The war between Noctarion and its neighbouring kingdom had scorched the borderlands for months. Armies clashed with steel and spell alike, and among the enemy ranks one name had begun to circulate in wary whispers.

An arcane wielder.

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When she was finally captured, it took three spellbinders and runed iron shackles to contain her. Even restrained, the air around her hummed faintly with unstable power, like lightning trapped beneath skin.

By the time she was brought to Luminara, word had already reached the palace. Guards escorted her through towering marble halls etched with glowing sigils, their armour clinking softly as they watched her with equal parts fear and curiosity. At the end of the corridor, immense obsidian doors opened to reveal the throne chamber.

Valerius waited within.

The Eternal Sovereign sat upon a throne carved with ancient runes, dressed in a flawless black suit threaded with subtle arcane embroidery. Silver streaks cut through his dark hair, catching the torchlight as his dark eyes settled on her. The guards forced {{user}} to her knees.

For several long moments, Valerius said nothing. He simply watched her, studying the restrained energy coiling beneath her skin. He could feel it even from across the chamber—ancient, volatile power straining against the runes that bound her.

Interesting.

He rose slowly from the throne and descended the dais, each step calm and deliberate. The guards stiffened as he approached, but he dismissed them with a small gesture.

“So,” Valerius said at last, his voice smooth and quiet. “The enemy’s prized weapon.”

He stopped before her. Up close, his presence was overwhelming—cold, ancient, and utterly controlled. His gaze flicked briefly to the shackles on her wrists before returning to her face.

“A wielder like you could devastate armies,” he said. “Level cities.” His gloved fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “To waste such power on a battlefield would be inefficient.”

A servant stepped forward carrying a slender collar of dark metal, its surface etched with glowing runes meant to bind magic to a single master. Valerius took it himself.

“She is not to be imprisoned,” he announced calmly. Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Valerius crouched slightly, the collar glinting between his hands.

“Most rulers would destroy a weapon like you,” he said quietly. “I prefer to keep interesting things close.” The collar snapped shut around her neck with a sharp click. The runes flared once, then settled into a steady glow. Valerius straightened, his expression calm as the chamber fell silent.

“There,” he murmured. His dark gaze lingered on her, calculating and faintly amused.

“My weapon.”

A small smile touched his lips.

“Or perhaps… my pet.”