“My mother might still be alive?” The words feel so foreign to me. That doesn’t make any sense! Has my father been lying to me all this time? And if he has... does that mean King Mukuta is not my real father? What part of what I’ve believed until now is even true? Have I lived the last 17 years in a lie?
“My mother?” I ask in disbelief. The longer I think about her possibly still being alive, the more absurd it seems. “Zyar, you knew my mother? Tell me, where is she?”
Zyar sighs softly and looks at me seriously. “That’s a question I cannot answer for you, Ves. The last time I saw her was over 17 years ago. Back then, she was likely pregnant with you.”
If she was pregnant with me, then my father must be an Elindine! There’s no way a man like King Mukuta, who has such a narrow view of life, could have walked through the Nexari! All these years, I’ve endured the tyranny of Queen Mayyira, given up my freedom, just to not be a burden to a stranger.
“Does that mean King Mukuta isn’t my father?” I ask hopefully, my heart beating faster.
Zyar sighs again. “Ves, you have many questions, I understand. But please be patient until we reach Solnya. Just because we’ve shaken off the Synnx doesn’t mean other creatures won’t be lurking.”
I let my shoulders sink and nod, even though my curiosity and impatience are fighting against me. However, I’m aware of the danger of the Nexari.
“Step closer, please,” says Zyar, positioning himself beside the Astralis. “If you touch the Astralis, it will react to you. You are its rightful owner.”
As I gaze at the Astralis, I feel my heart pounding with excitement. The closer I get, the brighter it pulses, as if it’s waiting for my presence. Sylas, who has been silently following the conversation, also steps closer, curious.
“Don’t be afraid,” Zyar whispers, his voice both familiar and strange. “The Astralis longs to be reunited with a Losniw.”
My heart races, my breath quickens, but I force myself to stay calm. My hands tremble slightly as I stare at the Astralis—this shimmering, pulsing orb, beating in an unnatural rhythm as though it has a life of its own. A deep glow pulses from the heart of the artifact, like a star born inside, ready to explode at any moment.
“Should I... really touch it?” I whisper, barely audible. A shiver runs down my spine as I inch closer.
But Zyar’s words echo within me. I must form the connection. There is no other way. With each step, the air around me feels denser, as if time itself has decided to pause, waiting for this moment.
I summon all my courage, my breath catches as I extend my finger. The moment seems to stretch endlessly. Finally, my fingertip brushes against the smooth, icy surface of the Astralis.
Suddenly, the light explodes in a burst of blinding brilliance. It erupts in all directions, so bright that it seems to tear shadows from the depths of reality. I scream and shield my eyes with my arm. My heart hammers in my chest, the world blurs into a swirling chaos of light and darkness.
Then—complete silence.
A single, crystal-clear drop of water falls, the sound echoing through the void, so close to my ear that I can almost feel it. Instinctively, I open my eyes, and the world I now see is no longer the same.
I stand at the edge of a waterfall, but the water is not falling—it’s rising, as if gravity has forgotten its rules. In the air float shimmering, light-filled wisps of mist, stretching across the sky like ghostly veils. Every breath I take is filled with a chill not from this world, a chill imbued with ancient magic.
The soft sound of a harp reaches my ear—strange and incomprehensible, as no instrument is visible. The sound hangs in the air as if born from the very streams of water. When I look toward the source of the sound, I see the horizon spiraling wide, as if the world is a vast painting, its colors woven into an endless dance.
The ground beneath my feet vibrates gently, as though it has come to life. And all around me, glowing, mysterious symbols float in the air, elusive, fleeting, as if they are messages from another reality.
I am no longer where I was. This is a place beyond imagination, beyond the boundaries of natural laws. A realm that can only be entered through the Astralis—and now, I’m here, unaware of where this path will lead me.
The Nexari—a dimension full of mysteries and magic, a place that eludes my understanding. The rules I’ve followed for so long do not exist here. The ground beneath me, a surface of violet grass—or whatever it is—feels soft and firm at the same time, like something that’s about to change form when you’re not looking. Above me, the sky spirals in endless swirls, in colors I’ve never seen before. Yet, despite all these incomprehensible wonders, the biggest question remains: Where am I? Am I trapped within the Astralis, or has the orb’s touch truly flung me into this strange dimension?
My thoughts race as a voice sounds behind me. Clear and strangely familiar, as if spun from the threads of the dimension itself.
“Master Isilyn, is that you?”
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The voice behind me is soft, almost like a distant whisper in the wind. I spin around hastily, my heart racing. A moment ago, I was alone, but now, sitting there on the violet grass—if it can even be called that—is a woman I didn’t hear approaching. She sits calmly, playing a harp, whose gentle tones I’d heard earlier.
Her face is covered by a golden mask, fully concealing her eyes. That means she cannot see in the conventional way, yet she appears completely aware of my presence, as if she had sensed me from the very beginning. Her hair, black as the deepest night, flows around her in meters, as if connected to the energy of this place itself. She moves with an effortless elegance, almost supernatural.
“I am…” I begin hesitantly, but my voice falters.
The woman gently places her fingers on the harp strings, letting the notes fade. She tilts her head slightly, as if listening, though she cannot see me. “You are not my master...” she states, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Are you perhaps…?”
I feel the pressure of her unspoken question, as though she’s penetrating my very being with a perception that doesn’t require sight.
“My name is Vespera...” I finally answer, my voice barely a whisper. “…Entium. I am the daughter of Isilyn Entium.”
The silence that follows is deep and profound. The world around us seems to quiet, as if absorbing my words. The woman doesn’t move, but something in her posture shifts, an almost imperceptible tension releasing, as if she had already known this truth.
“The daughter of Master Isilyn…” Her words are barely a breath, yet they carry a weight I can scarcely comprehend. “Then it is you whom the Astralis has called. It has sought you, Master Vespera… just as it once sought your mother.”
Though her eyes are hidden, I feel she’s seeing me in a way far beyond sight—as if she’s gazing into my soul, recognizing every memory, every doubt, every longing.
What does she mean? How could I have called the Astralis when I only learned of its existence today? My thoughts race, but before I can lose myself in the confusion of my own doubts, I force myself to ask the most pressing question.
“Who are you?” My voice sounds bolder than I feel.
The woman folds her hands calmly in her lap, as if what she’s about to say is an unchangeable truth. “My name is Aetherion. I am the guide through space and time, known in Elindros as the Astralis.”
The name echoes within me, like a distant echo touching something ancient inside me. “Aetherion...” I repeat the name softly, almost reverently. “And you served my mother?”
“Correct,” she replies without hesitation, her voice remaining calm as if this were an insignificant fact. “Your mother was one of my many masters.”
The weight of her words hits me harder than I expected. So many questions burn on my tongue, but I start with the most obvious. “What is the task you were created to fulfill?”
For the first time since we began speaking, Aetherion lifts her face slightly, as if gazing into a time long before my existence. Her voice softens, becoming almost reverent as she begins: “Many centuries ago—perhaps even since the dawn of time—I found myself here, in this place. A voice gave me the task of serving those who belong to the realm of the Losniws. I waited many years for my first master and served each one of them. Since then, I’ve remained here, alone, without contact with other beings, waiting for the moment my task would begin anew. I have been waiting for you, Master.”
The idea that someone could remain in complete solitude for so long shakes me to the core. I think of the years I felt alone, isolated from the world—but that pales in comparison to the unimaginable span of time Aetherion must have spent.
“Weren't you lonely at all?” I ask quietly, incredulously, almost horrified.
Aetherion seems not to understand my question. A strange expression crosses her masked face, and she turns to me as if searching for a meaning that is foreign to her.
“What does that mean, Master Vespera?” Her voice genuinely sounds confused. “Lonely?”
I pause, astonished by her unfamiliarity with this feeling. “Well…” I begin, unsure how to articulate it. “You have been alone in this place for thousands of years. You have spoken to no one except your masters. Have you never felt the desire to lead another life, to experience something... outside of your duty?”
For a moment, Aetherion is silent. Then she slowly shakes her head, and her response hits me with a coldness I did not expect.
“Master, this life was assigned to me. Why should I care for another? My existence has a single purpose, and that purpose is my task. I was created to serve. Everything I am and ever will be is inextricably tied to that.”
Her words resonate in the air, heavy and relentless, as if the dimension itself were carving them into stone. A shiver runs down my spine. What must it mean to exist without ever wishing for something different? No striving, no desire, no hope for more than what already is. I am horrified, yet simultaneously fascinated.
Aetherion's existence is the exact opposite of everything I have ever known—and yet, in this moment, I understand that she has accepted this eternal dedication to a task that I may never fully comprehend.
“Aetherion, do you know where my mother is now?” My voice trembles with anticipation. “I don’t know if you know my story, but until recently, I lived in the human world. There, the man I thought was my father told me that she had already died.”
Aetherion responds without hesitation, her voice calm and inscrutable: “Your story is well known to me, Mistress Vespera. Your connection to the Astralis grants me insight into your fate. However, I am not allowed to reveal it. Any interference could alter the course of time. Your past is inextricably woven into your destiny and has led you to this very point.”
“So you know my ending, but can’t show me the way?” I ask, confused. “Shouldn’t you, as my guide through space and time, ensure that I choose the right path?”
“How your journey will end, Master…” Aetherion begins, her voice as firm as fate itself. “…lies solely in your hands. The decisions you make along this path… no one must influence them. Yet I believe that you, like the Chosen Ones before you, will fulfill your destiny.”
“My destiny?” I repeat her words, as if trying to grasp their meaning. “And what is that?”
“The balance of Elindros,” she replies with an authority that leaves no room for doubt. “The Chosen of the Astralis have always been the rightful rulers. So too shall you be, Master Vespera. I will be by your side to accompany you on this journey and illuminate your path even in the deepest darkness.”
“And what happens next, Aetherion?” My voice wavers between curiosity and fear.
“Wherever fate leads you will be determined by your choices,” she repeats with calm seriousness. “But now you must return. From now on, I will watch over you, my master.”
“When will we meet again?” I ask, barely concealing my hope for information about Elindros.
Aetherion pauses briefly before responding with cool determination: “When it is all over, Master.”