Versailles – November 11, 1937 – 4:19 AM
Claire moved through the east wing corridor of the palace with Solène close behind. Their footsteps echoed under the silent arches, now heavy with an invisible tension. The reliquary in her pocket no longer burned — but it pulsed. Like a warning. Like a compass.
— "He's close," Claire said.
— "Armand?"
— "Or what's left of him."
At the end of the corridor, a man waited. Gray-haired, overcoat damp with mist, and eyes that looked like they had witnessed centuries pass.
Armand.
But not the same.
— "You remember, don't you?" he said, before Claire could even speak.
She stopped, staring at him.
— "I let you cross."
— "And I never came back whole."
For a moment, the world stood still. Until the floor trembled.
— "Paris is shifting," Solène said, glancing toward the stained-glass window of the hall.
Flames. Not natural fire, but streaks of blue light erupting from the ground like reversed roots. Ancient magic, sealed since the First Fracture, rising through the arteries of the city.
---
Paris – Latin Quarter – 4:21 AM
The streets were empty. But in the shadows between buildings, men in dark cloaks with old symbols on their chests took position. Enchanted batons in hand. Masks over their faces.
The Magical Containment Guard.
— "Target: Red Level."
— "Records confirm Veil magic present."
— "Begin sweep."
City lights began to flicker. And then, the mirrors.
In shop windows, bathrooms, glass panes... one by one, they cracked. Each crack was an opened window.
And someone — or something — was looking back.
---
Versailles – Grand Hall – 4:23 AM
Claire turned to face Armand.
— "You knew all of this would happen."
— "The Rose doesn't bloom. It breaks," he replied. "And from the fracture comes the path."
Claire gripped the reliquary.
Solène began reciting a protection chant.
Outside, the sky was starting to turn golden.
But Paris, in the distance, glowed blue.
It wasn't dawn.
It was the beginning of war.