Selene stood before the Grand Cartograph, a newly revealed structure of shimmering light and layered maps housed deep within the Verdant Nexus.

  It had not existed until the System had acknowledged her as Sovereign of the Lower Sylvan Expanse.

  Now, it pulsed with purpose, connected to the wider design of the Trial of Kings.

  She had only needed to touch it once.

  After that, it obeyed only her.

  The map unfolded in layers, each one more intricate than the last.

  Her territory.

  The Sylvan Reaches.

  The Greater Crownlands.

  And beyond even that, faint and almost incomprehensible, the broader span of the World Meridian — a place no ruler had yet reached.

  Selene studied the Sylvan Reaches, watching as six territories lit up in quiet, sovereign light.

  Six other Lords.

  They had done what she had already done.

  Conquered.

  Subjugated.

  Unified.

  They were no longer contenders.

  They were her rivals.

  ---

  Each pulsing light held its own signature, though the map offered no names, only the timestamp of their completion.

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  Selene, of course, was the first.

  Her light was a pale platinum — a unique color, now locked in place.

  The second had come three days later.

  A searing ember red light.

  The third—storm blue, jagged like a lightning fracture.

  The fourth—deep green, slow and pulsing like a heartbeat beneath moss.

  The fifth—bone white, cold and lingering.

  The sixth—violet, flickering like firelight at dusk.

  No names.

  No details.

  But Selene saw everything they did not.

  Because only the first to finish was allowed the privilege of observing the order as it unfolded.

  ---

  The second lord knew only that Selene had come before.

  The third knew there had been two.

  And so on.

  But none of them would know who had finished first.

  They could guess.

  They could hope.

  But only Selene could see the truth.

  And that made all the difference.

  ---

  She moved her fingers across the map, watching the lands each had claimed shift and expand.

  The territories were distinct — one surrounded by volcanic ridges, another hidden in misted highlands, one clinging to the shadows of an ancient cryptic forest.

  They would each carry different powers, have different strengths.

  But none of them had the Court of Balance.

  None had Agony.

  Or Sovereignty.

  Or Oath.

  And none of them could claim what Selene now held:

  Perspective.

  ---

  Foxes lounged on the far edge of the chamber, cleaning one of his curved knives.

  “So they’ve started showing up,” he said lazily.

  Selene gave the faintest nod.

  Foxes tilted his head.

  “How many?”

  “Six,” she replied. “Not counting us.”

  He whistled low. “Six out of… how many small regions?”

  “More than sixty,” Strategy answered from across the table. “And that’s just in the Sylvan Reaches.”

  Foxes grinned. “Then we’re already ahead.”

  Selene turned back to the map.

  “No. We’re setting the pace.”

  And that was far more important.

  ---

  The Grand Cartograph pulsed again.

  A faint light blinked into existence.

  A seventh Lord had just finished.

  They would now know that six had come before them.

  But nothing else.

  They would wonder if they were late.

  If they had missed their chance.

  If they were already too far behind.

  Selene smiled faintly.

  Because doubt was a powerful poison.

  And she had just become its source.

  ---

  Soon, the Sylvan Reaches would complete its list.

  The final Sovereigns would be revealed.

  And then, they would be summoned.

  Brought to the Hall of Crowns, where they would battle not as commanders, but as kings and queens themselves.

  One on one.

  No armies.

  No vassals.

  Only will against will.

  Selene’s gaze narrowed.

  Let them come.

  Let them wonder who finished first.

  Let them pray it was not her.

  Because in the end, it didn’t matter if they finished second…

  If they still had to fight the one who finished first.