“But tell me this, Lyra. If every single dragon on this continent were to mysteriously vanish tomorrow… what would happen to civilization?”
Lyra thought for a moment, her brow furrowing.
“The kingdoms would panic. The high military factions would lose their mind, even the Royals too, The borders would weaken.”
“Correct,” Myrmor intoned.
“A shift in political power. Nothing more. Now tell me… what would happen if every single ant vanished from the earth tomorrow?”
She hesitated fir awhile and answered honestly”I…
I don’t know.”
“The global forests would slowly suffocate and die,” Myrmor stated coldly.
“The agricultural soil would collapse into dead dust. Countless species of flora would vanish within a season. The absolute balance of nature itself would unravel, and every empire would starve to death within a decade.”
He looked down toward the base of the oak tree, where a line of tiny workers was silently moving beneath the moonlight.
“No one notices the smallest laborers. Yet the weight of entire civilizations stands firmly because they exist. True sovereignty is not about how loudly you can roar, Lyra. It is about what falls apart when you stop working, and how irrevocable your role is to the people around you ”
His tiny golden eyes locked onto her amber ones.
“When the entire world laughed at our manifestation, your first instinct wasn’t to curse your fate. It was to smile and offer companionship. I chose you because your heart made the decision to protect the small before your logical mind could even intervene. You possess the soul of a true ruler, Lyra Vale. Do not let children who play with lizards convince you otherwise.”
Lyra couldn’t speak.
A strange, burning tightness gripped her chest, a profound warmth completely erasing the cold rejection of the education council.
Suddenly—
*BANG!*
The wooden front gate of the property slammed open with violent force.
The sound of heavy, desperate breathing and sprinting boots cut through the quiet night air.
“Miss Vale! Miss Lyra Vale!!”
Lyra bolted up from the bench, her hand instinctively protecting Myrmor as she sprinted around the corner of the house.
Standing in the driveway, completely out of breath, his face as pale as a ghost beneath the moonlight, was the same courier from before.
“I… I made a huge mistake!” he gasped out, holding up a single, heavy envelope with a trembling hand.
Unlike the flimsy, mass produced white letters of the standard academies, this envelope was an absolute work of art.
The paper was deep, midnight black, feeling almost metallic as it caught the moonlight, its silver edges shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow.
But it was the center that made Lyra’s breath hitch.
Resting in the middle of the black paper was a heavy, deep violet wax seal, intricately stamped with an emblem that didn’t belong to any modern kingdom—a magnificent, empty throne surrounded by a perfect circle of twelve burning stars.
Even before Lyra’s fingers crossed the distance to touch it, an undeniable, pulsing warmth spread through her fingertips, making the air smell faintly of old parchment and ozone.
The courier swallowed hard, his eyes wide with genuine fear.
“This… this letter didn’t come through the district channels, Miss Vale. It appears to have completely bypassed every single routing department in the council. It materialized directly on the main director’s desk in a flash of purple light. It came straight from the high capital.”
He took a trembling step back.
“No… actually… that’s a lie. There isn’t even a return council address on it. The director ordered me to ride back here at maximum speed. It’s addressed strictly to you.”
Lyra looked down at the elegant, flowing silver ink spelling out her name: ‘Lyra Vale.
Beside her collar, Myrmor became completely, chillingly still.
For the very first time since she had touched the awakening crystal, the ancient Sovereign’s calm voice carried a shock wave of absolute, unmistakable horror.
“…Impossible,” Myrmor thought the imperial weight fracturing.
“…That seal… that godforsaken crest… it was systematically eradicated ten thousand years ago. The Eclipse Court swore they burned every trace, how can it still be in existence after so many years”
Lyra slowly accepted the midnight-black envelope.
The exact microsecond her fingers brushed the violet wax, the seal pulsed once against her skin.
A distinct, undeniable heartbeat.
Far, far away… completely beyond the borders of Silvercrest… beyond the known kingdoms of Aetheria…
An elderly woman with long, silver hair stood before a massive, arched glass window overlooking a breathtaking expanse of floating stone islands and ancient, crystalline spires.
She wore elegant, deep purple robes that seemed to swallow the light.
A faint, knowing smile graced her weathered face.
“The invitation has reached her hand.”
Behind her, a young female assistant stepped out of the shadows, her voice shaking slightly.
“Headmistress Celestine… do you truly believe it’s wise to involve her? If the high noble clans find out an insect user holds that specific letter… if the ‘others’ awaken…”
Headmistress Celestine Ardyn turned her deep, ageless eyes toward the distant, stormy horizon of Apex Sovereign Academy.
“Let the noble clans panic,” Celestine whispered softly, her smile widening into something fiercely dangerous.
“They have forgotten why they sit on those thrones. The legends didn’t end ten thousand years ago, child. They were merely waiting for the right person who knew how to look down.”
The strange envelope felt remarkably warm in Lyra’s hands.
It wasn’t a burning heat, nor was it cold like the evening air; it was a radiating, vital warmth, almost as if the paper itself were alive.
The violet wax seal shimmered faintly beneath the pale moonlight.
The image stamped into it…. a grand, empty throne surrounded by twelve stars… was so intricately crafted that it looked less like an ordinary seal and more like a tiny, flawless work of art.
No one spoke.
The quiet of the front yard stretched on, and even Myrmor remained unusually quiet within her mind.
“Miss…?” the courier asked nervously, shifting his feet on the dirt path.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”