Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 287: At The Twilight

They were at the front, on the altar.

Edgar sat proud and appeared strong in his ceremonial outfit, his imperial sword at his side, sitting on his throne. Beside him, Jade wore her crown like an ice sculpture: distant and cold. On his other side, a little more gap than Jade, Celeste sat with a gentle expression that glowed with maternal pride.

Standing on the side of the altar, Easton's gaze was hollow, locked on the center aisle like he couldn't quite breathe. Sienna wore a confident, knowing smile. Izac, seated in his ornate wheelchair, clenched his fists under his robes, envy thick in his stare. On the contrary, Ronan and Katelyn, radiant in matching green and gold, looked genuinely joyous.

Due to everyone speculating about Vyan, nobody noticed the actual happiest face among the crowd.

His joy was raw. Unfiltered.

Clyde looked like a man trying not to burst out into cheers—or possibly tears. His white cloak was too big on his shoulders, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. But he smiled like the world had rewritten itself in his favor.

Because it had.

Today was the day his Athy was going to wear the crown and become not just the crown princess but the e—

A hush fell.

And then she entered.

Althea Dione Haynes stepped into the hall like twilight herself—draped in silken green, threaded with gold ceremonial robes. Her hair was swept back, crownless but radiant, and every step on the flower-petal-strewn red carpet echoed with the soft chime of her anklets.

Music played by court musicians slowed down, to highlight her entry.

Not a single word was spoken, and yet every person could feel the shift, as though the empire had exhaled and finally rested its gaze on her.

The Imperial Herald stepped forward and officially announced the purpose of the gathering.

"By the decree of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Edgar Crawford Haynes, and the will of the heavens, we have gathered here to witness the rise of Her Imperial Highness, Princess Althea Dione Haynes, to the title of Crown Princess, future Empress-regnant of Haynes."

The herald continued, his voice ringing clear through the twilight air, "Through her noble and heroic actions, she has inexplicably earned the right to stand here in front of us. For she is the radiant force who healed hundreds of our soldiers during the Ganlop War, eradicated the plague that swept through Walver Village, reclaimed a significant hostage from the grips of the Haberland Empire, restored diplomatic ties with the Tensene Empire, and brought crime rates within our borders to their lowest in decades—all within a single month. These are but a few of the many feats that crown her worthiness. Today, we do not merely witness a rise in title, but the ascension of a leader already proven by action."

Clyde almost wanted to clap at the list of her achievements, but he was kept in check by Vyan, who mentally reminded him through telepathy, 'keep your excitement in check. Let the ceremony end.'

The way Clyde pouted after that, one would think he was upset at Althea inheriting the crown. Regardless of that, Clyde paid attention to the ceremony; it was important to Althea, which translated to it being important to him as well.

First, the high priestesses anointed her with the sacred oils of the Solar Rite—amber and dusk rose, burning sweet and divine as they brushed along her forehead, wrists, and collarbone. "Let the heir be made pure," the archbishop intoned, "in mind and spirit."

Althea approached the Sanctum of Ancients. There, she pressed her palm to the etched sigil of the first Emperor of Haynes etched into a disc of white opal. The crystal pulsed with golden light, ancestral mana swirling up around her.

The archbishop's voice deepened. "By the will of those before, and the gods above, rise, Princess Althea Dione Haynes, daughter of Edgar Crawford Haynes and Fiona Gardenias Haynes."

Then came her vow.

She knelt before her father and step-mother, head bowed.

Edgar and Jade stood up.

"Do you vow," Edgar began, "to serve this empire with wisdom, protect its people with strength, and reign not with fear, but with grace?"

"I vow," she said, her voice low but certain, echoing like thunder wrapped in velvet. "With the crown I wear, I pledge my life to the empire. I shall not falter, I shall not flee. I rise not to reign, but to serve."

The crown was placed.

It gleamed—silver woven with gold, the central gem catching the last rays of twilight and sending out a soft, pure light. The main reason ceremonial acts were performed in the evening in Haynes was to represent the end of an era and the beginning of a beautiful dusk that would once again lead to a phenomenal dawn, making such ceremonial banquets last till the sunrise. It was a deeply cherished tradition that was appreciated by the nobles.

But little did the nobles have any idea that gourmet food, hundred-year-old wines, and high-level socializing weren't the things waiting for them tonight.

It was something that would scar them for the rest of their lives.

Their white celebratory attire was soon to be drenched in red—painted in the color of vendetta.