The grand hall of the Solar Empire's palace shimmered under golden chandeliers, each flame enchanted with celestial fire that never flickered. Ministers and generals stood in a single motion, their ceremonial robes brushing the marble floors as the heavy gates creaked open.

A guard’s voice echoed across the high-vaulted ceiling, reverent and booming:

“All rise for His Majesty, the Greatest Human Emperor—Veeratya Ashwaha, the One Blessed by the Gods and Loved by the Mortal World.”

A hush fell over the assembly as Emperor Veeratya Ashwaha entered, his regal form exuding unmatched grace. Every step was deliberate, his silver-lined crimson robes trailing like blood-stained light. Though his face bore the wear of age, the fire in his eyes had not dimmed.

His aura silenced even the boldest of warriors. A quiet fear—no, reverence—spread in his presence, as if the world itself dared not speak without his permission.

With a single sweeping motion, he seated himself upon the golden throne inlaid with divine runes and dragonbone.

"Let the Assembly begin," he commanded, voice deep, controlled, but tinged with fatigue.

A nervous minister stepped forward, bowing low.

“Your Majesty, there is news—good and grave. Crown Prince Arvandyr has once again proven himself. He led a successful defense in the Eastern Province, saving hundreds from a demonic siege. The people sing his name.”

A ripple of relieved murmurs followed, but the air turned heavy as the minister continued.

“However… the demons are no longer isolated. Attacks have begun on the northern and southern outskirts as well. The balance once kept has begun to falter. Prince Arvandyr is doing all he can, but—he is only one man.”

Another minister whispered, “The war between the Gods and the Demonic Clans has reignited. The celestial balance is shattering.”

Emperor Veeratya closed his eyes for a moment.

“We will support the Heavenly Emperor in this war… in every way possible. This is not just their war—it is ours, too.”

His words sparked debate and panic. Voices clashed in the hall—about resources, armies, prophecies, and portents. Until—

A clear voice sliced through the chaos like a blade:

“Have you forgotten where you stand, Minister Kael?”

The hall went still.

All turned toward the speaker.

Princess Mahitri, daughter of Emperor Veeratya, stood tall—her black hair flowing like nightshade, and eyes the color of ancient sapphire. She wore no crown, no jewels. Only the armor of a warrior, and the quiet power of one born to lead.

“This is the Hall of Kings, not a marketplace of panic,” she said, voice sharp. “I will look into the matter personally. Please, Father—grant me this duty.”

The emperor looked at her for a long moment, his weathered hand clutching the armrest of his throne.

Then he nodded.

“Permission granted. Go with my blessing, my daughter.”

The Assembly was dismissed, but the heavy air lingered.

As the guards filed out, Mahitri noticed something. Her father’s hand trembled. A sudden cough wracked his body, harsh and lingering.

“Father…” she stepped forward, voice low, worried.

The Emperor smiled faintly.

“My time grows short, Mahitri. I feel it in my bones. But I am not afraid. I believe in you… and your brothers. Our legacy lies in your hands now.”

“No,” Mahitri said, her voice breaking. “Don’t say that. We still need you.”

Before more could be said, a royal guard approached and bowed.

“My Lord, you must rest.” He turned to Mahitri. “Princess, please excuse us. His Majesty’s health grows fragile.”

Mahitri nodded reluctantly.

“Yes. Take care of him… please.”

That Night

In her chamber, Mahitri laid out her ingredients under moonlight. Dozens of herbs and vials glowed faintly—but the medicine was still incomplete.

She stared at a blank space on her wooden tray.

The Leaf of the Heaven Tree.

The final ingredient. A leaf so rare it was believed to only grow in the Forests of Kaira, a place crawling with beasts and demonic scouts.

She tightened her cloak and prepared her sword.

From the door, a voice whispered urgently.

“Princess, where are you going?”

It was Shikha, her loyal maid and companion since childhood. Petite, fierce-eyed, and protective to a fault.

“I must leave tonight, Shikha,” Mahitri said, fastening her boots. “The medicine needs the Heaven Leaf. Time is slipping.”

“But the forest—”

“I’ll go alone if I must.”

“Then I’m coming too.” Shikha grabbed a blade from the wall. Two guards followed silently behind, sworn to secrecy.

Within the Forest of Kaira

The wind howled through ancient trees. Strange growls echoed all around.

Shikha, clutching her lantern, whispered:

“Princess… if the Emperor learns you left in secret, and without revealing your identity—we’ll all be punished.”

Mahitri’s voice was calm.

“Let him punish me. If I return with the cure, he’ll never have to.”

Just then, something rustled in the trees. The ground shook faintly.

Mahitri unsheathed her sword, its edge shimmering with a celestial glow.

“Stay close. We’re not alone.”

_____****______

World Context: The Balance Between Realms

Once, there was balance—Three Realms in harmony:

The Mortal Realm, governed by Emperor Veeratya and the Human Kingdoms.

The Divine Realm, ruled by the Heavenly Emperor and the gods.

The Nether Realm, home to demons, once bound by ancient treaties.

But all changed with the rise of the New Demon Lord: Zyvaron.

Under Zyvaron, the demons shattered the Pact of Balance. He opened portals between realms and sent his legions to weaken both gods and men. His goal? Unknown. But rumors speak of a plan to merge the realms—ending the cycle of reincarnation and creating a world ruled by shadow and chaos.

Now, human cities burn, divine temples crumble, and whispers of betrayal echo even among the gods.

And at the heart of it all…

Princess Mahitri, the warrior princess, walks into a cursed forest—hoping to save her father, unaware that her journey will uncover secrets older than empires… and awaken powers she never knew she had.

The Ashes of Hope

The silver-forged blade in Princess Mahitri’s hand sliced cleanly through the thick underbrush, the metal gleaming each time it caught a flicker of moonlight. The forest ahead was cloaked in silence, a silence too deep for comfort. In her other hand, a magic stone pulsed faintly, its bluish glow shimmering like a heartbeat, leading her deeper into the forbidden woods.

Behind her, Shikha stumbled slightly over a root. The younger girl’s breath came out in anxious puffs, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. “P-Princess… why is the Heaven Tree so rare?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the eerie quiet. “Why do they call it that?”

Mahitri didn’t break stride, but her voice, low and reverent, floated back. “Because it was born of the divine. Long ago, it is said, a goddess descended from the heavens and wandered these woods. She wept for the suffering of mortals. From her tears grew a single tree—its leaves said to heal any illness, even bring back those on death’s door.”

Shikha's voice quivered. “But what if it’s just a story?”

Mahitri finally paused. Her eyes, sharp and determined, locked onto the glow of the stone. “I’ve spent years studying forbidden texts. I pieced together maps that were deliberately torn apart. The tree exists—or it did. I won’t give up without seeing it for myself.” She whispered, almost like a prayer, “May the gods guide us.”

They pressed forward. Hours passed. They rested briefly beside a quiet brook, drinking water from their flasks while the magic stone dimmed. Then, once again, they moved on. The forest seemed to breathe around them, its shadows twisting like restless spirits.

Tiny flickers of light soon began to appear—tree fairies, their translucent wings glowing faintly, giggled and darted among the branches. They left trails of glittering magic, like stardust dancing on air.

Shikha smiled faintly. “They’re beautiful…”

Mahitri nodded. “As long as we don’t disturb them, they won’t harm us. These woods still remember kindness.”

But the beauty quickly faded.

Shikha suddenly gripped the princess’s arm. “Wait… something’s wrong.”

Two royal guards immediately moved forward, drawing their blades with practiced silence. The air ahead was different—heavier, burned, and acrid.

“Stay behind us, Your Highness,” one guard said.

As they stepped into the clearing, all color seemed to drain from the world.

The sacred tree—the Heaven Tree—was gone.

Where once legends spoke of its towering beauty and radiant leaves, now there stood only a blackened trunk, charred beyond recognition. Its branches reached skyward like the twisted fingers of a dying god. Blood soaked the ground in deep stains, and scorched petals drifted like ash.

Mahitri collapsed to her knees.

“No…” she whispered. Her voice cracked under the weight of heartbreak. “No… not after everything…”

Shikha’s face paled. “Princess… was this… a demon attack?”

A gust of wind carried the stench of sulfur.

“We need to leave,” Shikha urged. “It’s not safe—”

But her words stopped cold as a figure staggered from behind the ruined tree.

A man—his white robes shredded and soaked with blood. His long hair, once silver, now caked with soot and ash. Wounds covered his body. He looked like he had barely survived a storm of blades.

The guards raised their weapons instinctively.

“Stand down!” Mahitri ordered. “He’s wounded!”

“But Princess—”

“I said stand down!”

The man collapsed in front of her, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. Despite his condition, his features were unnaturally perfect—angular cheekbones, lashes too long for a warrior, lips parted in a whisper of breath.

“He… looks like a god,” Shikha murmured. “But he reeks of blood…”

Mahitri pressed her fingers to his neck. Faint pulse. He was alive. Barely.

“We’re taking him with us,” she said firmly. “No one says a word about this to anyone outside my circle. Do you understand?”

The guards nodded. The stretcher was assembled quickly, and the man was carried out of the clearing, leaving the ashes of hope behind.

Later – Inside Mahitri’s Private Sanctuary

A chamber lit by soft lanterns. A curtain drawn. Mahitri stood beside her trusted physician, a woman named Yatara—grey-haired, steady, and known for her ability to keep secrets.

Yatara pulled away from the man’s chest after finishing her examination. “There’s no sign of demonic energy. The power stone detects nothing unusual. If he is a demon, he’s cloaked himself with precision beyond my comprehension.”

Mahitri stared at the stranger. “Then why did I feel that… presence? That bloodlust. Just for a second. Like staring into the eyes of a beast pretending to sleep.”

“He could be more than he appears,” Yatara said cautiously. “But for now, he is no threat. His wounds are real. He’s been in a battle—one far beyond the skill of any mortal army.”

Shikha leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Why was he there? That place is hidden from the world.”

Mahitri didn’t answer at first. Her voice came at last, quiet but heavy with suspicion. “We’ll let him recover. Then we’ll question him.”