLACK.

CRACK.

SHATTER.

And Iru transformed back into human form instantly, and his eyes filled with panic. "...how is the Malika?"

That question alone made Arkhazunn pause briefly, and for the first time that night, genuine exhaustion surfaced within his expression.

"...the Malika is not surviving this well."

Silence spread heavily afterward.

"As a serpent..." Arkhazunn continued quietly while freeing Asha’s chains. "...betraying the empire is enough to destroy my entire bloodlines."

The final chain snapped apart violently.

"But..." He looked toward Lyresaph afterward. "...I cannot continue watching Malika die while still breathing."

Lyresaph lowered his massive head closer immediately. His dragon eyes focused entirely upon Arkhazunn. Then softly the High Mage placed one hand against the dragon’s scales.

"You must save him." The dungeon lanterns flickered faintly around them. "No matter what happens...take the Malika far away from Zahryssar."

A dangerous silence followed.

"Do not go to Thalryn."

Even Iru looked surprised afterward.

"Go somewhere no serpent throne can reach. Somewhere..." Arkhazunn’s eyes darkened painfully. "...the Malika may finally live as a person instead of a possession."

Immediately afterward, Lyresaph broke free from the final restraints violently, and Asha immediately bared her fangs viciously, ready to slaughter anyone standing between her and Levin.

And beside them Iru clenched his fists tightly, eyes burning with desperate determination because all three of them understood:

Levin was drowning.

And if they arrived too late, there might be nothing left of him to save. Then suddenly as they rushed out, someone already stood waiting there.

Lady Arinaya.

Rainwater dripped faintly from her dark robes, and without wasting time, she handed a robe toward Iru immediately.

"Wear this."

Iru caught it quickly, and Arinaya’s sharp eyes shifted toward Lyresaph mumbling, "You’re still here...that means he is alive...find him. We will wait for our Malik and Malika. The Zahryssar needs them too in the near future."

Lyresaph just blinked and then...

"Run." Lady Arinaya’s voice came out low and urgent. "As fast as possible. The secret passage remains open only for a short while."

Then quietly, almost painfully, she added: "...please save our Malika."

And just like that the dragon, the eagle, and the beast disappeared into the shadows beneath Zahryssar. Rushing desperately toward the grieving consort, slowly surrendering himself to despair above.

Meanwhile, far above the dungeon, the coronation drums of the new emperor continued echoing throughout the empire. Unaware that rebellion had already begun moving beneath the palace itself and even outside...two thieves are ready to steal their malika.