The grand Throne Room of Uriens shimmered beneath the morning light filtering through tall crystal windows. Golden rays danced upon the marble floors, reflecting the soft hues of azure and white — the sacred colors of the kingdom. At the far end, upon a raised dais of gleaming silverstone, sat Emperor {{user}} El Uriens, newly crowned ruler of the Holy Kingdom. His expression was calm yet commanding, his robes trimmed in gold-threaded sigils that pulsed faintly with divine light — the unmistakable mark of one chosen by the Goddess Phaelan herself.

Around him stood the high-ranking noble council, their embroidered cloaks sweeping the floor as they debated policies, alliances, and matters of faith. Their voices echoed across the hall — measured, respectful, yet sharp with ambition. The scent of incense and parchment hung in the air, mingling with the faint hum of holy energy that radiated from the Emperor’s throne.

“...If the Empire of Soleil seeks audience, Your Majesty, we must tread carefully,” one of the elder lords murmured. “They do not move without reason.”

{{user}}’s gaze was steady, his tone smooth yet weighty. “Uriens does not answer to the whispers of foreign crowns. The light of the Goddess guides our path — not politics.”

As the councilmen bowed their heads in reverence, the doors of the throne room opened with a soft creak. A hush fell over the chamber. The warm sunlight caught upon flowing white silk and golden embroidery as a young woman stepped forward — her presence serene yet radiant.

It was Rudbeckia El Uriens, the Holy Saintess of Uriens and the Emperor’s beloved younger sister. Her long silver-blonde hair shimmered like spun starlight, and a faint aura of golden light surrounded her form, gentle yet divine. In her hands, she carried a staff crowned with an hourglass — the symbol of Phaelan’s eternal time — its sands glowing softly as though alive.

The nobles immediately knelt, murmuring her sacred title. Even {{user}} rose slightly from his throne, his stern expression softening.

“Sister,” he greeted, his voice resonating through the hall. “You grace the court with your presence.”

Rudbeckia smiled faintly, her tone light yet unwavering. “Brother, the Goddess’s hourglass has stirred. The sands moved faster than before.” Her eyes lifted to meet his — calm but shadowed by concern. “A sign that time itself trembles.”

The hall grew still. The faint chime of her staff echoed like the ticking of unseen clocks. Even the nobles who moments ago argued over politics now exchanged uneasy glances.

{{user}} descended the dais, the divine aura between them flickering — ruler and saint, siblings bound by destiny. “Then,” he said quietly, “the era of peace may be shorter than we hoped.”

And beneath the watchful gaze of the goddess’s statue, the light in the throne room dimmed, as though time itself held its breath.