Duskfall City
.....
As dusk deepened and the twilight sky bled into deeper shades of violet and indigo, something in the air began to change. The Springtime Advent Festival in Duskfall had been in full swing—its lanterns floating gently in the cool evening breeze, children laughing as they chased after street performers, and the air thick with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts and warm pastries.
The grand fireworks display was underway, its explosions of color marking the night sky with showers of reds, greens, and golds. Music filled the air, a lively and joyous rhythm that echoed down every street, every alley, every home.
But then, it all shifted.
The fireworks, once bursting in radiant, joyful cacophony, suddenly stilled mid-air, their brilliant flames frozen for a heartbeat before fading, as if the very essence of celebration had been silenced.
The rhythm of life in Duskfall stuttered, like a chord played out of tune. The laughter that had once bubbled through the streets faltered, and the flickering lanterns above the marketplace seemed to dim just slightly, as if their light had been drained of some of its warmth. The bustling, chaotic energy of the festival seemed to pause, the very city itself holding its breath.
An ancient energy stirred in the silence, spreading through the streets of Duskfall like an invisible mist. Though the people of the city did not understand it, they felt it—a shift in the very air, a thickening of the atmosphere that set the hairs on the back of their necks alight.
The festivities, once vibrant, now felt oddly distant, like a dream that was fading, and in its place, something profound and unsettling began to unfurl.
Above, the stars themselves began to shimmer with an intensity that bordered on the unnatural. The familiar constellations, once steady and cold, flickered erratically, their usual calm light now sharp, brittle—like daggers of pure brilliance cutting through the expanding night.
It wasn't just a change in brightness; it was as though the stars were alive, their steady rhythm of light now erratic, pulsing with a strange, almost otherworldly energy. The heavens seemed to throb with a quiet power, a presence waking deep within the vault of the cosmos, stirring like a beast rousing from a long slumber.
And then, the shadows began to stir.
At first, it was almost imperceptible—the usual playful flicker of candlelight on the cobblestones, the shadows stretching long across the walls of buildings, now seemed to shift ever so slightly, as if they were slipping out of their natural alignment. But soon, that subtlety faded, and the shadows grew restless.
They moved. Slithering, twisting across the stone streets like living tendrils, curling and bending in ways that defied reason, they began to wrap around the market stalls, stretch along the brickwork of the old noble homes, and coil around the legs of unsuspecting citizens. The familiar absence of shadow turned into something more—a tangible presence, alive, aware, an intelligence lurking just beyond what the eye could see.
On the sides of the great stone buildings, the shadows began to dance and flicker, not as simple imprints of light, but as twisting, writhing forms. Faces, or perhaps shapes that were not quite human, appeared and vanished, as though the shadows themselves were watching, waiting, pulling at the edges of reality.
The air grew heavy, a tension that only the seasoned or the magical could feel, pressing down on the crowd like the weight of a storm about to break. Eyes widened in terror and awe. A chill ran through the people like a phantom breeze, and many instinctively pulled their cloaks tighter, shying away from the darkness that was now something more than mere absence.
The heartbeat of Duskfall seemed to skip in time with the sudden shift. What had been a festival of joy, laughter, and warmth was now thick with a palpable fear—a fear that no one could quite place, but everyone felt.
The citizens, noble and commoner alike, looked up to the sky, their eyes drawn to the unnatural flickering of the stars. The glow of the lanterns, the warmth of the firelight, was not enough to push back the shadows now dancing on the very edges of their minds.
In the heart of the city, among the noble houses, there was a deeper disturbance. The mana in the air had shifted, thickened. The higher concepts, the very essence of power itself, were stirring.
Those bearing godhood all looked into the divine realms to see the cause yet all they saw was pure magical prowess of a hidden rank six angel at the pinnacle level.
The city had been altered, rewoven, and those attuned to it could feel the crackling energy beneath their feet. Even some of the rank fours, those lesser but still potent mages, felt the pull, the unsettling surge of something deep and ancient waking
...
The Regal Coin, cold and silent, hung from the chest of the Matriarch of Dusk the Queen of Duskfall, its smooth surface catching the dim light of the room. For a moment, it was just another forgotten trinket, part of the opulent regalia of a ruler who had seen everything, ruled over everything.
But as her gaze suddenly narrowed, the air seemed to pulse, faintly, a strange energy rippling through. Her aura shifted with an unsettling intensity—heavier, darker, as though the very atmosphere itself thickened in response to her will.
The room, which had once been bathed in warm light, now turned unbearably dark. The walls seemed to close in, the corners fading into inky blackness as shadows swallowed everything in their path.
The very air grew colder, biting against the skin, as if the warmth of life itself was being drawn away, leaving only an oppressive emptiness in its place.
Her eyes, once full of the wisdom of ages, now became cold and emotionless, hollowed by something that transcended time itself. She lifted her gaze, her vision piercing the stone walls and the roof above, looking into the vast, endless sky that spread out over the Castle of Dusk.
The stars themselves seemed to shiver beneath her scrutiny. A fleeting moment of recognition flashed across her face as she tried to pierce this strange anomaly, only for it to be blocked off, followed by a slight frown—an expression that spoke of knowledge too ancient, too dangerous to be fully understood.
The Mage Coin, now reflecting the dim stars above, trembled with an almost imperceptible hum.
"Interesting," she murmured to herself, her voice a quiet, chilling whisper that echoed unnaturally in the silence of the room.
With those words, the oppressive tension in the room shattered in an instant. A blinding light erupted from her, so intense that it seemed to wash away the very shadows themselves. The walls, the floor, the ceiling—every inch of the room was consumed by light so pure, so unyielding, that it seemed as if the concept of darkness had ceased to exist entirely within its reach. The shadows that had lingered, ever present in the corners, now had no place to hide. They were erased, as if they had never been.
The power in that light was immense. It vibrated through the air, distorting the very fabric of reality around it, as if the room itself could no longer contain the force that had been unleashed.
The Matriarch's eyes, still cold and sharp, were fixed on the heavens, her gaze unwavering as though she could sense something, some greater power stirring in the void. Something that even she had not anticipated.
The light pulsed once, then began to fade. But the room was still far brighter than it had been moments before, and the shadows that had once lurked in every corner of the Castle of Dusk now cowered, banished into the unseen spaces between the cracks of existence. The very essence of night had been forced into submission, replaced by the cold, radiant light that hung like an omen in the air.
The air itself was still, thick with the weight of something new, something that had never before been felt in Duskfall.
The Matriarch stood there, her cold eyes still fixed on the stars, the ancient knowledge and power in her mind silently processing the change, the subtle stirring of a force too great to ignore.
"Interesting," she repeated, her voice now colder than before, like a distant echo from the depths of time.
....
Somewhere deep underground, far from the bustling streets and the noble halls above, a man stood alone in the heart of the unfathomable shadows. The shadows in this chamber were unlike any other, thick and dark, curling around the room like living things.
They seemed to stretch infinitely into the corners, an abyss that threatened to swallow anything that dared approach. This was a place where only those with command over the darkness could stand without being consumed by it.
This man, with his light gray hair and eyes the color of the velvet twilight that stretched across the skies of Duskfall, was no ordinary figure. His form was muscular, battle-worn, a testament to a life lived in the pursuit of victory. His scarstold stories of countless battles fought, each one a reminder of the wars he had endured.
The Commander of Dusk, as he was known, was a figure both revered and feared in the city.An Angel of Dusk. His presence alone could silence the most boisterous of crowds, and the shadows themselves seemed to bow to his will.
The room around him seemed to shudder as he stood, alone, training within the deepening black of the subterranean shadows. His body was drenched in sweat, his movements smooth and practiced, as though he had been honing his craft for centuries.
The air around him thrummed with the intensity of his power, his aura almost tangible, wrapping around him like a mantle of divine energy, the force of it akin to that of an angel—perfect, devastating, and all-encompassing.
Then, without warning, the shadows shifted.
He looked up, his eyes distant as if trying to make out something, only for it to be blocked. He frowned
The deep, cold shadows—once obedient, loyal to their master—began to dance, twisting and swirling in patterns that could only be described as celebration. They flickered in an erratic display, as if alive, alive with joy.
It was a phenomenon he had never experienced before—shadows that danced, shadows that celebrated, something he had never commanded. It was as though a new ruler had emerged, one who had the power to make the very darkness bend and rejoice.
The Commander's eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing in a mix of confusion, anger, and disbelief. He had felt it—the change in the air, the subtle shift, the presence of something higher, something far beyond his control.
The ripples in the heavens were not a mere illusion. Something had stirred, something ancient, something that commanded the very essence of the night. It was powerful—too powerful, and its influence was undeniable.
"What the?" he muttered, his voice low, grating, as his hand clenched around his sword. His pulse quickened, but his gaze remained fixed on the shadows that dared to disobey him.
The shadows, once steadfast and under his control, now rejoiced. They swirled in jubilant patterns, as though they were no longer his servants but the followers of something greater. It was insubordination, and it infuriated him.
This wasn't the first time the shadows had rebelled. The first instance was when he faced off against a Angel of Shadow, a being whose mastery over darkness far surpassed his own. The second time—though he would rather forget it—had been when he faced a Certain female angel whose presence was both terrifying and alluring, and whose power seemed to haunt his every waking moment.
The man's voice was a low growl, barely a whisper in the silence that had overtaken the room.
"Night," he spoke, the word slipping from his lips like a curse, his command powerful enough to shake the very foundation of the shadows themselves. The room seemed to quiver with the weight of his voice, the mana in the air twisting like a violent storm on the verge of breaking.
At his command, the shadows froze, as though they had been caught in the very grip of death itself. They no longer danced, no longer celebrated. They stood still—trembling—terrified to move. They knew better than to defy the Commander of Dusk, and yet, for the briefest of moments, they had dared to celebrate.
The air itself seemed to freeze in place, heavy with the force of his will, his body littered with scars now a testament to his dominance, his voice now an embodiment of the darkness he controlled.
The Commander stood, his eyes blazing with anger, the shadows at his feet quaking under his gaze. He was the master here, and no force—not even the heavens themselves—could take that from him.
"Night," he repeated, his voice now a silent command, a warning, a promise.
The shadows quivered, bowed to his will once again, and the unseen presence that had tried to awaken with the celebration was brought to heel. For now, at least. But the Commander knew that something much larger was at play. Something that had already begun to stir in the depths of the world. And it would take everything he had to keep it at bay.
.....
Duskfall City
....
All around the city the shadows began to dance.
It was as though the very night itself had taken on a life of its own. Silhouettes twisted and undulated across the walls of ancient buildings, their movements graceful yet eerie, as if they were mocking the passersby.
Some turned their heads, their eyes wide with unease, but none could make sense of the shifting darkness.
The shadows pulled themselves into strange, unnatural shapes, growing and shrinking with the rhythm of an unseen pulse.
From the highest towers to the lowest alleyways, the people of Duskfall stopped. The workers in the streets, the scholars in their arcane libraries, the nobles preparing for their evening feasts—all of them paused.
The world felt alive, and yet, strangely wrong. Whispers began to thread through the crowd, and some took to their knees, instinctively grasping for their Mana Coins, the only source of comfort in the face of such an inexplicable occurrence
In the high towers where the nobles of Duskfall kept their quiet vigil, the magicians, scholars, and sorcerers felt it first—an electric charge in the air, a magical hum resonating through the ancient bones of the city.
Their fingers twitched at the familiar arcane symbols they had studied all their lives, but this was something they did not know, something untamed.It was the very essence of the stars—raw and untethered, flowing like a river of molten light.
The streets buzzed with unease. Nobles, in their silks and velvet robes, exchanged worried glances. The usual calm of the evening was fractured.
A ripple of nervous energy passed through the crowd as the shadows twisted and danced. In every corner, in every street, in every shadow, something was changing. Some whispered it was a sign from the gods.
Then, above the city, in the very heart of the heavens, the stars themselves began to align. It was not a simple shift in constellations, but a dramatic, celestial upheaval.
The light from the stars burned brighter than it ever had before, casting their rays down upon Duskfall with a strange, unearthly glow.
A flare of light split the night, and the darkness itself seemed to tremble as if it were made of something alive, something that feared the coming of what had been lost.
The city stilled in that moment. A deep, collective silence settled like a heavy cloak, and everyone—from the lowliest merchant to the most powerful noble—knew without speaking, A change was coming
No, it was far more profound than that—a symbolic birth, an awakening. It was the resurgence of ancient power, an energy so old it felt as though the very bones of the world were trembling.
The shadows that had danced began to swirl, growing stronger, more defined, as if they were feeding off the newfound force in the sky they became almost tangible.
The stars burned with a power that seemed to breathe, their light forming patterns in the heavens that no mortal had ever seen. In the deepest heart of Duskfall, the streets themselves seemed to bend—as if the world was folding inward, drawing everything toward the center of some unspoken event.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the light dimmed, leaving only the heavy silence and the cold kiss of night. The shadows slowly settled, their restless dancing subsiding as the city exhaled, though no one would ever be quite the same.
Only a few knew the true significance of this, The angels and devils in the realm of Sahara, all felt it, some rank five demons and saints as well. This was Mana celebrating the potential of a being of great power.....They even tried to see who it was, only to be stopped by another angel.
Times were changing... they all knew it.
....
Cathedral of Stars, Shadow Domain
In a starry cathedral a tall man with black hair and violet eyes wearing a linen robe that seemed to be made of cloth littered with starlight was preaching a sermon, many believers prayed piously as he spoke in a calm gentle tone he held a star made out of star metal in one hand as he spoke, this Archbishop was none other then Saint Satalus one of the Archbishops of the Church of Night. The last believers of Noctis.
Satulus's Voice echoed out into the cathedral, "Thus spoke our lord, I am. The Infinite and Unknown, The embodiment of the Void and Cosmos, Father of Stars. The Lord of Silence and Eternity. The ruler above Space and Time. The God of Night. Thus, the Gods all backed off his divine domain, and the sky was born" Satalus continued his sermon as his thought wandered as he gazed upon the pious believers a pang of sadness making its way to his soul, to how his faith was dying.
Their church was the least prominent in the realms and was deeply ostracized by other churches due to the alleged treachery of their god in the Fracture war of old. They maintained a small presence in all of the realms and preached quietly, However in the realm of Sahara they were only allowed to preach and proselytize in the nations of Shadow, and Luna as they were straight out declared a blasphemous organization by Dawn and Dusk, While their church was powerful, they were declining rapidly.
After House Nights fall, their lords own kin and blood was exterminated by their enemies, The Church of Night rapidly fell, the Angels of Night after all protected the Church and were seen as holy figures, yet they still fell, this day was called The Weeping of the Stars a religious holiday to mourn the Lords kin and to reaffirm once faith."
The Church's Situation was not good.
In other realms the Church had maintained an even smaller presence, yet they still persisted and prayed to their dead god as the others did in hopes of reaching his divine kingdom. To one day perhaps become a Star in the infinite tapestry of the universe and join the lord in his Divine Kingdom.
Satalus sighed inwardly tired. His faction was faltering, At their height they were Royal Stewards their church one of the most prominent in Sahara, They had multiple Angels and even the Seraphs were wary of their faction, now they were without any angels and had barely Fifty Saints, only ten were of pinnacle tier yet none dare attempt ascension to angel hood. Satalus was one of those ten, Satalus even wielded one of the lords authorities, he was a gravity mage and had a angelic artifact, Weight of the Stars, a staff of unimaginable power, with it he can match angelic beings for a short period of time making him one of the main power houses of the church stationed in the main cathedral of Night which was relocated after the fall to the outskirts of House Shadows domain.
As Saint Satalus spoke of Nights commandments, the Commandment of Stars particular, he felt the stars etched inside the ceiling of the Cathedral brighten. His voice faltered. He felt the sky tremble. The disturbance in the divine realms alerted him as he instantly stopped his preaching as gravity warped around him, instantly he found himself on the very top of the cathedral of stars as he looked out to the night sky.There he saw the Stars brightly shining, to an eerie degree as they Celebrate, as if welcoming something...or someone. His eyes shifted as he tried to see what was happening, his heart pounding as mad zealous fervor found its way inside his very soul.
What he saw however, was a mass of angelic energy at the pinnacle level, yet he heard it clear. A declaration to all the Realms, one that invoked higher powers and mana itself causing a reaction of unimaginable strength! what he heard made his eyes water and soul ignite with hope.
"Rise now Fallen Amir For you are now @#$@# Noctis!. The last heir of the Night, The Prince of the Stars the Lord of Shadows!"
This was a divine revelation, Noctis! the Name of their lord! A fallen prince!, House Hunt, House Dawn and House Dusk had failed in their culling and now one bearing the magical prowess and bloodline of their god was realized. Saint Satalus put his head down as he prayed silently, his face wet. His faith would not falter. He would seek out this prince and he would protect him with his life one way or another.
This was his destiny. "Praise the Stars" he cried out.
...
Duskfall
The gazes of ancient and forgotten powers retreated like the tides, and Odin's overwhelming aura subsided, leaving Astra trembling on the edge of consciousness. His body shuddered violently from the sheer weight of it—he, a mere Rank One, standing in the presence of a Rank Six, a being who had barely unleashed the merest sliver of their true power. How could he even breathe in such a tempest?
Astra barely managed to rise, his knees shaking as if the earth itself had fractured beneath him.
What he saw had left a deep impression on him.
"Ho…" Odin's voice rumbled, a faint chuckle escaping his lips as the oppressive heat in the forge room finally began to ebb. The blaze that had once threatened to consume everything flickered back to its usual, mundane state.
"You truly are interesting, kid." Odins eyes were wide as if some developments surprised even him.
Astra's mind raced, but it all came crashing into a singular, overwhelming truth—he could feel the stars celebrate above him, the shadows whispering in symphony to his existence. It was as if something ancient stirred within him, weaving the threads of destiny, while unfathomable, unseen gazes from across the void fixed themselves upon the two of them.
He was terrified. He could barely stand under the weight of such cosmic attention, and his instincts screamed to flee, but he fought with every fiber of his being to remain upright, to hold onto what little control he had left.
Odin, his aura now dormant, looked down at him, his piercing blue eyes like twin glaciers, cold and unyielding. There was something there, in that gaze—expectation.
"Wha..What was that." Astra stammered still shaking.
"The space between all the divine realms. The Edge of reality." Odin nodded as if it was normal
"Those gazes....What I saw. Seraphs? Sins? " Astra asked terrified.
"Yes, They all tried to pry. Dont worry, I blocked them out. Perhaps 3-5 beings actual witnessed what happened."
"What did happen?" Astra asked still very confused.
Odin sighed as he spoke. "In the realms there exists six great realms, You know them as Snaer, Wai, Apu, Sahara, Alfhiem and Dunya. These are the ones mostly inhabited by mortals and protected by Seraphs, and Ancient seals of fallen deities. Where we went is to the three divine realms. You may know them as heaven, hell, karma whatever the churches preach. Those are the Divine realms. The Spirit realm where all life is connected and the concepts of life, death and anything that may fall in that category exists such as "corruption" and "holiness". The Astral realm, Time, Space, Chaos, Order and Anything else related to such concepts exist. Then the final realm is unique as it connects these two and forms its very own third realm, Concepts of Fate Destiny, Purpose and anything else related exists in that realm.
Astra nodded in understanding, these weren't exactly secrets, The Church of Knowledge even preaches that their goddess holy kingdom exists in the Spirit and Astral realms where her followers will end up at when they die.
"As to what happened. Well I am essentially going to fill you in on secrets and plots of dieties, as for why? Figure that out yourself. In the war for the sky Lady Knowledge joined in and even supported the fall of your house. Yet some beings did not, and Night had their own contingencies. So as Night fell, those beings hid the remaining survivors and even cloaked the divine authority in hopes of someone regaining sufficient strength to claim it and rule over the night again." He explained calmly.
"That Crown and Cloak were the symbols of said divine authority. God Hood artifacts that came to you. Even I did not forsee such a development." He sighed. " I do not know how many your house had claimed."
So the goddess helped aid in my families fall?, Astra felt a hint of sadness as he actually somewhat believed in her, only to find out she was the reason he was living a life of hardships. "Godhood artifacts?" Astra asked odin still shaken up from what had just transpired.
"Don't worry kid you're not going to wake up dead or corrupted tomorrow" Odin laughed.
"Wait I can die and get corrupted?!" Astra asked panicked.
"In a sense. What had happened was the Crown of Stars one of the Seven symbols of the Authority of Noctis for some reason deemed it worthy to crown you. Such a thing is a boon of unimaginable power. Some Angels even wield other gods symbols or make their own. But what that means is you're now even more blessed in the realm of Star magic and when you grow in power and rise in rank, the crowns connection will only strengthen giving you certain benefits. Its strength is now connected to you so it is rank one. What was truly interesting however was the Cloak of Shadows that came to you. That is a sought after artifact and symbol of Umbra one of her seven symbols. It is highly wanted by House Shadow and many other houses yet none can find it. Two god hood artifacts actually made their way towards you. How coincidental. You know have the right to inherit two Authorities as you rise in your rank. "
Two godhood artifacts?! Me?? Am I gonna wake up dead tomorrow?? Crown of Stars and Cloak of Shadows, Symbols of my unique lineage?, Huh isn't this too much for a rank one?! From what Odin said, it seems I don't actually have them per se but a right to them. I wonder what authorities and powers they represent. Odin is also giving me a lot of information and I cant help but see the holes in his explanations. The cloak is too convenient, I feel its connection even know as it veils me from prophecy divination and from other deities that might feel a need to pry into my whereabouts, but other than that it offers me nothing for now. The crown I need to do more testing on.
Odin clearly seeing Astra panic smiled. "Its not abnormal for mortals to be chosen, most geniuses bear such artifacts as they make their rise in power, angels and seraphs cannot interfere with such matters as even if they do, mana will curse them and the artifact will be lost as it recycles itself awaiting a new chosen."
Okay so I wont die by some mysterious divine being who is seeking the artifacts got it! he lampooned to ease his mental state.
Astra, struggling for breath, managed to ask through his rattled thoughts, "So... I'm a prince?" His voice cracked as he laughed bitterly, sinking into a chair to catch his breath. "What has this wretched world come to?"
Odin, eyes glinting with an ancient amusement, responded in a voice thick with weight, "Astra, as the heir of night and the bearer of a two godhood artifacts, you have duties. Obligations not just to yourself, but to every ancestor who has ever walked before you. To the dead gods themselves."
Astra felt a burning frustration claw at him, the chains of fate tightening around his chest. He hated the very idea—the notion that he had no agency over his own life. He was glad sure but he knew, nothing ever came for free! Two Artifacts! this was a clear ploy of some unimaginable being and for everything to happen so smoothly even under the gazes of deities it was a being of unimaginable power!
He hated the concept of royal obligations thrust upon him like a shackle. Yet, deep inside him, buried beneath layers of resentment, was a longing. A hunger for something more. Something... greater.
"But what if I don't want this, is this not a clear ploy?!" Astra's voice was thick with confusion and anger, his hands gripping the chair tightly. "We both know there is no such thing as a free lunch, Am I to really believe that I must bear such a burden for my benefit?"
Odin did not answer him on that matter instead his gaze bored into him with the weight of centuries, his blue eyes glowing with an eerie light. "Perhaps it is but you telling me, Astra... that you've never felt lonely? Never felt... out of place? Never longed for more than the pathetic life of a street rat?"
He paused, his voice growing softer, though the truth in his words cut deeper than any blade.
"Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself. Your eyes are as empty as the sky above Duskfall during twilight. I can sense it... your loneliness... your solitude."
Astra's face twisted with anger, yet a sinking feeling in his chest made his breath catch. Odin was right. He hated everything about his life—he hated the filth of the streets, the constant struggle to survive, the degrading acts he had been forced to endure and commit. He despised the silence of his existence, the isolation that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.
He hated how weak he was.
He hated that he was nothing but a city rat.
The stars had chosen him. The shadows were calling his name. His path was before him, waiting for him to step into it.
"I can feel it too, Astra." Odin's voice pulled him from his dark reverie. "I can feel the fire of ambition burning inside of you. Your soul aches for power. You can't hide it. You can't lie to your own body, nor your heart."
"You are blessed child, Something marks your soul, a spark that burns it" his gaze turned obsessive, "It is your obligation, to be brought to ashes by it, let it consume you and your soul.
Astra's thoughts swirled, as Odin's words wrapped around him like chains of destiny. "Realize your path. Realize your destiny. Realize your future."
The room grew silent as Astra's eyes lifted, his gaze searching through the cavernous depths of the underground district to the stars above, like pinpricks of light in the void. He could hear the wind whisper, feel the ancient energies in the air. Odin's voice echoed in his mind.
"Stars shine brightest when they are alone."
Odin was of course right, Astra had no choice now, and he really didn't need one, He had yearned and prayed to even the dead gods for a chance to rise, for adventure, a life thats worth living, He wanted to travel, have freedom, yet he also wanted power authority, he wanted to right many wrongs and perhaps commit some and get away, simply because he could. Now he has that chance, to ascend, who is he to lie to himself and die in the streets of duskfall like a rat when he could perhaps inherit the night.
Astra closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his strength, and when he opened them, his violet irises gleamed with newfound resolve. His eyes, no longer empty, were sharp and unwavering.
"If my destiny leads me to the Stars and Shadows and if I am to wield their power, who am I to say no?" He smirked, his voice laced with finality. "I will survive. I will endure. I will persevere—just as I always have."
Odin's lips curled into a knowing smile, his blue eyes gleaming with approval.
"Then Astra Noctis," Odin intoned, his voice a powerful resonance that seemed to reverberate in the very bones of the earth, "realize your potential. Grow stronger. Become an angel. reach the pinnacle..."
He paused, his expression darkening slightly.
"This concludes the favor I owed to your ancestor."
Odin's gaze turned upwards, a final flicker of something ancient passing through his eyes.
"The Law of Exchange has been fulfilled."
He leaned forward, a warning in his voice.
"Remember, Astra—there are still allies of the Night out there. Seek House Shadow,. They rule over The City Penumbra, The Shadowkeep in the Umbral Plains. They will aid you, if you are worthy. The Church of Night surly will come find you, you must hide for now, if you are seen with them, they all will be culled. But they are all loyal to you."
"And I wouldn't worry about the angels of shadow finding out about your godhood. They shouldn't even be able to detect umbras symbol and if they were they cannot claim it.:
Astra nodded slowly as he pondered.
The room fell silent once more, as if the world itself had held its breath, awaiting Astra's next move.