The air shimmered with a faint golden hue as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grand halls of the Ebon Starline Clan. It was a night of celebration, a feast held in honor of the clan's latest victory—a conquest that expanded their influence over a neighboring star system. Music, laughter, and the hum of celestial energy filled the air, but not all shared the same mood.
At the center of the hall, seated at a table carved from dark starwood and inlaid with glowing runes, sat Rynor Valcairn, the youngest prince of the clan. A roguish grin split his face as he held court with a small group of nobles, a goblet of celestial wine in his hand. He had just finished retelling a wildly exaggerated story about a supposed duel with a cosmic beast.
"And then," Rynor said, his voice rising dramatically, "I leapt from the cliff with nothing but a single thread of energy to guide me. The beast lunged—teeth the size of warships, mind you—but I was faster. With one strike…" He swung his arm, nearly spilling his wine. "…it was over. Another victory for the great Ebon Starline Clan!"
The gathered nobles erupted into laughter and applause.
"Another tale for the archives, Rynor," said Kain Velroth, his closest friend and a noble from a minor allied family. His broad shoulders and easy smile masked a shrewd mind that rivaled Rynor's own. "Although I think the beast gets bigger every time you tell the story."
Rynor grinned and clinked goblets with Kain. "Details, my dear Kain, are the seasoning of truth. Besides, what's the point of a story if it doesn't grow with the telling?"
The nobles laughed again, but Kain's gaze shifted to the head of the hall, where the Patriarch, Drelor Valcairn, sat with Rynor's elder siblings.
"Your brother doesn't look amused," Kain said, nodding toward Darian, the eldest son and heir apparent.
Rynor turned, his dark eyes meeting Darian's golden glare across the room. Darian sat straight-backed and severe, his aura crackling faintly with power. At his side was Velira, their elder sister, whose sharp features and piercing gaze spoke of a ruthless cunning equal to her brother's strength.
"Ah, Darian." Rynor raised his goblet in a mock toast. "Always so serious. Do you think he's jealous of my storytelling skills?"
Kain chuckled. "If jealousy looks like murderous rage, then yes."
Rynor leaned back in his chair, his grin unfaltering. "Let him stare. I'm sure he'll find some way to turn it into a lecture later."
Darian's voice cut through the music and chatter like a blade. "Rynor."
The room quieted as all eyes turned toward the heir of the Ebon Starline Clan. Rynor's grin widened as he stood, casually strolling toward the dais where his family was seated.
"Darian, dear brother," Rynor said, spreading his arms. "I was just about to come congratulate you on your latest conquest. Truly, a masterpiece of strategy."
Darian's jaw tightened. "Must you always make a spectacle of yourself?"
Rynor tilted his head, his grin taking on an almost innocent quality. "A spectacle? I was merely entertaining the guests. Someone has to keep things lively, don't you think?"
Velira smirked, her sharp voice cutting in. "You mean distracting them from your lack of accomplishments?"
Rynor turned to her, placing a hand over his heart. "Velira, you wound me. My lack of accomplishments? Why, just last week, I organized a tournament of stardice. A roaring success, I might add."
The gathered nobles chuckled nervously, but the Patriarch's voice silenced them.
"Enough."
Drelor Valcairn's tone was calm, yet it carried the weight of his authority. The Patriarch's presence was as immovable as a mountain, his aura suffused with the steady power of a cultivator at the Celestial Nexus Realm. Even Rynor felt the pressure.
"Rynor," Drelor said, his piercing gaze locking onto his youngest son. "This is a celebration of our clan's strength. Do not make it about your frivolities."
Rynor bowed low, his expression one of exaggerated contrition. "Of course, Father. My apologies. I only sought to add a touch of levity to an already magnificent evening."
Drelor's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to Darian. "You should learn from your brother's example, Darian. A leader does not allow distractions to disturb their focus."
Rynor hid his surprise, though he caught the flicker of irritation in Darian's eyes. Interesting, he thought. Even Father isn't above playing his own games.
As the feast continued, Rynor made his way back to Kain, his carefree mask firmly in place.
"Well," Kain said, handing him a fresh goblet, "that could have gone worse."
Rynor laughed, taking a long sip of wine. "It's all part of the dance, my friend. Let them think I'm a fool. It keeps things... simple."
Kain nodded toward the Patriarch. "Simple? Hardly. Your family's position is anything but. With the Void Nexus stirring, half the empire is watching us. The other half is sharpening their blades."
Rynor followed Kain's gaze, his expression momentarily thoughtful. The Ebon Starline Clan was one of the most powerful forces in the Celestial Dominion Realm, ruling over dozens of star systems with an iron grip. Their cultivation techniques, rooted in the manipulation of Celestial Flames, were unparalleled in their destructive power.
But power bred enemies, and the clan's influence had drawn the ire of rival sects and vassals alike. The upcoming Void Nexus expedition was as much a political maneuver as it was a quest for power.
"Let them watch," Rynor said, his grin returning. "They'll see what we want them to see."
Later that night, when the feast had ended and the halls of the palace fell silent, Rynor retreated to his chambers. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of incense, but the opulence around him did little to soothe his restless mind.
He approached a mirror etched with runes, his carefree expression melting away. The light of the room dimmed as he pulled back the sleeve of his robe, revealing a black sigil burned into his forearm.
The sigil pulsed faintly, sending a cold shiver through his body. It was the mark of the Abyssal Curse, a scar left behind from the day his life had been severed from the flow of destiny.
Rynor clenched his fist, suppressing the surge of dark energy that threatened to consume him.
"This curse..." he muttered. "It's both my prison and my key."
He turned away from the mirror, his eyes cold and calculating. The Void Nexus would hold answers—he was certain of it. But to claim them, he would have to continue playing the fool.
"Let them see the mask," Rynor whispered. "The shadows know the truth."