[Eshkaran Empire — Imperial City — Toward the Temple of the Seven]
The carriage moved steadily along the broad stone avenue, its bronze wheels rolling over the sun-warmed road as the banners of House Veyrath fluttered above it.
Outside the carriage window, the Imperial City unfolded beneath the brilliance of the afternoon sun.
Markets crowded the streets. Merchants called out their wares beneath awnings of woven linen, priests moved between the temple districts, and commoners stepped aside whenever the crest of the Veyrath family appeared.
Then the carriage passed, and one by one, every head lowered. Even the elemental spirits drifting through the streets seemed to respond to the presence within the carriage.
Small currents of air curled around rooftops and temple pillars. The lower-ranked Veyra spirits—barely visible to ordinary eyes—bent instinctively toward the carriage, their wisps of wind trembling beneath the overwhelming pressure of a far greater Aether presence.
The people of Eshkaran knew exactly who was passing through their streets.
Azram Vaerun Veyrath.
The Silent Tempest, the strongest wielder of Veyra—the element of Air—beneath the Imperial family itself.
Yet inside the carriage, the feared Azram wasn’t looking at the people; his silver eyes were fixed upon the tiny girl sitting beside him.
Seyra had her face pressed against the carriage window; her violet eyes followed everything outside with shameless curiosity.
A fruit vendor, a priest carrying a bronze vessel, a group of children chasing one another through the market, and a woman arguing with a merchant.
Seyra stared at everything as though the entire Imperial City had been constructed solely for her entertainment. Vaerum watched her quietly; his gaze moved from her tangled curls to the red dress she wore, then to the bronze bracelets around her tiny wrists.
His expression remained unreadable, but his mind had already begun working.
’Her clothes are inadequate, no. More than inadequate.’
He glanced at the sleeves.
’They were made for a child of another household. They fit, but they are not hers; she needs proper attire.’
His gaze shifted toward the bronze tiara sitting slightly crooked on her head, then he reconsidered. Vaerum leaned back against the cushions.
’No, she needs a private designer. ’ His expression remained perfectly calm. ’Someone who can design her clothes according to her age, growth, and position.’
Another thought followed immediately.
’She also needs more attendants.’
He had seen the way women of noble houses prepared themselves before court appearances. Hair, jewelry, clothing, perfumes, ceremonial garments... It was an entire military operation, and judging by the amount of time Seyra had spent admiring herself in a bronze mirror that morning...
’She will probably require twice as many.’ His gaze became slightly colder. ’Four maids will not be sufficient; she needs more.’
Vaerum frowned faintly. He had never imagined calculating the required number of maids for a four-year-old girl, and yet here he was, the Azram of Eshkaran, commander of House Veyrath, feared by nobles and spirits alike...quietly planning the household staff of his daughter.
His eyes returned to Seyra as she mumbled, "Wow...he just served water with the help of spirits."
Vaerum followed her gaze; a young vendor stood beside a stone fountain, guiding a thin stream of water through the air with the help of a small elemental spirit. The water flowed neatly into a bronze cup before settling into the hands of a customer.
Seyra watched with open fascination, then she turned toward Vaerum. "Why do we have to add me to the family tablets at a temple?"
Vaerum’s silver eyes rested upon her. "Because the Temple stands above the Imperial Court."
Seyra frowned, and Vaerum leaned back against the carriage wall, his voice calm and firm.
"The Temple of the Seven is where the spirits first acknowledge mankind. Every child with an Aether core is recognized through the Temple, even the Emperor."
Vaerum continued, his words measured.
"The throne rules the empire. The Temple guards its roots."
Seyra stared at him. Vaerum’s gaze remained steady.
"The spirits are the source of our Aether. The Temple is where that bond is witnessed; that is why every great house brings its bloodline there, and today, House Veyrath will bring you."
Seyra looked down at her little hands. "So...they’ll know I’m your daughter?"
"They will."
She remained silent for a moment, then she turned back toward the window. The Imperial City slowly disappeared behind them as the road climbed toward the sacred district.
Ahead, the Temple of the Seven finally came into view.
Its enormous stone walls rose above the surrounding buildings, carved with ancient symbols and images of the seven elemental spirits. Massive pillars guarded its entrance, each crowned with the likeness of a different divine beast.
Bronze bells hung beneath the temple archways, swaying gently in the wind.
Seyra stared, her violet eyes reflecting the towering temple.
"Connected to our roots..." She whispered the words as though trying to understand them.
Vaerum didn’t answer immediately.
He watched her instead, the way she looked at the temple, the way she listened, and the way she questioned things no ordinary four-year-old should have questioned.
His silver eyes narrowed slightly.
’She’s definitely not an ordinary child.’
The carriage continued toward the Temple of the Seven.
***
[The Temple of the Seven — Moments Later]
The carriage came to a halt before the great stairs of the Temple of the Seven; before Captain Kharzen could fully open the door, the faintest stir of wind passed through the courtyard.
The bronze bells hanging beneath the temple’s towering archways chimed twice, and then silence returned.
Captain Kharzen stepped down first and opened the carriage door. Azram Vaerum Veyrath emerged with Seyra in his arms.
Several House Veyrath knights stood at attention nearby; for a moment, none of them looked directly at their lord—they were still getting used to it.
Their Azram—the Silent Tempest, the man whose presence alone could silence an entire battlefield—had somehow become a man who carried a four-year-old girl everywhere as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Kharzen had stopped questioning it, and then Ravian approached and bowed. "The High Priest should already be waiting, Azram."
Seyra peeked over Vaerum’s shoulder; the moment she spotted him, her eyes brightened. "Hello, Ravian!"
Ravian’s stern expression immediately softened. "Good to see you, my lady."
Seyra smiled. Vaerum’s gaze shifted toward Ravian.
"Did you tell him precisely why I summoned him?"
"Yes, Azram. I delivered your letter personally. The High Priest received it and responded immediately."
Vaerum gave a small nod and turned toward the temple, and Seyra finally looked up; the Temple of the Seven was enormous.
It did not resemble a palace. It did not resemble any temple she had ever imagined. It looked ancient, as though the earth itself had risen from beneath the city and shaped the sanctuary with its own hands.
Seven colossal pillars guarded the entrance, each carved from a different stone and engraved with the symbols of the Seven Spirits.
The pillar of air was pale as moonlight, its surface carved with spiraling wings. The pillar of water was dark blue and covered in flowing patterns resembling rivers. The pillar of Earth was deep brown, its surface shaped like mountains and roots.
Fire burned upon another pillar—not real flame, but golden-red crystals that glowed from within the stone, and the remaining three represented the spirits whose names were sacred enough that Seyra didn’t yet know them.
Above the entrance, seven enormous statues stood beneath the open sky; they were not statues of human gods.
They were spirits. A winged serpent of air, a great horned beast of earth, a celestial fish formed from flowing water, a lion wreathed in eternal flame, and three other divine creatures whose forms seemed almost impossible to understand.
Their eyes were carved from translucent crystals, and as Vaerum approached...they seemed to glow. Seyra stared; the air around her suddenly felt different.
Not colder, not warmer...just...alive.
Tiny elemental spirits moved throughout the temple courtyard; some appeared as flickering sparks. Others resembled small birds made entirely from wind. Water spirits flowed like ribbons between the carved channels in the stone.
Tiny creatures made of dust and earth crawled along the temple walls before disappearing into the cracks.
They weren’t servants, they weren’t decorations, they were everywhere and watching.
Seyra’s violet eyes widened.
"Wow..."
Vaerum glanced down at her ashe whispered, "There are spirits everywhere."
"They belong here."
"Do they always watch people?"
"Yes."
Seyra immediately looked up at the enormous statues.
"...That’s slightly creepy."
Kharzen almost choked. Ravian lowered his head to hide the smile threatening to appear. Vaerum merely continued walking.
"The spirits hear everything."
Seyra nodded and glanced around the temple.
They crossed beneath the enormous archway. Inside, the temperature dropped. The walls were carved with ancient inscriptions, their surfaces illuminated by hundreds of oil lamps placed inside bronze niches.
A massive circular symbol had been carved into the floor; seven paths extended from its center, each leading toward a different sanctuary, and at the very center stood a stone basin filled with perfectly still water.
No priest touched it and no wind moved it, yet beneath its surface, seven different lights slowly shimmered.
Vaerum’s steps slowed. Seyra noticed, and she looked at him. He was staring toward the basin, and for a brief moment, his expression became unreadable.
Then a voice echoed through the enormous hall.
"I have been waiting for you, Azram Vaerun Veyrath."
The sound was calm, young, and powerful. Every knight in House Veyrath straightened. Ravian immediately lowered his head.
Seyra looked ahead, and a figure emerged from beneath the shadow of the inner sanctuary.
He was young. Tall and slender, dressed in layered white and deep-blue priestly robes embroidered with seven ancient symbols. Long black hair fell loosely behind his shoulders, held back by a thin bronze circlet.
His eyes were an unusual shade of deep gold like Azhar’s (fire).
He walked without hurry; the spirits moved aside for him. Even the flames within the bronze lamps leaned toward his passing.
Seyra stared.
Vaerum’s expression remained cold, and the young man stopped before them. For several heartbeats, neither man spoke, then the High Priest’s golden eyes moved toward the little girl resting in Vaerum’s arms.
His expression changed, and the High Priest looked at her violet eyes.
"So..." His eyes remained fixed upon the child. "This is the girl the Silent Tempest has chosen to call his daughter."