In the Golden Era, the Creator forged artifacts as celebratory gifts for the founding of the last sorcerous empire—the human empire—under a sky of molten gold.
Each artifact held two Authority Domains at once: Fortitude and Edge, like mountain and blade.
A Divine Being is usually born within a Domain, then shapes that seed into an artifact, like fruit following flower.
But the Creator siphoned those two Domains away, roots pulled from soil, so no Divine Being of Fortitude or Edge ever sprouted.
King Solomon was delighted, yet he couldn’t commune with Authority Domains, like a scholar who hears waves but not the ocean’s will.
His line digs to the root of things for power, not to the crown of Authority, like miners not priests.
So what’s priceless to a warrior became a sword on a scribe’s desk in a Sorcerer Emperor’s hands.
Solomon planned to turn the artifact into an autonomous, man-shaped weapon, a statue that would rise and meet battle by itself.
Artifacts don’t break or fade; even when a Divine Being dies, the relic can linger like a star after sunset.
He wanted that stubborn light to do the most it could.
By the dusk of the Golden Era, the project was nearly done, and it was bequeathed to the Silver Era’s heirs—the royal blood of Iron Kingdom Colonna.
Midway through the Silver Era, the problem cracked open, and Colonna gained a new royal star: Gloria Colonna.
To test how human she’d become, they sent her to study at the Hero Academy, a blade sheathed among school bells.
For now she’s a blank-faced princess: no warmth, no smile, no small talk, like winter behind glass.
Across all realms she’s unmatched in physical combat, no exceptions, a thunderbolt in a human frame.
Her fearsome way of fighting earned her a later title: the Demon Slaying Sword.
She wears hair like hammered gold, and eyes the color of lead, cold as clean metal.
After she warms to Andor, she often mooches meals with Stini and Raven, like a quiet stray at the fire.
For some reason, she loves barbecue, the kiss of smoke and flame.
At first glance she seems the easiest route to clear, yet she doesn’t have a heart to claim.
Trying to romance her is effort poured into a bottomless well.
Only later, when the Clockwork Mirror Realm falls, will she fully gain a human heart, like ice breaking to spring.
Right now, I’d rather not approach her; she’s too strong.
If Colonna set its will to erase me and triggered Gloria’s second-stage transformation, I wouldn’t even run.
I’d go straight back to the Demon Realm, a candle snuffed in the wind.
—Andor, whose dark circles can no longer be hidden with makeup, like bruised moons under tired eyes.
