"In ancient times, when the skies were pure and the rivers still carried the reflection of the gods, the star fell."
Thus began the story of Damatri, a beautiful and vibrant land, home to warriors and sages. Majestic stood the Tower of Lucinea, a tall and stunning spire made of obsidian.
On the other side of a vast sea stood its twin land, Azuria, the "Blue City." It was a land more political and festive than one of war, though its noble knights made even demons tremble.
The two towers stood like twin stars that illuminated the lives of their people, a constant hope that what lay within these towers was divine.
But then, the west went dark.
The sun sank beneath the horizon and never rose over Damatri again. The fields withered, the rivers turned into veins of rot, and the wind no longer carried songs but wails. The kings fell, the sages fell silent, and the armies crumbled. From the shadows emerged creatures without names, horrors that should not exist, beasts walking among the ruins of human glory.
Azuria, on the other side of the world, watched in horror as its twin fell. And with the fear came doubt. Should they extend a hand to their brother land or seal their gates and protect themselves from the same fate?
It was then that the tradition of the Bearers of Light was born: those destined to travel to Damatri and return the Star of Ursa to the Tower of Lucinea. One after another, knights, saints, and visionaries embarked on the journey. And one after another, they all failed.
Now, a new name joins the list of the doomed.
Unicrus of Azuria, the last son of House Azur, embarks on his journey.
And when the last ship departs from the port, when the Blue City fades behind him, when the western air strikes his face for the first time, he understands the truth:
The west is not just dead.
The west should never have existed.
The carriage moved slowly through the cobbled streets of Azuria, its wheels creaking over the ancient stone as the afternoon sun bathed the city in a golden light. Unicrus of Azuria, son of the House of Azur, peered through the carriage window, gazing at the city that stretched before him—for the last time.
His reflection in the glass stared back at him. A young man with straight silver hair, fair skin, and sky-blue eyes, his delicate features bordering on the androgynous. He wore a dark blue doublet adorned with silver details, a long velvet cape of the same shade, and pristine white gloves.
His posture was dignified, yet in his eyes danced the shadow of uncertainty.
Flags swayed gently in the wind, the emblem of the House of Azur gleaming under the sun. The lively cheers of the people celebrating his departure—rejoicing in the honor and hope that his mission represented—stood in stark contrast to the silent storm raging within him, a tempest he chose to keep hidden.
Seated before him, inside the carriage, was his mother—the Queen of Azuria—silent and watchful.
Queen Selene IV was an imposing woman, her beauty serene and almost ethereal. Her pale skin, nearly translucent under the golden light, seemed untouched by time. Her long, wavy silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, with strands that caught the light in soft blue reflections.
A delicate diadem of sapphires, finely set in white gold, rested upon her brow—a symbol of her lineage. Her sky-blue eyes, pure as the heavens at their clearest, held a depth of sorrow, burdened by the weight of years and the difficult choices she had made.
She wore a velvet gown in deep blue, embroidered with silver filigree and lace detailing along the sleeves. A lighter, more flowing cape draped from her shoulders, fastened by a brooch bearing the insignia of the House of Azur.
Her bearing remained regal, yet her posture revealed something more—a sorrow restrained, a pain only a mother could understand.
—My son… are you still certain of this? It is not too late to turn back and return home.
Her voice, though steady, carried the weight of an unspoken plea.
—Mother, this is what I have trained for my entire life! I cannot turn back now!
His tone, in contrast, brimmed with pride, as if his very existence depended on it.
The queen pressed her lips together, fighting the tremor in her voice.
—I know, but… we could still return to the palace, and—
—No, Mother. This is not what my light desires. I have been trained for this moment…
His radiant eyes met his mother's sorrowful gaze.
—And if I turn back now, I will be a disgrace to the Order.
She clenched her hands in her lap, her fingers tightening imperceptibly—but the pain in her chest burned fiercer than a dragon's fire.
For a brief moment, Selene hesitated. She had always known her son was proud; he had been so since childhood. But this side of him—this unwavering determination—was something she had rarely seen.
His pride was his sword, and his resolve, his shield.
The carriage continued its course, finally reaching the harbor. Crowds gathered in waves, their excitement palpable as the young prince emerged from the opulent transport, an aura of purity and divinity surrounding him.
The queen descended after him, her sorrow visible only in the depths of her eyes. Turning back toward the carriage, she retrieved a sword she had carried throughout the journey.
—My son…
She hesitated for a moment, struggling to maintain her composure.
—This sword belonged to your father.
She gripped the scabbard tightly, pain flickering in her eyes.
—I know he would be proud for you to have it.
Unicrus knelt, bowing his head toward the ground. His silver hair fell over his shoulders, obscuring his delicate face as his mother drew the sword from its sheath.
—Beneath a thousand stars and under two moons, you shall persist…
She rested the blade upon his right shoulder.
—Beneath the stormy seas and the endless sands, you shall endure…
The sword touched his left shoulder.
—Beneath the blinding light and the haunting darkness, you shall rise anew…
Finally, she hovered the blade above his head.
—I, Queen Selene IV of Azuria, name you Bearer of the Star of Sura.
She sheathed the sword, her voice breaking slightly.
—And grant you leave to journey to the dying lands of Damatri, to carry the Star of Sura to the Tower of Lucinea.
Unicrus rose slowly, his mother's words echoing in his mind like an inescapable refrain. His father's sword—so heavy with history, legacy, and the sacrifices of generations past—now rested in his hands, a symbol of duty and destiny.
Selene watched him, her gaze lingering as if trying to etch this moment into her memory. The wind brushed against the ends of her cape, but the air felt heavier than ever, saturated with a sorrow that refused to fade.
Unicrus knew—though she did not say it aloud—his mother was already losing him.
—You are leaving me…
Selene whispered, more to herself than to him. It was as if the words could only escape now, when she already felt him slipping away. A dark premonition gnawed at her thoughts, whispering that his fate had already been sealed.
Unicrus turned to her, his eyes filled with a love and understanding only a son could offer.
—Mother, I will never stop being your son. I will always carry you with me.
He smiled, holding up a locket—a small token containing a portrait of her.
Without looking back, Unicrus stepped onto the ship. The sails unfurled, and the vessel set forth upon the Sea of Zanisa, carving its path toward destiny.
—Where are we headed, Prince?
A sailor asked.
—To my duty… To Damatri.