Chapter 2 — The Royal Festival
The sun rose over the capital like a golden crown. Its first light spilled across marble towers and red-tiled roofs, turning the city of Asteria into a sea of gold and white. From every window, every stall, and every alleyway, the kingdom awakened to the sound of drums and bells.
Today was the Royal Festival—the grandest day in all of Asteria. It marked the founding of the realm, the victory of the First King, and the renewal of the royal oath that bound nobles and commoners alike under one banner.
For Evan Aryn, it was the first time he'd ever seen the capital.
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He had left his coastal home two days before, riding in a crowded merchant wagon. He'd imagined the city a thousand times—tall gates, shining streets, endless color—but even his dreams had been too small.
Now he stood before the great silver archway that guarded the city's entrance, his heart thundering louder than the festival drums.
Banners of scarlet and gold rippled in the wind. Flowers were scattered over the roads by laughing children. The air smelled of spice, honey, and burning incense. And far above, the white palace rose like a mountain of light.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he stepped forward, swept up by the tide of people flooding into the heart of the city.
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The crowd moved like a river—farmers, merchants, knights, nobles in glittering carriages. Music spilled from every corner: flutes, lutes, and voices singing old songs of kings and dragons. Evan turned in circles as he walked, trying to see everything at once.
He paused near a bridge where magicians painted illusions in the air: phoenixes made of flame and silver wolves that howled before vanishing into sparks. Children cheered and tossed coins.
"First time in the capital?" a merchant called from a stall of glowing petals. She was a middle-aged woman with bright eyes and hands stained by magic powder.
Evan nodded, smiling shyly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Completely," she said, chuckling. "Here, a gift for the newcomer."
She held out a wish-flower, a delicate white bloom with veins that glimmered faintly blue.
"You light it when the royal fireworks begin," she explained. "Make a wish before the flame dies, and the gods might listen."
Evan turned it in his hand, mesmerized. "Do they really?"
She winked. "Only if your heart is honest."
He thanked her and moved on, the soft glow of the flower lighting his way through the crowd.
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By midday, the entire city gathered in the central square before the palace gates. Thousands filled the streets, their cheers echoing off marble walls.
Trumpets blared. The gates opened.
The Royal Guard marched out first—armor shining like mirrors, banners snapping in the wind. Then came the nobles in jeweled carriages, and finally, high above them all, the royal family appeared on the grand balcony.
Evan craned his neck to see.
King Aldric stood tall, his cloak heavy with golden thread. Beside him, Queen Isolde bowed her head with graceful calm. But when Evan's gaze drifted to the figure beside them, his breath caught.
Princess Seraphine.
She looked nothing like the portraits that hung in every noble hall. Those made her seem distant, untouchable. But here, beneath the sunlight, she seemed almost human—alive.
Her hair shimmered like spun silver, and her eyes, though bright as stars, held a quiet sadness that the crowd couldn't see. When she lifted her hand to wave, Evan felt something stir inside him—something he couldn't name.
And then, for the briefest heartbeat, her gaze fell on him.
It couldn't have. She was too far away. But he felt it—like the air itself had noticed him.
The wish-flower in his hand flared softly, the petals turning gold.
He froze. He hadn't lit it.
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The palace bells rang, and fireworks exploded above the towers—white and crimson bursts that painted the sky. The crowd roared. But Evan could barely hear them.
The flower's light shimmered once more, and smoke curled upward, forming a faint image of a crown before fading into the air.
The merchant woman from before gasped beside him. "By the spirits…" she whispered. "That's not normal magic."
Evan opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but before he could speak, the ground trembled as cannons fired in celebration. The cheers swallowed everything.
Still, as the music rose and the sky filled with color, Evan couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—had reached out to him through that fleeting spark.
He looked once more toward the balcony, but the princess was gone.
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When night fell, the festival only grew louder. Lanterns floated above the city, each one carrying a family's prayer for peace. Evan wandered through it all, his thoughts chasing that moment again and again.
The wish-flower's ashes still clung to his fingers. The crown-shaped smoke, the look in her eyes, the tremor in his chest—it felt like fate had brushed against him and vanished.
He didn't yet know that this day, filled with music and color, would mark the last time Asteria's people celebrated beneath an unbroken sky.
Because soon, that same sky would rain fire.
And the boy who held the dying wish-flower would rise from the ashes of a fallen crown.