The Sanctum of Verdicts had never known a silence so suffocating.
The crystalline air, once alive with echoes of command and decree, now stood frozen—held hostage by a name.
Aetherion.
That single word had broken centuries of certainty.
Arcane runes flickered across the black-marble thrones, painting cold light across seven rulers who, for once, were uncertain. Their gazes flicked between one another, each searching for explanation, reassurance—anything but the silence pressing down on them like a coiled stormcloud.
None came.
The Emperor stood still at the center of it all, a shadow cast long by the arcane sun above, his back to the Monarchs as he stared into the vaults of history. He said nothing. He didn't need to—not yet.
Zephyra finally spoke, her voice a sharp whisper in the stillness. "We are meant to fear a child?"
Vorun's eyes narrowed. "A child with power to match a Monarch."
Varion said nothing. He didn't need to. The charred scar trailing down his jaw said it all.
"He's unstable," Zephyra pressed. "Arrogant. Dangerous."
"So was fire when man first touched it," murmured Solene.
A beat of silence followed—long, heavy.
Then Malrik turned.
He didn't speak. Not right away. His gaze moved slowly across the chamber, the glowing brands on his temple casting faint trails of light. When he finally did speak, it was with the weight of thunder behind glass.
"You call him dangerous. You are correct."
The Monarchs froze.
"You call him arrogant. He is."
He stepped forward, the runes on the floor dimming with every word.
"But you forget," he continued, "that storms are not born to please the sky. They are born to cleanse it."
The air tightened. The faint hum of the thrones faded. All focus turned to him.
"Klaus Aetherion is not merely a child. He is the final echo of a lineage the stars themselves once feared. His bloodline forged fire and carved wind. They bent nature not through command… but through bond. They did not master the elements—they became them."
Malrik's voice dropped, almost reverent.
"You speak of fear? Good. Fear him."
He raised his hand slightly, and the arcane sun above dimmed, casting the chamber into shadow.
"Because this boy you mock—this wounded thing crawling out of war and flame—he is becoming. Each breath he draws is a drumbeat closer to something none of you are ready for. He will not ask for thrones. He will tear them down. He will not seek allies. He will make the world choose—stand beside him, or burn beneath him."
The Monarchs sat in stunned silence.
Malrik turned toward the window of the Sanctum, where lightning rippled silently through the clouds beyond. For a long moment, he simply watched.
Then he spoke again, softer—yet heavier.
"He will not be our enemy."
The Monarchs turned sharply.
"What?" Zephyra snapped. "After what he's done? After what he's said?"
"He's already declared war," Vorun growled.
"Yes," Malrik said. "And still… he will not be our enemy."
He turned fully now, facing them all. His next words came like lightning cutting through dusk.
"We will name him Earth's Champion."
The room reacted like a detonated spell.
A single word. Utter disbelief.
Solene's voice broke the confusion, whisper-soft: "Champion?"
Varion rose halfway from his throne. "He tried to kill me."
Malrik's gaze sharpened. "You provoked him. Your recklessness turned a wounded beast into a storm."
"I acted on instinct," Varion snarled.
"And now your 'instinct' may have cost us our one chance at survival."
The room fell into quiet once more, but it was no longer uncertain.
It was tense.
Trembling.
Malrik stepped closer to the center of the Sanctum. "Listen to me, all of you. We stand on the edge of extinction. Forces beyond this planet gather in the dark—the Nuvrah, the Dominion of Chains, the Vorthian Swarm. You know what they are. You know what they've done to worlds stronger than ours. And you think this empire… this fragile, broken empire… can weather what comes next without a shield?"
He let the question hang.
"Klaus Aetherion is that shield. Not because we control him. Not because we trust him. But because we have no one else. He is the only being in our dominion that can look at the void beyond the stars… and make it blink first."
He turned his back once more to the window.
"And if he survives… if he rises as I believe he will… he will not be a boy."
Lightning lit the sky behind him, casting his silhouette in gold.
"He will be the storm."