The day after Heartland's declaration of Sovereignty,
the Grand Arena remained a broken ruin.
Yet, across the shattered fields,
life returned.
Not the vibrant, laughing life of the old world.
Something different.
Something sharper.
Hungrier.
Awed.
The people — nobles, merchants, soldiers, refugees —
moved carefully now.
As if breathing too loudly might draw the attention of the new Sovereign Star burning at the Arena's center.
In Heartland's Camp
The Sovereign Pavilion, hastily repaired by Lyanna's spirit arrays and Mira's shadowweaving,
stood like an unbreakable bastion amid the ruins.
Kaelen sat at the central table, Sovereignblade Astryn resting casually across his lap.
Around him:
Mira watched the entrance like a waiting wolf.
Riven leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, flame swirling idly around his fingers.
Selina crafted healing runes into the new flagstones.
Damon and Eren flanked the Pavilion doors — immovable.
Lyanna wove information sigils into the air, reporting on the movement of other powers.
Lyra perched above, keeping constant aerial watch.
And at Kaelen's right hand —
Aria now stood.
Silent.
Ready.
A Sovereign of silverfire heart.
The Emissaries Arrive
The first approached near midday.
An entourage of golden-armored envoys —
representatives of the Dominion Crown remnants.
They carried no weapons.
Only scrolls.
Sealed with desperate, trembling hope.
They knelt at the Pavilion's threshold,
unwilling — or unable — to step closer.
Kaelen did not rise.
He merely gestured.
Speak.
The lead envoy, a man too young and too frightened for his burden, unrolled the scroll.
"The Dominion Crown offers a treaty of coexistence,
acknowledging Heartland's Sovereignty in exchange for…
non-aggression pacts and mutual defense clauses."
His voice shook.
Not from fear of war.
From fear that even their best offer was meaningless to a Sovereign who needed nothing they could give.
Kaelen's Calm
He listened.
He did not mock.
He did not rage.
Only silence answered.
Finally, Kaelen spoke — low, deliberate, each word heavier than steel:
"We do not kneel.
We do not defend broken thrones.
We do not barter dreams for dust."
"Return to your masters.
Tell them:
Heartland walks forward.
They may follow,
or they may be trampled.
The choice is theirs."
The envoys bowed so low they nearly collapsed.
And fled without another word.
The Second Emissary
By sunset, a second group approached.
Their banners bore no crowns.
No guild emblems.
Only a single golden eye stitched into black silk —
the symbol of the Silent Concord,
an ancient, secretive alliance of powerful hidden families.
They offered no treaties.
Only promises.
Resources.
Ancient relics.
Forbidden knowledge.
In exchange for a seat at Kaelen's side.
A way to "guide" the future.
To shape the Sovereign Nation from the shadows.
Mira's blades hissed from their sheaths before they even finished speaking.
Selina's light flared brighter.
Damon and Eren shifted forward.
Kaelen raised a single hand.
His voice colder now:
"There are no shadows in the Sovereign Nation.
Only light.
Only Will."
The emissaries did not argue.
They vanished back into the ruins —
disappearing like ghosts into history.
The Third Visitors: A Warning
Just as twilight bled into night,
a third group arrived.
Not envoys.
Not nobles.
Not warriors.
A pair of old Sovereign Beasts —
creatures once thought extinct.
One, a massive white lion with wings of mist.
The other, a serpent woven of molten stone and living roots.
They spoke no words.
Only bowed low before Kaelen.
And with them, they left a message —
etched into Sovereign Script into the very earth:
"The Ancient Realms awaken.
The Eternal Courts will not be silent.
Prepare."
A warning.
A promise.
An inevitability.
Beyond the shattered kingdoms of men,
beyond the ruined crowns,
lay even greater threats.
And they had noticed Heartland's rise.
The Family's Reaction
Kaelen turned slowly to his companions.
Their faces were calm.
Resolved.
Not naive.
They knew the war was only beginning.
But none of them flinched.
Not Mira, whose shadows had danced with death itself.
Not Riven, whose fire longed for higher skies.
Not Selina, whose light only grew brighter when tested.
Not Damon, Eren, Lyanna, Lyra — Sovereigns all.
And certainly not Aria,
whose silverfire spirit now blazed so brightly
even the oldest bloodlines would one day whisper her name in fear and awe.
Kaelen's Decision
He spoke, and his voice was clear — carrying through the Pavilion and across the broken lands beyond:
"We do not fear ancient gods.
We do not fear old courts.
We do not fear the forgotten realms."
"We are Sovereigns.
We will rise.
And we will claim the stars themselves."
The cracked-crown banners flared with Sovereign light.
And somewhere far above,
beyond the broken clouds,
the old stars trembled.
Because for the first time in a thousand years,
they realized:
A true Sovereign Nation had been born.
And it would not kneel.