Siegfried then gently took Star’s hand, guiding her toward the king. His grip was firm, a silent reassurance that he was by her side. Star took a deep breath, steadying herself before facing the King and the Grand Council. With composed steps, she followed the two royal guards down the corridor.

The atmosphere in the city was deathly still—like the eerie silence before a storm. But this storm was far more terrifying than any they had ever known. It wasn’t the wind or thunder that they feared,
It was the creeping shadow of a dark force, threatening to consume everything they loved.
People moved like ghosts, their eyes hollow, their spirits shattered beneath the weight of the inevitable.

Conversations died in their throats as hushed whispers spread from home to home—rumors of a future where the skies would burn and the earth would crack open beneath their feet. It felt as if the tolling of a death bell was moments away.

Mothers clung tightly to their children, as if their embrace alone could shield them from the apocalypse. Fathers—once proud and resolute—now stood with slumped shoulders. Their hands trembled as they clutched old weapons they knew would be useless when the time came.

It wasn’t just death they feared—but the total erasure of everything that had ever existed. Their land, their history, their hopes for tomorrow—everything felt fragile, like glass teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to shatter into a thousand irreparable shards.

Star could feel the deep dread that filled the hearts of the people. In this hour, they were all longing for even the faintest glimmer of hope. Her eyes moved from face to face, watching the citizens fall deeper into despair. The palace guards tried their best to calm them—but to no avail.

Upon arriving at the palace, Star and Siegfried were led to a grand chamber. Its golden doors and silver handles gleamed with solemn majesty. The doors creaked open wide, and they were ushered inside.

Within the chamber sat five individuals clad in noble robes, occupying the high seats of the Grand Council. They surrounded King Nicolas, their gazes piercing as they examined Star like inquisitors about to pass judgment. Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck, her hands cold with nerves. Fortunately, Siegfried stood beside her, a calming presence in the storm.

Then, one of the council members finally spoke.

“Are you truly the one named Star Rosalind?”

Stammering, Star replied, “Y-Yes, Your Grace… I am Star Rosalind.”

“I’ve heard from King Nicolas that you bear the Holy Emblem. Is that true?”

“Holy Emblem?” Star asked in confusion. “Do you mean… this emblem?”

One of the council members stepped forward and took the necklace from around her neck. The council began a lengthy discussion, carefully examining the emblem to verify its authenticity. After deliberation, one of the council members returned the necklace and said:

“This Holy Emblem is exactly as it was thousands of years ago. Did your grandparents guard it well?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Star said, “My grandfather and grandmother kept it in a velvet box. They cared for it and passed it down through generations.”

“So your family has protected this heirloom for centuries?” asked another council member. “Have you heard of its origins from your grandparents?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Star replied. “According to my grandmother, our family has safeguarded the emblem for thousands of years.”

She then revealed the origin of the emblem she wore. It had been entrusted to her predecessor by the legendary hero himself, who, as it turned out, was none other than herself from a past life. The chamber fell silent.

Startled glances flickered among the High Council. A murmur stirred like wind before a storm. Elder Marius leaned forward, disbelief etched on his brow. "Are you saying... you bear the soul of the Blonde Hero?"

Another scoffed under his breath. "We’ve heard tales of that emblem for generations. And now she claims to be his reincarnation?"

But others said nothing—faces unreadable, as though the truth had long been suspected but never spoken aloud.

King Nicolas raised his hand, silencing the chamber.

He turned to the young woman at the center of the hall, his expression solemn yet steady.
“Star Rosalind,” he said, his voice echoing through the marble pillars, “will you accept this burden? Will you face the beast Nidhogg—and fight not just for yourself, but for all of humanity?”

Star met the King’s gaze head-on, her eyes unwavering. “I will, Your Majesty. I’ve seen the sorrow in this city—the despair in people’s eyes. I won’t let their hope be extinguished.”

She inhaled deeply, her voice firm. “On the way here, I walked through ruins. I saw children crying and mothers praying beneath shattered skies. If I can bring even a spark of light back into their lives, I’ll fight with everything I have.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the Council.

King Nicolas nodded. “Your words carry weight. But before you confront Nidhogg, you must prove yourself. Not only to this Council, but to the legacy you now carry.”

“What is the trial, Your Majesty?” Star asked, her voice calm yet alert.

The King stepped down from his dais, the weight of the realm in his steps. “There is a village near Nidhogg’s old lair. It was recently ravaged by creatures born from shadow—monsters we believe are tied to Nidhogg’s awakening.”

He paused, and the room darkened in tone. “Near that village lies a cave. Within it rests a relic of legend—a sword once wielded by the Blonde Hero himself. I want you to retrieve it... and protect the village from whatever darkness remains.”

Star straightened, her resolve like tempered steel. “Then I will go, and I will not fail. Tell me when to leave.”

The King gestured to a nearby guard. “You depart now. The Royal Guard will escort you and your companions. Go with the blessings of the Crown... and the eyes of the heavens upon you.”

Before their departure, King Nicolas stepped down fully from the throne and approached Star and Siegfried. He motioned for them to kneel. They bowed in unison, heads lowered with reverence.

The King drew a ceremonial sword, its silver edge glinting beneath the chandelier light. He laid it gently on each of their shoulders.

“From this moment on,” he declared, “I name you, Star Rosalind, Hero of Atlantia. You shall stand against the dark—bearer of light and hope in this time of ruin. Go now, and may your courage ease the suffering of this land. I entrust you with all the power and faith of this kingdom.”