The Astra System was falling.
Five planets had once formed the sacred harmony of the Astral Dominion: Eosphoros (Venus), the planet of dawn and light; Pyroeis (Mars), the crimson world of fire and war; Phaenon (Saturn), the ringed world of shadow and wisdom; Phaethon (Jupiter), the storm-clad citadel of strength; and Stilbon (Mercury), swift and radiant, its fleets known as the lifeblood of the Dominion.
Now, one by one, they were burning.
Rifts in reality split across the system, vast tears in the cosmos from which the void-born poured forth. Leviathans older than the constellations descended through the breaches. These colossal, dragon-shaped entities carried crystalline bodies studded with dying stars and spread annihilation with every beat of their wings. Their roars collapsed mountain ranges, their presence unmaking entire cities.
Eosphoros, the cradle of the Dominion, was the last bastion. Its great capital city, built into the tallest mountain peak, was reduced to a fortress. The Celestium Spire, once a symbol of hope and unity, now trembled with each impact of the leviathans as they battered the world from orbit.
In the highest chamber of the Spire, Astraea, Princess of Eosphoros, stood surrounded by her bonded mates—her soul-bound loves and the last remaining princesses of the other Astra planets.
Hemera, the Princess of Phaethon, stood tall and radiant, her golden-white armor glowing faintly in the flickering light. Her hair, the color of sunlit bronze, spilled in waves down her back, and her amber eyes held the fire of a thousand dawns. The strongest of them, she carried the thunder-forged greatsword of Phaethon, its edge wreathed in celestial lightning.
Nyx, the Princess of Phaenon, was her opposite in every way—silent and composed, clad in black star-metal armor etched with constellations. Her midnight hair was bound into an intricate braid, and her pale, cold eyes saw every detail of the dying battlefield. Wielding twin crescent-shaped blades, she moved like a shadow, the strategist and assassin among them.
Dysis, the Princess of Pyroeis, was a warrior of fire and fury. Her crimson armor was scorched and cracked from countless battles, and her fiery orange hair, unbound and wild, whipped behind her as she paced the chamber like a predator. She carried a spear tipped with molten starlight, her strength undimmed despite her bloodied form.
And Lycoris, the Princess of Stilbon, knelt beside Astraea. The youngest and gentlest, she wore amethyst robes shredded from battle, her luminous staff glowing faintly as she tried to heal Astraea's drained body. Her soft rose-gold hair fell into her face as her violet eyes brimmed with unspoken grief.
"The Spiral Core is destabilizing," Nyx said evenly, her voice calm though the chamber shook around them. "We have minutes before Eosphoros falls with the others."
Astraea clenched her glowing hands at her sides. "Then we stand together. I will not abandon you!"
"No," Hemera said, stepping forward, her voice warm but resolute. "Astraea, you are the last heir of the Astra Dominion's light. If you die, everything dies with you."
Dysis spun her spear with a sharp motion, the tip igniting as if in anger. "Pyroeis burned because I couldn't protect it. Phaenon and Stilbon are already gone. If you stay here, their sacrifice—and ours—means nothing."
Lycoris reached up, cupping Astraea's face gently. "We've prepared the Gate," she whispered, her voice soft but unwavering. "It will send you far away, to a young planet untouched by this war. A world called Earth. You'll be safe there… you'll survive."
Astraea's tears shimmered as they slipped down her cheeks. "If I go, I'll forget you. I'll forget everything."
Hemera pressed her forehead to hers. "Then we'll carve our love into your soul. Even if your memories fade, you'll feel us. One day, you'll find your way back."
Nyx, stoic as ever, allowed herself the faintest of smiles. "You carry all of us, Astraea. Through you, the Astra will endure."
Lycoris kissed her forehead gently. "Please… live for us."
The Gate behind them—a swirling arch of aurora light—flared open, filling the chamber with winds of energy. Its pull began to tug at Astraea's body, drawing her toward its vortex.
A monstrous leviathan breached the mountain's defenses, its shadow blotting out the sky as it lunged toward the spire. Dysis planted herself between Astraea and the beast, spinning her spear as flames erupted from its tip.
"Go!" she roared as her spear drove forward, sending a beam of molten starlight into the leviathan's maw.
"I don't want to leave you!" Astraea screamed, reaching for them.
Hemera smiled, radiant even through her tears. "You must."
The Gate's pull became irresistible, tearing Astraea away from the chamber. The last image burned into her soul was of Hemera, Nyx, Dysis, and Lycoris, her bonded mates, standing shoulder to shoulder, their weapons blazing as they faced the leviathans.
"Live, Astraea!" Hemera's voice carried through the closing portal.
The Gate sealed behind Astraea with a soundless flash, leaving the chamber of the Celestium Spire shaking with the impact of reality collapsing back in on itself.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the leviathan struck.
The void-born beast tore through the outer wall with a roar that split the heavens. Its crystalline body, studded with the light of consumed stars, shimmered as it lunged forward. Its maw opened, spewing a storm of annihilation aimed straight at the four remaining princesses.
Dysis moved first. She slammed her spear into the marble floor, unleashing a wave of molten aurora fire that clashed with the beast's attack. The resulting shockwave shattered columns and sent cracks spiderwebbing through the chamber, but it bought them a sliver of time.
"Hold the line!" she shouted, blood streaking down her temple.
Hemera stepped forward, her greatsword sparking with lightning. "They'll have to go through us!" she roared, swinging her blade down in a radiant arc. A thunderous blast split the air, severing one of the leviathan's forelimbs and forcing it backward through the breach.
"They're not stopping," Nyx said, her voice calm despite the chaos. Her crescent blades whirled in her hands, a dark blur of precision. "We'll be overrun before the planet gives out."
"Where would we even go?" Lycoris whispered as she raised her staff, flooding Hemera with healing light. Her soft voice cracked. "Eosphoros… it's finished."
"Then we finish with it," Dysis growled.
But the sound that followed was deeper. Colder.
The first leviathan returned, joined by two more tearing through the mountain. Their combined roars shook the Spire so violently that the floor buckled. The princesses fell back toward one another, shoulders touching as they formed a tight circle.
"Form on me!" Hemera ordered.
Their weapons ignited with the last vestiges of their planetary essence—lightning storming along Hemera's sword, molten fire blazing from Dysis' spear, shadow and starlight shimmering on Nyx's twin blades, and Lycoris' staff pulsing with protective magic.
"Ready?" Hemera asked.
"Always," Dysis hissed.
Nyx nodded silently, while Lycoris whispered a prayer.
The leviathans lunged.
The chamber erupted in an explosion of light and darkness.
They fought like legends.
Dysis hurled herself forward with no hesitation, impaling the first leviathan through its crystalline heart. Hemera met the second beast head-on, her blade cutting through its skull in a flash of celestial lightning. Nyx danced through shadows, her crescent blades carving through weak points the others couldn't see, while Lycoris shielded them with walls of glowing energy, healing wounds the moment they opened.
But for every monster they felled, more poured in.
"Too many!" Dysis snarled, staggering back as her armor cracked beneath a claw strike.
"Keep fighting!" Hemera shouted, though her voice strained as her sword grew heavier. "We just have to last a little longer!"
"For what?!" Dysis roared, spinning to kill another beast.
"For her!" Hemera shouted back. "We promised Astraea!"
But Nyx could see it—the breach was expanding, and the planet's core was on the brink of rupture. Their fight was hopeless.
"Go," Nyx said suddenly, her voice like steel.
The others froze.
"Nyx—" Lycoris began, but Nyx's pale eyes silenced her.
"I'll hold them. You escape."
"Not a chance!" Dysis barked, but the ground split beneath them before she could say more. A massive leviathan erupted from below, its glowing maw already gathering annihilation energy.
There was no time to react.
And then the air shifted. A cloaked figure appeared, standing calmly between the princesses and the leviathan.
No one saw how they arrived—one moment the space was empty, the next it was filled.
The figure raised a single hand.
The leviathan froze mid-lunge, its body quaking violently as its crystalline flesh began to fracture. A soft sound, like the crack of distant ice, filled the chamber. Then the figure clenched their fist, and the leviathan shattered into a million fragments, scattering like dust in the wind.
Hemera, Nyx, Dysis, and Lycoris stared, stunned.
"Who—?" Hemera began, but the figure lifted a gloved hand, silencing her.
"There's no time," the figure said. Their voice was calm, echoing faintly as though layered with a thousand whispers. "Eosphoros will die in minutes. Come with me… if you wish to live."
The princesses exchanged a look.
"Why save us?" Nyx demanded, her crescent blades raised. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted their head slightly, as though amused by the question. "That answer must wait for a day when you are ready to bear it."
Another explosion shook the Spire, sending debris crashing around them. The cloaked figure raised a hand again, opening a swirling portal of starlight beneath their feet. The energy was familiar, eerily similar to the Gate that had taken Astraea.
"Choose," the figure said simply.
Hemera looked at the others. "We don't have a choice," she said grimly. She grabbed Lycoris' hand and pulled her forward. Dysis followed, teeth bared but unwilling to waste precious seconds.
Nyx lingered, her pale gaze fixed on the cloaked stranger. "If this is a trap—"
"It isn't," the figure said softly.
Nyx studied them for a heartbeat longer, then stepped into the portal.
The cloaked figure turned, their unseen gaze lingering on the collapsing chamber. Then, with a whisper like the rustle of distant leaves, they disappeared into the vortex as well.
Moments later, Eosphoros detonated.
The planet's Spiral Core ruptured, releasing a wave of destruction that rippled through the Astra System. The light of Eosphoros, and the Astral Dominion, vanished from the heavens.
But Hemera, Nyx, Dysis, and Lycoris lived.
And in the place where the cloaked figure had stood, there was only one thing left behind:
A small fragment of blackened crystal, warm to the touch, inscribed with a single symbol—a spiral star encircled by seven smaller stars.
It pulsed faintly before fading to inert stone.
None of the princesses would see it. But for those who knew the legends, that symbol belonged to a force so ancient it had once been whispered to be the architects of the Astra System itself.
A force thought long extinct.
---
Planet: Earth. Year: 2005, October 31st
Deep inside a cave network hidden beneath the base of Mount Shasta. Long sealed by stone, overgrown by moss, and forgotten by time.
The stone walls cracked with thin lines of blue starlight. The light pulsed outward like veins beneath skin, causing moss to disintegrate into azure embers. The air shifted. And the mountain that was calm for centuries, shook.
At the center of the cavern was a still silver glass-like pool. In it was a beautifully angelic naked figure of pale luminous skin and lavender-blue hair flowing underwater.
She lay motionless in the center of the pool, her body suspended just beneath the surface. Her skin was pale with a luminous moonlight, almost glass-like quality. Light pulsed beneath her skin in shifting colors—soft blues, pinks, and purples that moved in slow waves, illuminating her form evenly. The glow was consistent and smooth, like the steady hum of a powered source rather than flickering or chaotic.
Her body was slender and well-proportioned. She had a narrow waist, long legs, and delicate arms. Her fingers were relaxed, slightly spread in the water. Her collarbones were visible, and her chest rose and fell with shallow, rhythmic breaths. Nothing about her posture was tense—she appeared calm, at peace, and unaware of the world around her.
Her hair floated in the pool, spreading out in every direction. It was thick, long, and softly colored, with shades of pastel blue at the roots that transitioned into lavender and pale pink at the tips. It moved gently in the still water but didn't tangle, holding a soft wave to its shape.
Her facial features were symmetrical and striking. Closed eyes with long lashes, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and full lips that rested naturally. Her expression was neutral, not troubled or smiling—simply still. Her skin showed no blemishes, scars, or signs of age.
Just below her collarbone, a glowing mark pulsed with light in sync with the faint energy vibrations in the air. It was circular in shape with precise lines, clearly artificial or magical in origin. The mark looked stable, neither fading nor flaring, as if it had been there a long time.
She wasn't floating freely—something in the pool held her in place, suspending her gently, as though the water itself recognized her presence and refused to let her fall. No cords. No bindings. Just a stillness that kept her anchored in the center of the cavern. The air around her was silent, heavy with anticipation, like the world was waiting.
Then her body lit up—violently, brilliantly.
A pulse of intense aurora light exploded outward from her chest, bright enough to erase all shadow in the cavern. The stone ceiling above her cracked and shattered instantly, launching debris into the sky. A roaring blast of color surged upward, ripping through the mountain, then breaking into the open air like a flare fired into the heavens.
The aurora spread.
Streaks of violet, blue, and rose-colored light painted themselves across the sky in wide arcs. The energy moved fast, racing like a shockwave across the world, seen from distant cities and uninhabited forests alike. Lights flickered. Compasses spun. Some instinctive part of the earth seemed to acknowledge her return.
And then the light dimmed.
Her glow faded back to a quiet shimmer. In the silence that followed, her eyelids twitched and slowly opened.
Her irises were not natural. They glowed with a pale violet hue, filled with moving points of light, like a star field compressed into two focused centers. Her pupils adjusted slowly, unaccustomed to light after so long. The stars in her eyes didn't vanish—they shifted, twinkling faintly in time with her breath.
She blinked once, then again.
Astraea (for that was her name, she was certain of that) felt like her mind was stuck in an endless star cluster. Her foggy thoughts were jumbled by a millennium of sleep. Everything was fragmented—broken into drifting shards. Her memories floated like stars in a nebula, too far to reach, too many to hold. Time had unraveled while she slept, and her thoughts felt sluggish, as though her mind had been submerged in a dream too long.
She lifted a hand slowly. Her fingers moved with effort, each joint stiff like stone finally yielding to warmth. She tested her breath next, it was shallow but steady. There was no fear, no confusion. No pain. Just the slow reactivation of a body long untouched. Only one thought remained clear:
She was famished~. There was a steady, gnawing awareness that she had not eaten in far too long. Her body may have been sustained by the celestial energies that lingered in the pool, but they were no substitute for real food.
Her eyes blinked slowly, adjusting to the sky above now visible through the destroyed cavern ceiling. She tilted her head, a trace of curiosity forming as her stomach gave a quiet, unsatisfied twist.
"…I wonder," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Have the natives of this planet have any knowledge of the culinary arts?" She couldn't wait to see how the little mortal life forms on this tiny planet had evolved. Knowing the process of evolution and how humans on other planets, they were obsessed with war and satiating their greed.
The thought brought a strange amusement to her tired mind. In every universe, humans were all the same. They reminded her of the goblins race in a way.
She sank back into the silvery water, letting her body float again. The pool welcomed her like before, and the glow of her skin returned faintly as her form began to absorb the ichor infused in the liquid—the nourishing energy of moonlight, stardust, and the cavern's ancient power. It wasn't enough to satisfy her hunger completely, but it stabilized her. Restored balance to her system.
Tiny veins of light flickered beneath her skin once more, and her muscles gradually relaxed.
She would need to move soon. Astraea could feel dozens of life forms moving toward the mountain. Some small, skittish, darting through the underbrush. Others larger, more cautious, yet drawn by instinct or perhaps an echo of something deeper. Their thoughts were simple but vivid: curiosity, caution, wonder.
She let her head tilt to the side, listening.
Insects paused at the edge of the stone. A pair of mountain foxes crept closer, their paws silent on moss-covered stone. Birds circled above the broken cavern roof, calling warnings to one another. A young deer hesitated near a jagged gap in the rock wall, ears twitching.
Astraea chuckled softly, the sound echoing gently through the cavern.
"Animals of this planet are still curiosity-driven creatures, I see," she said, her voice light and amused. "How cute~."
The silver light of the pool rippled gently around her as she slowly sat up, water sliding down her back and shoulders. Her long, lavender-blue hair clung to her skin in soft waves, catching faint glints of moonlight from the open sky above. She looked down at her body. It was completely bare and no longer pulsing with unstable power. The aurora light that had once surged wildly from within her now rested quietly beneath the surface of her skin. The ichor had done its job in revigorating her.
However...
Her expression shifted to something more thoughtful.
She lifted one hand and focused. A small bead of light formed at her fingertip, glowing softly at first, then sharpening with focus. It solidified into a fine point, like a glassy nail of condensed starlight. Without hesitation, she drew a slow, downward line in the air.
The space in front of her split open with a soft sigh of displaced energy. Aurora light leaked through the narrow crack she had made, swirling like mist caught in a breeze. The tear shimmered with color, but she didn't linger.
Astraea calmly reached her hand into the glowing seam, her arm vanishing up to the elbow. After a moment of searching, her fingers curled around something.
She pulled back, and in her hand was a white sundress and a pair of matching sandals. The dress was simple and sleeveless, made of soft, breathable fabric that shimmered faintly under the cavern's silver light. No patterns, no embroidery, no ornaments—just clean lines and pure white cloth. Ordinary in appearance, but unmistakably hers.
She held the dress up and gave it a once-over, her expression neutral, then nodded in quiet approval.
"Modesty is still expected, I assume," she murmured. "Humans are so finicky about exposed skin."
With no urgency or theatrics, she slipped the sundress over her head and let it fall into place. It fit perfectly, settling just below her knees.
She stepped onto the dry stone, one foot at a time, and slipped on the sandals. They were simple leather straps that hugged her feet without discomfort.
Now clothed, stable, and standing in the ruined heart of the mountain, Astraea took one slow breath. Her eyes lifted toward the night sky above, still painted with faint trails of color from her awakening.
It was time to see the new world.
Humming softly to herself, Astraea walked across the smooth stone floor, the hem of her white sundress brushing gently against her legs. The ruined cavern opened into a sloping passage carved by time and forgotten forces, but she walked with ease, as though the path remembered her.
The cool mountain air greeted her first—crisp, thin, and scented with moss, pine, and old rain. She stepped out from the mouth of the cave, the forest bathed in moonlight and silence.
And then the forest stirred.
Small creatures emerged cautiously from the underbrush. A rabbit with snowy fur hopped closer, nose twitching. A curious red fox peered out from behind a tree, its ears perked. A young deer stood in the clearing, unafraid, its eyes wide and calm. Owls perched in the high branches, heads tilting, watching her with quiet intelligence. Even a black bear, far enough to keep distance but close enough to see, lingered at the tree line—still, as if waiting.
Astraea smiled gently.
"So much life… untouched, unspoiled," she said quietly, her voice warm with quiet wonder. "It's more beautiful than I remember."
She lowered herself into a crouch as a squirrel scampered over and climbed onto her sandal. The rabbit followed, nuzzling gently at her fingers. She didn't use any power or magic. They came to her because they could sense what she was—something old, something pure, something not meant to harm.
She stood again, her hands brushing her dress smooth.
With the night wind in her hair, the stars above, and wild animals following at a respectful distance, Astraea began her descent down the mountain trail, still humming that soft, unfamiliar tune.
She moved gracefully down the slope, the sandals barely making a sound against the mossy path. The mountain trees parted around her, letting strands of starlight pour down between the branches. Owls hooted softly above, and fireflies flickered like gentle beacons, casting faint golden glows.
The animals stayed close but quiet—deer walking along the edges of the trail, foxes trotting behind her, birds gliding silently overhead. The forest felt alive, vibrant, and peaceful in a way few places in the world still were.
Then, partway down the next ridge, Astraea stopped mid-stride.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her head turned south-southeast.
Her expression shifted into something more focused.
Something… stirred in the air.
A powerful astral presence, dense, old, and veiled, was resonating from far beyond the forest's reach. It wasn't chaotic, but it wasn't steady either. The energy pulsed like a heartbeat wrapped in mist, cloaked in layers of intent and silence. And yet it called out, perhaps not to her directly, but the timing couldn't be ignored.
"Interesting…" she murmured.
She lifted her hand slightly and traced a quick sigil into the air. A soft sphere of light appeared and hovered at her palm, showing an abstract impression of the world. The glowing presence flared faintly on the far western edge of the map, just below the Canadian border.
Forks, Washington.
A small town, seemingly unimportant. But the astral echo there said otherwise.
"Interesting…" she murmured, tilting her head slightly.
She lifted her hand and traced a quick sigil into the air. A soft sphere of light formed and hovered above her palm, unfolding into a hazy impression of the planet beneath her feet. She studied it with a detached curiosity.
The landmasses were uneven, splintered by strange divisions of water and mountains. The sphere highlighted countless tiny clusters of habitation, none of which she recognized. So much life, yet so little understanding—this world's markings and territories meant nothing to her.
Her focus narrowed as the sphere pulsed once, then again. A flare of energy blossomed in a specific point on the far western edge of the largest landmass in the northern hemisphere. It was weakly anchored but undeniably ancient, resonating with the same type of signature that had guided her here in the first place.
She frowned slightly, trying to decipher the foreign characters that labeled the location.
"Forks… Washington," she read aloud, the words slow and deliberate, as though they were not meant to fit in her mouth.
She blinked. The name meant nothing. A small, insignificant settlement by this planet's measure—or so it seemed. Yet the astral echo there told a different story.
"How quaint," she said softly.
Astraea let the sphere fade, the glowing threads of light dissolving silently into the air. Her gaze remained fixed to the south-southeast, her expression calm but thoughtful.
There was no doubt now—the presence she felt was significant. Ancient, yet tangled with mortal threads. It stirred something in her memory, faint and unreachable, like a name heard in a dream.
She lifted her hands, palms open, and closed her eyes.
The air around her shifted.
Lines of starlight began to form in a slow, spiraling motion beneath her feet, tracing a perfect circle into the moss-covered ground. The animals nearby stilled, sensing the change in atmosphere. Birds took quiet flight, and even the wind seemed to pause.
Astraea's hair lifted slightly as the energy gathered, not in heat or force—but in pressure. Silent and celestial.
She pressed her palms together, then gently pulled them apart. Between her hands, a tear in space began to form—thin and vertical at first, then expanding into a full archway.
The portal shimmered with layered veils of soft white, pale violet, and deep blue, moving like the aurora. Through its center, there was only mist, swirling with stars, but the destination was clear to her alone.
A pathway formed between this wild mountain and a place far across the continent was this Forks, Washington.
As she stepped forward into the shimmering archway, the animals that had followed her stilled completely.
A single feather—thin, silver, and faintly glowing—slipped loose from her hair as she passed through. It floated gently to the forest floor.
The portal collapsed in absolute silence, leaving behind only the faint smell of ozone and the residue of celestial energy on the wind. The forest seemed to exhale, as though the mountain itself understood what had just awoken.
And there, lying on the moss where she had stood moments ago, was the feather.
The feather bore an insignia burned faintly into its shaft: a spiral star encircled by seven smaller stars, the same mark that had been left behind on the ruins of Eosphoros by the mysterious cloaked figure.
The mark pulsed softly once… and then went dark.
No creature in the forest noticed. But somewhere in the vast unseen, something—or someone—would.