Chapter 6 - The Gates of the Citadel
The upper district of Oakhaven was a world floating above the clouds—a pristine paradise of white marble, crystal spires, and manicured hanging gardens that looked down with utter contempt upon the smog-choked slums below.
At the apex of this citadel stood the Ignia Manor, a fortress of glass and white stone guarded by magical anti-air wards and ranks of heavily armored elite knights.
Tonight, the grand double doors of the estate were wide open, welcoming the wealthiest nobles, politicians, and high-ranking mages of the empire to celebrate the miraculous recovery of Young Master Marcus.
A sleek, black-lacquered carriage bearing the false seal of a southern merchant house rolled smoothly up the winding white-stone driveway. At the checkpoint, two knights in silver armor crossed their halberds, blocking the path.
"State your house and business," the lead knight barked, looking down his nose at the driver.
The carriage door slowly swung open from the inside.
A young woman stepped down onto the marble pavement. She wore an elegant, high-collared evening gown of midnight-black silk that contrasted sharply with her pale skin and ash-blonde hair. But it was her eyes—glowing with a faint, unnatural golden luminescence beneath the dim lamplight—that made the knight freeze.
"Deliver a message to High Patriarch Valen," Aurora said, her voice smooth and chillingly polite. "Tell him an uninvited guest has arrived from the basement."
"Intruder!" the knight shouted, raising his halberd. "Sound the—"
He never finished the sentence.
Aurora flicked her wrist. A streak of white-gold plasma whipped through the air like a lash of lightning, striking the knight’s breastplate. The heavy metal instantly melted into glowing, red-hot slag, sending the guard flying backward into the stone wall where he crumpled unconscious.
The second guard lunged forward, but Aurora sidestepped with effortless grace, pressing her palm flat against his chest. A burst of concussive heat energy erupted from her hand, blasting him clean over the courtyard railing and down into the gardens below.
The alarms began to wail—a deafening, magical siren that flashed crimson across the white marble facade of the manor.
May you like
Aurora didn't run. She walked forward, her heels clicking rhythmically against the stone, her hands resting casually at her sides as the heavy oak front doors of the Ignia estate splintered inward under a wave of her raw, incinerating willpower.
---
