Ceils strode purposefully through the chaotic streets of Talheim, paying little heed to the panicked citizens rushing past her. As a Priestess of the Order of Ark, her focus was on their sacred mission - tracking down and protecting the prophesied Thorneborn heir.

And now, it seemed events were hurtling faster than she could control. Word was spreading that the farm boy Aeron had manifested the golden eyes of legend. Ceils feared what forces might be unleashed, both for ill and good, if his identity was proven publicly.

So much hinged on this child of prophecy, yet Ceils worried Aeron was too naive and unready for the burden. Powerful players like Deron and Lady Dianoia would surely seek to use the boy as a pawn in their own machinations.

Ceils knew she must reach Aeron first and help prepare him for whatever came next. The Prophecy of the Endless Throne foretold both glory and doom if the Thorneborn incarnation strayed from wisdom's path. As priestess guide to the successors, Ceils felt that heavy responsibility acutely.

Finding Aeron's family anxiously rushing to the palace, Ceils stopped them with an urgent word. "Take me to your son," she implored. "Dark wings encircle him that I may help ward off."

Though confused, Aeron's parents nodded and brought her to the chamber where Deron kept the injured boy isolated. Ceils steeled herself, praying she was not too late to intercede before Aeron's fate became sealed by other's design.

The priestess must illuminate the path, not obscure it further. As teacher and guardian, Ceils had long prepared for this prophesied hour of reckoning. Aeron's life and soul were hers to shepherd now. She would not fail him, no matter the forces arrayed against their purpose. The Light must prevail.

Ceils faced down the imposing figure of Deron, refusing to let him bar her from seeing Aeron.

"The boy is not yet ready for additional counsel," Deron insisted. "His training must begin swiftly under my guidance alone."

Ceils drew herself up firmly. "You overstep yourself, Deron. The Thorneborn are not mere puppets for your particular interests."

She met his glare evenly. "Or have you forgotten your sworn purpose is to serve the eternal emperor impartially once found?"

Deron bristled. "Do not lecture me about service and duty, priestess. I who was raised and trained by Heartline Sunbringer to continue his work." His expression turned melancholy. "I swore an oath to protect his line with my life. I will not fail the 46th or 47th."

Ceils expression softened slightly. She knew Deron's dedication went beyond mere power intrigues. But it was a devotion dangerously close to zealotry.

"I know you mean well," Ceils replied gently. "But Aeron must walk his own path, not one others decree. Help him find wisdom in himself, not seek it only from you."

Deron hesitated, then bowed his head solemnly. When he looked up, Ceils saw past the sternness to the hint of fear in his eyes. Fear of failing his immortal charges yet again.

"Very well," Deron acquiesced gruffly. "We shall counsel the boy together. The Thorneborn must stand on his own, or what is an emperor?"

Ceils inclined her head graciously. "The Formless bless you, friend Deron. Aeron will need us both for different lessons ahead."

Thus unified in purpose, they went together to help Aeron face whatever future now raced to meet him.

Ceils hurried after the brash knight Sir Rime as he roared orders to his men. She had sensed a growing darkness in him ever since they arrived in Talheim. Now it seemed his bloodlust was perilously close to consuming him.

"Stay your hand, Rime," Ceils urged, grabbing his arm as he made to strike down a cowering citizen. "Senseless slaughter will only breed more strife."

Rime wrenched his arm from her grip. "Do not hinder me, priestess. I act on orders of the Thorneborn himself to purge this rabble!"

Ceils stepped in front of him. "And does Aeron know the truth of your methods? I think he would be grieved to see his name used for such wanton violence."

She searched Rime's face, seeking any glimmer of the noble warrior who had once fought faithfully at her side. "The Prophecy warns of ruin should fear replace faith in people's hearts. Aeron must be a light against darkness, not its herald."

Rime hesitated, uncertainty flashing across his features. "My duty is to the Thorneborn," he muttered half-heartedly.

"As is mine," Ceils replied firmly. "So I must prevent you from staining his reign and soul with these rash acts. Show mercy, Rime. Prove you are still a knight of honor."

Rime looked shaken, as if awakening from a fever dream. Finally he nodded and lowered his sword. "Your wisdom guides me back from the brink, as always." His expression turned solemn. "I will temper my zeal with reason and compassion. For Aeron's sake."

Ceils clasped his shoulder. "You have a good heart still, my friend. Do not let anger or ambition poison it."

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Rime knelt and bowed before her. "By your grace, I am reminded of my true oaths."

As Ceils bade him rise, she felt a measure of hope. If one soul could turn from darkness, perhaps others might too, keeping Aeron's reign from straying down perilous paths. She prayed Rime's redemption was but the first of many. Ceils sat down gently beside Aeron, who seemed diminished somehow since being thrust into the role of awakened Thorneborn heir. She berated herself for allowing Deron to dominate the boy's instruction up to now. She had held back, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. But no more.

"How fare you today, Aeron?" she asked. "I realize you have been scrambling to absorb so much knowledge quickly."

The boy nodded, eyes downcast. "Deron tries to teach me about politics and lineages and philosophy. But it's too much too fast." He looked up anxiously. "I don't want to disappoint anyone, but I don't understand any of this yet."

Ceils' heart went out to him. She took Aeron's hands in her own. "The fault lies not with you, but those who ask too much too soon. You need time, Aeron. Do not let others force you to become something you are unprepared for."

The relief on the boy's face pierced her heart. How had she let him flounder alone?

"Deron means well, but his methods could harden your heart if you feel only inadequacy," Ceils counseled. "I should have been here to remind you that wisdom cannot be rushed. It comes through careful introspection, not hurried tutoring."

Aeron managed a small smile. "Thank you, Priestess Ceils. I want to learn, but not at the cost of who I am. Does that make sense?"

Ceils nodded. "Perfect sense, and wisdom already. Let your tutors mold your mind, but guard your spirit closely. That is your sacred sanctuary."

She touched his shoulder gently. "I am here now to help you find the balance. You need not walk any path alone. Take my hand, Aeron. Together we will take each step as meant to be."

The boy clasped her hand tightly in gratitude. Ceils silently vowed she would not fail him again. Aeron's gentle soul must not be sacrificed on ambition's altar. She would light his way, step by step, for as long as he needed her.

***

Dianoia fled down the dark alleyway, one hand clamped over the bleeding gash on her arm. She had barely escaped with her life from the assassins concealed within the temple, cleverly disguised as monks.

Rage and humiliation burned inside her at being caught so off-guard. She had allowed herself to grow complacent, believing Aeron and Talheim firmly under her control now. This brazen attack proved there were still dangerous enemies maneuvering in the shadows.

Dianoia winced as she paused to catch her breath, pain lancing up from the deep cut. Who had orchestrated this attempt on her life? Her first suspicion went to that meddlesome priestess, Ceils. The woman had already proven a frustrating obstacle to Dianoia's plans for Aeron. And her holy order likely had spies hidden throughout the land.

Yes, Dianoia could well believe the manipulative priestess capable of hiring discreet blades to sever problems. It reeked of Ceils' hypocritical brand of piety. She claimed to follow the “proper” path, yet clearly embraced subterfuge when needed.

Dianoia gritted her teeth against the throbbing in her arm. She had been a fool to underestimate Ceils, clearly a more formidable opponent than anticipated. But they danced on a knife’s edge now and only one could remain standing in the end.

Biting back the pain, Dianoia hurried on through the darkness. She must be cautious, trusting no one. The priestess had drawn first blood, but Dianoia intended to win this deadly game between them. Ceils would pay dearly for her arrogance in daring to challenge one such as Dianoia. They had passed the point of no return. From here, only one would emerge alive and triumphant. And Dianoia had no intention of it being Ceils

Dianoia paced her chambers, mind churning with the beginnings of a plan. The assassination attempt had been a painful reminder not to become complacent. She must secure her position swiftly before enemies could rally.

Which brought her thoughts to Aeron's hidden royal bastard father. Properly leveraged, the fearful man could prove quite useful. Common folk would flock to the banner of their beloved lost prince revealed at last. United under Dianoia’s cunning command, the peasants could overwhelm the fractured nobles still resisting her.

Yes, she mused, it was time to press Aeron's father into service. She need not even fully expose his lineage yet, only march her forces liberally waving his humble farmer's standard. Let the foolish commoners believe they followed one of their own championing their rights. Their numbers would swell with each minor victory as word spread.

Once the northern provinces were under her sway, Dianoia could turn attention to the borderlands currently unstable without a clear heir apparent on the throne. Those territories would be ripe for annexation into a new empire guided by her visionary ruthlessness.

This peasant army would be the perfect blunt instrument to bludgeon her enemies into submission. Dianoia permitted herself a small satisfied smile as the strategy took shape in her mind. Perhaps nearly dying had been a boon, sharpening her wits and reminding her to take bold decisive action when opportunity arose.

She would need to carefully monitor Aeron’s father of course, ensuring his loyalty through whatever means necessary. The man was a dithering fool, but even fools could be made potent weapons when compelled by the right forces. His very ineptitude made him more easily controlled once his precious family was under her sway.

Yes, Dianoia thought with building eagerness, the game was far from over. Striking from an unexpected direction could still put her in checkmate position on the board. The taste of victory was sweeter than ever, and she intended to savor it fully when all was said and done. Destiny favored action, not reaction, and Dianoia knew it was time to seize fate in her own ruthless hands.

***

Aeron's hands trembled as the vision in Ceils' scrying crystal faded. He had watched in horror as Dianoia threatened his father to raise an army in her name. Her ambition knew no limits it seemed.

Ceils placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Be steady, Aeron. Hard truths are revealed only so we may address them."

Aeron turned to her, eyes glistening. "Why do they all keep trying to use me and my family for their plots? Am I to trust no one?"

Ceils' expression was sorrowful but resolute. "You live in a den of vipers now. But remember - an emperor's voice carries great power."

She met his gaze. "Command them to cease these schemes, Aeron. Issue an imperial decree in your name forbidding further conflict. None can defy a dictate of the Thorneborn without facing justice."

Aeron considered this carefully. As naive as he still felt, she was right. It was time he embraced the authority fate had granted him and set things in order himself. No more cowering while villains like Dianoia acted unrestrained.

"Very well," Aeron said, standing up straight. "Please gather parchment and pen. An emperor must begin wielding his rightful power justly if there is to be order and peace."

Ceils nodded solemnly and moved to oblige. Aeron steeled himself, trying to channel the spirit of emperors past whose blood flowed through his veins. He would dictate one chance for Dianoia and the others to stand down. After this, any who defied his decree would face the wrath of all the Imperial Houses against them.

Frightened though he was, Aeron knew fate had gifted him this role for a reason. With Ceils' guidance, he prayed for the wisdom and courage to use that power to mend rather than harm. The tremors would stop here by his command. Darkness would not prevail while he drew breath.

Aeron watched anxiously as Ceils reviewed the imperial decree he had penned commanding an end to the conflicts wracking Talheim. He had tried to word it with strength but also mercy for any who complied. After a long tense moment, Ceils looked up.

"You seek the right solution, yet I fear you are too trusting," she said solemnly. "This assumes all parties act in good faith, which vipers like Dianoia will not."

Aeron's shoulder's slumped. "Then what should I do instead? I want to avoid more bloodshed but can't let them keep manipulating me."

Ceils pondered a moment before speaking. "Your impulse comes from a place of courage and virtue. But beware those who cloak villainy in fair words while plotting against you."

She met his eyes firmly. "Promise me you will remain vigilant, Aeron. The sharpest fangs often hide behind the sweetest smiles."

"I promise, Ceils," Aeron vowed. "I won't be fooled again."

Ceils nodded, seemingly satisfied. She glanced down once more at his edict. "This decree may yet work if you enforce it decisively. It is not weakness to hope for peace but folly to expect snakes to shed skin so easily. Tread with care."

Aeron embraced her. "Thank you for showing me wisdom and patience both. I know the path is unclear but will walk it as Emperor, not frightened boy. My dreams mattered too."

Ceils returned his embrace warmly. "Hold fast to those dreams, Aeron. Light still lives within you. Let it guide us from darkness."

Straightening with resolve, Aeron took back the edict. He would issue it as binding law, even as he prepared himself for those who would defy it. Ceils was right - he must temper hope with harsh realities. The throne afforded little innocence. But perhaps a few righteous souls could still steer fate from its darkest currents. If Ceils still believed, Aeron would try to also, for as long as he was able.