Part - 1
Beneath the unblinking glow of the stars, a city reveals itself. Pale stone glimmers as if kissed by starlight, its arches and statues worn smooth by centuries. At its heart, carved into the mountain's granite spine, a castle stood sentinel. Its towers speared the sky like stone fingers reaching for the constellations that had inspired its builders centuries past. The grand gates, wrought from iron and silverite, bore the scars of forgotten battles and runes whose meanings have faded, along with the lineages that etched them.
Inside the throne room, silence reigned absolute.
Three figures occupied the vast chamber, their shadows stretching long across the floor. The air smelled of cold stone and the faintest hint of myrrh from smoldering braziers. Upon the dais, standing just left of the obsidian throne, an elderly man kept his hands clasped behind his back. His robes, though finely woven, were devoid of ornamentation, a deliberate choice that spoke louder than any golden chain of office. The firelight caught in the web of wrinkles around his eyes as he surveyed the hall, his gaze missing nothing.
Below him stood two other figures.
A knight in crimson plate armor, its surface reflecting firelight like liquid flame.The golden longsword emblazoned across his breastplate gleamed even in the dim light, its point aimed skyward in perpetual challenge. His long, golden hair falls over his shoulders like a lion's mane that seems almost too bright for the dim hall.
Beside him, barely reaching his shoulder, stood a young woman. Her white robe was made with silver threads woven through the fabric catching the light like distant stars. Her silver circlet is simple yet elegant, resting gently on her brow, and her hair cascades in raven-black braids.
"We must retrieve him," says the knight. His voice is deep and commanding. Though he speaks plainly, the force behind his words sends a subtle tremor through the hall.
The old man nods slowly, his gaze sharpening. "Yes," he replies. "But no one knows where he's gone. One day he walked these very corridors, and the next, he vanished. No trace. No witnesses. No sign. It's as though the city itself swallowed him."
The priestess interrupted as she grazed the air, leaving faint silver trails. "The northern observatory reported unusual celestial activity last night." Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, fixed on the counselor. "If he has stepped beyond..."
The Knight slammed his fist against his breastplate, the sound echoing through the hall. "Then we ride at once! The Order cannot..."
"The Order," the counselor said softly, "will do as its masters command." He stepped forward, the hem of his robe brushing against the dais steps and told the knight. "Aurelius, you will take twelve of your best".
Looking at the priestess he said, "Elyria, you will provide wards against what dwells in the borderlands".
"Return with him before the new moon, or don't return at all."
The words hung in the air like a sword suspended by a hair.
Under the same sky where these words were spoken, no dawn crept, only the pale hush of eternal twilight, seeping like mist through the forest canopy. Faint silver light filtered between moss-draped branches, casting ghostly streaks across the woods. Perched high in the arms of an ancient oak, a boy stirred. The twilight grazed his cheek, prompting a slow blink as consciousness returned. He blinked twice more, then sighed.
He was young maybe fourteen summers at most but the calluses on his hands spoke of years spent gripping blades rather than toys. His clothes, though finely made, bore the stains of hard travel: mud caked the hem of his navy blue tunic, and brambles had left their mark on silver-stitched sleeves.
He sat up slowly, swinging his legs from the branch and letting them dangle for a moment. He climbed down with ease, landing silently in the dew-covered underbrush.
His stomach growled its displeasure. "Right," he muttered. "I am hungry."
A rustle broke the quiet. Without hesitation, the boy drew a slender knife from his side and hurled it in one fluid motion.
Silence.
Then a soft thud.
He padded toward the source, crouching near a twitching bundle of fur, a rabbit. Already still.
"Sorry, little one," he said, retrieving his blade. "But I've got a long road."
The fire he built was small, its smoke carefully directed through the hollow of a fallen log. He set to work without hesitation, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. The rabbit was skinned, cleaned, and prepared with care. The meat crackled as it roasted and the scent carried on a breeze that stirred his hair.
It was colder than usual for the season, the wind more insistent than playful. He ate quickly. As he chewed the last bite, he rose and wiped his blade clean on a patch of moss. His gaze drifted southward. He extinguished the fire with a handful of damp earth and stood, brushing the ashes from his clothes.
"Time to move," he told the empty forest.
And so he did. South, where the forest grew older and stranger. Where the trees grew gnarled and twisted into arched shapes and roots tangled in ancient knots. Where the stars hung so low they tangled in the branches.Where the wind hummed melodies no living throat could replicate.
Astelvyr was built where the stars hung close to the earth, it was whispered to be the last city born beneath the sky before the first age fell away. Astelvyr, City Under the Stars.
Part - 2
The twelve knights stood assembled, their armor glinting like shards of stars. No banners adorned their ranks only the quiet scars of campaigns past. Among them, Ser Aurelius needed no ornamentation. The dent in his breastplate, the frayed edge of his cloak these were his insignia.
He stopped before the ranks, his gaze lingering on each face in turn. "Four days," he said at last.
The words hung in the crisp air. "The prince has slipped his minders before climbing the old tower to feed pigeons, sneaking into the kitchens to steal tarts. But he's never left the city. Not like this."
A murmur rustled through the men. The prince was beloved perhaps too much so. Guards turned blind eyes to his mischief, merchants pressed sweets into his hands, and the city's children trailed after him like ducklings. That very affection now tightened like a noose around their throats.
"We've searched every alley, every cellar," Aurelius continued. He flexed his gauntlet absently. "He's not within these walls. And out there..." His gaze drifted toward the gates. "Out there, his title means nothing. The forests don't care if he's a prince or a pauper."
The knights shifted, their armor creaking softly. The unspoken truth settled over them: beyond Astelvyr's walls, the world was older, wilder, and far less forgiving.
Lady Elyria arrived at the courtyard. Her white robes seemed to glow in the twillight, the runes along their edges pulsing like distant stars. The knights stiffened as she approached, though none could say why.
"You'll need more than steel where you're going," she said without preamble.
Aurelius turned, his face unreadable. "We've ridden these woods a hundred times, my lady."
"And how many of those times were you gone to bring back the prince?" Her voice remained calm, but her eyes storm-gray and unblinking held a weight that gave even Aurelius pause.
Before he could reply, a figure stepped from behind Elyria. A youth, barely more than a boy himself, clad in the plain gray robes of an initiate. Kaelis, they called him, though few in the courtyard knew his name. His dark hair fell unevenly across his brow, as if he'd cut it himself without a mirror.
His hands clutched a satchel of rune-stones, their edges glowing faintly through the cloth.
"He comes with you," Elyria said.
Aurelius studied the boy. "We're not a training company."
Kaelis met his gaze without flinching. "The prince left more than footprints," he said softly. "I can see the marks."
One of the knights snorted. "Marks? What, in the dirt?"
"In the air," Kaelis replied, his fingers twitching toward his satchel. "You learn to recognize someone's presence after a while - like knowing a song by its first few notes."
A silence fell. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath.
The High Priestess emerged from the temple archway, her wine-dark robes flowed as liquid darkness, black silk embroidered with constellations in gold thread that writhed when unobServed.
A velvet blindfold covered her eyes, its single pulsing rune glowing faintly as though tracking unseen currents, while at her throat hung an onyx pendant.
"You would refuse the Circle's aid?" Her voice was deceptively mild, but the challenge in it was clear.
Aurelius exhaled through his nose. "Twelve of my best," he said slowly, "and... one of yours."
The High Priestess smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Wise."
As the company moved toward the gates, Kaelis lingered at the threshold. His fingers brushed the weathered stone, then stilled.
"He's alive," the boy murmured, more to himself than the others. "But something walks with him."
"Then we ride now," Aurelius growled, his voice rougher than stone on steel. "How far?"
Kaelis pressed a palm to the earth holding a rune-stone he took out from his satchel, the stone hummed. "A hard ride north, maybe a dozen hours, or less."
That was all they needed.
Steel sang as twelve swords were drawn in unison. The knights swung onto their mounts with the grim efficiency of men who knew each second bled their prince further from humanity.
The High Priestess raised her hand. The city gates groaned open of their own accord, revealing the road beyond a pale scar cutting through the writhing green of the Wilderwood forest.
Aurelius kicked his stallion forward without ceremony. The others followed, Kaelis clinging to a knight's back like a shadow given form.
As they passed beneath the arch, the torches lining the walls guttered out one by one.
Behind them, the gates slammed shut with finality.
Ahead, the forest waited.
No one asked how he knew. Some truths were best left unexamined.
Thirteen souls, twelve of steel, one of secrets, vanished into the wilderwood under the stars that never slept.
Part - 3
The horses' hooves crushed fallen leaves and brittle twigs as Ser Aurelius and his knights pressed deeper into the Wilderwood Forest. The world lay suspended in unending twilight neither day nor night. Time seemed to falter, and behind them, and the shadows swallowed the path behind them whole.
Their mounts, though battle-trained, stumbled with weariness. Aurelius raised a gauntleted fist, and the company halted in a small clearing.
"We rest here," he commanded, voice low as the wind through dead grass. "Not long. Just enough to steady the horses then we ride."
No one questioned him. Time bled faster than any wound.
A fire crackled to life, its flames casting flickering shadows against the ever-dim twilight. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at a sky that never turned light nor dark. Crickets chirped then fell abruptly silent. Fireflies blinked once, twice… then vanished into the stillness.
Aurelius stalked to the clearing's edge, settling beneath a great oak. He leaned against its trunk, eyes closed but not sleeping, listening.
The knights moved with quiet efficiency, rubbing down lathered horses, checking straps.
Kaelis hovered near the firelight's edge until Ser Alric waved him closer. "You were right about the river trail," the knight admitted,"Prince definitely passed that way."
Another knight chuckled. "Sharp eyes for a runt. Might make a proper tracker of you yet."
Kaelis flushed, fingers tracing the runestones in his satchel. "I just followed the signs. Anyone could've..."
"But none of us did," Alric interrupted. "How 'd you know?"
The fire popped. All eyes turned to the boy.
Kaelis swallowed hard. "I'm trained to read traces," he murmured. "Not just footprints the... the imprint people leave behind. Like how a hearth holds warmth after the fire's gone."
The knights exchanged glances.
"A rune-reader," Alric breathed. "That explains the..."
Kaelis never heard the rest.
Ice flooded his veins. The hair on his neck stood rigid. That presence, the same oily wrongness he'd sensed clinging to the prince's trail now coiled around the clearing. Watching.
"North!" he screamed, lunging upright. "Something's coming from the"
Steel sang through the air.
A dagger shot from the trees straight at Aurelius's throat.
The commander's eyes were still closed but his hand flashed up
Thunk.
The blade quivered in his grip, stopped bare inches from his neck.
For three heartbeats, utter stillness.
Aurelius rose, still holding the dagger. He studied it in the firelight. Its edge was curved, the craftsmanship unfamiliar.
"Come out," Ser Aurelius commanded, his voice cutting through the night. "Only vermin strike from the shadows. Face me like warriors, if you dare."
The knights formed a defensive circle behind him, their eyes scanning the tree line. Only Aurelius stood motionless arms crossed, his stillness more threatening than any battle stance.
A prodigy, born to the sword, he had surpassed the finest of The Order before most had learned to hold a blade straight. Years of battle-hardened experience had carved him into a man few in the world could hope to match. He stood in stillness, eyes narrowed toward the trees.
Then, without warning a glint of silver. Another dagger, whistling through the trees.
But this time, it came from behind.
It struck true, severing the hand of one of the younger knights. Blood sprayed across the leaves as the man fell with a scream. Kaelis, the youngest, recoiled in horror.
"God, Ser Rennic!" Kaelis shouted, stumbling to his knees.
The young knight was writhing on the ground. Blood pumped from the stump of his wrist in rhythmic spurts, each pulse weaker than the last. The severed hand lay nearby, fingers still twitching.
"P-pressure! We need to stop the bleeding!" Kaelis stammered, fumbling with his belt to make a tourniquet.
Rennic screamed through clenched teeth. "Gods, my sword hand! They took my damn sword hand!"
Ser Alric kicked the fallen dagger away, his weathered face grim. "Quiet, boy. Screaming won't grow it back." He turned to the others, barking orders. "Shields up! Back-to-back formation! And someone get that damned fire brighter!"
The knights scrambled to obey, their movements frantic. The truth was that most of them had never seen real battle. Only Aurelius and Alric had known the sting of a true fight. The others had trained with polished steel and hunted docile beasts. They had read about war. Studied strategy. But they had never been prey.
Never been truly hunted.
Astelvyr had known peace for generations. No war. No famine. The sword was art, not necessity.
Now, death walked among them
Aurelius watched them with cold disappointment. "Look at you," he murmured. "Finest of Astelvyr, shaking like children at their first blooding." He stepped over Rennic's writhing form without glancing down. "This is why I warned the Circle. Peace makes weak men of warriors."
"Pull back," he said, voice firm. "Don't worry I'll handle this. Let it be a lesson to you: training sharpens the blade, but only fear tempers the warrior."
Another dagger whistled from the trees this time aimed at Kaelis.
Aurelius' sword flashed. The blade intercepted the projectile with a shower of sparks. He reached down, picked up the dagger that had been hurled, then flung it back into the woods with lightning precision.
A rustle. Leaves shifted. A shape stirred.
"I grow tired of this game," he announced to the darkness. "Show yourself or I'll drag you out myself."
For a moment, only the crackling fire answered.
Then
A figure emerged from the black.
Not a man. Not truly. It moved like a nightmare given shape , shadows clinging to its limbs like a second skin. Where it stepped, the firelight dimmed as if drained.
"Do you fear nothing, swordsman?" it whispered.
Part - 4
The candlelight trembled against the curved stone walls of the inner keep's highest chamber. Three figures sat around the ancient oak table three more chairs stood empty, their vacant seats standing vigil for those long gone.
The High Priestess broke the silence first. "Ser Halric," she said, her blindfolded gaze somehow piercing.
"The prince knows basic survival, yes, but not enough to last this long beyond the walls. Where do you believe he's gone?"
Elyria's fingers tightened around her silver pendant. "He's never strayed before. Why now?"
Halric exhaled slowly. Halric's knuckles whitened around his wolf-headed cane as he spoke. "I've served Astelvyr for nearly 50 years," he said, his voice carrying weight.
"I've counseled many kings, watched empires rise and crumble to dust. But this..." He shook his head. "This is serious."
Halric's knuckles whitened around his wolf-headed cane. "Before he vanished, he came to me speaking of a... friend. One who met him in the old garden.
The High Priestess went very still. "You think this friend..."
"Was no child," Halric finished. His voice roughened. "I should've questioned harder. But the prince said the friend showed him things. Made the garden's dead vines bloom when he laughed."
Elyria's breath caught. "That garden's been barren since"
"Since the initiation of the New Moon Pact," the High Priestess interrupted as her blindfold's central rune flickered.
Elyria leaned forward, her silver circlet catching the dim light. "Then we must find him before the new moon."
Halric's nod was grave. "I trust Aurelius to do that but if he can't..."
The High Priestess completed his thought, her voice hollow: "The city will face what follows."
"Generations have forgotten the old pacts," Halric murmured. He looked toward the the window,"Now it falls to Aurelius."
The silence that followed was heavier than before and the candle flames bowed low as if in prayer.
End of Chapter.