“There,” Pluma says tying the last thread to Asterius’s formal robes, “Master is ready now.”

He smiles down at his seraphim, being careful not to tilt his head too far least he undo all of the hard work Pluma did to his hair, he thinks there are even more tassels and ornaments than last time. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises, giving Pluma a quick pat on the head, the angel preens and leans into the touch, making a soft chirp.

They both pause at the noise and before Asterius can say anything Pluma turns bright red and with a poof of feathers quickly escapes in his true form, nearly flying into a wall in his haste.

He can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him, thankfully Pluma is long gone so he doesn’t offend the little angel. Asterius wishes he could stay here, safe and happy in their tiny bubble of the heavens, but the plot must go on.

[System will be here to help]

[It is System’s job to keep Host safe after all!] It reads, sounding very smug for some reason, [Host can trust System to always have Host's back!]

He chuckles again, nodding at the message with a little smile, ‘Thanks for watching out for me System.’

[Of course! 😊]

“Master?”

He turns away from the message and instead locks eyes with the familiar silted red ones that belong to Cadeyrn. He’s dressed in the same dark black suit from last year, the same crystal-like star pinned to his label. And just like on that day a year ago he offers his hand once again. And just like last year, Asterius takes it without any hesitation.

..

It doesn’t take them long to reach the Palace of the Sun, it's just as golden and glittering as last time. The only difference is that the entire castle is now floating in the sky several stories up from the ground. A staircase of clouds now leads up to the main entrance.

‘The golden castle wasn’t showy enough?’ he thinks sarcastically as they slowly ascend the steps. At least Cadeyrn looks equally as relucent to walk on clouds, so he takes a small piece of comfort in that.

Once again as soon as they enter the main doors they are transported to the ballroom already nearly packed to the brim with Celestial, seems they had arrived a bit late, at least the ceremony hadn’t actually started yet.

[Host,] the System says appearing next to him and tilting its screen around like it's looking at the other guests, [Host should probably dismiss Cadeyrn so as not to appear OOC.]

He really doesn’t want to do that, but he still slips his arm out of the demon’s hold. Cadeyrn looks visibly confused, but at Asterius’s little wave towards the crowd, realization washes over his face. He frowns slightly but still bows in respect before heading off into the crowd.

Left to his own devices Asterius starts heading for the edge of the ballroom, planning on sticking to the wall and ignoring all the looks sent his way. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long, and he could go home before it got too late.

‘Any idea how long this-,’

“This is a happy event, so why are you here?”

Asterius stops, turning towards the raised voice, and he’s not the only person who is looking. A small group of goddesses are gathered together, surrounding a familiar dark-skinned woman with long purple hair – Vae.

“Yeah tragedy,” one of the goddesses laughs, turning her nose up, “You here to ruin the big day?”

The goddesses laugh as Vae just glares at them, one hand coiled tightly around her dagger, but never making a move to actually draw it. She couldn't really undraw it, for unsheathing it meant declaring war.

He glances around at the other spectators, but none of them are doing anything, most look bored or vaguely annoyed at the conversation, some just turn away pretending they don't see anything, and a few even look like they agree.

‘This place is sick,’ he thinks, disgust boiling in his blood.

[Host can’t interfere!] The System warns a bit red at the edges, [Vae is supposed to be bullied by the other Celestials!]

Just because it’s supposed to happen for the plot doesn’t mean it should. Still, he knows he can’t interfere directly but-,

He summons the weave, letting a few strings shimmer into the air around him. It takes a bit of effort but he finds one connected to one of the rude goddesses surrounding Vae. It gives it a tug, and the laughing girl gasps and clasps at her chest, shaking.

“Wh-what are you doing!?” She accuses Vae looking at her in horror.

[Host-!]

‘I didn’t mean to pull that hard,’ he thinks back, quickly finding another string and giving this one only a firm tap instead of a tug. The goddess it's connected to still shakes like a leaf and glances around frantically. Her eyes lock with his and her face goes pale.

“L-Lord As-Asterius!” she greets in a stammer.

The other goddesses all spin to face him as well, muttering out greetings and staring worriedly at the strings twining around his fingers, strings they must know belong to them.

“H-Have we offended you in some way my lord?”

His eyebrow rise must convey how much he finds that a stupid question because they all start apologizing over top of each other. He sighs and lets the Weave disappear with an audible chime of a bell.

He doesn’t bother giving them a response as he turns around, heading towards the wall, only sparing a moment to glance at Vae, who’s looking at him like a complete stranger. That blank look hurts more than it should, he had only known her for a month, but still the loss weighs on him like a physical wound. He knew she would be distant because of the cut string, but he didn’t think-

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

‘I thought you said she would only lose all feelings, not memories?’

[That’s what System’s database says] The System defends, [Vae should still know who you are. A cut string only breaks the future it has no effect on the past.]

He sends another glance towards Vae, and he wasn’t imagining it. She looks completely puzzled, staring back at him curiously. The System’s window also turns as if to look at her before turning back around with a [☹]

[Perhaps System’s database is wrong once-]

“My friends!”

Asterius shifts his attention from the text box to the High Seraphim standing before the throne, golden red wings outstretched behind him high enough to block some of the light in the room. “While today is also a day of grief it is also a day of new beginnings. For on this day we lost our ruler, the great Heilous-,”

Asterius sort of tunes the speech out thinking back to the day of Shadowed Sun,

‘If it has been exactly a year…’ he thinks shifting his gaze towards the floor, ‘then it should also be Maria’s birthday.’

It doesn’t take much to tap into the Weave again, especially since he’s only pulling on one thread, a thread he’s very familiar with. The lesser angels surrounding him flinch and shift a few more steps away, but he pays them no mind, carefully twining the glittering string around his fingers.

Through the loops of the thread, he can see a fractured future, Maria, now 1-year-old, squished happily between her two mothers, a wide-gapped tooth grin on her face that mirrors the proud smiles of her parents. Her tight brown curls are sticking up in every direction and there’s cake smeared all over her little, chubby tan face. A new set of painted wooden blocks is scattered in front of them and Maria is having the time of her life trying to stack the yellow cube on top of her own little feet.

'At least someone is having a nice day,’ he thinks fondly, sending his own private well wishes to the female lead, before letting the weave drop once more.

Satisfied that the plot is still (mostly) on track, he re-focuses on the boring speech, only catching the tail end, “-and now that the year of mourning is over, we shall bestow the Crown of Creation to the Regent of the Royal Sun, so she may officially take her role till the next Royal Sun is selected by the mortal born god.”

Asterius can feel the eyes shift to glare at him, damming him for his choice, he doesn’t return any of their looks as Sanctus continues, “So to perform this crowning ceremony we have selected the most worthy god,” and Sanctus’s eyes lock on to Asterius’s own, a sudden chill races down his spine as he sees the High Seraphim smile, “It is only right that the one who made Messis Regent of the Royal Sun, should be the one to perform the rite. Asterius, god of fate, please come forward.”

If the whole room wasn’t looking at him before, they certainly are now. It feels like his legs have grown roots locking him in place, he’s not sure he could move even if he wanted to, but he does his best to force the surprise off his face, staring blankly back at Sanctus.

“I-,” Before he can finish a bright red text box pops right in front of his face, and he barely manages to not flinch.

[HOST MUST ACCEPT!!!]

He grits his teeth in anger, but switches what he was going to say, “I would be honored.”

No one believes it, but no one stops him as he walks forward, keeping his back straight and head held high.

His footsteps echo on the marble, ringing loudly with the matching chime of his hair ornaments. They are the only sound in the room, minus the low hush of whispers. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cadeyrn at the front of the crowd, a deep pinch to his brows, the magical binds on his arms glowing faintly. Asterius prays that he stays put and doesn’t do anything rash, one false move here and it was all over.

He stops just before the dais, Sanctus steps aside and motions behind him, towards the golden throne and the even more golden crown sitting atop it. Taking a deep breath, he steps up onto the platform. He’s not sure if its in his head but the air feels noticeably warmer the closer he gets to the crown, just standing in front of it is like being in direct sunlight on a clear summer day. He reaches out but hesitates, unsure if he should really be touching the sentient crown.

[Host…,] the System warns edges a mix of red and black, [quickly!]

He steels his resolve and reaches out-

It’s hot, burning hot. His muscles seize and a power not his own rushes through his veins, a familiar painful heat. His breath stutters, the painful memories of the burning heat pulling the threads of fate from his body re-surfacing with a vengeance. This is the power of the Royal Sun, of the God Emperor, and it BURNS.

He forces his lungs to work and his feet to move, turning around to face the crowd, trying to keep the pain off his face, judging by Senatus’s fake pitying eyes, he knew what would happen if Asterius touched it. Still, he keeps his grip firm and walks forward, to where Messis is towering above him. She’s dressed in deep red-brown maple leaves for the occasion, a scythe made of twisting branches strapped to her back. She doesn’t say anything just stares down at him with a dark unreadable look as she slowly gets on one knee, bowing her head forward so that Asterius can rest the crown on her head. It ripples and expands to easily fit around her brow like it was always for her.

He goes to let go but-

Some of the shifting liquid gold has winded its way up his fingers, keeping his hands locked to the crown.

[Host let go!]

‘I can’t!’ he thinks back desperately, trying again to tug his hand free. ‘Why isn’t it-,’

“What are you?”

It is less a voice and more an impression of words conveyed in a rapid-fire string of images and feelings, but he can still understand the question as clearly as if the words had been spoken.

“You are not our design.”

He stares down at the shifting liquid crown, knowing in his soul that it’s the crown that’s speaking to him. He had forgotten that this was a piece of the Primordial Creation, this was the real “god” of this world, of course it would know that the current Asterius was an imposter.

“Hmmm,” and there’s a hum-like buzz filling his mind, “little curious impossible thing,” and he knows it is referring to him as it talks, “Why are you here?”

‘Because I have to be,’ he thinks in answer without really meaning to.

“And you seek to become a true god?”

‘No!’ he quickly denies, ‘I just want to go home, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you-‘

“Oh, what a funny silly thing,” and it almost feels like an amused grandmother indulging a naughty grandchild, “Do as you will little impossibility. We did not mean to frighten you,” and the golden threads unwind from his fingers, “we just wanted to say hello. Continue with your performance, we are eagerly watching!”

And whatever connection it had formed breaks, Asterius takes a heaving breath and pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and it almost feels like he has, his veins still burn too hot, and everything he sees carries a golden tint. But he’s alive.

Messis gives him a curious look but doesn't bother asking anything. Just stands up and spins to face the crowd, standing regal in the face of their cheers, beginning to give her own speech, but her words are just white noise to his fried brain. Every inch of him feels too real, too defined. He just touched a piece of creation and lived-

A warm hand firmly grabs his shoulder, and before he can turn around to see who it is a familiar voice whispers just behind him.

“No need to be afraid little Starling,” the High Seraphim coos into his ear, and he can’t force down the shiver that races up his spine, “I would never let anything happen to you. Now be good for me and smile for the occasion, won’t you?”

Disgust and hatred boil in his body, but the chilling stab of fear forces down everything else. Despite wanting to do nothing more than turn around and punch the stupid High Seraphim, he forces a smile to his face.

"There's my good Starling," he whispers, gentling his hold on Asterius's shoulder, "and don't worry over whatever the crown told you, you only need to listen to me."

He nods stiffly, trying desperately to not think about the heavy gaze he can feel fixated on him. Santucs was bad enough but now he had somehow attracted the Primordial Creaton's attention, and neither of them are going to be leaving him alone anytime soon.