Alden stood in the center of his quarters, a faint blue glow illuminating his face as he swiped his hand across the crystal interface of his echo device. The room, though modest by the standards of the palace, carried a sense of understated elegance befitting the heir of a duchy. Smooth obsidian walls, etched with faint glyphs that pulsed softly like breathing embers, surrounded him. Thin lines of light ran through the grooves of the walls, channeling energy from the palace’s magical grid to power the various devices scattered throughout the chamber. Above him, a lattice of enchanted glass panels reflected the pale light of Umbralumara's twin moons, giving the ceiling the illusion of a starry sky.

Alden’s eyes remained fixed on the glowing screen hovering in front of him, his fingers moving swiftly across the projection. The crystal echo device, mounted on a sleek pedestal at the edge of his desk, responded to his touch with seamless precision, its arcane core humming faintly. Rows of text and glowing sigils scrolled past, the interactive interface displaying estate reports, declarations, and magical correspondence—all of it tied to the management of House Fairwood.

He leaned forward, focusing on a report about resource allocations for the Veilwood Shroud, his family’s ancestral lands. A part of him wanted to leave the ruins untouched, to preserve them as a memorial, but another part knew that decisions like this could not wait forever. His parents had handled these responsibilities with grace, weaving diplomacy, duty, and wisdom into every choice. Now it was his turn.

The echo device chimed softly, signaling the completion of a task. Alden swiped the air to close the glowing window, the holographic projection folding into itself and fading back into the crystal core. He stepped back, letting out a slow breath. The work was finished. Or at least, as finished as he could make it before leaving.

The knock at the door was soft but distinct, pulling Alden from his thoughts. The echoes of Empress Serkai’s revelation four days earlier still lingered in his mind—the person responsible for your family’s deaths might be in the Galactic Council. The weight of those words pressed against his chest as he turned toward the door.

“Enter,” he called, his voice steady but laced with weariness.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing Marla. She stepped inside, her movements precise yet purposeful, the faint hum of the palace’s energy conduits catching the light on her crisp uniform. In her arms, she carried a neatly folded travel cloak, its dark fabric embroidered with silver threads depicting the crest of House Fairwood: a crescent moon cradling a shard of light.

“Your Grace,” Marla said, inclining her head. Her tone was formal, but her eyes, warm and observant, lingered on him with a mix of pride and concern. “The surface transport is nearly ready. They’ll be expecting you in the atrium shortly.”

Alden gave a small nod, his gaze shifting briefly to the echo device. Its crystalline surface had dimmed, the last of his reports safely archived and transmitted. “I’m ready,” he said, though the words felt heavier than he intended.

Marla stepped further into the room, setting the cloak down carefully on the edge of the bed. Her gaze flicked to the pedestal housing the echo device, then to the softly glowing glyphs embedded in the walls. The room, though steeped in advanced magical technology, felt almost too cold for someone so young. She had served the royal family for over fifteen years and was accustomed to grandeur, but something about this space—its quiet efficiency, its focus on function over comfort—seemed to mirror the boy standing before her.

“You’ve been working nonstop since Her Majesty’s announcement,” Marla said, her voice gentler now. “Ensuring everything’s in order, taking on responsibilities even the most seasoned of nobles would struggle with. But... you’re still just one person, Alden.”

He blinked at the sound of his name, rare from her lips. It wasn’t disrespectful—it was a reminder that she wasn’t speaking as an attendant at that moment, but as someone who cared.

“I know,” he replied, his tone quieter but firm. “That’s why I’ve made sure everything is accounted for. The estate stewards have clear instructions. The investigations are continuing. I’ve finalized every loose end I can think of.” His green eyes met hers, sharp with determination. “When I leave, I won’t leave chaos behind.”

Marla nodded slowly, her hands smoothing the fabric of the cloak she had just set down. “I know you won’t. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry all of this alone.”

Alden glanced away, his gaze drifting back to the echo device. Its crystalline structure reflected the faint light of the room, and for a moment, he saw himself in its surface—a young boy trying to hold together a legacy far greater than he could understand.

“I’ve asked for help where I needed it,” he said, his voice steady. “From the stewards, from the Empress. From you.” He turned back to her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But at some point, I have to carry this myself. That’s what a Duke does, isn’t it?”

Marla’s chest tightened at the weight in his words. He spoke with such conviction, such resolve, and yet she couldn’t ignore the shadow of grief that still lingered in his eyes.

“Even Dukes have attendants,” she said softly. “You don’t have to shoulder everything alone, Alden. Elkianara trusted me to serve you, and I hope I’ve proven I’m worthy of that trust.”

“You have,” he said without hesitation. “More than that. I’m not sure I would have managed these past few months without you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and for a moment, she could only nod. There was so much she wanted to say—to reassure him, to remind him that he was still allowed to falter—but the words tangled in her throat. Instead, she busied herself adjusting the clasp of the cloak, ensuring it would sit properly over his shoulders.

“I’ve packed everything you’ll need for the journey,” she said, her tone returning to its professional cadence. “Your formal attire, your personal effects, and a few... reminders of home.” She hesitated, then added, “You’ll have me there to make sure you’re taken care of. And I’ll make sure you don’t forget to rest, even if I have to drag you away from those reports myself.”

Alden chuckled faintly, the sound fleeting but genuine. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A soft chime echoed through the room, signaling the readiness of the surface transport waiting to take him to the shuttle. Marla straightened, her expression smoothing into calm efficiency. “It’s time, Your Grace.”

Alden nodded, fastening the cloak around his shoulders. He glanced around the room one last time—the echo device, the glowing glyphs, the faint reflections of the enchanted ceiling above. This had been his space, his sanctuary, for the past few months. Now, it was time to leave it behind.

“Let’s go,” he said, stepping toward the door.

Marla followed, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. As they stepped into the corridor, the faint hum of the palace’s magical grid surrounded them once more, a steady rhythm that felt almost alive. She glanced at Alden’s back, her heart swelling with quiet admiration. He had changed so much in such a short time—transformed from a broken, grieving boy into someone who carried the weight of his name with dignity.

Whatever challenges awaited him at Starlight, Marla promised herself she would be there to help him face them.

***

The Starlight Magic Academy's atrium was a place of otherworldly beauty. Arched windows lined the room, revealing the swirling, radiant light of the Class O star the station orbited. Its brilliant rays refracted through stained-glass panels depicting historic moments of magical achievement, casting shimmering patterns of gold, violet, and sapphire across the marble floor. The air itself hummed faintly, a mixture of the station’s advanced magical infrastructure and the perpetual background noise of a living star just beyond its walls.

Elkianara stood at one of the grand windows, her back straight and her hands folded neatly in front of her. To anyone watching, she was the picture of poise—regal, composed, untouchable. The other students had dubbed her “Princess of Starlight,” not only because of her royal lineage but because she carried herself as though the title were her birthright. Her uniform, tailored to perfection, seemed to gleam under the cosmic light, and her movements always held a quiet grace that made people hesitate before approaching her. Most of her peers revered her from a distance, unsure whether to treat her with respect or awe.

But the air of calm she projected was carefully crafted. Inside, Elkianara’s thoughts churned, far from composed.

It had been months since Alden had arrived at the palace after the so-called accident at Fairwood Manor. Elkianara had been there that day, standing beside her mother when they brought his unconscious, battered form into the palace infirmary. She remembered the bruises on his face, the pale tint to his skin, and the shallow, labored way he breathed. He’d looked so small and fragile, a shadow of the boy she remembered playing with in the palace gardens when they were little.

She had stayed by his bedside for days after he regained consciousness, speaking softly to him, telling him stories of their childhood, trying to coax him out of the lifeless haze that had consumed him. She had talked to him about the time they’d snuck cakes out of the palace kitchen and almost been caught, the time he’d tried to teach her how to climb a tree and fell into a rose bush instead, and the time they’d pretended the small pond in the gardens was an endless ocean, setting sail with paper boats.

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At first, he hadn’t responded at all, his green eyes dull and unfocused, staring into a void Elkianara couldn’t reach. But she kept trying, holding onto the belief that somewhere inside him, the Alden she remembered still existed.

Then, one day, just before she had to leave for Starlight, she thought she saw a flicker of something—a faint spark in his eyes, a shift in his expression. But it wasn’t enough. When she left, he was still the hollow shell he’d been since that awful night.

Her mother’s messages over the last few months had been carefully worded, but Elkianara knew Serkai too well to miss the subtle hints. The Empress suspected the "accident" had been deliberate. It wasn’t like her mother to allude to such things unless she wanted to communicate a deeper truth without saying it outright. Elkianara had read between the lines, and the thought that someone had targeted Alden’s family—possibly as part of a larger scheme—left her stomach twisted in knots.

Now, after months apart, Alden was finally coming to Starlight. Serkai had written that he’d found his resolve, but Elkianara hadn’t seen him since the transformation had taken place. She had no idea what to expect, and the uncertainty gnawed at her.

“Elkianara, still brooding at the window?”

Kael’s voice broke through her thoughts, calm and slightly teasing. He approached her with his usual unhurried stride, his pale blue eyes glinting with quiet amusement. His uniform, as always, was slightly disheveled, the top button undone and his sleeves rolled up as if he’d just come from the workshop.

“I’m not brooding,” Elkianara replied evenly, though her fingers tightened slightly around the railing.

Kael leaned against a nearby pillar, his posture casual but his gaze sharp. “Sure you’re not. You’ve only been standing there for the last twenty minutes, staring out into space like a statue.”

“I’m waiting,” she said simply.

“For him?” Kael asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elkianara nodded, her composure unshaken.

Kael’s lips twitched into a smirk. “I still don’t get it. You’re practically royalty here—‘Princess of Starlight’ and all that—and yet you’re pacing the floor for some boy you haven’t seen in months?”

She turned to him, her gaze steady. “Alden isn’t just some boy. He’s family.”

Kael tilted his head, his expression skeptical but curious. “Not by blood.”

“No,” Elkianara admitted. “But that doesn’t matter. He’s important to me.”

Kael studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Before Elkianara could respond, Talika’s sharp voice cut through the space between them.

“Important, huh? Should we be worried?”

Talika strode toward them, her auburn hair tied back with a bright violet ribbon that matched the accents on her uniform. Her golden-brown eyes sparkled with mischief, though there was an edge of concern beneath her playful tone.

Elkianara frowned slightly. “Worried about what?”

Talika smirked, crossing her arms. “Oh, you know. That you’re going to trip over your royal robes trying to impress him. Or that maybe—just maybe—you’ve got a little crush.”

Elkianara’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and she turned sharply back toward the window. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Talika pressed, grinning. “You’ve been talking about him since we got here. And now you’re standing here like a lovesick maiden waiting for her knight to ride in.”

“I am not lovesick,” Elkianara said firmly, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

Kael chuckled, leaning casually against the pillar. “She’s definitely blushing.”

“I am not,” Elkianara insisted, her voice rising slightly.

Before Talika could push further, Jalen’s voice rang out from behind them.

“What’s this about blushing? Did Elkianara finally fall for someone?”

He strolled into the atrium with his usual swagger, flipping a small dagger in the air as he walked. His amber eyes gleamed with amusement as he took in the scene.

“Her not-cousin Alden is on his way,” Kael said, his tone dry but teasing. “Apparently, it’s a big deal.”

“Not-cousin, huh?” Jalen said, his grin widening. “Sounds juicy. Are we talking childhood sweetheart vibes? Star-crossed lovers? Or is he secretly her bodyguard in disguise?”

Elkianara turned to him with a withering glare, though her blush deepened. “It’s nothing like that. He’s family.”

“Sure, sure,” Jalen said, waving a hand dismissively. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

Talika snickered, and even Kael’s lips twitched with amusement.

Elkianara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re all impossible.”

“And yet, you’d be lost without us,” Jalen quipped, tossing his dagger into the air and catching it again.

Despite herself, Elkianara let out a soft laugh. “Unfortunately, that’s true.”

For a moment, the teasing subsided, and the four of them stood together, the hum of the station filling the space around them. But Elkianara’s thoughts drifted once more, her gaze returning to the vastness of space beyond the window.

***

The palace atrium glittered like a living jewel, its crystalline dome refracting the late morning sunlight into cascades of rainbow hues that danced across the polished floors. Pillars of etched quartz shimmered faintly with embedded magical conduits, their glow pulsing in time with the steady hum of energy that filled the room. The air was cool but alive with the quiet power of the Empire, a fitting backdrop for the sleek transport ship waiting just beyond the open archway. Its elegant design—sharp, angular lines and shimmering black metal streaked with silver accents—reflected both technological precision and magical refinement. The ship’s engines thrummed softly, a barely-contained energy that seemed to mirror the emotions swirling within Alden.

He stood beside Empress Serkai, his posture straight but his hands clenched tightly at his sides. The weight of everything—the journey ahead, the expectations placed upon him, the lingering grief he still carried—pressed down on his shoulders like the full weight of the palace itself.

“This is the right decision,” Serkai said, her voice even and measured. She was dressed in her signature crimson coat, the fabric catching the prismatic light and making her seem even more imposing, more untouchable. But her tone held a faint softness, one that only someone who knew her well would catch.

“I know,” Alden replied, his jaw tightening as he stared at the transport ship. Its polished hull gleamed, almost mocking in its perfection. “It doesn’t mean I like it.”

Serkai’s gaze shifted to him, her piercing blue eyes softening for just a moment. The Empress rarely showed vulnerability, not even to those closest to her, but here, in this fleeting moment, she allowed herself to let the mask slip.

“No one said you had to like it,” she said gently. “Only that you had to do it.”

Alden nodded, her words landing with the weight of truth. He glanced up at her, catching the faintest glimmer of something familiar in her expression—something that reminded him of the warmth she’d shown him as a child, long before titles and tragedy had redefined their relationship.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, the words feeling both too small and too heavy for everything they carried.

Serkai tilted her head, the faintest flicker of curiosity crossing her features. “For what?”

“For not giving up on me,” Alden replied. His voice was low but steady, carrying with it the gravity of all the moments he’d spent adrift, unsure if anyone still believed in him—if he even believed in himself.

Serkai’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her touch firm but comforting. It wasn’t the gesture of an Empress; it was the touch of someone who understood the burdens he carried, someone who saw the strength he didn’t yet see in himself.

“You’re stronger than you think, Alden,” she said, her voice quiet but deliberate. “But strength isn’t about holding everything in. It’s about knowing when to lean on others.”

Alden looked away, his throat tightening as her words settled over him. He wanted to argue, to tell her that leaning on others hadn’t saved his parents, hadn’t stopped the destruction of everything he knew. But deep down, he couldn’t deny the truth in her words.

“I’ll remember that,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

The transport ship’s boarding ramp lowered with a soft hiss, its sleek panels unfolding like the petals of a metallic flower. The hum of its engines grew slightly louder, signaling that the moment had come.

Alden took a step toward the ramp, his polished boots clicking softly against the marble floor. He stopped just before ascending, turning back to face Serkai one last time. His green eyes, sharper and more resolute than they’d been in months, locked onto hers.

“I’ll come back better,” he said, his voice steady and laced with quiet determination.

Serkai’s gaze didn’t waver. She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before giving a single, regal nod. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, her tone carrying the weight of both a promise and a challenge.

Alden inclined his head, then turned and ascended the ramp, each step deliberate. The ship’s door sealed behind him with a quiet hiss, and the atrium fell silent save for the fading hum of the engines.

Serkai stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the spot where he’d disappeared. For all her composure, a faint flicker of emotion crossed her face—pride, concern, and something deeper, something unspoken. “You’ll need more than determination, Alden,” she murmured to herself, the words barely audible. “But I believe in you.”

***

On the Starlight Academy station, Elkianara’s quarters were a blend of regal refinement and practical efficiency. The room was spacious by Academy standards, its high ceilings and arched windows reminiscent of the palace back home. The furniture, sleek and minimalist, was accented with touches of Umbralumaran design—a carved wooden headboard, an embroidered throw in deep crimson and gold, a small crystalline lamp that pulsed faintly with magical light.

Elkianara moved purposefully around the room, her normally serene expression betrayed by the faint tension in her brow. She sifted through her belongings with practiced precision, setting aside items she thought Alden might need: an extra set of Starlight uniforms, a compact holo-guide to the station’s layout and customs, and a small package of spice-fruit pastries from Umbralumara—the kind they’d both loved as children.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, but her mind kept drifting to Alden. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been a hollow shell of himself, lost in grief and despair. Her mother’s messages had hinted at his transformation, but Elkianara couldn’t picture it. The Alden she remembered—the bright, determined boy who’d always tried to take on more than he could handle—felt like a distant memory.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“You know, you’re not his babysitter,” Talika said from the doorway, her tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Elkianara turned, holding the box of pastries in her hands. Talika leaned casually against the frame, her golden-brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I know,” Elkianara replied evenly, though her voice was tinged with defensiveness. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

Talika stepped into the room, her arms crossed. “You’ve been talking about this Alden guy for months. Now you’re running around like he’s a visiting dignitary. Are you sure this is just about helping?”

Elkianara blinked, caught off guard. “What are you implying?”

“Oh, nothing,” Talika said, her grin widening. “Just that you might have a little... interest in him. You know, more than a friendly one.”

Elkianara’s cheeks flushed pink, and she quickly turned back to her desk, pretending to busy herself with arranging the uniforms. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Talika pressed, leaning closer. “Because you’re blushing.”

“I am not,” Elkianara snapped, though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

Kael’s voice chimed in from the doorway. “Oh, she’s definitely blushing.”

Elkianara groaned, shooting Kael an exasperated look as he strolled into the room, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“What are we talking about?” Jalen’s voice rang out as he appeared behind Kael, his usual swagger in full force.

“Elkianara’s not-crush on her not-cousin Alden,” Kael said, smirking.

Jalen’s amber eyes lit up with amusement. “I’m going to have to call it now—this kid’s a heartbreaker.”

Elkianara turned to glare at them both, her cheeks now fully flushed. “You’re all insufferable.”

“And yet, you love us,” Jalen quipped, grinning.

Talika shook her head, laughing softly. “Fine, fine. We’ll stop teasing. For now.”

Despite herself, Elkianara laughed. For a moment, the tension in her chest eased, replaced by the warmth of friendship. But as her gaze drifted back to the window, where the star burned brightly against the endless expanse of space, her thoughts returned to Alden.