Alina sat in the quiet stillness of the vast plains, her eyes trained on the stars above. The soft rustling of the night breeze was the only sound, as if the world itself were holding its breath. For as long as she could remember, the stars had been her companions. She had grown up with stories of constellations and their ancient meanings, of how the night sky was a tapestry woven by the gods themselves. But none of those stories had ever truly captured her heart as much as the idea that the stars might hold the answers to all the mysteries of the universe.
She pulled her coat tighter around her, shivering not from the cold but from the deep sense of longing that filled her chest. Alina was an astronomer—well-known, respected—but alone. The work she did brought her little joy, even though she spent her days in the pursuit of knowledge, hoping for some grand discovery. But it was all theory, all numbers and equations. Where was the magic? Where was the spark that would bring her research to life?
As her telescope scanned the heavens once more, something caught her eye—a star, unlike any she had seen before. It blinked rapidly in the distance, almost as if it were trying to communicate with her. She adjusted the lens, heart racing. The star wasn't in any of her charts. This was something new, something that had never been seen by human eyes.
Her pulse quickened. What could it mean?
Suddenly, a noise broke her concentration. The sound of hooves on the earth grew louder and closer, too rhythmic, too deliberate to be just the wind. She instinctively grabbed the telescope and moved back, her hand darting to the small dagger she kept at her waist, just in case.
Her senses sharpened. And then, from the shadow of the trees, a figure emerged.
A man—tall, cloaked in dark clothes, his face hidden beneath a hood. He moved toward her, and Alina felt a strange pull in the pit of her stomach. There was something about him, something familiar, yet she couldn't place it.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," the man's voice broke the stillness, deep and gravelly. "The plains are dangerous at night."
Alina froze, eyeing him warily. She had learned to be cautious, especially at night in such isolated places. "And you are?"
The man stepped closer, revealing his eyes—piercing, the color of the midnight sky. "Kael."
Alina narrowed her eyes. "I don't need help," she said, though her voice wavered. Something about his presence unsettled her, yet she couldn't tear her gaze from him.
Before she could say another word, a rustling sound came from the trees, followed by the sudden appearance of several men. Bandits. Alina's heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, she reached for her dagger.
But Kael was faster.
With a swift movement, he unsheathed a blade from beneath his cloak and lunged at the bandits. His movements were fluid, almost unnatural, as if he had fought countless battles before. The sound of steel against steel echoed across the plains, and Alina watched, both in awe and fear.
One of the bandits swung at Kael, but he blocked the attack with ease, twisting the man's arm and sending him sprawling into the dirt. The others hesitated, their eyes shifting between Kael and Alina. She took the opportunity to back away, watching the fight unfold with a mix of awe and terror.
She couldn't help but wonder—who was this man? And why did it feel as if their paths had been destined to cross?
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