Chapter One: The Night of Falling Stars

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Elarian Kingdom too was quiet that night.

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‎Too quiet.

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‎The moon hung heavy and golden in the sky above the sprawling Kingdom of Elarian, casting a haunting glow over its crystalline lakes and vast emerald fields. The silence was deceptive—beneath its shimmering veil, shadows whispered and conspired. Within the foreign palace they had taken refuge in, Aurora Redmond and Aesen Grande—newlywed nobles of Aethia—stood at the precipice of destiny, unaware that betrayal had already taken root.

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‎The couple had arrived in Elarian to celebrate their honeymoon, welcomed with warm smiles and open arms. But what they hadn't known—what they couldn't have known—was that three noble families from this kingdom had long harbored envy and suspicion of Aurora's power. Aurora Redmond, descendant of the Moonline and wielder of Curse Skill, was a vessel unlike any the realm had seen in generations. Her soul pulsed with ancient magic. A gift. And a threat.

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‎Those three families—the House of Valcaryon, the House of Zevran, and the House of Clarendish—had planned her demise the moment her feet touched Elarian soil. The Valcaryons, known for their manipulation of shadows—Tristan's lineage. The Zevrans, masters of fire magic—Caspian's proud bloodline. And the Clarendishes, a family with eerie gifts of foresight—Alice's ancestors, led by a king and queen who wore masks of civility over eyes of poison.

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‎And tonight, they would strike

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‎Inside their moonlit chamber, Aurora lay with her hand on her swollen belly. Her breath was shallow, her body weakened from the pressure of the child pushing against the limits of her vessel. Her husband, Aesen, stood by the window, sensing something shift in the wind.

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‎He turned. "Aurora… something feels wrong. The sky—it's too still."

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‎Aurora's eyes fluttered open, luminous silver in the dark. "They're coming, aren't they?"

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‎Aesen didn't answer. He didn't need to. Because at that moment, the stars above them blinked.

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‎And an arrow—a sleek, silver-pointed missile glowing with cursed fire—sliced through the silence and through the window, finding Aesen's chest with a sickening thud.

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‎Aurora screamed as Aesen staggered, crimson staining his white robes, his hand reaching for her one last time before he collapsed.

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‎"No—no—no!" she cried, scrambling to his side. Her trembling fingers pressed against the wound. But it was too deep. Too cruel. The arrow was laced with ruin magic—there was no saving him.

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‎The doors burst open.

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‎Figures cloaked in black, bearing the marks of the three noble families, stepped into the room. Behind them stood the King and Queen of Elarian—Alice's parents—their faces unreadable, their presence a final betrayal.

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‎"You…" Aurora hissed, the veins in her arms pulsing with magic. Her voice cracked with grief. "You welcomed us. You pretended to honor us. And this… This is what you offer?"

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‎The queen of Clarendish stepped forward, her tone sharp. "You were too dangerous. Too unpredictable. A vessel like you can change the balance of the world. We only did what was necessary."

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‎"You call this necessary?" Aurora shouted, rising to her feet despite the agony coursing through her. She clutched her belly. "My child… my husband… You murdered the only light in my world!"

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‎"And now we'll take your power too," said Lord Zevran coldly, stepping forward. "We'll extract it from your corpse, and divide it among our bloodlines."

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‎"No," Aurora said, her voice like thunder. "You'll take nothing. Not my magic. Not my child. Not even my death."

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‎The room trembled.

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‎Her silver eyes glowed with unholy light as she raised her hands, vines erupting from the stone floor, wrapping around the assassins, strangling them with fury.

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‎"You want power?" she roared. "Then suffer under it!"

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‎She gathered the storm of her curse—ancient, burning, divine. Her voice rang like a bell tolling for doom:

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‎"You who have betrayed me—House Valcaryon, House Clarendish, House Zevran, and this cursed kingdom—hear me and remember: Until my soul finds peace, your bloodlines shall rot from within. Your lands shall dry and wither. Your wombs shall bear little, and your children shall be born cursed. Disease will haunt your veins, your plants shall not grow, and you will cry to gods who will not answer. You will feel what it is to be hollow."

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‎Her voice fractured the walls.

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‎The Queen of Clarendish screamed as the curse branded itself into her skin. The attackers fell back, blinded by a blast of silver energy, clawing at the air as the weight of Aurora's power crushed them.

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‎Aurora fell to her knees, body broken, her breath shallow.

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‎The baby—Golderine—was coming.

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‎Aurora had little strength left, but she pushed, forcing her child into the world with cries that shook the palace itself. Alone, in a chamber full of death and betrayal, she wrapped the crying newborn girl in her husband's cloak.

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‎Then, using the last of her magic, she summoned a crystal orb from her chest—a Memory Sphere. She held it over the child, whispering her final message:

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‎"Mariam… my sister. Protect her. Raise her as your own. Do not avenge us. Do not seek blood. Let Golderine grow in peace. Let her heart remain whole. Promise me… she must not become a weapon of our pain."

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‎Tears slipped from her eyes as she kissed Golderine's forehead.

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‎With a trembling breath, she cast the spell, her body surrounded by radiant white light. Vines rose from the floor, wrapping the child gently, carrying her up and away—across kingdoms, through time, through memory.

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‎To safety.

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‎To Mariam.

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‎Aurora collapsed, her heart slowing. Her soul, fractured by grief and the weight of her curse, shattered into shards—too damaged to return, too sacred to be reborn.

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‎And so died Aurora Redmond, vessel of moon and nature. A noble, a lover and a mother.

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‎As dawn crept across the scorched skies of Elarian, the three noble families awoke to a silence deeper than death. Their gardens had wilted. Children coughed blood. A newborn died in its cradle. The curse had already begun its reign.

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‎And far away, in Aethia Kingdom , Mariam held a small, glowing bundle in her arms, the pendant of the moon nestled against the baby's chest.

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‎"Golderine," she whispered. "You are all that's left. And all that is to come."

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