The Royal Sanctum.

The heavy doors boomed shut behind Viora and sealed the world away.

The silence in the Royal Sanctum was absolute. It was heavy enough to crush the breath from a person's lungs. The air here didn't just smell of ozone or flowers. It smelled of ancient, unrefined power. It was the scent of a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle.

Viora took a step forward. Her boots made no sound on the floor. It was not stone or crystal, but a seamless expanse of polished obsidian that reflected the galaxy of star-charts drifting lazily across the domed ceiling. It felt as though she were walking on the void itself.

At the far end of the chamber, seated upon a throne carved from a single piece of white weirwood and lined with silver silk, sat the Matriarch Sovereign.

Queen Athena Lumina.

She was not alone. Flanking the dais stood two Royal Sentinels, their mirrored helms and silver armor rendering them statuesque and impersonal. But it was the two women standing before the throne, deep in consultation with the Queen, that made Viora's stride hesitate for a fraction of a second.

To the left stood General Eva Rostova. She was dressed in her full Warlady uniform. Even standing before the Queen, she carried that signature air of relaxed lethality. Her posture was loose but ready as her winter-sharp eyes tracked Viora's entry.

Beside her stood a woman dressed in the flowing, embroidered robes of the High Council.

Viora didn't focus on them. Her gaze was locked on her grandmother.

The Queen was a woman who defied time. She looked no older than Athea despite her ancient age. It was a testament to her status as a Tier 1 Warlady. It was common knowledge that while everyone in this world lived longer lives, the elite few who reached the absolute peak of power essentially stopped aging altogether. The sheer density of Vitae flowing through their veins did more than just fuel world-shaking abilities. It preserved them, freezing their cells in a state of perpetual, terrifying perfection.

Queen Athena raised a single, elegant hand, and the conversation at the throne died instantly.

"It seems my granddaughter has an urgent matter to discuss," the Queen said. Her voice was calm but resonant, filling the vast chamber effortlessly. "We will reconvene later."

Eva Rostova and the councilwoman bowed their heads deeply in a graceful, fluid motion. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

The councilwoman turned and glided past Viora with a serene expression, offering a deep, respectful curtsy to the Princess as she passed.

General Rostova turned next. She didn't bow as deeply, but her salute was sharp. As she moved to pass, she paused to offer a crisp, respectful nod.

Viora felt a pang of genuine regret cut through her rage. She respected General Rostova. Every Warlady did. She was a legend, and her deeds against the Star Beasts were unmatched. To interrupt her meeting made Viora feel a spike of disrespect she hadn't intended. She had assumed her grandmother was holding court with sycophants, not the General.

"General Rostova," Viora said, her voice lowering. The hard edge of her fury softened into professional contrition. "Forgive the intrusion. I did not realize you were in the middle of a strategic meeting."

Eva Rostova's lips quirked into a faint, knowing smirk. "Storming the throne room, Princess? I'd say you have the Lumina fire after all." She dipped into a quick, warrior's curtsy. "No apology needed."

With that, the General swept out of the room. Now it was just Viora and the Queen.

The Queen watched her granddaughter. Her hair was a cascading river of pure silver, untouched by dye, framing a face that was severe, regal, and terrifyingly beautiful. Her eyes were the same ice-blue as Viora's and Athea's. But where Viora's held the cold of a winter storm, Athena's held the stillness of a glacier. Ancient, unmoving, and deep.

She wore no armor, only a flowing gown of pale gray that seemed to shift like smoke around her. Yet the aura of power radiating from her was suffocating. She was a force of nature wrapped in silk.

"You threatened my guards, Viora," the Queen said. Her voice was not loud, but it resonated in the vast space, vibrating in Viora's chest. She didn't look away. "You demand entry. You speak of treason."

"Yes. I speak of treason because I have witnessed it," Viora responded. Her tone was cold but still respectful.

The Queen made a subtle gesture, and her two Sentinels turned and marched out of the sanctum. The heavy doors sealed Viora in with the most powerful woman in the Queendom.

Once they were alone, the Queen turned her full attention to her granddaughter.

"You have your mother's temper," she noted calmly. "And my eyes. Tell me, granddaughter. What is this emergency that requires you to bypass protocol and threaten my Sentinels?"

Viora didn't flinch. She stopped ten paces from the throne. "I know," she said. Her voice was low, stripped of all honorifics. "I know about the boy."

The Queen didn't blink. Her expression didn't shift by a millimeter. She simply sat there, draped in her power, watching Viora with a terrifying lack of surprise.

"You know," Athena repeated, tasting the words. It wasn't a question. "And?"

The lack of denial and the casual acceptance snapped the last tether of Viora's control.

"And?" Viora stepped forward. Her voice rose, though she kept it controlled. "You are the Queen! You are the Guardian of the Order! The laws of the Matriarchy are your laws. And yet, a male child, a son of the royal blood, lives? He threatens everything the Lumina bloodline stands for. And you sit here and ask me 'and'?"

She pointed an accusing finger at the throne. It was a gesture that would have had anyone else executed for insolence.

"Mom confessed. She told me everything. But what I cannot understand, what I cannot forgive, is that you knew. You knew she committed high treason, and you did nothing." Viora's voice cracked, the betrayal bleeding through. "Why? Why did you let him live?"

Athena stood. The movement was fluid, like water rising. "Let him live?" she echoed. "Tell me, Viora. Would you have had me strangle an infant in his cradle?"

Viora's mouth opened, but the answer died in her throat.

Would she have preferred he never lived? Yes. If the pregnancy had been terminated, it would have been a statistic. A necessary pruning of the family tree.

But her grandmother's question forced her to visualize the reality: standing over a crib and ending a life that had already begun.

"Did you not know it was a boy before he was born?" Viora asked, her voice tight.

"Could it not have been prevented? The fact that he breathes... it is tyranny," she spat. "It is corruption."

"Ask your mother that."

"So, you didn't know? Meaning mother didn't tell you she was bearing a male?"

"She told no one," Athena confirmed. Her voice dropped to a chilling register that seemed to lower the temperature of the entire room. "Because neither she nor her doctors knew it was a male until the day he drew breath."

Viora blinked. The revelation hit her. "Oh." This was the first time she was hearing this detail. "I thought... I thought she always knew and hid the pregnancy scans."

"No," The Queen said, stepping down from the dais. "After I came across her secret and realized that Aphrodite was not a Lumina by blood, I conducted my own investigation. I pulled the old medical logs. Her pregnancy was an anomaly. Every scan, every magical resonance test indicated a female heir. It was only at the moment of birth that the truth revealed itself."

Viora was at a loss for words. It defied medical science. It defied magic.

"This doesn't mean Athea did not lie," Athena continued, pacing slowly to the window. "She still kept the truth from everyone. By the time I discovered the deception, the swap had already been made years prior. The boy was already in Ysmeine's care, and the girl... Aphrodite... was in the nursery."

The Queen turned back from the window. Her silhouette was stark against the sprawling lights of the capital.

"I could have ordered his death then," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "I could have sent the Royal Guard to Ysmeine's home and ended the lineage error with a single command."

She looked at Viora, her eyes piercing. "But tell me, Viora. If you had held the blade... could you have done it?"

The question hung in the heavy silence of the Royal Sanctum. It was sharper than any blade Viora had ever wielded.

Could you have done it?

Viora stared at her grandmother. Her mouth opened to speak, but the words died in her throat. She was a Warlady. She had taken lives on the battlefield without hesitation, cutting down Vorthaks. Killing was a necessity of her station, a grim calculus she had mastered.

But to look into a cradle? To wrap her hands around the throat of an infant, her own blood, and squeeze until the life fled?

The image flashed in her mind. Visceral. Sickening.

"I..." Viora's voice faltered. She looked away, her gaze falling to the polished obsidian floor. She was unable to meet the Queen's ancient, knowing stare.

The realization settled over her like a shroud. She couldn't have done it. And if she couldn't, she had no right to judge the women who had also failed to make that terrible choice.

"I need to think about this," Viora whispered. The certainty she had walked in with was now fractured into a thousand sharp pieces.

She didn't wait for a dismissal. She turned and walked out of the Sanctum. The heavy doors boomed shut behind her.

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