The Imperial Council Chamber, its dome holding a hidden tension, was bathed in the cold light of arcane lamps. Lucian stood in the very center of the circle of generals and warlords. Their gazes were sharp, uncertain, sometimes hostile. The High Mage wore no armor, did not hold a sword, but inspired respect with his silent presence. In his eyes was an amber flame of determination.

"I do not ask. I insist," he said calmly, but there was a threat in his voice. "The barrier nodes around the perimeter of the palace are exhausted. The outer arcane network is weak. One pinpoint impulse and the Empress will be left without protection."

One of the senior commanders snorted: "We have increased security. Your magic is not a panacea."

Lucian, not taking his eyes off the speaker, distantly adjusted his glasses. "That's why she was on the verge of death the last time, when an astral curse entered the palace through a crack in the magical grid. Do you need to remind me who saved her?"

The room froze. He took a step forward.

"I offered to weave new shields tied to her life energy. Unique, personal. But to do that, I need access to everything: the palace core, her artifacts, and — the Empress's body. A full magical inspection."

"This is an invasion!" someone barked.

"This is protection," he replied with icy clarity. "I will not allow her to suffer again because of your overconfidence and political caution. Even if I have to bypass you all."

He left the hall, leaving behind a hum of irritated voices. But in his heart — only one thing: her.

***

The evening was quiet. Soft golden light flowed from the lamps in the Empress's study. Lucian was waiting for her at the window, as precise as always, as always alone.

He had already begun the ritual: his fingers glided over the enchanted crystal, revealing the thin lines of magical currents in the air. Everything seemed fine... until his gaze fell on the portrait. A recent gift from the ambassadors of the Northern Kingdom. He had not trusted them from the very beginning.

The portrait pulsed with a weak, almost imperceptible field. But the magic did not lie - this was not art, but a trap.

Lucian came closer. He activated the vision through his glasses, and for a moment the dark ligature of the spell woven into the image flashed before him. Insidious, subtle, clinging to the soul.

At that moment, the door opened softly. The Empress entered. He felt it immediately - her aura dimmed. The darkness was already touching her. Not externally, but internally.

"Don't move," he said sharply. No explanation. He stepped toward her. His hand, surrounded by thin lines of light, approached her shoulder. The shadow trembled.

"Your body is already partially under the influence... This curse is from within."

The Empress opened her mouth to say something, but he caught her wrist.

"Don't argue. Now is not the time."

He walked around her, checking every inch, every energy node. His face remained impassive, but inside, there was a storm. He saw the curse clinging to her spine, wrapping itself around her heart.

"I have to..." he stopped. His fingers trembled for the first time in years. "I have to check everything. Even if it means stripping you of everything and performing a manual cleansing ritual."

He wasn't lying. There was no passion in his voice, only desperation. Pain.

"You... you don't understand how dangerous this is. If I wait too long, it will consume you."

He turned away, then looked back into her eyes.

"You have no right to die. Understand? Don't even try."