Vastarael blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Narisva's tone. She wasn't her usual cocky self.
"Sure. I'm all ears. Let's hear this campfire tale of yours."
Narisva smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. She poked at the fire with a stick, watching the embers scatter like tiny stars.
"This isn't some lighthearted story, so don't expect a happy ending. It's about a girl born on a snowy evening, in a commander's tent during a war. It was premature birth, under circumstances that weren't exactly ideal."
Vastarael didn't interrupt, sensing there was more to the tale than she let on.
"You see, this girl wasn't just any child. She was the last-born of her Dynasty... a Dynasty descended directly from the Celestials themselves. The bloodline was proud, noble, and untainted... until she was born. Because for the first time in millennia, they didn't just get a celestial descendant. They got a full-blooded Celestial. A pure one."
Vastarael raised an eyebrow. "A full-blooded Celestial? That's practically unheard of."
Narisva nodded, her gaze fixed on the flames.
"It is. Celestials aren't like us. They're not creatures of this world or any world, for that matter. They're spatial beings, entities that exist in the vastness of space itself. For one to be born fully into flesh and blood, tethered to a single realm, is… rare. Unnatural, even. And for this girl, it wasn't a blessing. It was a curse."
Her voice dropped lower, as if she were confessing a secret.
"Her birth nearly killed her mother. She didn't die but she was left so weak and fragile, that she might as well have been a ghost. Her father, a proud and powerful man with five wives, didn't blame the girl outright, but the others… the other wives, her stepmothers... they hated her. Despised her."
"Why? Because she was full-blooded Celestial? You'd think they'd see her as a miracle."
Narisva let out a bitter laugh.
"Miracles only matter when they benefit everyone. For them, she was a reminder of their inadequacy. None of the other heirs, her older brothers and sisters were full-blooded. They were celestial descendants, sure, but they weren't pure. She was a threat to their standing, their legitimacy and pride. And in the world of politics and Dynasties, threats don't get welcomed with open arms."
"So, while the girl was treated as the rightful heir in public, behind closed doors… it was different. Her stepmothers whispered venom into her father's ears, planting seeds of doubt. Her siblings, especially the older ones, resented her existence. And the girl, despite all the royal treatment and luxuries, grew up surrounded by people who wanted to see her fail and disappear."
"That's…" Vastarael hesitated, unsure of what to say. "That's harsh. She was just a kid."
"Royalty doesn't care about innocence," Narisva said bluntly, her tone sharper now. "She learned that quickly. She learned that no matter how much gold you're draped in or how many servants bow at your feet, you're still just a pawn in someone else's game. A piece on the board, waiting to be sacrificed."
She paused, staring into the fire as if searching for something in the flickering light.
"But she didn't let it break her. No, this girl… she had ambition. She wanted to rule the world, not because she craved power, but because she wanted to prove them all wrong. She wanted to show her family, her Dynasty, her enemies that she wasn't some weak, fragile thing to be pitied or hated. She was a Celestial. And she was going to make them respect her."
Vastarael leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. "And did she? Prove them wrong, I mean?"
Narisva's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile.
"That's the part of the story we haven't gotten to yet. You see, one day, when the girl was celebrating her seventeen birthday as an adult, an ambush was set in the palace."
Narisva's voice turned colder. The campfire flickered. She exhaled slowly, as if steadying herself.
"The girl's seventeenth birthday was supposed to be a celebration, her passage into adulthood. For someone of her stature, it wasn't just a birthday. It was a claim to the world that she was no longer a child or the vulnerable little girl they all whispered about. The ball was grand. Glittering chandeliers, music so perfect it felt like the air itself hummed, and an audience full of nobles, dignitaries, and enemies alike."
Vastarael could almost see it, the opulence of it all, how a night like that would carry the weight of expectations far beyond a normal person's comprehension. Narisva's words painted a vivid picture but the tension in her tone betrayed the darkness that loomed over that glittering event.
"She was dancing the first waltz with her father. It was tradition. The Monarch dances with the heir to formally recognize their coming of age. Her father wasn't a perfect man but in that moment, he looked proud. For the first time, the girl felt like she wasn't just an outcast or a pawn. She felt like… his daughter."
The crackle of the fire filled the momentary silence before Narisva's voice dropped lower.
"But traditions mean little when you're surrounded by wolves. The palace was a fortress, the ball heavily guarded, but no amount of protection can stop someone who truly wants you dead. It happened in the blink of an eye. A single crack, a sound almost lost in the music. A sniper. The Letian Diamond bullet was aimed straight at her heart."
"Letian Diamond?"
Narisva nodded grimly, her fingers tightening around the stick she was holding.
"The deadliest substance known to all sentient beings. It doesn't just kill the body. It erases everything. Soul, essence, even existence itself. Flora, fauna, even immortals. If you're hit, there's no afterlife, no reincarnation. Just… nothingness. Oblivion. And yet, she survived. Because in that moment, her father pulled her close, spinning her out of the bullet's path and taking it himself."
Vastarael's eyes widened.
"He shielded her. The ballroom fell silent, the music cut off mid-note. The girl watched in horror as her father stumbled, his blood glittering with an unnatural sheen as it dripped onto the floor. Letian Diamond isn't quick, you see. It doesn't kill instantly. It destroys piece by piece, agonizingly slow. She caught him before he fell, her hands stained with blood that shimmered like glass. And as the ballroom erupted into chaos, she held him in her arms, right there on the dance floor, and she watched the light fade from his eyes as he turned into glass."
Vastarael remained silent, his hands clenched into fists. He could feel the pain in her voice, the rawness of it, as if she were reliving that moment all over again.
"And that wasn't the end," Narisva said bitterly, her expression darkening. "With her father gone, the wolves came out of hiding. Her stepmothers... they seized the opportunity. The succession trials began almost immediately. Each wife pushed forward their own child as the next Monarch, and the girl... well, she was the obvious choice, wasn't she? The rightful heir. But the hatred her stepmothers bore for her was deeper than anything she could have imagined. They didn't care about tradition or bloodlines. They wanted her gone."
Vastarael frowned. "And her mother? What about her? Surely she stood by her daughter?"
Narisva's lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace, her eyes glinting with a mixture of sorrow and fury.
"Her mother was a shadow of herself. The loss of her husband broke her. She was already weak, already fragile, but after his death… she withered. She couldn't fight for her daughter. She could barely fight to stay alive."
She looked up at Vastarael, her gaze piercing.
"And so, in her despair, she made a choice. She took the one thing she thought would end her pain and silence the whispers of those who called her weak. A Letian Diamond dagger. It was quick, final, and utterly cruel."
"..."
"The girl found her the next morning, lying on her bed with the dagger still in her chest. Her body had turned to glass, frozen in a moment of eternal agony. Her soul, her essence, everything that made her alive... gone. The girl didn't even have the chance to say goodbye."
The fire crackled between them, casting long shadows on the ruined walls around them. Vastarael felt a lump in his throat, his usual confidence faltering.
"She lost everything," he said quietly.
"She lost everything but she didn't break. She couldn't afford to. Because even after all of that, the world kept spinning, and the wolves kept circling. And the girl… well, she wasn't done fighting. Not yet."
"What happened to her?"
Narisva tilted her head slightly, her enigmatic smile returning.
"Do you want to hear more? I'm surprised you're not bored yet."
"You are a very good storyteller. Seriously, you are amazing. Your formalness intrigues me. Please, I want to know what happens next."
"Even though it might not have a bad ending?"
"Not all tales have a happy ending, Narisva. And... I don't think they all do. In the end, all that awaits everyone is death. Stories only end at the happy part to avoid the sad ending at the very end of someone's life. That's how I see stories."