Chapter 12: The Beginning Of The Purge.
...A soft clink echoed across the hall as Seraphina tapped her glass again, this time not to raise a toast—but to silence the chaos.
Her voice rang out, smooth and commanding, piercing the fog of confusion like a dagger.
"Please, do not bother with resistance," she said, as her eyes swept across the stunned gathering of nobles. "The wine you've all been enjoying tonight was laced with something rather special."
She raised her glass once more, twirling the liquid in it with a touch of amusement.
"A rare plant—Whispering Bloom. Odourless. Colourless. Its only trait: the slow dampening of Aether. Unless, of course, one possesses Aether Sense... a rare trait in these lands."
Panic was a creeping fire.
Murmurs grew into frantic whispers as nobles lifted trembling hands, trying to summon light, flames, barriers—anything. But all they got was silence. Emptiness. Their cores felt distant, smothered, like someone had placed a hand around their throats and slowly begun to squeeze.
Then came the roar.
Viscount Hadrian stepped forward, his noble robes melted away into a red mist as his blood surged around him, hardening into an unnatural second skin. His veins lit up like molten rivers.
"Crimson Mantle," someone gasped.
"In the name of the Empire," Hadrian bellowed, voice echoing with violent delight, "we begin the cleansing!"