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Throne of Starlight and Scars
A few years later...
The palace had never been this alive before.
The grand halls, once filled with whispers of conspiracy and war, now echoed with laughter, the hurried footsteps of small, determined figures, and the quiet hum of peace that had long been absent from these walls.
For the first time in years, the empire was not at war.
For the first time, Aeliana did not feel the need to keep a dagger within reach, did not wake in the middle of the night expecting an attack.
And yet, even in this peace, she knew one undeniable truth-this empire was still growing.
Aeliana stood in the center of the throne room, watching as her daughter-her heir-walked with quiet command, her tiny golden eyes sharp, already taking in the world around her with the same calculating gaze as her father.
Seraphina was still young, but she had already begun carrying herself like a ruler.
Aeliana had seen it before-in Tharx.
The way Seraphina moved, the way she measured the world around her, as if deciding its worth, as if weighing its strengths and weaknesses.
But Seraphina was not just her father's heir.
She was more.
She was fierce, but not reckless.
Bold, but not foolish.
She had Tharx's fire, but she had Aeliana's patience.
And the empire was beginning to see it.
There was no more talk of uncertainty.
No more whispers of whether she would be fit to rule.
The nobles had seen her, had watched her learn, had watched the way she stood beside her mother and father during royal processions, the way she absorbed every lesson, every moment.
She was not a question anymore.
She was an answer.
Aeliana exhaled softly as she watched Seraphina move through the grand chamber, her small hands trailing along the velvet banners that hung from the throne.
She was not alone.
Behind her, two identical figures toddled after their older sister, laughing as they struggled to keep up.
Aeliana's twins.
Kieran and Malik.
Her sons.
Kieran was the stubborn one-more like Tharx than Aeliana had ever thought possible. He refused help when he fell, his tiny fists clenching in frustration whenever something did not go his way.
Malik was **quieter, more measured-**but his silence did not mean he lacked strength.
No, Malik was calculating, careful.
He watched. He waited.
And when he acted, it was deliberate, precise.
Aeliana could already see the dynamic forming between them.
Seraphina, the leader, the future empress, the eldest with a mind sharpened by both war and diplomacy.
Kieran, the fighter, the one who would protect her, the one who would carry the empire's strength in his hands.
And Malik, the thinker, the strategist, the one who would see the threats before they even arose.
Together, they would inherit the empire.
Together, they would shape it.
And Aeliana knew-this was the legacy she and Tharx had built.
A presence stirred behind her, and she did not need to turn to know who it was.
She had known his presence since the moment he had first dragged her into his world and refused to let her go.
Tharx stopped beside her, arms crossed, his golden eyes locked onto their children.
"They're getting stronger," he murmured.
Aeliana nodded. "They are."
For a long moment, they simply watched them.
Then Seraphina turned, her brows furrowing in the same way Tharx's always did when something was not to his liking.
"Father," she said, her voice carrying through the chamber despite her small frame.
Tharx raised a brow. "Yes?"
Seraphina lifted her chin. "When will I begin my real training?"
Aeliana bit back a smirk. So much like her father.
Tharx, however, looked entirely unimpressed.
"You can barely lift a sword," he said.
Seraphina's small hands curled into fists. "I can learn."
One of the twins-**Kieran, of course-**perked up. "Me too!"
Tharx sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. "You will train," he said, "when I say you are ready."
Seraphina scowled but did not argue.
Aeliana bent down slightly, brushing a hand over her daughter's dark curls. "You have plenty of time," she told her softly. "You are already stronger than they know."
Seraphina blinked up at her, watching her closely-the way she always did when she was studying something she did not fully understand.
And then, slowly, she nodded.
Aeliana turned her gaze back to Tharx, her voice quieter now.
"Do you think we did the right thing?"
Tharx's golden eyes remained on their children.
"We are still here," he said simply. "And she will rule because of us."
Aeliana exhaled.
The battles, the betrayals, the endless nights of uncertainty-they had all led to this.
The empire was stable.
Their family was whole.
And the future was theirs to command.
The sun had begun to set when Aeliana found herself standing on the royal balcony, overlooking the empire they had built together.
The city stretched before her, golden light spilling across the rooftops, flickering against banners that carried Tharx's sigil-the sigil that Seraphina would one day claim as her own.
The people below had changed.
They no longer looked to the palace with fear.
They believed.
They believed in Tharx, in Aeliana, in Seraphina, in the empire they had secured.
And belief, Aeliana had learned, was far stronger than fear could ever be.
A warm presence pressed against her back, and she did not need to turn to know who it was.
Tharx.
His hands slid around her waist, pulling her against him, his breath fanning against her neck.
Aeliana smiled, letting herself sink into his warmth.
She did not speak at first.
She did not need to.
For the first time in years, there was no war to plan.
No traitors to root out.
No battle waiting on the horizon.
There was only this.
Only them.
Only the empire they had built together.
Tharx exhaled against her skin, pressing a slow kiss to her shoulder.
Aeliana smirked. "What now?" she murmured.
Tharx chuckled-a rare, genuine sound, deep and low in his chest.
"Now," he said, his voice dark with amusement, "we prepare for the future."
Aeliana arched a brow. "And what exactly does that mean?"
Tharx's golden eyes gleamed.
"It means," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers, "that this empire is only just beginning."
Aeliana smiled against his mouth.
Because she believed him.
And she could not wait to see what came next.
115: The Weight of an Heir
The great hall of the imperial palace was more alive than Seraphina had ever seen it.
Banners hung from the towering marble columns, woven in deep crimson and obsidian, the colors of her family's rule. The ceiling, painted with celestial constellations, seemed to stretch on endlessly above her. Hundreds of nobles, generals, and high-ranking officials filled the grand chamber, their eyes fixed on her, their postures poised in rigid expectation.
Seraphina stood at the center of it all, her back straight, her chin lifted-not in arrogance, but in defiance.
This was her ceremony.
It was her 20th birthday.
The moment she had been trained for since birth.
The moment when she would formally step into the role of ruler-in-training, preparing to take the empire into her hands.
And yet, as she stood there, dressed in her ceremonial robes-**rich black trimmed with deep gold, the heavy fabric pressing against her skin like chains-**she felt nothing but a hollow weight settling in her chest.
She should feel pride. Excitement. Readiness.
Instead, she felt trapped.
She should be certain of her place.
Instead, all she had were questions.
At the head of the chamber, seated upon the twin thrones of the empire, her parents watched her.
Aeliana, her mother, sat with quiet grace, her dark eyes unreadable, her presence a quiet force that Seraphina had always looked to for guidance.
Tharx, her father, was a statue of power and dominance beside her, his golden eyes burning like molten fire, his expression cold, expectant.
He had been the most unstoppable force in the galaxy-a warlord turned emperor, a conqueror turned ruler.
And now, it was her turn.
A hush fell over the court as **one of the elder advisors, Lord Vexis, stepped forward, carrying an ancient scroll-**the declaration that had been recited at every heir's coming-of-age ceremony for generations.
Seraphina's hands tightened at her sides.
The moment had come.
The advisor's voice boomed through the chamber, reverberating against the marble walls.
"Seraphina, heir to the empire, firstborn of Emperor Tharx and Empress Aeliana, descendant of rulers, warrior-blooded and destiny-bound-do you stand before us prepared to take your rightful place in the lineage of the throne?"
The words chilled her.
Prepared.
Was she?
She had trained her entire life for this moment. She had spent years under the most brutal combat instructors, had learned the art of diplomacy, of ruling, of controlling an empire that stretched across dozens of planets.
And yet
She was not just her father's daughter.
She was not just a warrior, a ruler, an heir.
She was something else.
Something they had never prepared her to be.
Aeliana had been born on Earth.
Seraphina had never been there.
She had never seen the world her mother had come from, never walked among the people who shared half of her blood.
She was meant to rule an empire that she did not fully understand.
How could she take the throne if she did not even know who she was?
The silence stretched, too long, too heavy.
She could feel her father's piercing gaze boring into her, feel the tension in the room shift as nobles exchanged glances.
She opened her mouth-
And hesitated.
Tharx leaned forward.
"Seraphina," his voice was quiet, but edged with warning.
Aeliana did not move, but Seraphina saw something flicker in her mother's gaze-something knowing.
Everyone expected her to say yes.
To accept, without question.
To become exactly what her father had shaped her to be.
But she could not.
Not yet.
She lifted her chin, steeling herself against the weight of the court's expectations.
"I am prepared to rule," she said.
The relief in the room was palpable. The tension broke-until she continued.
"But before I take the throne, I must understand all of my heritage."
Murmurs rippled through the court.
Seraphina felt Tharx go still.
"I have trained my entire life to rule this empire," she said, her voice unwavering. "But I am not just a product of war. I am not just the daughter of an emperor. My mother's blood runs through me as well. And I have never stepped foot on the world that created her."
The murmurs became whispers.
Tharx rose slowly from his throne.
"You wish to leave?"
Seraphina held his gaze.
"I wish to know the part of me that I have been denied."
The air in the chamber turned ice cold.
Seraphina had never defied her father before.
Not like this.
She could see the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides, how his jaw tightened with barely restrained fury.
"This is your place," Tharx said, voice sharp, clipped. "Here. With your people."
Seraphina's breath came slow and steady. "Then let me understand who they are. Who I am. Let me see Earth. Let me know the world that created half of me."
The nobles shifted uncomfortably. Some looked to Aeliana, as if she might intervene.
But Aeliana did not.
She simply watched.
Waiting.
Measuring.
Tharx took a step forward, each movement controlled, deliberate.
"You are not human," he said. "You are more. What could you possibly gain from a world that is beneath us?"
Seraphina's anger flared.
"My mother was not beneath you."
A silence fell so thick, it felt like the walls themselves had stopped breathing.
Aeliana's eyes narrowed slightly, as if silently telling Seraphina to be careful.
But Seraphina would not back down.
For the first time, she saw what her mother must have seen in Tharx all those years ago-a ruler who did not know what to do with a woman who was not afraid of him.
She had never questioned him like this before.
She could see it in his face-he had never expected her to.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"You think you need to know them before you can rule them?" he asked.
Seraphina nodded. "I do."
Tharx did not answer immediately.
His golden eyes burned into hers, searching, testing, weighing the depth of her conviction.
Aeliana's voice finally cut through the silence.
"Perhaps," she said, "our daughter is right."
Tharx's gaze snapped to her.
Aeliana did not falter. "If she is to rule, she must do so with certainty."
The nobles looked between them, the uncertainty shifting into something else entirely.
Seraphina saw it.
They thought she was weak.
That she was afraid.
She lifted her chin higher.
She would prove them wrong.
Tharx exhaled slowly.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.
"If you leave, you will return as my heir-or not at all."
Seraphina felt the weight of that promise settle over her like an execution sentence.
Aeliana's fingers tensed slightly against the armrest of her throne.
But Seraphina only nodded once.
"Then I will return with answers," she said.
116: The Throne Awaits
The council chamber was suffocating.
Seraphina sat at the long obsidian table, her fingers pressed tightly against its polished surface as the voices of her father's council rose and fell around her. The air was thick with expectation, with authority, with the weight of generations past.
They were waiting for her to conform.
To accept.
To become what they expected.
"You must take the throne soon," Lord Vexis, one of the oldest and most influential nobles, said. His pale eyes were sharp, his lined face unreadable. "The empire has always transitioned its heirs upon their twentieth year. This is not a tradition that can be questioned."
Seraphina lifted her gaze, her jaw tightening.
They spoke of tradition as if it were law, as if it were an unchanging force of nature.
But tradition had never had to contend with her.
"You mean to say it has never been questioned," she corrected.
A ripple of discomfort passed through the room.
Vexis did not flinch, but others shifted uneasily in their seats.
Seraphina let the silence stretch.
They wanted her to become her father.
To rule as he had.
To erase anything within her that did not fit their vision of what an emperor should be.
But she was not Tharx.
She was not a warlord.
She was not a conqueror.
And she refused to pretend.
"The emperor has led with strength," another noble, Lady Arven, added, her voice smooth, calculated. "The people look to him and see certainty. They will expect the same from you, Your Highness. The time for questioning has passed."
Seraphina exhaled slowly.
They thought her hesitation was doubt.
That her desire to understand the other half of her bloodline was weakness.
That she was not ready.
That she was a lesser ruler than her father.
She did not react immediately.
Instead, she turned her gaze toward the head of the table-toward her father.
Tharx sat in his usual seat, golden eyes dark and unreadable, arms crossed over his broad chest.
He had said nothing since the meeting began.
Had watched her instead.
Seraphina had learned long ago that silence from her father was not indifference.
It was a test.
He was waiting to see what she would do.
Waiting to see if she would bend.
If she would break.
She would do neither.
Seraphina stood, her ceremonial robes flowing around her as she commanded the attention of the room.
"The empire has been ruled through war and dominance for years," she said, each word crisp, deliberate. "But I will not be my father's shadow. I will not be expected to rule as a reflection of what has already been. My rule-my empire-will be something new."
A few of the nobles exchanged uneasy glances.
Some, she noticed, looked intrigued.
Tharx watched her. Silent. Measuring.
Vexis cleared his throat, his expression betraying no emotion. "And what exactly do you mean by 'new,' Your Highness?"
Seraphina met his gaze without hesitation.
"That remains to be seen," she said.
She strode through the halls, frustration clawing at her ribs, her thoughts circling the same impossible reality.
They wanted her to sit upon the throne as her father had.
To wield fear as a weapon.
To make strength her only currency.
But what if the empire needed something else?
What if she could be more?
"Seraphina!"
A familiar voice called her name, and she turned just as her younger brother, Kieran, jogged toward her.
The boy who had once followed her like a shadow was now nearly as tall as their father, built with the same strength but tempered with boundless energy.
Seraphina had always envied that about him.
Kieran had never cared for the weight of legacy.
He had grown into a warrior, but not a ruler.
And because of that, he was free.
"You're late," he teased, his golden eyes gleaming.
Seraphina scoffed. "For what?"
"For meeting me in the training grounds," he said, grinning. "You promised to spar, remember?"
Seraphina shook her head. "I never promised."
Kieran shrugged. "You should come anyway. You could use the stress relief."
She rolled her eyes but followed him down the corridors.
The training grounds were emptier than usual, save for one other figure standing at the far end of the arena.
Seraphina slowed her steps.
"Malik?"
Their eldest younger brother turned to face them, his sharp features unreadable, his piercing golden eyes much more restrained than Kieran's.
Where Kieran was fire, Malik was ice.
Where Kieran was bold, Malik was calculating.
Seraphina had always known that Malik would never challenge her for the throne.
But that did not mean he wasn't watching.
Judging.
Waiting.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
Malik adjusted the sleeves of his tunic, his expression unreadable. "Waiting for you."
Seraphina tensed.
"Why?"
Malik's gaze cut into her, sharp and knowing.
"The court is talking," he said simply.
Seraphina crossed her arms. "They always talk."
Malik tilted his head. "They think you're uncertain."
Kieran scoffed. "They think a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're right."
Seraphina exhaled, her gaze flickering toward the training dummies scattered throughout the arena.
"They don't understand why I hesitate," she admitted.
Malik nodded once. "They never will."
Seraphina turned to him, her frustration rising.
"I am not my father," she said. "I cannot rule as he did. I cannot-"
"They don't care," Malik interrupted, his voice calm but unyielding.
Seraphina stilled.
"If you question tradition," he continued, watching her carefully, "you will make enemies."
Seraphina knew that.
She had always known that.
But knowing it did not change the fact that she felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into an uncertain future.
"If I do not rule in my own way," she said quietly, "then I am not truly ruling at all."
Kieran grinned. "Then don't listen to them."
Seraphina turned toward him, arching a brow.
Kieran shrugged. "You were always the strongest of us. You always knew what you wanted."
Seraphina wasn't sure that was true anymore.
She had thought she knew.
Now now, she wasn't so sure.
Malik exhaled through his nose, his gaze flickering between them. "The nobles expect you to take the throne as tradition demands," he said. "If you do anything else, they will see it as a sign of weakness."
Seraphina clenched her jaw. "It is not weakness to want to understand the world I will rule."
"No," Malik agreed. "But it is dangerous."
Seraphina turned away, her mind spinning with too many thoughts, too many possibilities.
She could see the path before her-the one her father wanted her to take, the one the nobles expected.
But she could also see another.
A path that led to Earth.
To answers.
To understanding.
"I need to do this," she said finally.
Malik was silent for a long moment.
Then he nodded once, accepting. "Then make sure you return strong enough to claim what is yours."
Kieran smirked. "And if you need a distraction, I'm always happy to punch a few nobles in the face for you."
Seraphina let out a soft laugh, some of the weight in her chest easing.
She did not have all the answers.
But she would find them.
And when she returned, she would not ask for her throne.
She would take it.
117: A Daughter’s Question
The sun was setting when Seraphina found her mother alone in the private gardens of the palace.
It was one of the few places in the empire that hadn't been built with war in mind.
The air here was soft, fragrant with night-blooming flowers, the pathways winding between carefully cultivated greenery that had been imported from planets across the empire. It was a place of quiet-a contrast to the heavy, rigid halls of the palace where decisions were made, alliances were formed, and power was constantly being measured.
Aeliana stood near the fountain, her long hair loose, her face turned toward the deepening sky.
Seraphina had seen her mother in countless roles over the years-as a ruler, as a strategist, as the empress who had tamed the warlord that built an empire.
But she had rarely seen her like this.
Unburdened.
Or at least, as unburdened as an empress could ever be.
Seraphina took a breath and stepped forward.
Aeliana must have sensed her presence because she spoke before Seraphina could say anything.
"You're troubled."
Seraphina hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. "The council expects me to take the throne."
Aeliana turned then, studying her with knowing eyes. "And you don't feel ready."
Seraphina exhaled sharply. "I don't feel like I know enough."
Her mother didn't answer right away.
Instead, she gestured for Seraphina to follow her as she walked deeper into the gardens, toward the smaller, more private alcoves where the lights from the palace didn't reach.
Seraphina waited until they were alone before speaking again.
"Why did you never tell me about Earth?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
Aeliana stopped walking.
For a long moment, she didn't answer.
Seraphina watched her closely, waiting for the denial, for the deflection.
It didn't come.
Instead, Aeliana sighed.
"I suppose I always knew this question would come one day," she admitted. "I just didn't know when."
Seraphina swallowed.
"I know nothing about the world that made you," she said. "Nothing about the people I share blood with. Nothing about the life you left behind."
Her mother's face remained unreadable, but Seraphina saw something in her gaze-something fragile, something distant.
"Earth," Aeliana murmured, her voice carrying the weight of something long buried.
Seraphina stepped closer.
"Tell me about it."
Aeliana was silent for a long moment.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"I grew up on a farm," Aeliana said.
Seraphina blinked, startled by the simplicity of the statement.
"A farm," she echoed.
Aeliana let out a small, almost nostalgic laugh. "Yes. A small house. Open fields. Animals to tend to. A life of quiet labor."
Seraphina could hardly picture it.
Her mother-**a woman who commanded entire armies, who stood at the side of the most feared ruler in the galaxy, who had helped forge an empire-**had once lived a life of simplicity.
She had once lived without palace walls. Without war. Without politics and strategy and the constant fear of betrayal.
"You never talk about it," Seraphina said. "You never talk about any of it."
Aeliana was quiet.
Then she said, "Because it is not the life I chose."
Seraphina frowned. "But it was yours. It was part of you."Aeliana turned her gaze toward the sky, where the stars had begun to emerge.
"It was," she admitted. "And then I left it behind."
Seraphina watched her mother carefully, trying to read between the words, trying to see past the carefully placed mask Aeliana always wore when speaking of the past.
"You left," Seraphina said slowly. "But why?"
Aeliana exhaled, a soft breath, more thoughtful than pained.
"Because I wasn't meant to stay."
Seraphina frowned. "But you weren't meant to be an empress either, were you?"
Aeliana's lips twitched slightly, but there was no amusement in it.
"No," she said. "I wasn't."
Seraphina hesitated, her mind racing with possibilities, with images of the life her mother had once had.
Had it been peaceful? Had it been free?
Had it been simpler?
"You talk about Earth like it's gone," Seraphina murmured. "Like it isn't still out there, waiting."
Aeliana turned back to her then, and for the first time, Seraphina saw it-the quiet sadness hidden beneath the surface, the kind that had long settled into acceptance.
"Because for me," Aeliana said softly, "it is."
Seraphina's breath caught.
Her mother had built an entirely new life, had left her old one behind so thoroughly that she did not even consider it part of her anymore.
And yet
Seraphina wasn't sure she could do the same.
"I want to see it," she said, the words leaving her lips before she could stop them.
Aeliana's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes.
"I thought you might."
Seraphina hesitated. "Are you angry?"
Aeliana shook her head.
"No."
The answer came too quickly, too easily.
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "But?"
Aeliana was silent for a long moment before she finally said, "I am afraid."
Seraphina's heart twisted.
"Of what?"
Aeliana's gaze softened as she looked at her daughter.
"Of what you will find," she said. "And of what it might take from you."
Seraphina felt her chest tighten.
Her mother had left Earth behind.
Had closed the door on it, never looking back.
And now, Seraphina was standing before her, saying she wanted to open that door again.
"I have to know," Seraphina whispered. "I have to see it."
Aeliana reached out then, brushing a strand of Seraphina's dark hair away from her face.
"I know."
It was not permission.
It was not encouragement.
It was simply acceptance.
Seraphina swallowed hard.
"Tell me something," she said.
Aeliana tilted her head slightly.
Seraphina's voice was soft, uncertain.
"Do you ever miss it?"
Aeliana didn't answer right away.
Instead, she looked up at the sky once more, as if searching for something among the stars.
Then, finally, she said, "Sometimes."
Seraphina's chest tightened.
And she knew, without a doubt, that she had made her decision.