The night should have been beautiful.
The palace of the Starfall Empire stood beneath a velvet sky scattered with countless stars, each one a glittering promise of eternity. The air smelled of spring blossoms, the gentle wind carried the distant murmur of music from the royal feast. Servants hurried through lantern-lit corridors, courtiers laughed over wine, and generals toasted victories yet to come.
It was supposed to be a night of celebration.
Instead, it became a night of fire and blood.
Prince Lian ran barefoot through the burning halls, his golden robe torn, one hand pressed against the gash across his side. Flames licked at the painted walls, the carved pillars, the silken banners bearing the Starfall crest. The air reeked of smoke and iron. Screams echoed behind him—soldiers dying, servants begging, traitors shouting orders.
Above the palace, the heavens themselves raged.
From the night sky, star fragments rained like divine judgment. Each blazing shard crashed into the city below, flattening towers, shattering streets, turning entire districts into seas of fire. It was as if the stars were mourning the empire's fall with destruction of their own.
Lian stumbled as the ground shook beneath another impact. His breath came ragged, his body trembled with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop—not yet.
"Brother… why?" he muttered, voice hoarse.
He could still see it clearly. The grand feast. The banners of peace raised high. His elder brother, Crown Prince Ren, smiling warmly as he poured him wine. And then… the poison's bitter taste. The sudden weakness spreading through his limbs. The sound of soldiers' boots as the royal guards—his own guards—turned their blades against him.
All led by Ren.
The brother who once taught him how to ride horses, how to hold a sword. The brother who promised they would rule side by side.
Now the brother who betrayed him for the throne.
Another explosion shook the palace. The roof above cracked, sending down a rain of tiles. Lian staggered into the central courtyard, clutching his side as blood soaked his robe.
Bodies lay scattered across the marble floor—loyal guards who had fought to protect him. Their armor was shattered, their weapons broken.
At the courtyard's center stood Crown Prince Ren.
Golden armor gleamed beneath the falling stars, his long black hair tied with a silver crown. He held the Imperial Sword, the weapon of emperors, its blade glowing faintly with starlight.
Behind him stood dozens of black-armored soldiers—traitors who now served him.
"Lian," Ren said softly, almost gently, as though this were a private conversation rather than the ruin of their world. "Why did you run? You should have stayed in the feast hall. It would've been painless."
Lian's lips trembled with fury. "Why?" he choked out. "You had everything, Ren. The throne was already yours after Father's death. Why… why kill me?"
Ren sighed. "Because as long as you lived, there would always be those who whispered your name. The 'beloved second prince,' the 'genius of sword and stars.'" His eyes hardened. "I will not share my empire with anyone—not even my brother."
The words pierced deeper than any sword.
Memories flashed before Lian's eyes—training together in the palace gardens, hunting beasts beyond the walls, standing side by side before Father's throne. He once admired this man. Once loved him.
But now…
Something inside Lian cracked.
"You…" He staggered forward, drawing the short blade from a fallen guard. His hands trembled, but his eyes blazed with fury. "You won't get away with this."
Ren didn't even raise his sword.
The black-armored soldiers moved as one, forming a wall between them.
Lian charged anyway. The blade felt heavy in his weakening grip, his body screamed in protest, but he didn't care. If he had to crawl through fire itself, he would cut down the man who betrayed him.
Steel clashed.
Pain erupted across his body as spears thrust into his side, swords cut into his flesh. He cut one soldier down, then another, but there were too many. A spear pierced his leg, forcing him to one knee. Another smashed his blade aside.
Finally, a sword drove through his chest.
Lian gasped, blood filling his mouth. His vision blurred as he looked up at Ren, who finally approached with slow, deliberate steps.
"Goodbye, little brother," Ren said softly, almost kindly, before driving the Imperial Sword through his heart.
The world fell silent.
The screams, the fire, the falling stars—all faded into nothing as Lian collapsed onto the cold marble floor.
He felt the warmth leaving his body. The starlit sky above blurred through his fading vision.
Was this it?
Was this how the second prince of Starfall Empire ended? Betrayed, broken, forgotten?
No.
Somewhere deep inside, something refused to die.
As blood pooled around him, Lian raised his trembling hand toward the heavens. Star fragments blazed across the sky, falling like tears of the gods themselves.
"If there are… gods above…" His voice was barely a whisper. "If fate itself watches… then hear me."
His bloodied fingers clenched.
"I swear… even if I must crawl back from the abyss… I will have my vengeance. I will burn this throne. I will shatter the stars if I must… but I will return."
Above, the largest star fragment yet tore across the sky, screaming through the heavens like a falling sun. Its light engulfed the palace, the city, the empire itself.
And as Prince Lian's final breath left his body…
The stars answered.
Far beyond mortal sight, something stirred. An ancient power, older than empires, older than the gods themselves, awakened beneath the falling stars.
And it heard the dying prince's vow.