The Fall Ball.
The thought of it lingered in my mind like the soft chime of distant bells, equal parts promising and foreboding. I had missed the last two balls, and the three girls were insistent—no, determined—that I make an appearance this time. Their logic was simple: my absence was no longer excusable, and they wanted the night with me, out of the usual chaos and shadowed schemes.
For once, I didn't have pressing matters that demanded my immediate attention. Noctalis was running smoothly, the wheels of my plans turning without needing me to micromanage every cog. Aetherite was still a secret waiting to explode into the market, and there was no rush. Not yet.
Still, I hoped, just this once, for a peaceful ball.
The last two hadn't exactly been fond memories. My Freshman Ball had been a whirlwind of terror and blood, interrupted by a Shadow Seeker attack. The Sophomore Ball hadn't been much better, marked by the chaos of Luke Orden and Drake Namgung's incident. It was as though I were cursed to walk into serenity only for it to unravel.
"Third time's the charm," I muttered aloud, leaning back in my chair. The polished sheen of my room at the academy glinted in the evening light filtering through the window.
But who am I kidding?
My life had been a series of orchestrated calamities. Since the Paladin of Void, things had gone eerily well, but a sense of foreboding clawed at me like a distant storm, waiting to pounce. It was as though the universe—or someone within it—refused to let me rest.
Isn't that right, Luna? I asked mentally, brushing a hand through my hair.
She responded with a hum of agreement, a sound that carried both amusement and caution. She had always been perceptive, her voice a steady echo in the whirlwind of my mind.
We'd talked about it before, Luna and I—this strange orchestration of misfortune that seemed to follow me like a shadow. It wasn't coincidence; it couldn't be. Too many events aligned with suspicious precision, all serving to push me forward, to strengthen me in ways I wouldn't have chosen for myself.
Manipulation.
That was the only word we could land on. It wasn't just random chaos or the universe's cruel indifference. No, there was intent behind it. A forge, designed to mold and temper me, and at its heart, a manipulative hand.
The original Arthur's? Perhaps. But I suspected there was someone—or something—else involved. The way the Paladin of Void had conveniently awakened, the meticulously timed disasters… too perfect, too pointed. And then there was Alyssara Velcroix, a wild card even Art hadn't accounted for. She was a glaring anomaly in this narrative, and the thought of her sent a cold ripple down my spine.
Luna's presence steadied me. 'Whatever comes, you've survived this far,' her voice murmured, a comforting lilt in the silent room.
I exhaled, rising from my chair to prepare for the ball. The Fall Ball wasn't just an event; it was an interlude, a momentary pause before the storm's next wave. I'd play my part, smile, and dance under the glittering lights.
But as always, I would remain vigilant. Peace was a fleeting illusion, a ghostly wisp that danced on the edge of reality, and my life had made a habit of proving it false time and again.
'Be a bit less pessimistic, too,' Luna's voice chimed in my mind, though the faint thread of doubt in her tone betrayed her uncertainty. Her attempt at reassurance felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a paper shield.
I exhaled, shaking my head. In my own way, I did feel sorry for Luna. For all her celestial grace and wisdom, she too was caught in this web of manipulation. A qilin, the herald of fate itself, whose eyes could see the flow of destiny, now rendered blind by the machinations of forces greater than either of us. Art and whoever else sat behind the curtain of this great theater were too powerful. Their strings tugged at the very fabric of fate, weaving a tapestry of control that veiled even her vision.
Even Luna, who was meant to stand above, had been reduced to a pawn.
'I hate the idea of being a pawn,' I thought bitterly, my lips curling into a grimace as the weight of it all pressed down on me. The word itself felt like chains, wrapping tighter and tighter around my chest. The sheer helplessness was infuriating, like trying to wrestle with shadows that only grew stronger the harder you fought.
And yet, the truth was inescapable. I was still weak. For all my growth, all my victories, I was little more than a piece on someone else's board. Their manipulation ran deeper than I could fathom, their reach extending beyond what I could see or comprehend. It was a battle fought in whispers and threads, with no clear enemy to strike down, no foe to face head-on.
I ran a hand through my hair, the familiar gesture doing little to calm the storm within. My thoughts churned, each one more fruitless than the last. The scope of their plans, the lengths to which they would go—it all felt infinite, like staring into an abyss that stared back, amused by my struggle.
'You're quiet,' Luna noted softly, her voice breaking through the static of my thoughts.
'I'm thinking,' I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.
'You're brooding,' she corrected, her words laced with a mix of reproach and care. 'And while you brood, you do nothing.'
The truth of her words stung, but it didn't dispel the suffocating sense of helplessness. Even with all the help I'd gathered, all the allies and tools at my disposal, there was no clear path forward. No solution to unweave the web that bound us.
'I'll find a way,' I thought, though whether I was trying to convince her or myself, I couldn't say.
'You'd better,' Luna replied, the faintest edge of a smile in her mental voice. 'You're Arthur Nightingale. You don't get to lose.'
I snorted at her confidence in me, but it did little to ease the weight on my shoulders. Steeling myself, I pushed the thoughts aside for now. There were no answers waiting in the shadows of my mind. Only the faint hope that the next step forward might lead to something—anything—that could shift the balance of power.
For now, I would play my part. A pawn, perhaps, but one with aspirations far greater than its place on the board.