The imperial palace, the very heart of the empire, held a silence as thick and suffocating as the weight of a thousand dying stars. Its grand halls, usually alive with the hum of courtly life, were heavy with an unspoken tension. Valerian stood before the throne, his face a mask of stone, his expression unreadable. The Emperor, his brother, sat in judgment, a heavy crown upon his brow. From the shadows, Empress Armada watched, her lips curled in the slightest, almost imperceptible smile. Only the Emperor and his brother were present in the throne room, the air crackling with their unspoken conflict.

  King Duri: "Valerian," Duri's voice cut through the air, sharp and laden with bitterness. "Your wife has committed a crime so vile, so treacherous, that had it been anyone else, they would already be at the mercy of death. She not only dared accuse Empress of the Fallen Star, but she dared to storm into my castle as if it were her private grounds. Do you understand the gravity of this?" His gaze bore into his brother, sharp as a dagger, demanding an answer. "You may consider yourself fortunate that she is the first champion who fought beside me, and that she is bound to you by marriage. For that reason alone, I will listen to your side of the story. But make no mistake, my brother, your wife stands on the precipice of her fate."

  A tragic pause hung in the air, the weight of their recent loss undeniable. Valerian's eyes, cold and venomous, locked onto his brother's. Even if he had been granted a million chances to predict the future, he could not have foreseen this outcome. His brother was no longer just his brother; he was an Emperor, questioning him for his wife’s supposed wrongdoing, when Valerian knew the Empress was truly to blame. He knew the last person with his son was Empress Armada, and that was why his beloved Antheros had charged into the castle.

  There was no love left between them—only the raw, bitter reality of their shared past. Orphans once, they had clawed their way out of destitution's ashes, single-handedly forging an empire from nothing. It was Duri's might and political prowess that had claimed the throne, while Valerian's genius in magic and invention had remained the silent backbone of their rise. Duri had taken credit for it all, hiding Valerian's true contributions beneath layers of deceit until the empire was built. Only then did he expose his brother's talents to the world. From their days in the slums until Duri's marriage, they had been inseparably linked.

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  Valerian: "You speak of loss? You speak of betrayal? Yet, you forget who the true murderer is, Duri. My son was killed, and the last person to be in his presence was your precious wife." His voice broke like thunder, raw and full of anguish, reverberating through the silent hall. "But you claim she is innocent, and all because she is your wife—the Empress. I would call it absurd, but I know the game you play."

  Duri averted his gaze, his jaw tightening. He could not face his brother's hatred, nor could he fully admit the depths of his past deceptions. But the empire, his empire, demanded action.

  Duri: His words were strained, bitter as poison. "Of course, this loss is monumental—devastating. However, you must understand that we mourn not just for you, but for the empire itself. Yet, the perpetrator—the one responsible for this chaos—is dead. What more do you want, Valerian? Why accuse the Empress of something she did not do?"

  Valerian’s heart twisted in fury, his mind torn between love and hatred, loyalty and vengeance. His thoughts turned to the battlefields where they once stood shoulder to shoulder. Duri had always been the leader, always the protector, while Valerian's mind had birthed the weapons of their power. But now? Now, everything was going to change.

  Valerian: "You know as well as I that there is no turning back. The moment you crowned her as Empress, you sealed our fates. She is your shield, your crown, but she is also a threat. And I will not allow this injustice to stain my soul."

  Duri: His voice softened, tinged with a cold regret. "I know no way forward, Valerian. My empire is at risk from Orion. Armada’s history is too heavy to ignore, and her strength... we cannot discard her threat so easily."

  But Valerian did not listen. The sight of his wife, battered, caged like an animal, burned his heart. His soul screamed for justice.

  Valerian: "Maduri did not murder my son. There is no evidence. Only your wife’s disregard, leaving him unattended—if she had stayed, if she had cared for him, he might not be murdered."

  Duri: "She was sick," Duri interjected, his voice sharp.

  Valerian: "But why leave him in such a vulnerable state?"

  Duri: The weight of it all seemed to crush him. "She left to protect him, not to infect him. And now, you want to accuse her?" He stood, his hand trembling with barely contained fury. "Enough. Your wife has tarnished the Empress’s name—insulted the empire! Take her and leave. This judgment will be given tomorrow."