6th of February, Stellar Year 2924
Capaldi.
Long have gone those times when in Capaldi, one could glimpse the favoured one walking its streets, when laughter carried easily through the silver lanes, and even the winds knew the rhythm of joy. These days, the city has grown quieter, still beautiful, but touched by the distance that time and duty bring. Ever since Dylan returned from Leal, both he and Lena have been caught in the pull of their own worlds, orbiting close yet apart, like twin stars bound by gravity but separated by the vastness of their skies.
***
Flashback
The news had spread like wildfire;across Capaldi, through the academies, even reaching far away Land of Meges.
Dylan's hair had changed.
It was said that when one comes of age in the kingdom of Arizone, a sign appears, something small, yet profound, marking that they've crossed into their trial. For centuries it was not shown in any city yet it came once Dylan came back from Leal. For Dylan, it was his hair: once Ash grey; the very colour of Lorphs that the evolution has have made same for all, now tinted twilight silver, the colour of the skies just before dawn.
In the Great Hall, whispers had followed Ash like shadows. As Dylan is consider a good friend of Ash, as the change of Dylan's colour was not ordinary; it was a mark of passage, a whisper that the young heir had endured something beyond mortal reach.
"The colour has spread even to the temples," one of the scholars murmured.
"His trial must have been harsh," said another.
Ash, standing before the Great Master Atlan, had dared to voice what others only wondered.
"Won't you tell me what trial he faced, Master?"
Atlan's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Hmm,"
he said, the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"Let's see… perhaps the stars will tell you when they are ready."
And that was all he said.
No one questioned further; for when Great Atlan spoke in riddles, it meant the matter was sealed by time itself.
***
Most of Dylan's days had since been swallowed by his studies at NUC; the National University of Capaldi.
Lectures filled the hours, theories filled the nights. And yet, when the rare free moments came, he and Lena would often be found in Common Hall 1, sprawled out on the soft plushies under the amber ceiling lights, watching the galaxy shimmer outside the tall windows.
Sometimes, they'd talk about nothing at all, about how the sky over Capaldi always looked slightly different from other cities; about the first time they'd met; about their favourite small shop which sold lavender tea with crushed sugar pearls.
Other times, silence was enough. Just the quiet comfort of two people existing near one another, wrapped in the hum of the city that never truly slept.
When Dylan was away, attending his Law lectures or working on the research that had started to consume him; Lena would spend her hours with Gibbs, her ever-patient partner in assignments. Together they filled pages with sketches and diagrams, trying to understand the very mechanics of the worlds they lived in.
And all the while, February, it was Feburay.
***
February, Capaldi
How long had it been since February last touched these streets?
A long, perilous time, yet when it came again, it came like a song remembered. The city, still cloaked in frost, shimmered under the pale moonlight, but even Dylan could see the green awakening beneath the snow. The promise of spring.
February was Capaldi's month of violets, the flowers that bloomed in defiance of winter, small and steadfast, their petals glowing faintly under the snow. Violets that refused to yield, blooming where no flower dared.
Violets they very flower which stays loyal to cold and harsh winters.
When the first violets were sighted, the Lorphs, Inhibitant of Capaldi, began preparations for the first festival; Festival of Bloom.
The streets filled with colours and laughter, every door draped in garlands, every corner humming with excitement.
And amidst all this feverish joy, the grand House of Al'Xander stirred with its own anticipation. The halls were alive with movement, servants rushing about, chandeliers being polished until they caught fire in their light.
Because this year's February carried more than the season of violets, it carried Lena's eighteenth birthday.
The day she would step fully into her own name and legacy.
"You must have waited long for this,"
the winter wind whispered to Capaldi's towers.
"I was dying to witness it,"
the city replied, its voice trembling through every leafless tree and violet petal.
***
11 PM
Night Time
6th of February, Stellar Year 2924
Capaldi.
Dylan rode through the southern lanes, his bike cutting through the frost-bitten air. His hair whipped behind him, silver glinting faintly against the night. He had turned almost every corner of Capaldi upside down in search of something, something precious enough for her.
"Won't your girl be suspicious?" a voice teased, ancient and echoing through his mind.
Dylan grinned beneath his helmet, though his fingers tightened on the handle.
"She might," he admitted softly,
"but I'll take that risk."
"It's her birthday, so you must sacrifice what you've got to find what she'll love most,"
the voice mused, its tone more knowing than mocking.
"Exactly,"
Dylan said.
"Some gifts must cost something real."
But then, suddenly,
"Hey… what's up with the snow?"
The voice's tone sharpened. Dylan looked around. The snowfall had thickened unnaturally fast, a curtain of white swallowing the streetlights. The ground began to blur under layers of frost. He slowed, instincts whispering that something was off.
Within minutes, what was a soft drizzle of snow turned into a storm. The roads vanished beneath it.
By the time Dylan reached the hill of his estate, he was half-blind with cold. His heavy bike groaned as he pushed it into the gate, snow clinging to every inch of his coat.
Inside, warmth hit him like a memory. The scent of sandal wood and old books filled the hall. He removed his gloves, his breath fogging in the soft amber light.
And then, that feeling,
the unmistakable warmth of her presence.
"Where's Missy?"
he asked, glancing around.
"Sleeping upstairs,"
came the robotic butler's voice, mechanical but oddly protective. Its steel fingers twitched nervously as it began erasing all signs of Dylan's late-night excursion.
"Good,"
Dylan murmured, heading toward his study. The package in his coat weighed heavily — small, but carrying the kind of gravity only love could give. He tucked it behind the old shelf, in a box marked Do Not Open Until Morning.
Outside, the storm roared louder, but inside the walls of that house, all was still.
***
The Forbidden Land of Meges
The Celestial Library
Books towered high as mountains, their spines glowing faintly under the ever-turning light of the Great Clock. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and the whisper of knowledge.
Great Master Atlan moved slowly between the stacks, his robes brushing against the dust of centuries. He had been studying the constellations for days, or perhaps weeks; time flowed differently in the Library.
When the Great Clock struck twelve, the walls themselves shifted. The bookshelves folded into one another, revealing a vast holographic expanse of stars.
The constellation shimmered, one particular star glowed brighter, pulsing like a living thing.
Master Atlan froze. His gaze lifted to the heavens displayed before him. The star's light flickered, then steadied, pure and radiant.
And then, far across the map, another light, wilder, almost defiant, flared, too bright, and then drifted away into the far edge of the universe.
The Master's hand trembled slightly. Books slipped from his grasp, landing with a heavy thud that echoed across the silent hall.
"A time is coming,"
he whispered, voice low and hollow.
"A time when the bright ones return."
He turned slowly toward the shifting constellations.
"A star that shines too bright has appeared… and another, loud and reckless, has reached the far corners of the universe."
he paused as if looking for a reason to deny it; what that was coming.
"Those who must leave will leave. Those who are destined to return… will find their way back."
As he spoke, the air behind him shimmered, and from it, a faint trail of golden dust emerged, swirling into form.
The Fairy Queen stepped forth, her wings glimmering like fractured glass.
"You've seen it too, haven't you?"
she asked softly.
"The signs are showing everywhere."
"I tried to hide it,"
Atlan said, his eyes fixed on the fading stars.
"For eighteen years"
"For eighteen years, I have kept it buried beneath spells, beneath silence. But no longer. The time has come."
"Eighteen years…"
she murmured, voice soft as a sigh.
"The age of awakening."
Great Master Atlan raised his hand. The stars began to flicker, fading one by one until only darkness remained on the walls.
"The universe has begun to remember,"
he whispered.
"And when memory returns, so does destiny."
Silence fell over the Celestial Library. The only sound left was the steady ticking of the Great Clock, marking the final hours before dawn.
***
In Capaldi, snow still fell. The city slept under its white shroud, unaware that its fate was already stirring among the stars.
Dylan, unaware of the ripples that reached even to the Forbidden Lands, leaned against his study door, exhaling softly. The gift lay hidden, a small token of love, but carrying far more weight than either of them could yet know.
Upstairs, Lena dreamed her hands curled against the blanket, her face serene under the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the frost-glazed window.
And somewhere far above, unseen and untouchable, two stars pulsed; one silver, one violet, bound to the same constellation, waiting for the night they would finally meet again.