Eryndor, a city with the same name as its host planet, was a sprawling neon beast that never slept. Towering skyscrapers pierced the night sky, their glass exteriors glowing with holographic advertisements and luminescent signs.
Flying vehicles zipped between elevated roads while the streets below pulsed with music and the chatter of thousands. It was a city of indulgence, intrigue, and relentless ambition—a perfect reflection of Damian Moroi.
Damian leaned against the edge of a private balcony on the seventy-fifth floor of Elysium, the most exclusive nightclub in Eryndor. The air was thick with the scent of spiced liquors, expensive perfumes, and the faint metallic tang of energy cores powering the building. His crimson eyes, sharp and predatory, surveyed the dance floor below—a sea of writhing bodies under flashing sapphire lights.
"Just eighteen and already the talk of the city, or at least the civilized parts of it," drawled his cousin Lucian, leaning lazily against the glass railing. His platinum blond hair fell over sharp blue eyes reflecting the city lights. "Tell me, Damian, does it ever get exhausting being so... perfect?"
Damian smirked, running a hand through his raven-black hair. "No one is perfect, Cousin, and I have no intention of becoming it, either."
He turned to his head, glancing at Lucian from the corner of his eyes, a mysterious yet lazy smile on his lips. "I just skirt the edges of perfect. That way, people are awed, even intimidated, but not put off. Manipulation is a delicate game, as you well know."
Around them, a dozen others—cousins, friends, sycophants—laughed and toasted expensive glasses filled with crystalline liquor. They were all dressed in tailored suits or designer dresses, but even among the wealthiest heirs of Eryndor, Damian stood out.
His black suit, threaded with subtle silver runes, hugged his tall, lean frame. At his side hung his catalyst: Nox Eternum, a slender sword with a gleaming black, slightly curved blade and a red ruby embedded in the hilt.
A catalyst was no ordinary weapon—it was the key to one's ascension path, the vessel through which an individual could channel and refine their power. Some used weapons, others armour, clothes, or jewellery, but everyone possessed a catalyst.
At least, everyone who could afford one…
Damian himself inherited it from his late father, as it was an artefact passed down the Moroi bloodline. It was both his weapon and his anchor in the chaotic storm of power that defined Eryndor's elite.
"Master Damian," purred a woman's voice from behind him. One of the hired hostesses approached, her minimal dress clinging like liquid gold to her frame. "Your guests are waiting for the next toast."
Turning around to face his VIP guests, Damian raised his glass high, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "To power, pleasure, and never knowing when to stop!"
The group erupted into cheers, their laughter echoing across the balcony. Glasses clinked while Damian downed his in one smooth motion. The liquor burned pleasantly down his throat, leaving a faint aftertaste of honey and stardust, a light designer drug.
But even amidst the revelry and the slight high, Damian's cunning gaze never once wavered. "Someday, even you have to let down your guard, cousin," Lucian snickered, lazily enjoying himself with the body of a pretty partygoer.
A predatory grin spread across Damian's lips. Sipping a new drink, he shook his head. "Forget it, Lucian. Intrigue and manipulation are our family's trademarks, and I refuse to be a wastrel. One day, this city will thrive under Moroi rule, with me at its head!"
Lucian scoffed and groaned at his cousin's refusal to let himself go completely. "Gods, you and Aunt Lavinia are one and the same! Ambition is good and all, but life is better when you let yourself go once in a while!"
Damian's eyes shone, but he didn't answer. With a lazy smile, he continued surveying the guests, accepting any congratulations or gifts that came his way—gifts that immediately disappeared into his catalyst's storage space.
His mother had taught him their family's manipulative ways from the moment he could speak, making sure he knew these parties were as much for enjoyment as they were for gathering information, creating relationships, and projecting a persona to the masses.
She wanted him to be prepared to survive in the real world, and Damian refused to disappoint her. Despite their family trade, his mother, Lavinia, loved him to a near-obsessive level, and Damian responded in kind.
'Speaking of relationships…' he suddenly interrupted his own thoughts with a different one, full of desire and curiosity. 'I wonder if she'll show up.'
Just at that moment, a beeping echoed in his head, and a screen displayed itself on his cornea. Nodding, he accepted the call, and the face of Lyra, one of his women and personal guards, immediately showed. "Master? Luna is here," she spoke matter-of-factly but with unmistakable warmth and devotion in her tone.
A slow grin crept onto his lips. "Thank you, Lyra."
Immediately hanging up, he turned around to sweep his eyes over the partying crowd below again.
Amid the bustling chaos of the ground level, a figure caught his eye. She was walking briskly, her silhouette sharp against the flickering, colourful club lights. She was a young woman, slender and athletic, with long silver hair. Even at this distance, Damian recognized her.
Luna Lykos.
She wasn't dressed for the usual nightlife scene. A dark jacket, slim pants, and boots designed for quick movement—not style. She was trying to remain inconspicuous, but in a city like Eryndor, the shadows had eyes.
"Lucian, cover for me," Damian said abruptly, handing his empty glass to his cousin.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere, birthday boy?"
Without looking back, Damian casually shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "You know me, Lucian. I don't know when to stop."
Without waiting for a response, Damian slipped through the crowd on the balcony, his tailored coat billowing behind him as he disappeared into the private elevator. He could feel Nox Eternum hum faintly at his side, sensing his rising anticipation.
Behind him, Lucian was stunned for a moment but then smirked and shook his head. "Right, Luna." Chuckling, he engaged himself back on the dance floor. "Stubborn idiot always liked a challenge…"
As the elevator descended, Damian grasped his catalyst and absorbed it into his body. He had kept it at his side only as a status symbol, but he had no need for that now.
When the doors opened, he was immediately hit with the fiercely grey, almond-shaped eyes of the one he was looking for. "Luna," he grinned.
Before the girl could respond, Damian had already pulled her into the elevator. Luna let out a startled gasp, her eyes widening briefly before a soft giggle escaped her lips when she recognized her assailant.
Recovering quickly, she let herself be pulled along, her hand gripping his coat sleeve tightly. Damian gave a new command to the AI operating the elevator. The doors closed rapidly, and their cabin started descending further.
Inside, the two were already embroiled in a heated kiss.
When they separated, Luna was glaring at him, but there was a playful quality to it. "Happy birthday, Damian. But I do hope you're not planning to simply whisk me off to some room!"
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Damian pulled her closer and pecked her lips once again, a confident smile on his lips. "Don't worry, I have a whole evening planned for us." Leaning in close, he whispered in her ear. "The room comes after…"
A shiver went through Luna's body. Playfully she licked Damian's ear. "Good because I have no interest in one of your parties."