The Holy Empire capital was as grand as she remembered.
Towering white marble buildings, gilded spires reaching toward the heavens, and stained-glass windows that shimmered under the light of countless floating orbs. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a constant reminder of the devout faith that ruled this land.
Diana walked through the streets with Lucien on her right and Evan on her left, holding both of their hands. Lucien's wide gray eyes darted around in excitement, taking in the sights, while Evan's golden eyes remained sharp, scanning their surroundings with quiet wariness.
The people whispered as they passed.
"She's the Empress of Verdeca…"
"She came here despite the rumors?"
"They say she was abandoned by the Emperor."
"She must still love him. Poor woman."
Diana ignored the murmurs.
Rumors had always followed her, both in this life and the last. It didn't matter what they thought. She was here for diplomacy, not their approval.
Still, as a guest of Cardinal Celline, she was treated with proper respect. The priests and nobles who welcomed her kept their words polite, their smiles neutral—but she felt it. The scrutiny. The judgment.
And among them, a few priests watched her with something deeper, something calculating.
Who are they?
Even in her past life, Diana had never learned who was truly behind the calamities that struck the world.
She glanced down at Lucien, who was still marveling at the intricate carvings on the temple walls. He was too young to understand the weight of the stares, too innocent to sense the undercurrents of tension.
And Evan, despite his small frame, stood protectively beside her, his fingers tightening around hers.
They're still children. I won't let them be caught in this.
That night, Diana found herself drawn to the Silent Hall.
The temple of Solarium was grand, but the Silent Hall was different. It was a place of prayer, where even whispers felt out of place. The walls were lined with thousands of flickering candles, their golden glow making the white marble seem almost ethereal.
At the center stood a massive statue—a woman in a flowing veil, holding a sword.
Diana stood before it, gazing up at the blinding lights surrounding the statue.
Solarium, the God of Light.
She had never been deeply religious, but she had respected the faith. And now, looking at the statue, she felt… something. A quiet pull. A sense of familiarity, though she wasn't sure why.
Her golden eyes traced the statue's features.
A woman who gave everything for humanity. A goddess who sacrificed even her own wings.
She had heard the stories before. But tonight, something felt different.
A soft voice broke the silence.
"Would you like to hear a story?"
Diana turned.
A young woman in a simple white robe stood at the entrance, her hands folded before her. She had soft brown eyes and a gentle smile, her presence unassuming yet filled with quiet confidence.
Diana studied her for a moment before nodding. "Go on."
The woman stepped forward, her voice calm and melodic.
"A long time ago, the world was whole. Demons, humans, elves, dwarves—all lived together, watched over by the two divine beings. The Goddess of Light, Solarium, and the God of Darkness, Lunarius."
Diana remained silent, listening.
The woman's eyes flickered toward the statue. "Solarium was the sun, and Lunarius was the moon. Together, they balanced the world, guiding all who lived upon it."
She paused before continuing.
"But then came the Great War."
Diana's fingers curled slightly.
The woman's voice softened. "Humanity was on the brink of destruction. They were weaker than the other races. They did not have the demons' strength, the elves' magic, or the dwarves' endurance. The world was cruel, and humans suffered."
Diana exhaled slowly. Just like now.
The woman stepped closer to the statue. "So Solarium made a choice. She cut off two of her wings, gifting humanity with what they lacked."
Diana's breath hitched.
"A weak body, but the potential to become a swordmaster. A short lifespan, but the ability to wield magic beyond their limits. She severed her own divinity, creating what we now call 'humankind.'"
Diana's gaze flickered to the statue's back. The missing wings.
The woman sighed. "The balance was broken. The world of myths—the continent where all species once coexisted—was sealed away, and humanity was left alone."
She turned to Diana, her eyes solemn. "Thousands of years have passed. And now, this is all we remember—a myth."
Silence filled the hall.
Diana exhaled slowly, her expression unreadable.
Because she knew the truth.
It wasn't just a myth.
The world of myths still existed. The great dragon, the one who turned back time for her, was proof of that.
The incarnation of Lunarius—the guardian of the world—was Raphael.
The Ancient Black Dragon.
Diana stared up at the statue, her golden eyes reflecting the candlelight.
The war had never truly ended.
It had only been postponed.
*****
The towering spires of the Holy Empire's grand palace loomed above as Diana Hinsdale stepped onto the polished marble floors of the audience hall.
Dressed in a finely tailored yet unembellished knight's suit, her silver hair was neatly tied back, accentuating the golden eyes that gleamed with quiet dominance.
Unlike the lavishly dressed nobles who awaited her arrival, she carried no extravagant jewelry, no flowing gown—only her presence, which was more commanding than any fabric or gemstone could hope to achieve.
The Holy Empire had insisted she visit without the grandeur of an Empress, as they had demanded in Verdeca before. A "vacation," they had called it. But Diana had long since learned that whenever the Holy Empire used pleasant words, they were simply trying to dull their opponents' vigilance.
Still, if they expected her to play their game, they would be sorely disappointed.
A long table stretched before her, diplomats seated in neat rows, each dressed in embroidered robes adorned with the Holy Empire's sigil.
Normally, a ruler of her status would have been greeted by the Emperor or at least a high-ranking prince. Instead, she was met with an assembly of envoys and bureaucrats, all of whom had undoubtedly prepared long-winded arguments and veiled attempts to test her patience.
"Your Majesty," one of the older diplomats began, rising from his seat with an air of exaggerated politeness. "It is an honor to—"
"Where is your Emperor?" Diana interrupted, her voice calm, clipped, and cutting.
The diplomat faltered, visibly thrown off by her immediate demand. "His Holiness is currently occupied with sacred matters and sends his regards. Prince Cassiel is also—"
"Busy?" Diana finished for him, arching a delicate brow. "And the other princes?"
There was a murmur of unease among the gathered officials.
"Their Highnesses are—"
"Also busy."
The words were spoken in a tone that made it clear she had no patience for their excuses. Diana took a single step forward, placing her gloved hands on the table as she gazed at the gathered men. The light from the stained-glass windows cast multicolored hues over her silver hair, making her seem almost otherworldly.
"If that is the case," she continued smoothly, "then let us not waste time with empty formalities. State your business."
The diplomats exchanged glances, clearly not expecting such directness. Finally, the first speaker cleared his throat and began again.
"As you know, Your Majesty, the Holy Empire has been most generous in—"
"Denied," Diana said flatly.
A stunned silence filled the hall.
The man blinked. "Pardon?"
"You were about to ask for additional trade privileges and tax reductions for Holy Empire merchants entering Verdeca. The answer is no."
He sputtered. "But we have yet to present our case—"
Diana straightened, crossing her arms as she tilted her head slightly. "Then let me present it for you. You will claim that the Holy Empire's merchants suffer from high tariffs imposed by my government, despite the fact that Verdeca has already lowered them in previous negotiations. You will argue that as a nation devoted to divine law, the Holy Empire should be given special considerations. You will then attempt to use the past war aid your Empire provided as leverage, implying that Verdeca is ungrateful if we refuse."
The color drained from the diplomat's face.
"And finally," Diana continued, voice light but sharp, "when none of those arguments work, you will suggest that such generosity would improve relations between our nations, promoting peace and goodwill. Have I covered everything?"
The hall was so silent that the distant chime of a bell echoed through the chamber.
One of the younger diplomats, clearly less experienced, leaned forward. "If you already know our position, then surely you must understand—"
"Verdeca does not owe the Holy Empire anything," Diana cut in smoothly. "We have honored our agreements, and the current trade policies are more than fair. If you are dissatisfied, you are welcome to withdraw your merchants. But I suspect that is not an option, is it?"
The diplomat clenched his fists, his face turning red, but he could not refute her words.
A second diplomat, a middle-aged man with a calculating gaze, stepped in to recover. "Your Majesty, we understand your firm stance, but surely negotiation is possible. Perhaps—"
"Next topic," Diana said, already turning her attention to the next speaker.
The first diplomat sat down abruptly, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.
The second man stiffened but quickly adjusted. "Very well. Regarding the border dispute in the southern territories—"
"Settled."
The diplomat blinked. "Excuse me?"
"The matter has already been investigated and ruled upon last month. Your claim to the disputed land is baseless. If the Holy Empire wishes to challenge it, you may send a formal petition through proper channels instead of wasting my time here."
Another moment of stunned silence followed. The Holy Empire had likely expected Diana to be unfamiliar with the smaller territorial disputes, but she had come prepared.
The next diplomat hesitated before speaking. "Then, regarding the upcoming selection for the next Grand Cardinal, the Holy Empire would appreciate—"
"Verdeca has no interest in interfering with your religious appointments," Diana said coolly. "As long as the Holy Empire does not attempt to use its clergy to spread political propaganda within our borders, you may choose whichever puppet best suits your needs."
A murmur of outrage swept through the gathered officials at her blunt wording, but no one dared to speak out against her.
Diana exhaled slowly, as if bored. "Is that all?"
An older official, clearly one of the senior diplomats, narrowed his eyes at her. "Your Majesty, it is customary to discuss matters with patience and diplomacy. Surely, we can engage in a more respectful—"
"Respect?" Diana repeated, her golden eyes flashing. She leaned slightly forward, her presence pressing against the room like an unseen force.
"I was invited here under the pretense of diplomacy, yet your Emperor and his sons have conveniently found themselves too busy to meet me. I have entertained your discussions, despite knowing they were nothing more than attempts to extract concessions from Verdeca without offering anything in return. And now, after having wasted my time with repeated demands dressed as negotiations, you wish to lecture me on respect?"
No one spoke.
Diana let the silence stretch, let them feel the weight of their failure. Then, finally, she straightened and adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves.
"If your Emperor and his princes truly wish to engage in meaningful discussions, they know where to find me. Until then, do not summon me for matters that could have been handled by a letter."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode toward the exit, leaving the stunned diplomats in her wake.
As the grand doors swung shut behind her, she allowed herself a small, knowing smile.
If the Holy Empire thought they could toy with her, they had sorely underestimated the Empress of Verdeca.