[ Subterra – The Forgotten Crypts Beneath the Capital ]

Far beneath the glittering spires and silver-veined palaces, Lucien Caelum descended into the dark.

The Court Beneath was not marked on any map. It existed in rumor—in the mutterings of madmen, in the forbidden verses scrawled into the spines of sealed tomes. The place where thronebearers who defied the pact were entombed in silence.

But Lucien was not a seeker.

He was a returning king.

[ Entrance Hall – The Mausoleum of the Nameless ]

Massive statues lined the walls—kneeling monarchs, all faceless, hands bound in stone. Their thrones had been stripped. Their crests erased.

Lucien walked between them, mist trailing from his boots.

Beside him padded Thorne, the spectral wolf, tail coiling in ghostlight.

“They buried them here to be forgotten,” Lucien whispered.

“But bones remember. And memory… is my currency.”

The air shifted.

Chains clattered.

And slowly, the statues’ heads turned.

[ Awakening the Forgotten Court ]

Lucien stepped into the central dais—a massive blackstone ring carved with ancient throne glyphs. In its center, a hollow circle—the mark of the Court of None.

He knelt.

Then pressed his palm to the stone.

“I summon not power. Not allegiance. But remembrance.”

*“Rise—not as lords, but as echoes. Not to serve… but to be seen.”

The chamber trembled.

From the walls, dust sloughed away.

And one by one… they emerged:

• Ash-riddled knights in broken armor
• Shadow-cloaked mages with stitched mouths
• Crownless queens and flame-scorched warlords

Specters. Remnants. Once forgotten.

Now his.

“I do not bind you,” Lucien said to them. “I do not command you.”

He stood tall.

“But I offer you a throne. A new one. One forged not from bloodlines or laws—”

“But from will.”

The echoes stirred.

One knelt.

Then another.

Soon, the chamber filled with a kneeling host.

The Court Beneath had returned.

[ Meanwhile – Upper Dominion ]

Elysia paced the study floor.

Reports were arriving: local noble houses sending spies. Multiple Thrones registering instability. And worst—House Durnhal had issued another challenge.

Only this time… not in the trial ring.

They had assassins.

And they were coming tonight.

[ Cut to: Nightfall – Varnel Guest Estate ]

The silence shattered as masked figures breached the perimeter.

One by one, guards fell.

Flames snuffed out. Screams muffled.

Elysia grabbed her spear and ran—

—only to find the hall already filled with mist.

From the center, Lucien stepped forward.

No sword.

Just calm.

“You should have knocked.”

The assassins lunged.

From the shadows around him, the Court Beneath emerged.

A dozen echo-knights, half-seen, wrapped in soulsteel and sorrow. Their forms flickered as they descended on the intruders like reaping wind.

Lucien didn’t lift a finger.

He only watched.

As one assassin tried to flee, Thorne pounced, jaws wrapped in pale fire.

When it was over, the silence returned.

Elysia stood in the hallway, trembling.

“You… called them. The dead.”

Lucien turned to her, eyes glowing faintly.

“No. They came of their own will.”

“To follow the only throne that never asked them to kneel.”



[ Epilogue – The Lower Vaults ]

Deep beneath the city, in a chamber walled with bones and records, a scribe of the Mirrorborn Order watched the reflected images ripple across a glass basin.

Lucien.

The Court.

The wolf.

The shattered sigils.

She dipped her quill and whispered:

“He gathers the nameless.”

“The Sovereign of Shadows builds his kingdom in silence.”