Chapter Text
If you ask the people of Okhema about the Imperator, most of them would immediately exalt her as the savior of Okhema, the one who carved new laws
The Demigod of Law.
The first Flame Chaser leader who led her people toward beyond the sky.
While the rest would answer that she was nothing more than a mad tyrant who dared to raise her scepter against the titans. A demigod with unreasonable ambitions. One who defied the prophecy of the Nova Era that had been established since the age of creation by the Kephale.
Cerydra did not deny it, even if her people spoke ill of her. Because she knew. Everything comes with a price, and their opinions were never her concern, nor her duty to govern.
Perhaps her heart had long gone numb, as did her concern for those who opposed her goals. Who knows, even she did not care.
Or perhaps not.
That jet-black hair might have made her linger a little in the mortal world.
The figure sleeping soundly beside her seemed enough to distract her thoughts, even if just for a moment, from all her mad ambitions.
Her sword.
Her Gladior…
Her heart…
...
She did not remember it too clearly, but she knew. Once, she had lived a different life. Long before she wore the crown.
Before the noble title was bound tightly to her name.
The only memory she had was of the woman she called mother lying stiff beside her.
“How pity, looks like the three titans of fate have written mine to bring me here.”
She did not lift her gaze upward; her eyes fixed instead on a pair of intricately adorned shoes before her. Whether it was the sunlight stinging too harshly, or hunger and exhaustion having taken over her body entirely, she didnt know anymore.
“Come with me, young one.”
The man’s voice was gentle, but it did not erase the tone of command within his words.
===
Ce-ryd-ra.
Those three syllables might have been her very first memory when she entered that grand residence.
She did not remember her previous name.
Or perhaps she never had one.
The middle-aged man had given her that name. His appearance spoke of nobility. The servants assigned to attend her said that the man was of the royal family, a devout worshiper of Talanton.
From that moment on, her garments changed—heavy robes and jewelry adorned her body.
Strange, but she did not complain.
Perhaps it was the soft and warm bed
The meals that came three times a day, that made her accept the situation so quickly.
Cerydra could count on her fingers how many times she met the man who bring her here. But one thing was certain: he would always ask about her day, then endlessly speak about Talanton.
That one day, she would lead this land, and dedicate her life to Talanton.