Astra sat in silence feeling as if he was in a dream, deep down he wanted to cry, I knew it, I knew it, Im meant for more, I'm not some trash who has to sell his body and commit crimes to survive, no my ancestors were royals! I am a royal! A lot made sense to Astra now, His looks, talent, even the immense hunger and ambition he felt for and power.
He sighed, He had dreamt of such moments and it was actually here. Astra had always told himself he was "special" and "meant for more" but he never actually fully believed it, deep down he knew they were simple fantasies he conjured up to push himself to be greater, but who would have thought it was actually true!
His eyes looked at odin, hopefully and red.
"Astra let me tell you about your bloodline" spoke Odin, his voice infused with power and magic
Astra sat in silence as Odin's words seemed to weigh heavily in the air around them, thick with the scent of ancient power and forgotten history. The flames in the forge crackled, their light flickering as if unnerved by the gravity of the tale unfolding. The room grew darker, the shadows stretching like tendrils, as if they too listened intently, drawn to the secrets being whispered in hushed tones.
"Your grace, Odin, wha,- what exactly does this like all of this have to do with me?" Astra's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried with it the weight of a thousand questions that threatened to crush his chest. His violet eyes, once just a simple mark of his lineage, now felt like burning beacons of something far greater, something darker.
Odin leaned back, his weathered fingers tracing the rim of his goblet as if carefully measuring his next words. "Your bloodline, Astra, is more than just a name. It is a curse. And a gift. You are not merely a descendant of those who ruled Duskfall—you are the last of the House of Night, the heir to the powers that once shaped the very cosmos. The shadow that haunts your every step is the same shadow that once danced with the Stars."
House Night.... Astras mind spun, he had heard of house night before, in olden books, a house that at its glory was extremely powerful but thats all he knew, information was censored regarding such matters, the Usurpers House Dusk rose to power and took over one of the royal stewards spots.
Astra had thought he had a small connection to them, but to be of direct lineage..this was shocking and totally unexpected.
Now the angels words hung in the air like a thick fog, wrapping around Astra's thoughts, pulling them deeper into a truth he had never before understood. He had felt the strange power coursing through him, but hearing the full weight of it now made him shiver. The shadows felt... alive. As if they knew him, had always known him.
"The Night itself is your birthright," Odin continued, his voice now dark, tinged with something ancient and unyielding. "Your ancestors bent the heavens to their will. The stars themselves were at their command. They wove the fabric of the world with their magic, and you... you carry that blood. But that power comes with a price."
Astra's heart skipped a beat. His hand went to the weight of the coin at his side.
"The House of Night fell, not by the hands of a single enemy," Odin's voice dropped to a low murmur, thick with the weight of eons of sorrow. "It was torn apart by those who envied its power. The house that once held the balance of the cosmos, the dominion over both light and shadow, was undone by treachery. Betrayal. It was not a violent war, but a quiet, insidious poison that seeped into the very soul of the house."
Astra's mind spun as he recalled the history of Duskfall, his breath catching in his throat. "House Dusk," he murmured, the name slipping from his lips like a curse. "House Hunt. House Dawn."
"Yes," Odin said, his eyes flashing with an ancient fury. "Three houses, three powers, each vying for control of the balance. House Dusk, the quiet schemers who understood the strength of shadows, darkness and the power of subtlety. House Hunt, the hunters, royal masters of pursuit and silent destruction from the realm of Alfheim. And House Dawn, the royal rivals, the ones who played the long game. Together, they orchestrated the fall of your ancestors, Astra. They tore down Duskfall not with armies, but with whispers. Their ambition knew no bounds. They craved what the House of Night held. The control of the stars. The mastery over gravity itself."
Odin paused, the air heavy with the weight of what he was about to reveal. "House Dusk's envy was insatiable. They watched as the House of Night bathed in the light of a thousand stars, wielding gravity and authorities of Night as though it were nothing more than a toy. And House Hunt—well, they saw the weakness in that power and loved to sow discord in other realms. The House of Night was alone, isolated, powerful, but isolated. And isolation is the true enemy of even the mightiest beast."
Don't I know it astra sighed inwardly, it seems this curse of loneliness was inherited.
Astra's mind reeled with the implications of Odin's words. He could feel the pulse of his bloodline calling to him, thrumming beneath his skin like the distant echo of an ancient storm. "So, dusk betrayed them... and I'm the last?"
Odin's lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace. "Yes. The last of the House of Night. The last of the stars." His voice lowered even further, becoming a whisper lost in the crackling of the fire. "And you, Astra, are the key to the night's rebirth—or its final destruction."
The room dimmed once more, the shadows growing longer, colder. The warmth of the forge seemed to wither beneath the weight of history's truths. Astra's chest tightened as he struggled to process it all. His thoughts felt like they were being torn between the past and the future, as though the very essence of his bloodline was pulling him in a thousand directions.
"And now," Odin said, leaning forward, his gaze piercing into Astra's very soul, "the world watches you. House Dusk may have thought they succeeded in destroying your house, but they are wrong. You are the storm that comes after the fall of the night. You are the last spark of a forgotten age, Astra, and such perfect timing as well."
The air around them seemed to tremble with unseen power, the stars themselves watching as Astra, the last scion, no last prince of the House of Night, stood on the precipice of their legacy. The firelight flickered, casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to beckon to him, to call him home to a place of power he had never known.
But what was power without control? What was power without a cost?
Odin's eyes burned with a mix of anticipation and warning. "Remember this, Astra: The stars may have fallen, but they have not forgotten you. And neither have those who would seek to use you as a pawn in their eternal game. You may carry the blood of the dead gods, but you are not untouchable. They will come for you—whether you are ready or not."
"Blood of dead gods?!" Astras mind reeled, what the actual hell is going on!, yet he listened intently.
The room grew still, save for the distant crackle of the flames, as Astra stood at the crossroads of his fate, the shadows of his bloodline stretching out before him. The darkness of the past whispered in his ears, and the stars above seemed to tremble with the weight of what was to come.
Your Bloodline is that of olden dead gods, Shadow and Night, He strained a bit as he said" Noctis and Umbra."
Astra almost threw up, Odin had named gods! Not only was it a major taboo but it was also extremely hard to those who do not bear the lineage, Words are power! , And even at that the Church of Shadow and Night still existed, no matter how small! they still had power and secret originations that want to revive them! But I'm of both?!
In that moment, Astra understood. The night was calling him back, and the path ahead was one that would either crown him as the ruler of the stars—or cast him into the void forever.
Odin continued on,
"Dusk began by feeding the growing discontent within Duskfall itself. For years, rumors had circulated that the rulers of the House of Night, intoxicated by their power, had begun to ignore the very people they ruled, they did some questionable experiments, had disagreements between their councils, became high on power."
"Their star magic, so long a symbol of strength and grace, had begun to take a darker turn, growing erratic and unstable at times in a strange twist. The gravity magic, once precise and controlled, was said to warp the very land beneath them. It was suppression, from what or who? even I do not know."
"Unrest brewed—though none dared speak it openly. House Dusk capitalized on these murmurs, cultivating rebellion in the shadowed corners of Duskfall, stoking flames of dissent among the lower classes and secretive factions within the city. They whispered of the corruption of the night, of the madness of the rulers, and the ancient treachery of Night."
The God of Night who betrayed the Gods in the first war of fracture? The war of the gods, yes I do know about this but no one knows what he did?
Odin sighed "Perhaps they were right, perhaps not, even I do not know the full story."
"Then came the assassinations—quiet, subtle, staged as accidents or acts of fate. First, the minor nobility Knights who had served the House of Night were struck down by strange forces: a merchant crushed by the sudden collapse of an enchanted pillar; a famed Bishop general falling disappearing in the stars as if the sky itself had betrayed him. These were not ordinary deaths. They were signs. House Dusk was sending a message: the House of Night was vulnerable. Thus war was declared and rebellion ensued.
Then came the civil war, the Armies of Night clashed with those of Dusk, and Dawn, Mortals clashed, in the millions, and millions died. After the war escalated Demi gods clashed altering landscapes and realms, eventually even Angels began to bleed, and bled they did. Rivers of Ichor ran amok the lesser realms and Sahara, both sides were about to break but Night. Night broke first, The final battle, As the great siege of Duskfall began.
The siege lasted years, the violet twilight shielding the city and its inhabitants from the forces of magics all over. People were evacuated everywhere until the city was at a fraction of its true population. Eventually even the Twilight tower could not save house Night.
House Hunt, with their unparalleled mastery of the pursuit, took the next step. Somehow they had found a way to infiltrate the city and under cover of the violet twilight, they infiltrated the very heart of Duskfall, their agents slipping into the city like shadows, their beasts prowling in silence.
The hounds of House Hunt, ancient creatures with the ability to sniff out not just flesh, but magic itself, began to circle the heart of the city. Mortals were all teleported in nascent realms of forests by Seraphs.
"The Seraphs agreed to this? " Astra asked feeling confused.
"Yes," Odin spoke with ancient unkempt rage, "They do not care who's in power as long as it serves them and their purpose, all the wars were clashes between them and sometimes the sins, The Seraphs cannot simply rule over the realms as one even they cannot stand the full might of all the angels combined if such tyranny were to occur and two, they are not, in great shape to say the least, if I say more you may die."
Astra felt insanely cold at that second as his instincts and intuition all perked up, he felt that if he were to really learn why he will die! "Do not pry into the secrets of gods" He warned himself.
"I do not know what Night did to become forsaken from both the divine counsel and the unholy counsel, that is a secret you must find young heir." Odin continued.
Astra nodded solemnly as odin continued his recalling of the fall of Night.
Hunts goal was not just to break the walls of the Castle of the Stars—but to strike at its core: they wanted the sacred sword Nightfall, the legendary blade of Night, Said to be wielded by the god himself, a myth or truth?...who knows.
With careful precision, House Hunt's agents all bearing godhood stalked the halls of the House of Night, evading its warded defenses and enchanted traps. The Castle of the Stars, an ancient fortress filled with magic older than most could fathom, was on the brink of destruction in the battle.
The battle within its walls was fierce, brutal, and unrelenting. Angels at the the pinnacle of power—engaged in holy combat as Authorities and godhoods clashed.
At the forefront stood Lady Diana the Sixteenth, heiress of House Hunt, her blade shining with the radiance of the World Tree of Artemis. Opposite her, Lord commander Altus of House Dusk, Angel of the Unseen, wove shadows with mastery rivaled only by Layla of Night herself. Sir Solaris, Angel of Sunset, fought beside them, wielding the burning majesty of the sun.
"House Night," Odin said, his voice carrying the weight of memory, "once boasted seven, even eight Angels at its height. By then, only two remained. And Lady Layla was desperate." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Cornered, wounded, with no allies left… she attempted apotheosis."
Astra's breath caught. "She tried to become a Seraph?!" Astra was shocked, she was that powerful?!
Odin nodded darkly, "She had no choice, cornered, forsaken and besieged, it was either ascend to the divine throne and become the Lady of Night in the chaos or die trying."
And she nearly succeeded—until House Dawn unveiled their trump card."
His voice hardened. "They invoked the Shard of Morning, wrenching Duskfall—eternally cloaked in violet twilight—into a perpetual Dawn. The stars waned. Shadows withered. The authorities of Hunt, Dawn, and Dusk blazed brighter than ever. And there may have been… higher interference. Seraphic. Sinful."
Astra whispered, "Gods…" His stomach turned as he wondered what his house had done to merit such wrath.
"The Angels battled in cataclysm," Odin continued. "Mortals bled in the frontlines, breaking divine wards and fulfilling impossible tasks. And Layla… she was caught in between. Her apotheosis incomplete, her mind fracturing, she became a half-born rank seven, neither seraph nor sin teetering on the edge of absolute insanity—a dangerous, unstable thing. Her madness drew both Sins and Seraphs into the fray, their clashes spilling across the Spirit, Astral, and Mana realms."
Astra swallowed. "And she survived that?"
"She would have died instantly," Odin admitted, "if not for the Angel of Starflowers. He anchored her, pulled her from the brink of raving divinity. Together, they made their final stand."
For the briefest moment, Odin's tone softened. He seemed almost… entranced, lost in reverence for that tragedy.
"For seven days and seven nights they held the castle, Layla and Starflower, while heavens above quaked. Sins and Seraphs cut each other down, vying for influence, barring rivals from the battlefield. Who clashed with whom?" A faint, almost cruel smile tugged at Odin's mouth. "Figure it out yourself. I needn't tell you."
Astra clenched his jaw. Infuriating. Not only did it sound more like legend than history, but Odin relished dangling half-truths. Why would an Angel of his station humble himself with details of divine bloodshed? Yet he didn't miss a key point. Odin had to tell him.
"To be honest, your grace," Astra muttered, "I don't know if I want to know."
Odin's smile sharpened. "Good. Keep that restraint. Until you're strong enough, knowledge will only get you killed early."
He leaned back, voice lowering into a near growl. "As gods clashed overhead, Diana faced Layla in single combat. Light against shadow, ceaseless and consuming. Angels of Dawn and Dusk flanked her, five against one. Layla fought them all, a lone, half-born Seraph, her darkness colliding with celestial fire. But her apotheosis was slipping. The tide turned."
Odin's eyes glinted with cold memory. "At the last moment, certain Seraphs blessed Diana. Her strength rose to rival Layla's. With Veilbreaker, her holy blade, she struck a blow that shattered the Night itself. Layla fell, her body dissolving into a pool of divine shadows. The Night mourned her passing. And when silence fell, only Lady Diana of Hunt remained alive, broken and bleeding."
Astra's mind reeled. Legendary blades, Angels, divine lineages, extermination—his blood sang with equal parts awe and horror.
"Gods…" he whispered. "My ancestor nearly became one!… and still slew four pinnacle Angels before she fell. Even the Seraphs and Sins had to intervene."
"Meanwhile," Odin continued, his tone deepening as if the memory weighed upon him, "Sir Starflower stood alone against two Angels of Hunt and Sir Solaris, the Angel of Dawn. It was an epic struggle, a clash not of men but of worlds."
A shadow passed over Odin's expression. "In the end, Ser Starflower faltered beneath the weight of their combined Authorities. His power alone was vast—his Authority was gravity itself. A gift that bent the heavens and the earth. I'll tell you this, boy, because one day you may have the right to claim it. He unleashed a forbidden spell in those final moments: Eater of Stars. It was meant as his ultimate sacrifice—his godhood for Layla's escape."
Odin shook his head. "But the Angel of Sunset countered with his radiant Authority, and the Dawn's famed domain, Sunfall, tore the skies apart. The Eternal Keeper and Warfather themselves moved to shield the realm, else the whole of Sahara would have been obliterated. Even then, Starflower's mind broke loose of the Shard of Dawn's prison. A quarter of the city was annihilated in the backlash. The laws of reality fractured as the clash of their Authorities raged unchecked. And yet… he was overwhelmed. His starlight dimmed. His brilliance extinguished."
Odin's voice grew low, almost reverent. "And thus, the leaders of House Night fell. The stars themselves seemed to fade, the very shadows wept. And Nightfall—" He paused, letting the name linger like a curse. "The blade that embodied the Night, the eternal emblem of their power—was gone. Vanished as though it had never existed. No one knows where it lies. And so the great houses scour the realms still, for to possess Nightfall is to wield the very Authorities of night itself."
Odin's eyes softened, remembering. "Layla came to me, days before the end. She spoke of a path to recover Nightfall—perilous beyond reckoning, one that only the bravest… or the most foolish… would ever tread. I remember the weight of that moment. I, a rank-six Angel, powerless before the woman I admired. Bound by law, by oath. For Angels cannot intervene in such conflicts without the sanction of alliance, and the Seraphs' gaze is ever watchful. To break such law is to embrace death—or worse."
His voice hardened again, bitter with the memory. "The final blow was merciless. House Dusk sowed chaos through the territories of Night, unweaving star-forged wards and unraveling ancient spells with their shadows and darkness. Then came House Hunt—hunters without mercy—striking down all who stood in their way. It was not battle, it was culling. Lineages cut down. Bloodlines snuffed out."
"The Castle of the Stars crumbled beneath the weight of broken sorcery. And so, the House of Night ended. Where once they ruled the city, their dominion now lies in ruin. Duskfall belongs to House Dusk and the Territories of Night became Those of Dusk"
The Church of Night managed to hide under House Shadow as Shadow shielded the remaining members, unfortunately none bore the lineage of Night.
"But victory came at a cost," Odin said, his voice dropping lower, as though weighed down by memory. "House Hunt, having played their part in Night's destruction, withdrew to Alfheim. Their thirst for conquest was not quenched, merely redirected. House Dusk emerged stronger than ever, yet weaker too—its ranks of Angels thinned, its essence forever tainted by the dark forces it had loosed upon the world. The void left by House Night could never truly be filled. Duskfall was theirs, yes—but the shadows of the past would haunt them for eons."
He paused before continuing. "House Dawn, ever pragmatic, lent its might to Dusk in the rebuilding. They forged alliances, repaired what could be mended, even secured a fragile peace with House Shadow, who had stood beside Night until the bitter end. And so, peace was hammered out, brittle and cold… but peace nonetheless."
"House Dune?" Odin gave a mirthless smile. "They stood and watched. They did nothing."
He leaned back, eyes half-closed. "The final accord between Dusk and Dawn was sealed not with words of triumph, but in silence. A pact made in the dark: Dusk would rule openly, but Dawn would guide from the shadows. For House Dawn's strength was never in armies, but in the long game—in the balance of power, in ensuring no one house could ever seize absolute dominion again. Thus, while Dusk wore the crown, it was Dawn's hand that tugged the strings."
He gestured upward, to where the faint glow of the heavens could be imagined. "And though House Night had fallen, their legacy endured. The stars above Duskfall still flicker with their faint light, a stubborn reminder of what once was. Night had been claimed… yet the dawn forever lingered on the horizon."
A softness touched Odin's voice then, rare and almost reverent. "They say, on nights when the sky is too dark, when the stars blaze too brightly, one can feel their presence still—the pulse of magic older than the heavens themselves. I sense it in you, Astra. That power. That shadow."
Odin's gaze sharpened, his words heavy as iron. "You are greatly blessed, young one. You are of both Umbra and Noctis. The blood of that divine yet profane union runs in your veins still."
His voice grew quieter, though no less commanding. "The blade Nightfall was not destroyed—it was sealed among the stars. Bear godhood, and it shall reveal itself to you. Layla claimed it would be needed for what was to come."
The forge itself seemed to respond as Odin narrowed his eyes. The mana in the air shivered, as though reality itself gasped. Power—immense and unyielding—flooded the chamber.
Odin's Voice Broke the World
"Kneel."
The word left Odin's lips heavy with authority—an edict carved from the bones of creation.
Astra's body collapsed before he realized he had moved, his knees slamming into the hard, cold floor. His breath hitched, shallow and ragged, as though the weight of the heavens pressed against his chest. Behind Odin, the Great Forge roared to life. Flames leapt higher, brighter, hungrier, as if they were feeding not on coal or steel, but on the very essence of the Angel before him.
The air grew molten, suffocating. The stone floor was no longer cold—it burned beneath Astra's palms as if he were kneeling inside the heart of a supervolcano.
This… this was the true authority of an Angel. The crushing presence of a Rank-Six Grandmaster of the forge. The soul-shattering weight of Odinson Steel!
Odin's deep blue eyes locked on Astra's violet ones, their glow sharpening into a glare so intense Astra felt his soul recoil. Fear surged through him, primal and suffocating—yet threaded within it was a spark of something else. Excitement.
"Astra," Odin's voice rumbled, each word a hammer striking the forge of fate, "I made a promise to your ancestor, Layla. To entrust the Night to those who remained of her line. To tear away the veil of protection, to restore to them the authority she once bore. The bastards of Hunt were thorough… but one escaped."
Odin's voice deepened, his command ringing through the air like steel drawn from its sheath.
"Brace yourself."
The world shuddered. Mana itself reared like a storm-tossed sea—not Odin's mana, but the ambient mana, the living current of existence itself. It surged toward Astra, tethering to him, unraveling something hidden, forgotten, veiled.
"Accept your destiny!"
The words detonated inside him. Astra convulsed as mana flooded his body in torrents, rushing into his core at unholy speed. Starlight blossomed in the air around him, radiant and unrelenting, as if the very heavens had been torn open to pour themselves into his flesh.
The forge vanished. Reality itself unraveled.
Astra bled through the seams of the world, tumbling between the Three Divine Realms of the Fracture. The air was paradox, the ground contradiction. Golden and silver threads stretched into infinity, weaving a tapestry of light that shimmered with countless points—"stars."
And then Astra knew. They weren't stars.
They were souls. Every living being's imprint etched upon the fabric of existence.
His mind screamed, buckling under the weight. He glimpsed oceans of vitality vast enough to drown eternity. A realm of madness and chaos, burning with impossible fire. A wasteland of ice and silence, seemingly older than silence itself. A forest of contradiction, pulsing with warped life. More expanses loomed at the edge of perception, but he dared not peer further. To pry was to unravel.
These connections were tenuous, fragile—yet he felt them.
Then one star drew his gaze.
A singular brilliance, caged in infinite knowledge. Dusk-colored tendrils pierced it, binding it within a cosmic tree whose roots stretched into realms unseen. Beyond it, a sun blazed, its fire gnawing at the cage.
The star pulsed, defiant. Its light seared away corruption, burning intruders into ash. Nine times it beat, each pulse brighter than the last… before the four authorities pressed in again, their weight crashing down to smother its brilliance.
..
Astra felt it. Three vast anchors in the tapestry of existence—connections so overwhelming they made his soul tremble.
An infinite library, its shelves spiraling in every direction, each tome humming with knowledge forbidden to mortals.A land of iron and rust, where rivers of ichor carved bloody paths across crimson soil.And a light beyond measure—blinding, immeasurable, burning like a second creation itself.
Deep within, Astra knew. These were no ordinary realms. He gazed upon the dominions of Seraphs themselves: The Eternal Keeper! The Warfather! The Illuminator!
His senses blurred. Consciousness wavered. He drifted into a dreamlike state, half waking, half dissolving into the Astral realm.
There, in the silence between stars, it came to him—connection.
He dreamt of Star and Shadow. Celestial energy coalesced above his brow, blazing into a Crown of Stars. Beneath him, shadows surged, rising up to cloak his form in reverent terror. They obeyed, trembling as if cowering before a tyrant. The stars, however, embraced him—gentle, infinite, radiant.
He floated in a void without direction—no up, no down, no left, no right—only the hum of eternity. Yet even here, Odin's presence was near, shielding him, steadying him. Without Odin's authority cradling his fragile soul, Astra knew he would have been torn apart. Mortals were not meant to tread this realm.
Golden threads unraveled all around him, weaving toward stars, toward figures in the distance. Shapes stirred at the edge of vision. The Expanse reflected in his eyes.
And then Odin's voice thundered, louder than fate:
"With my Authority as an Angel, I hereby declare you the Last Heir of the Night, Prince of the Stars and Lord of Shadows. Let the dead gods Umbra and Noctis shoulder the burden, and let Mana itself bear witness!"
Reality bent. Words of power, spoken with the authority of an Angel, reshaping the world. The Crown of Stars and Cloak of Shadows did not remain mere visions—they sank into Astra's soul, fusing with him, becoming him.
He dreamt of a night sky infinite and holy, and beneath it a figure of living cosmos laughed—a low, terrible chuckle that rippled through eternity. Then shadows surged upward, infinite and hungry, devouring the heavens. Stars fell from above, only to fuse with the darkness, becoming one with it.
The shadows deepened, danced—and suddenly, gazes fell upon them. Countless gazes. Heavy. Terrifying. Indescribable.
The Seraphs. The Sins. The Devils. The Angels.
Astra's soul shuddered beneath their sight, unveiled and bare.
But Odin laughed. A manic, defiant laugh, his authority flaring until even the fractured realms shook beneath the weight as they took on a subtle volcanic sheen. His presence rose like a shield, flames of the forge burning so bright the stars over Duskfall themselves shone through the veil of twilight, piercing the city's eternal dusk.
Odin bellowed to the cosmos, ignoring the pressure of divine eyes pressing against him:
"Rise now, fallen Amir! You are Astra Noctis—the Last Heir of the Night! The Prince of the Stars! The Lord of Shadows!"
The declaration shook the divine tapestry. But because of Odin's interference, only fragments carried outward.
The Seraphs. The Devils. The gods themselves—what they heard was a single word echoing through eternity:
"Noctis."
And so, the cosmos learned that an heir had been crowned.
They watched, powerless to interfere, as the figure cloaked in shadows and crowned with stars faded back into the mortal realm of Sahara.
Not even the Seraphs had foreseen this. Not even they could move against it.