Astra, Vesper, and the three scions moved through the lively streets of Duskfall, the festive atmosphere around them overwhelming in its beauty and chaos. The city had come alive for the Springtime Advent Festival, a celebration marking the transition of the seasons—a time when the different realms would send their exotic goods to trade, and the people would gather to enjoy the warmth and renewal of the earth.
The twilight sky above stretched in soft hues of lavender and pink, the stars beginning to wink into view as night approached. The atmosphere was thick with the sounds of laughter, music, and the occasional burst of fireworks from the horizon, illuminating the streets with brilliant flashes of color. Vendors lined the streets with colorful stalls, selling exotic trinkets, fabrics, and foods from across the realms. The air was rich with the scent of roasting meats, sweet pastries, and fragrant spices, mingling with the lighter floral notes of blooming starflowers and desert jasmine.
As they walked, the group passed by a stall piled high with dried fruits from the desert, and Samir immediately grabbed a handful of tangy golden dates, offering them to Astra with a playful grin. "You haven't truly experienced the desert until you've tasted these. Try one, Astra."
Astra raised an eyebrow, but he accepted the offering, biting into the fruit. The sweetness was sharp and contrasted with a slight bitterness, the flavors dancing on his tongue in a way he hadn't expected. "Not bad," Astra muttered, though his lips twitched upward.
"Delicious, isn't it?" Samir asked, clearly pleased with himself.
They moved on, the sounds of a distant drumbeat growing louder as they neared an open-air square where musicians played traditional instruments from across the realms—harps, sitars, and drums echoing with rhythmic pulse. Women in vibrant silk dresses spun around, their movements as fluid as the desert wind, while the men, too, were adorned in the bright colors of their cultures. The music swirled through the air like a living thing, pulling everyone into its rhythm, and Astra couldn't help but be caught in the moment.
At another stall, they found skewers of spiced meats from the desert—lamb, camel, and even strange creatures from the distant lands of Alfheim. Azraq reached out to grab a skewer of roasted meat, offering it to Astra. "Try this," he said quietly, his calm voice cutting through the bustle of the crowd. "It's from the Oases of Wai, where the meat is cooked over fire pits made from ancient stones."
Astra hesitated for only a moment before biting into the tender, smoky meat. His eyes widened, the rich flavors of spices and herbs flooding his senses. "Okay, I'll admit it. This is better than expected." He shot Azraq a smirk.
The group continued on, laughing and sampling more exotic treats. They stopped at a stall filled with jewel-like sweets coated in honey from the far-off lands of Snaer, and another stall offering brightly colored teas and frozen treats infused with herbs from Alfheim's sacred groves. Vesper, as usual, was in high spirits, egging Samir into a playful argument over which realm produced the finest delicacies, while Azraq quietly observed, enjoying the moments of peace amidst the chaos.
As they strolled through the bustling streets, they passed a gathering of noble girls from various houses, their delicate forms draped in silk and fine jewelry. They eyed the young men with interest, and a few of them made casual attempts to catch their attention. Vesper, ever the charmer, was quick to flash them a grin, teasing them lightly, while Samir—always quick with a smile and a wink—flashed one of his own. Azraq, for all his calmness, offered a subtle but polite nod to one girl who caught his attention, though he seemed much less engaged than the others.
Astra, watching the interactions, felt an odd sense of distance. While he too was often the subject of attention from noble girls, he could never fully lose himself in such frivolous exchanges. His mind was far too occupied with the competition ahead, the looming expectations, and the weight of his own history. Yet, as he walked beside the others, he found a rare sense of relaxation—of ease among people who understood him, even if they came from houses with reputations all their own.
But as the day wore on, Astra's attention shifted. Despite all the activity around them, something nagged at him. The more time he spent with Khalid, Azraq, and Samir, the more he realized that they weren't just powerful scions—they were dangerously skilled, even if they weren't participating in the festival's competitions.
Khalid, with his calculating eyes and deadly precision, seemed to hold a quiet, dangerous power beneath his calm exterior. He never boasted, never showed off his strength, but Astra knew that House Mirage's affinity for illusions wasn't just for show. There was a sharpness to Khalid's movements that suggested years of training in the art of deception and strategy. He was a master of his craft, and Astra could feel the weight of his presence, even when he stood still.
Azraq, too, had a presence that spoke of an understated power. His control over water was something that left him speechless. The way he walked with effortless grace, his every movement measured and controlled, suggested that his strength lay not only in his ability to manipulate the elements but in his own mental discipline. His power wasn't in the flashy displays like some other scions; it was subtle, quiet, and utterly dangerous.
Then there was Samir, the trickster of the group, always laughing, always quick to make light of any situation. But Astra could see it in the way Samir shifted, in the way his eyes narrowed when a challenge was presented. House Sand's mastery over the desert dunes was more than just the ability to summon sandstorms—it was a deeper, elemental connection to the land itself. Samir's agility, his speed, and the way he could make the sand move beneath his feet with a mere thought made him a formidable opponent, one who hid his true strength behind a veil of mirth.
None of them were participating in the upcoming tournament, and Astra couldn't help but compare their abilities to Vesper's. Vesper, with his easy confidence and the raw, unrefined power of his strength, was a force of nature in his own right—unpredictable and wild. But these three... they were controlled, precise, and as powerful as anyone who held a mythical mana core. Yet, they chose not to compete.
It dawned on Astra, slowly, as the night grew darker and the fireworks painted the sky above them in brilliant streaks of light: these men, Khalid, Azraq, and Samir, were not so different from him. They, too, had power that ran deeper than what appeared on the surface, and in some ways, their strength rivaled Vesper's—but they had chosen to walk their own paths, separate from the tournament. Each had his own reason, perhaps, but Astra couldn't help but feel a growing sense of respect for them.
As they made their way through the festival, Astra fell into step with them, allowing himself to simply enjoy the moment. The city was alive around him, filled with music, firelight, and color, and for a fleeting moment, Astra allowed himself to relax among his friends—the scions of the Great Houses who were not quite his equals, but who were certainly not far behind.
The festival thrived around them, a dazzling symphony of color, sound, and scent. Fireworks bloomed like celestial flowers in the twilight sky, their radiant hues painting the streets in flickering golds, reds, and violets. Music filled the air—rhythmic drumbeats and the lilting melodies of flutes mingling with the excited laughter of nobles and commoners alike. Stalls lined the streets, draped in rich silks and adorned with lanterns that shimmered like captured stardust. The scent of exotic spices, roasted meats, and sweet honeyed pastries drifted through the air, enticing Astra and his companions as they meandered through the crowd.
Khalid, ever the connoisseur of fine foods, seized a skewer of flame-grilled beast from a vendor, the meat seared with a blend of foreign spices. Azraq and Samir followed suit, plucking up delicacies from various realms—Shaharan honey dates, Apu's smoked fish, and Wai's crystal-clear fruit jellies that shimmered like gemstones. Astra, for once, allowed himself to indulge, relishing the brief respite from his ever-present worries.
The city was alive, a dream of light and sound.
Pretty noblewomen in flowing dresses of moon-silver and star-blue approached, their voices lilting with laughter as they conversed with the young men. Khalid, as usual, charmed them effortlessly, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. Azraq, ever composed, offered subtle, knowing smiles, while Samir, the most straightforward of them, openly enjoyed the flirtation. Astra, however, found his attention wandering.
Something was... off.
A shiver danced along his spine, a subtle pressure in the air that no one else seemed to notice. The festival around him—so vibrant, so full of life—began to feel distant. The laughter blurred, the music warping into a slow, droning hum. The colors dimmed, as though something unseen was leeching the vibrancy from the world. Even the fireworks seemed to fade, their sparks swallowed by an unseen abyss.
Then, he saw him.
A lone figure, draped in a cloak of shadow and dust, sat on the cold, desolate sands of the festival grounds. His posture was casual, almost indifferent, but his presence weighed upon reality itself. The robe he wore, once white and pure, was now tarnished by time and the desert's cruelty, the fabric clinging to his form like a burial shroud. And yet, none of the revelers seemed to notice him.
None but Astra.
The figure's gaze lifted, his eyes twin pools of deep, endless violet. He studied Astra, head tilting ever so slightly.
A slow, creeping smile stretched across his face.
"You... a mere Rank One?" His voice was low, rich with amusement and something deeper—something ancient. "You can see me?"
The world around them froze.
Astra's breath caught in his throat. The wind ceased, the music cut to an eerie silence, and even the floating embers from the lanterns hung suspended in midair. His companions stood mid-step, their expressions frozen, caught in a moment that no longer flowed forward.
The stranger took a step closer, his presence an abyss of nothingness—no mana, no life, no essence. Yet deep within that void, Astra sensed something far worse than raw power. Something limitless.
"My, oh my... how despicable." The figure chuckled, his lips curling higher as he observed Astra like a specimen in a jar. "I can see it in you... the darkness. The corruption. Buried deep... but festering, isn't it?"
Astra couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The words slithered into his mind like tendrils, twisting, prodding at things he dared not acknowledge.
The stranger stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Revenge? Ambition? Yes... yes. So many delicious little seeds. I wonder, do you even realize what you truly are?"
Astra clenched his fists, his body trembling. "Who... what are you?"
The figure suddenly halted. His eyes narrowed, recognition flickering across his face. Then, abruptly, he threw his head back and laughed.
It was not a human sound. It was unhinged, raw, something wrong. The sky itself seemed to darken at the sound, the stars flickering like dying embers.
"Oh, gods! That proclamation... How bold. How despicable!" His laughter continued, uncontrollable, tears nearly brimming in his eyes as he clutched his sides. "You—you are him! The bastard from earlier!"
Astra had no idea what he was talking about, but the sheer delight in the being's voice unsettled him more than anything. He felt like prey being played with.
The stranger's laughter finally subsided, his gaze sharpening once more. "Alright, alright. I'm enjoying this... Here, boy. Take this."
He reached out and tapped Astra's forehead.
Pain.
Astra staggered, his vision fracturing into a kaleidoscope of horrors. Visions—of fallen angels locked in battle, of shattered thrones, of a figure that bore his face but whose eyes were not his own. Darkness swallowed him whole, devouring his mind, his soul—
And then it was gone.
Astra gasped, stumbling backward, his hands gripping his temples. "What... what did you do to me?! Who are you?!"
The stranger grinned, teeth gleaming like ivory daggers. "Me? I am but a humble devil. As for my name... you can't even hear it."
Astra's stomach dropped. His thoughts raced.
A devil. A being equal to an angel, yet utterly profane—terrifying, unshackled, bound by no laws of gods or men. A creature of pure, unrestrained madness and power.
They were the ultimate outcasts, unholy and absolute.
They were truly free.
And for a brief, dangerous moment, Astra felt a flicker of longing.
The devil studied him for another moment, then suddenly leaned in, his violet eyes burning through Astra's soul. "I see that dirty dwarf gave you a blessing already... but oh, oh, what's this? Fascinating... You are of Umbra and Noctis, aren't you? Ah, that would make you a scion of the defeated House of Night." His grin stretched wider. "Say...did you know your ancestors had four angels and....two devils in their ranks once? Truly despicable."
Astra's mind reeled. That couldn't be true. That—
The air around them shifted. The devil exhaled, irritated. "Ah, it seems my time is up. Those self-righteous bastards are starting to take notice..." He stepped back, tilting his head. "Take my Blessing of Curiosity, young pawn. It'll help you see things. Realize things."
The world snapped back.
Laughter, music, fireworks. The festival had never stopped. Astra stood in place, his friends walking ahead, oblivious.
His hands trembled.
What the fuck?
The moment the world returned to normal, Astra felt it—the shift, the disturbance in reality that made his very soul tremble.
His vision blurred, colors twisting, unraveling into threads of light and shadow. The air pulsed with something unseen, a rhythm beyond mortal perception. It was mana… but wrong. Twisted. Unnatural.
Astra swayed, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His whole being felt—wrong. But at the same time… right. His body rejected the sensation, yet something deep inside welcomed it, as if a long-lost part of himself had been awakened.
Sweat beaded down his temple. His hands trembled.
"A devil... no way."
He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself, but then he saw it—a golden thread.
It hovered above, thin yet impossibly vast, stretching beyond mortal comprehension. His eyes widened as the world around him seemed to slow, and suddenly, Astra saw them.
Two figures, hidden in plain sight, looming above him.
The first was unmistakable—the devil from before, his smirk twisted in amusement. His dark, swirling presence seemed to devour the very light around him.
The second…
A tall man, radiant yet cold, wreathed in celestial brilliance. His presence felt absolute, unyielding—an angel.
They locked eyes with Astra for a single, fleeting moment. And then—
They vanished.
Astra's heart pounded in his chest. He felt it, deep in his bones, in the very fabric of his being. They had been fighting.
An angel and a devil… waging battle right above him, unseen by anyone else.
His breath hitched. His mind reeled.
"Wait… why can I see this?"
Astra's breath was uneven, his fingers twitching at his sides as the last remnants of the vision lingered in his mind. The golden thread, the two figures, the twisted mana—his whole body still felt off, like he was standing between two realities.
"Hey, princess… you alright?"
Vesper's voice cut through the haze, laced with something Astra wasn't used to hearing from him—concern.
"You're sweating your ass off, and you're paler than usual."
Astra barely registered the words, too caught up in the overwhelming wrongness pulsing in his veins. But then—Vesper's expression shifted. His usual teasing demeanor faded as something in the air made him pause.
He felt it.
It was faint—so faint—but Astra saw the subtle change in Vesper's stance, the slight furrow in his brow. A tinge of something unseen, something off, brushing against his senses before vanishing like a whisper in the wind.
Vesper's crimson eyes narrowed. "Hey, Astra… you good?"
Astra swallowed, forcing himself to steady his breathing. He looked at Vesper, horror flickering in his gaze before he schooled his expression. "Yeah… yeah. But we need to talk later."
That was all it took.
Vesper's entire demeanor shifted.
The air grew heavier as the other three fell silent. Their casual, relaxed conversation died in an instant as they turned, sharp gazes locking onto Astra and Vesper.
They felt it too.
Their auras surged—not aggressively, but instinctively, like predators sensing a shift in the air. The easy-going, festive atmosphere was gone, replaced by something far more alert, far more dangerous.
A silent understanding passed between them.
"…Alright," Vesper finally said, voice quiet but firm. "Let's head back."
The walk back to the Shadow Estate was shrouded in silence. The festival's distant echoes—laughter, music, the scent of spiced meats and honeyed fruits—felt like another world entirely. Astra could barely focus on the lingering warmth of the night, his mind still reeling.
Vesper's friends had parted ways, their sharp eyes flickering with curiosity, but they said nothing. They weren't fools. They had noticed the sudden shift in both Astra and Vesper's demeanor, but they knew better than to pry—at least, not yet.
As they entered the grand estate, Astra barely registered the lavish interior, the intricate obsidian columns, or the moonlight filtering through the high, arched windows. His breath was shallow, his heart still unsteady.
By the time they reached Vesper's quarters, Astra was finally pulled from his thoughts.
Vesper's room was massive, a testament to his status. Regal and dark, with towering bookshelves carved from deep ebony, velvet drapes as black as the void, and a central seating area lined with plush cushions and furs. An entire wall was lined with weapons, each blade gleaming in the dim candlelight, while another wall bore tapestries woven with depictions of House Shadow's greatest warriors.
But it was the shadows that truly defined the space.
They welcomed Vesper like an old friend, stretching, curling with familiarity, their forms rippling with something akin to joy. They slithered along the floor and walls like living things, responding to his mere presence.
Then Astra stepped in.
The shadows froze.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the once-playful darkness shrank back. It was subtle, but Astra noticed—the flicker of unease, the way the living darkness twitched unnaturally, as though sensing something wrong.
Then—they recoiled.
The shadows shrank away from him, retreating to the corners of the room as if frightened. It was like a ripple in still water—silent, almost imperceptible, but utterly unnatural.
Astra stiffened.
Vesper's sharp eyes flicked toward the movement. His expression didn't change, but Astra knew he had noticed.
Still, Vesper said nothing.
Instead, with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised a hand, and magic pulsed from his fingertips. The air warped as a powerful barrier snapped into place—one woven from clashing mana types, disrupting any outside attempts to listen in.
A distortion barrier.
One of the most advanced protection wards—layered with opposing forces so intricately intertwined that no one could eavesdrop. Not even Astra, if he hadn't been standing inside it.
That meant Vesper wasn't taking any chances.
With that done, Vesper finally turned, his usual playful arrogance replaced by something colder, more serious.
He folded his arms, his crimson gaze locked onto Astra.
"…Alright," he said evenly. "What's on your mind?"
Astra stood in Vesper's dimly lit room, the shadows casting long, twisting shapes on the walls. The weight of his secret pressed on him, but the time had come to reveal it. He had no choice. His encounter with the devil was too dangerous to keep hidden.
Astra stood in Vesper's dimly lit room, the shadows casting long, twisting shapes on the walls. The weight of his secret pressed on him, but the time had come to reveal it. He had no choice. His encounter with the devil was too dangerous to keep hidden.
"Astra... what's going on?" Vesper asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern. He stood across from Astra, sensing the unease in the air.
Astra hesitated for a moment, his chest tightening as he prepared to speak the words that had been haunting him since the encounter. "Vesper... I—I've encountered a devil."
Vesper's eyes narrowed, the usual playful gleam in them replaced with a rare seriousness. He took a cautious step forward. "A devil?" His voice was laced with disbelief, but also with understanding. He could feel the gravity of the situation.
Astra nodded slowly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Yes... it froze everything, Vesper. Time, people... everything. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. And then it spoke to me. It said... it said I was worthy of a blessing."
Vesper's expression shifted, becoming more intense. "A blessing... from a devil?" He looked Astra over, his gaze filled with scrutiny. "A devil's blessing is no light thing, Astra. You know what that means, don't you?"
Astra felt his stomach churn. "I didn't ask for it. I didn't choose it, but it happened. It gave me something... something inside me." His hands trembled as he spoke, his fingers brushing the spot in his forehead where the power had been planted. "I don't know what it is, Vesper. I can feel it...I can see things now. It's strange."
Vesper sighed deeply, his jaw tightening. "A devil's blessing... Astra, that's no ordinary power. It's not like the gifts angels or saints give. And it's not a simple boon. You've been marked by one of the most dangerous entities in existence. When a devil blesses someone, it's more of a curse, but undoubtedly a boon."
Astra's mind raced, trying to comprehend the full weight of Vesper's words. He had always known that the devil's touch was dangerous, but he hadn't realized the extent of it. "What do you mean? It's power... isn't it?"
Vesper shook his head. "Yes, it's power. But it's a dangerous kind. Let me explain something about blessings, Astra. Angels, saints, demons, and devils—they can all bless those they choose. But these blessings aren't infinite. Each one can only bestow a limited number of them. Their power grows in strength as the person they've blessed or cursed grows in power. But... they come with consequences, especially the ones from the profane path."
Astra swallowed hard. "The profane path?"
"Exactly. Beings who walk the divine path—angels, saints—grant blessings that are meant to elevate. Their gifts help the recipient grow, but they are designed to guide and refine. Angels, for instance, can bestow blessings at Rank Six and Five, the highest possible. Those blessings are meant to change the very core of the recipient's abilities. A gift from an angel is powerful, yes, but it's one of benevolence, though they still gain from it in a way. It's a blessing that will help you ascend."
Vesper's voice darkened. "But beings of the profane path—devils, demons—they don't bless as a gift. Their blessings are like curses. They're a form of corruption, Astra. The devil's blessing you received will help you grow a lot, yes. But it will tie you to it, pull you toward its power, whether you want it or not. It won't be a simple gift. The more you grow, the more that power will consume you... But there have been many who have fought this madness and ascended to even greater heights... It's rare, but it's possible."
Astra's heart raced. He had always known power came with a price, but this... this felt different. He didn't fully understand what this meant, what it would cost him, but he felt the weight of it pressing in. "But if I have power now... doesn't that mean I'm stronger?"
Vesper's eyes locked onto Astra's. "Yes, it's a great boon, but only as long as you don't lose yourself to it. Those beings can only give a limited number of blessings. And once it's in you, that power will keep growing as you grow, as you get stronger. But don't forget—it will also push you. These powers... they bend the world around you, and the more you use it, the more you'll be tied to that profanity."
Astra clenched his fists. The power was undeniable, but so was the fear that gnawed at him now. "So, what now? What am I supposed to do with this?"
Vesper's tone softened, his gaze filled with concern. "You have to be careful, Astra. If you start using that power recklessly, you'll fall into madness. And that's when it becomes a true curse. But as long as you keep yourself in check, as long as you don't let it consume you, then... then maybe, just maybe, you can use it for your own benefit."
Astra nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. The power felt intoxicating, but he understood now—it wasn't just a tool he could wield. It was something that could change him, shape him, and perhaps even destroy him if he wasn't careful.
"I also saw that Devil and an Angel right above us, as then disappeared and battled. It was terrifying. No one else can see them, but I did. I think it's the power of this curse... he called it a blessing of curiosity... but curiosity is also a curse... damn." Astra realized, his voice tense.
Vesper smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it. "Trying to figure out beings of that caliber is a fool's errand. I'm sure angels fight all the time, but they wouldn't be so arrogant as to destroy the lands, thankfully." His tone grew darker. "But that is terrifying indeed."
Vesper placed a hand on Astra's shoulder, his grip firm. "And remember this, Astra—this stays between us. No one else can know. If anyone else finds out about this devil's blessing, it'll cause a whole fiasco. Plus, trust me, there's a lot of people with secrets in House Shadow. In fact, most angels probably know about this, so it means they've accepted it for now."
Astra met Vesper's eyes, feeling a mixture of gratitude and unease. "Alright, I won't let it control me."
Vesper nodded, his face serious. "Good. Just don't let it twist you. This power... it's not a blessing. It's a curse. But that doesn't mean you can't use it. Just be careful."