The Birth of a Sovereign: Eva Adair
In the shadows of the Syndicate’s whispered halls, the “birth” of a Myria is not the soft wail of an infant, but the sound of a blade leaving flesh—for in the Myria, true birth does not come from the womb, but from the blade, the bargain, and the bleed of magic into the marrow.
They say Eva Adair was born not once, but many times, as all Myria are. Her first “birth” was the quiet breath of acceptance into the Syndicate, marked under the cold glow of the Cardinale’s quartz lanterns, her oath sealed in the blood she offered with her own hands.
Since a young age, Eva was like a star, brilliant, beautiful, and admired even from a distance. Even without the Syndicate’s power, she had an ethereal way about her that made others easily lower their guards. Her voice was calm and quiet, like a midsummer breeze that gently lulled you into relaxation on a cool, cloudy day.
But the birth that matters—the one whispered about in Azalea City’s rain-slick alleys and the cavernous dark of the Cardinale—was during the Trials of Selection.
The Trials, open to all Syndicate women seeking to rise in the Arcana, are a dance of death and cunning, testing who can rule from the shadows while wielding magic like a second heartbeat. They unfold wherever the Myriad Syndicate demands: in neon-lit streets, in clubs where secrets are traded for favors, and in the tunnels beneath the city where darkness swallows hesitation.
Eva’s Trials spanned them all, testing her ruthlessness and her ability to rule an empire unseen. She proved herself when she eliminated the young heir from Vikan Academy, a prodigy meant to secure the Syndicate’s future but who proved a liability Eva erased without hesitation. She proved herself again when she dismantled a nominee from an opposing faction, forging alliances only to sever them when they became inconvenient.
But the whispers always return to her sister.
Both had survived the brutal climb to the Major Arcana, sisters bound by blood yet divided by ambition. Then, thousands of miles away on foreign soil, Eva’s sister died—officially, a sudden hit-and-run, a tragic accident no one saw coming. But in the Myria, nothing is truly accidental, and nothing is proven. The only truth that remains is that Eva’s greatest competition was gone, leaving her path to Sovereign clear.
When Eva officially rose to the Imperial Arcana, she was no longer the girl she was but the Sovereign, the Ruler of the Syndicate, forged in the shadows she now commands.
In the Myria, every rise in the Arcana is a rebirth, each step a deeper surrender to the Syndicate’s embrace. But Eva’s final birth was different. She did not simply take power; she became it, binding the Syndicate’s will to her hand with the same certainty that silenced all who stood in her way.
And so, when the Myria speak of birth, they do not speak of beginnings, but of endings—of the promise that nothing, not even blood, will stand in the way of the Syndicate’s rule.
They say Eva Adair did not merely survive the Trials of Selection. She mastered them. And in doing so, she became the Syndicate’s unchallenged heartbeat.
They say Eva Adair was born not once, but many times, as all Myria are. Her first “birth” was the quiet breath of acceptance into the Syndicate, marked under the cold glow of the Cardinale’s quartz lanterns, her oath sealed in the blood she offered with her own hands.
Since a young age, Eva was like a star, brilliant, beautiful, and admired even from a distance. Even without the Syndicate’s power, she had an ethereal way about her that made others easily lower their guards. Her voice was calm and quiet, like a midsummer breeze that gently lulled you into relaxation on a cool, cloudy day.
But the birth that matters—the one whispered about in Azalea City’s rain-slick alleys and the cavernous dark of the Cardinale—was during the Trials of Selection.
The Trials, open to all Syndicate women seeking to rise in the Arcana, are a dance of death and cunning, testing who can rule from the shadows while wielding magic like a second heartbeat. They unfold wherever the Myriad Syndicate demands: in neon-lit streets, in clubs where secrets are traded for favors, and in the tunnels beneath the city where darkness swallows hesitation.
Eva’s Trials spanned them all, testing her ruthlessness and her ability to rule an empire unseen. She proved herself when she eliminated the young heir from Vikan Academy, a prodigy meant to secure the Syndicate’s future but who proved a liability Eva erased without hesitation. She proved herself again when she dismantled a nominee from an opposing faction, forging alliances only to sever them when they became inconvenient.
But the whispers always return to her sister.
Both had survived the brutal climb to the Major Arcana, sisters bound by blood yet divided by ambition. Then, thousands of miles away on foreign soil, Eva’s sister died—officially, a sudden hit-and-run, a tragic accident no one saw coming. But in the Myria, nothing is truly accidental, and nothing is proven. The only truth that remains is that Eva’s greatest competition was gone, leaving her path to Sovereign clear.
When Eva officially rose to the Imperial Arcana, she was no longer the girl she was but the Sovereign, the Ruler of the Syndicate, forged in the shadows she now commands.
In the Myria, every rise in the Arcana is a rebirth, each step a deeper surrender to the Syndicate’s embrace. But Eva’s final birth was different. She did not simply take power; she became it, binding the Syndicate’s will to her hand with the same certainty that silenced all who stood in her way.
And so, when the Myria speak of birth, they do not speak of beginnings, but of endings—of the promise that nothing, not even blood, will stand in the way of the Syndicate’s rule.
They say Eva Adair did not merely survive the Trials of Selection. She mastered them. And in doing so, she became the Syndicate’s unchallenged heartbeat.
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