5 years later
Xavier was no longer the quiet fifteen-year-old boy who used to carry Nana piggyback after their evening practices, both of them exhausted and grass-stained and happy. At twenty, he stood tall at 185 centimeters, his frame filled out with the lean muscle of a warrior. His light evol had grown stronger, more precise, more deadly. The instructors said he moved like starlight itself—beautiful and untouchable.
But Nana would roll her eyes at that. "You're just tall now," she'd grumble, having to crane her neck up and up to meet his eyes. At seventeen and only 160 centimeters, she'd stopped growing years ago, much to her eternal frustration.
"I can't help that you're short, Starlight," Xavier would tease, and she'd punch his arm hard enough to bruise a normal person.
Some things never changed. She still climbed trees. She still dragged him on adventures through the forest. She still waited for him after classes, sitting beneath their oak tree with that same bright smile that made his chest ache in ways he didn't have words for.
But other things... other things had changed everything.
Xavier knew the truth now. Had known for three years, ever since he'd accidentally overheard his father discussing matters of state with the high priests. The Philos Rite. The Sacrifice. The girl born once every century with an aether core powerful enough to feed the sun, to keep the stars aligned, to hold back the wanderers that grew stronger with each passing year.
One girl, every hundred years. Altered on her twenty-third birthday. Her power extracted, her life extinguished like a candle flame, so that Philos could continue to shine.
And Nana—his Starlight, with her ridiculous hamster cheeks and her fearless laugh and her aether core that blazed brighter than any seen in generations—she was that girl.
Xavier had spent three years searching for another way. Pouring over ancient texts. Consulting with scholars in secret. Training harder, pushing his light evol to its absolute limits, hoping that maybe, somehow, he could be powerful enough to protect the kingdom without needing the sacrifice.
But every path led back to the same inevitable truth. The sun was dying. The wanderers were multiplying. And in six years, on Nana's twenty-third birthday, his father would order her taken to the altar.
Unless Xavier found a way to stop it.
---
The Morning of Departure
Xavier's twentieth birthday dawned cold and gray, unusual for Philos. The sun struggled to break through heavy clouds, and Xavier took it as an omen.
He stood in the palace courtyard, already dressed in his traveling armor, watching the servants load supplies onto the carriage. The King's Guard—his escort for this "special training mission"—waited nearby with practiced patience.
Special training. As if Xavier didn't know what this really was. His father was sending him away, far from the capital, to train with the legendary warriors of the Northern Peaks. It was an honor, supposedly. A chance to hone his skills before ascending to the throne.
But Xavier knew the real reason. His father had noticed how much time he spent with Nana. Had seen the way Xavier looked at her when he thought no one was watching. This was a test—to see if Xavier could prioritize duty over his heart.
Or maybe it was mercy, giving him distance before the inevitable.
"Your Highness, we should depart soon if we're to reach the first waystation before nightfall."
Xavier nodded absently at the guard captain, his eyes scanning the courtyard entrance. She wasn't here yet. She didn't even know he was leaving today—he'd deliberately avoided telling her, knowing she'd want to see him off and knowing that seeing her would make leaving impossible.
Coward, he told himself. But he'd left her a letter, at least. An explanation. A promise to return. A lie that everything would be fine.
"Xavier!"
His heart stopped.
She burst through the courtyard gates, still in her sleep clothes with a cloak thrown hastily over them, her hair a mess, her feet barely shoved into her boots. She must have just woken up. Must have somehow found out he was leaving.
"You—" She skidded to a stop in front of him, breathing hard, eyes blazing with hurt and anger. "You were going to leave? Without saying goodbye? On your birthday?"
"Starlight, I—"
"Don't 'Starlight' me!" She punched his chest, but there was no real force behind it. Just wounded confusion. "We always celebrate your birthday together. Always. Under the oak tree at sunset, remember? That's our tradition!"
"I know." Xavier's throat felt tight. "I'm sorry. This mission came up suddenly, and I—"
"How long?"
"What?"
"How long will you be gone?" Her voice cracked slightly, and Xavier wanted to disappear. Wanted to tell the guards to leave without him. Wanted to abandon duty and destiny and just stay here, in this moment, where she was looking at him like he was the center of her world.
"I... don't know. A few months, maybe. Perhaps longer."
"Months?" She looked stricken. "But that's—Xavier, that's so long. What if something happens? What if you get hurt and I'm not there? What if—"
"Hey." Xavier caught her hands, bent down so they were eye-level—he always had to bend now, and she always complained about it, but right now she just looked small and scared and unbearably precious. "I'll be fine. I'm the Crown Prince of Philos, remember? Blessed by the stars themselves."
"Stars can fall," she whispered.
Something in Xavier's chest cracked. She had no idea how right she was. How close he was to falling, to shattering, to making choices that would doom kingdoms.
"Your Highness," the guard captain called quietly. "We really must depart."
Xavier straightened, started to step back, but Nana's hands tightened on his.
"Wait. I—I have something for you." She fumbled in her cloak pocket, pulled out something small wrapped in cloth. "It's not much, I didn't have time to—I was going to give it to you tonight, during sunset, but—"
She shoved the bundle into his hands, and Xavier unwrapped it carefully.
A sword tassel. Hand-braided in deep blue and silver threads, with a charm at the end—a small star, intricately carved from what looked like crystallized aether. It must have taken her weeks to make. Months, even.
"It's..." Xavier's voice came out rough. "Starlight, this is—"
"It matches you," she said quickly, looking anywhere but at his face, a blush creeping across her cheeks. "You're the star, and I'm... well, I'm your starlight, right? So. Now you'll have a piece of that light with you. To keep you safe. To remind you to come home."
Come home. As if he had a home anywhere but beside her.
Xavier's hands trembled as he attached the tassel to his sword immediately, watching the little star charm catch the dim morning light. "I'll keep it safe," he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. "No matter what. I'll keep it clean, keep it close. Even if I have to fight a thousand wanderers, this will never leave my side."
"You'd better." Nana tried to smile, but it wobbled at the edges. "Because when you come back, I'm going to check. And if there's even one spec of dirt on it, I'm never forgiving you."
"Understood."
They stood there, neither wanting to be the first to let go. Xavier memorized everything about this moment—the way the wind caught her messy hair, the determination in her eyes fighting with unshed tears, the warmth of her hands in his, the star tassel hanging from his sword like a promise.
He wanted to tell her everything. Wanted to warn her about what was coming, about the fate that awaited her, about how he'd spent three years trying to find a way to save her and coming up empty every single time.
Wanted to tell her that he loved her. Had loved her since she was twelve years old and falling out of a tree. That every sunset they'd watched together had carved itself into his heart. That the thought of a world without her laughter was unbearable.
But telling her any of that would be selfish. Would burden her with knowledge she couldn't change. Would make the next six years torture instead of joy.
So instead, Xavier did what he'd learned to do best—he lied through his teeth.
"It's okay, Starlight." He pulled her into a hug, tucking her small frame against his chest where she fit perfectly, where she'd always fit perfectly. "We'll celebrate when I get back. I promise. Under the oak tree, at sunset, just like always."
She buried her face against his armor, her arms wrapping tight around his waist. "You promise? No matter how long it takes, you'll come back?"
"I promise." Another lie. Because Xavier couldn't promise anything anymore. Couldn't promise he'd come back unchanged. Couldn't promise he wouldn't have to make an impossible choice. Couldn't promise that their sunsets wouldn't become memories instead of traditions.
But for her, he'd promise anyway.
"Your Highness," the guard captain said again, more insistent this time.
Xavier forced himself to step back, to let her go even though every instinct screamed at him to hold on tighter. He cupped her face briefly, thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped despite her best efforts.
"I'll write," he said. "Every chance I get."
"You'd better."
Xavier climbed into the carriage, his hand unconsciously moving to touch the star tassel now hanging from his sword. Through the window, he watched Nana standing in the courtyard, looking small and alone and unbearably dear.
She waved—the same enthusiastic wave from when they were kids, even though her eyes were red and her smile was forced.
Xavier waved back, watched her figure grow smaller and smaller as the carriage rolled through the palace gates and into the city beyond.
His fingers wrapped around the star tassel, feeling the careful braiding, the smooth surface of the crystallized aether charm. A piece of her light to carry with him into darkness.
*I'll find a way,* he promised silently, desperately, to the stars that had blessed and cursed him in equal measure. *I'll find a way to save her. Even if it costs me everything. Even if it costs me the kingdom. Even if it costs me my soul.*
*I will not let her die.*
The tassel glinted in his grip—star-shaped, just like him. A match, she'd said. The Crown Prince and his Starlight.
Xavier closed his eyes and prayed to gods he'd stopped believing in that when he returned, he'd have found an answer. Some miracle. Some loophole in fate.
But deep down, in the part of him that had spent three years drowning in ancient texts and prophecies, he already knew the truth.
There was only one way to save Nana from the altar.
And it would require him to destroy everything.
---
## Three Months Later - The Northern Peaks
The training was brutal. The Northern Peaks were home to Philos's most legendary warriors, and they showed Xavier no mercy despite his royal blood. Perhaps especially because of it.
Every morning before dawn, he trained. Light evol exercises until his powers blazed so bright it hurt to look at him. Sword forms until his muscles screamed. Strategy sessions with generals who'd fought wanderers for decades. Political lessons about the burden of kingship, the weight of making choices that damned some to save others.
Every evening, he collapsed into his quarters and cleaned the star tassel with with meticulous care. No matter how many wanderers he'd fought that day—and there were many, as the Northern Peaks bordered the most active wanderer zones—he made sure not a single speck of blood or dirt touched her gift.
It was his ritual. His reminder. His anchor to sanity.
He wrote to her every week, letters full of carefully edited stories about his training, about the warriors he'd met, about the stunning views from the mountain peaks. Letters that never mentioned how he spent his nights researching in the ancient libraries here, searching for any scrap of knowledge about the Philos Rite, about aether cores, about ways to cheat death and destiny.
Letters that never mentioned how he was falling apart.
Nana wrote back with the same frequency, her letters full of academy gossip, complaints about their literature instructor, descriptions of new sword techniques she'd mastered. She told him about sunsets she watched alone, about fireflies she caught by herself, about how the oak tree felt empty without him there.
She never mentioned that she missed him, but Xavier could read it between every line.
Come home soon, she always ended her letters. The stars aren't as bright without you here.
Xavier would trace those words with his fingers, the star tassel hanging from his sword nearby, and wonder if she had any idea what those words did to him.
Six months into his mission, a messenger arrived from the capital.
The King was dead.
A wanderer attack during a diplomatic visit to the outer territories. Sudden. Brutal. The kind of death that made no sense for a man as powerful and protected as the King of Philos.
Unless, Xavier thought with cold certainty, it wasn't an accident at all.
Unless the wanderers were getting stronger. Unless the sun was dying faster than anyone had admitted. Unless time was running out even faster than he'd feared.
"You are summoned home immediately, Your Highness," the messenger said, bowing low. "For your coronation. Long live the King."
Long live the King.
Xavier was twenty years old, and suddenly he was King. Suddenly he had the power to change laws, to alter traditions, to save the girl he loved.
Or so he thought.
The star tassel swayed gently as Xavier packed his belongings with trembling hands, mind already racing ahead to all the things he could change, all the orders he could give, all the ways he could finally, finally protect his Starlight.
He didn't know yet that some fates were carved too deep to erase.
He didn't know yet that becoming King would only give him the power to choose which nightmare to embrace.
He didn't know yet that in less than three years, he'd hold Nana in his arms as she died, the star tassel still hanging from his sword, still perfectly clean, a promise kept in every way except the one that mattered.
But tonight, riding hard toward the capital, toward home, toward her—Xavier still had hope.
It wouldn't last.
⭐⭐⭐
To be continued __