Sole Survivor of a Generation

The coastal town of Viré basked in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, its cobblestone streets gleaming. Situated on the southernmost tip of Vesperia, the largest isle in the Valeryon Archipelago, Viré was more than a simple town. It was a vibrant maritime hub, a convergence point for cultures and traditions from all corners of the known world.

Its harbour stretched far beyond the natural coastline, its sprawling docks and piers jutting into the crystalline waters of the Aerwynian Sea. Ships of all shapes and sizes bobbed lazily on the gentle waves, their colourful sails adorned with intricate patterns and exotic crests that marked their origins from lands distant and nearby. Merchants, sailors, and dockworkers bustled about, calling out to one another as they unloaded crates brimming with goods from across the seas—rich silks and fragrant spices from Ebren, and unique jewellery and household items that glittered faintly with subtle enchantments from Simran.

In the streets, a heady mix of aromas filled the air—roasting meats, spiced pastries, and the unmistakable tang of sea salt carried on the breeze. Stalls overflowed with an eclectic array of goods, from brightly coloured fabrics to rare herbs and gemstones, each more tempting than the last. Laughter echoed from every corner, children darting between the legs of travellers and locals alike as they played, their energy a sharp contrast to the more composed adults navigating the marketplace. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly in their forges, the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal underscoring the industrious nature of the town. Craftsmen shaped tools and intricate trinkets with steady hands, while street performers juggled or played lively tunes, adding to the cacophony of life that flowed through Viré.

Banners fluttered overhead, each bearing the sigil of one of the archipelago’s noble houses, but none commanded more attention than the black banner of the Valeryon royal family that hung above all, proudly displayed the golden phoenix in flight, clutching a branch of asphodel in its talons.

Among the crowd, a black cloak caught the sunlight, shimmering with an iridescent sheen, drawing gazes from onlookers. It was embroidered with the unmistakable royal sigil, and the black fabric billowed gracefully as Crown Princess Valeryon the Second made her way through the crowded street. Beside her was Laurel Vesalius, his snow-white hair peeking out from under the hood of his own cloak, which proudly displayed the silver key-and-wings insignia of his house.

“I always hated traveling to Asua,” Laurel murmured, leaning closer to her. “But with you to keep me warm, I might actually enjoy it this time.”

Valeryon cast him a sidelong glance, her lips tightening slightly. Without a word, she quickened her pace, leaving him a step behind.

Laurel chuckled softly, effortlessly catching up and linking his arm through hers. “How could you leave me? What if I get lost? My sense of direction is terrible, you know.”

“Convenient,” Valeryon replied, her tone dry. “Considering you had no trouble finding your way around the Plaza earlier.”

Laurel’s grin widened, his dimples deepening as he leaned in, his cheek brushing against her shoulder. “Your words are sharper than any blade, Val.”

She sighed, lifting a gloved finger to gently tap his forehead, pushing him back slightly. “Behave. We are in public.”

“Tsk. You make it sound like I’m doing something scandalous,” he grumbled. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he released his grip and stepped back with an exaggerated bow. “As you command, my princess.”

Valeryon shook her head, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth beneath her veil.

Behind them, the metallic clinking of armour announced the presence of Dame Frey and Sir Lowell, the royal knights who followed at a discreet distance. Their ceremonial armor gleamed under the sun, the royal insignia etched proudly into their chest plates. They moved with the discipline of seasoned warriors, their eyes scanning the crowd for any hint of danger.

As protocol dictated, just as Valeryon and Laurel had donned their ceremonial capes for easy identification, the knights had dressed in formal attire in preparation for escorting the Crown Princess beyond the Archipelago.

Their destination loomed ahead—the Terminal, a grand structure standing at the edge of the harbour. It was an imposing building, the primary transportation hub for travellers connecting Vesperia to the other islands of the archipelago. The Terminal was more than just a place of travel—it was a monument to Vesperia’s history. Two massive statues stood guard at its entrance. The first depicted a man with the head of a wolf, his amber eyes seemingly alive as they scrutinised the approaching visitors. He represented the Lunarys Vassal House, the ancient protectors of the land. The second statue portrayed a woman with the tail of a fish, her aquamarine gaze fixed eternally on the horizon, a trident raised triumphantly toward the heavens. She was a tribute to the Aerwyna Vassal House, the guardians of the seas. Together, these statues stood as watchful protectors of the Archipelago.

As they neared its entrance, they were greeted by an attendant, impeccably dressed in a finely tailored uniform. The attendant bowed deeply, his movements smooth and practiced. “Your Highness, Heir Vesalius, this way, please,” he instructed, his voice steady and reassuring. He led them through the bustling terminal.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted to one of regal splendour. The high ceilings were adorned with exquisite crystal chandeliers, their light casting a warm, shimmering glow across the polished marble floors. Intricate engravings of swirling constellations and celestial navigation lined the walls, chronicling the vast routes that connected the islands of the Archipelago.

Behind a reinforced glass wall, wide circular openings faced the ocean, each one labeled with the name of a distant isle. Travellers who had passed the security clearance and paid for their fares queued patiently before the openings, awaiting the moment when a shimmering, transparent sphere—an Etheric Sphere—would form around them and carry them to their destination.

As they continued deeper into the Terminal, leaving the bustling crowds behind, the noise faded, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps on polished marble as they ascended a private stairwell. The corridor opened into a luxurious lounge, its pristine ivory walls adorned with intricate gold filigree that glimmered under the warm glow of strategically placed lights. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed breathtaking views of the endless ocean, the afternoon sun casting golden rays across the water. Below, the Etheric Spheres floated gracefully like bubbles, their luminescence dancing above the waves as they ferried passengers between the islands of the Archipelago.

As they entered, a line of attendants bowed in perfect synchrony, their flowing garments whispering against the polished marble floors. With a flourish, they unveiled a lavish spread of exotic fruits, freshly baked pastries, and crystal pitchers filled with colourful liquid. The sweet and tangy scents wafting through the air ignited Valeryon’s hunger—a constant, insatiable sensation that she had grown accustomed to feeling due to her body’s accelerated metabolism, a side effect of her passive healing abilities.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable, Your Highness,” one of the attendants said, her voice smooth and melodic. She gestured toward the sumptuous feast laid out on the low mahogany table. “If you require anything, simply activate the rune on the table.” With that, the attendants filed out in a neat line, the ornate doors shutting behind them with a soft click that resonated in the now hushed room.

Valeryon moved to the window, settling onto a plush cushion. She gazed out over the vast sea, mesmerised by the rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves. Laurel, her friend, moved a cushion closer and seated himself beside her. His purple eyes scanned the table, slightly narrowing as they settled on the pastries. His fingers drummed a soft rhythm on the polished wood, a habit that did not go unnoticed by the ever-watchful knights, Sir Lowell and Dame Frey, who exchanged subtle glances. Their postures tightened as they surveyed the lounge with heightened vigilance.

“Not hungry?” Valeryon asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she noted the contemplative look on Laurel’s face.

His expression transformed instantly, as he leaned back into the cushions. “I was just waiting for you to feed me,” he replied with a lazy grin.

Without hesitation, Valeryon picked up a small slice of vibrant dragon fruit, its pink skin and speckled flesh looking incredibly appetising.

Laurel blinked, his expression faltering momentarily as a rosy flush crept up his cheeks. “For me?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if the weight of her gesture carried a deeper meaning.

“For you,” she confirmed, feeling warmth rise to her own cheeks as she extended the slice toward him, her hand steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

As Laurel brushed his long strands of hair from his face, he leaned forward, accepting the fruit from her gloved fingers with a gentle brush of his lips. Time seemed to suspend momentarily, an unspoken tension hanging thick in the air.

However, the moment passed unacknowledged as the ornate doors to the lounge swung open. Two figures entered, their presence immediately commanding attention.

The boy, slightly taller, led the way his amber eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. His deep navy coat flared as he walked, revealing sturdy boots made for harsh winters. His high collar framed his sharp features, adding to the air of authority he exuded.

Beside him stood a girl. She wore a rich burgundy coat dress that hugged her figure, flaring into a flowing skirt that danced around her knee-high leather boots. A friendly smile illuminated her face, and her fur-lined beanie bobbed lightly as she moved. Upon a closer look, she bore identical features to the boy, and had the same glossy black hair and dark brown skin. However what truly set her apart were her glowing peridot-green eyes, identical to Valeryon’s own—a detail that sent a chill down Valeryon’s spine.

As the twins stepped further into the lounge, Sir Lowell and Dame Frey stepped forward, their hands tightening around their staves, forming a protective barrier between Valeryon and the newcomers. Beside her, Laurel shifted, his playful demeanour replaced by an almost predatory vigilance as he studied the twins, his lavender eyes narrowing in wary appraisal. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the table, echoing the tension in the air.

Sir Lowell and Dame Frey relaxed slightly, lowering their staves just a fraction, but the silence remained thick and heavy, wrapping around them like a shroud. The only sound was the soft shuffle of fabric and the barely audible breath of the room, interrupted by the hurried approach of a staff member. He bowed deeply, visibly flustered.

“Our most sincere apologies, Your Highness. We did not anticipate the Heirs Lunarys—”

“It’s alright; mistakes happen. Now leave.” Valeryon interrupted, raising a hand dismissively.

The boy’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel, his mouth opening as if to challenge her. But before he could speak, the girl laid a hand on his arm, her smile soft and disarming. With a nod, they turned and left, the staff member dabbing at the sweat on his face and rushing after them once more, the doors closing behind them with a soft thud.

Valeryon exhaled a breath she had not realised she was holding, her heart still racing. Questions swirled in her mind like leaves caught in a tempest.

The boy’s amber eyes were unmistakable—tell-tale signs of the Lunarys bloodline. But the girl’s eyes—identical to Valeryon’s own—raised far more unsettling questions. The Valeryon bloodline was strictly controlled and its genealogy meticulously recorded—both in the Origin and in this world. Yet here was someone bearing the same mark, with no trace of her in the Ancestral Hall.

What was going on?

Valeryon’s mind buzzed with possibilities, each more improbable than the last. She needed answers, and the only place she could start looking was the library. A journal, a record—anything written by the Founder or a predecessor might shed light on this anomaly. The thought consumed her until she felt a gentle, cold touch against her trembling hands.

Laurel’s ice-cold grasp grounded her, his concern evident as he knelt before her. “Val, are you alright?” he asked softly.

Valeryon opened her mouth to answer, but her voice failed her. Her throat felt tight, as if the words were locked away. Instead, she focused on her breathing, the steady rise and fall of her chest a reminder that she was here, in this moment. Once she gathered herself, she gave a small nod, squeezing Laurel’s hands in response.

Laurel’s gaze softened, and he didn’t press her further, instead holding her hands securely as they waited in silence.

The silence of the lounge was soon broken by the heavy swing of the doors. Valeryon tensed, half-expecting another unwelcome interruption, her heart racing at the thought of more uninvited guests. But it was only an attendant, stepping in with a respectful bow.

“Your Highness, everything is prepared for your departure,” he announced.

Rising from her seat, she felt a familiar presence beside her as Laurel fell into step. As they walked, his hand found hers, fingers threading together in a grip that was gentle yet firm.

They strolled down a long, dimly lit hallway, the soft echo of their footsteps accompanied them as the polished floors gleaming beneath their feet. The faint flicker of the wall sconces that cast long shadows on the ornate walls, each etched with delicate patterns of vines and flowers that seemed to dance in the dim light.

At the end of the hallway, a grand door swung open, spilling forth bright sunlight that washed over Valeryon like a warm embrace. She shielded her eyes for a moment, blinking against the brilliance, as they stepped out onto a magnificent spiral staircase. The staircase wound downwards, each step leading to a pristine beach where the sea lapped softly against the shore.

At the foot of the staircase stood the Etheric Arch, a stone structure etched with intricate dimly lit runes.

“Follow me, Your Highness,” the attendant urged, guiding them toward the Arch.

As they stepped beneath the towering structure, the runes flared to life, illuminating the space around them in vibrant hues. An iridescent sphere of magic materialised, enveloping them in a shimmering embrace. It lifted them gently off the ground and began moving, weightless and gliding over the turquoise waters below.

The sensation was surreal, akin to flying in a dream. Below them, the crystal-clear waters revealed vibrant coral reefs, teeming with life. Schools of fish darted between the corals, their movements synchronised in mesmerising patterns.

In the distance, other Etheric spheres floated lazily over the sea, each carrying travellers between the islands of the Archipelago. Valeryon’s gaze wandered, taking in the breathtaking sights. Eventually she caught her first glimpse of Viridia, the breadbasket of the Archipelago. The island stretched before them, a tapestry of lush green fields rolling endlessly beneath the golden sun.

Farmhouses dotted the landscape, each surrounded by silver irrigation channels that sparkled like veins of light. Viridia’s fertile lands were renowned, feeding not only the Archipelago but also regions of the Mainland. But it was not merely an agricultural hub; it housed the Nexus Gate, the only portal connecting the Archipelago to the outside world, a critical artery for trade and diplomacy.

As their Etheric sphere drifted closer to the beach, the magic began to dissolve, releasing them in a shower of glittering particles as they touched the sand. An attendant awaited them, bowing low. “Your Highness, a carriage has been prepared to take you to the Nexus Gate.”

Following the attendant, Dame Frey moved to the front of the group, while Sir Lowell guarded the rear. Once they arrived at the carriage, Laurel’s hand tightened briefly around hers before he let go to help her inside. He smiled up at her warmly, but Valeryon could not shake the feeling that something was amiss.

She noticed the furtive looks Laurel exchanged with the knights when he thought she was not watching. Their postures were tense, shoulders squared. Their eyes scanned their surroundings more purposefully than before.

Laurel seated himself beside her, his foot tapping restlessly against the wooden floor of the carriage. Following him the knights relaxed slightly into their seats across from them.

The carriage rumbled along the dirt road, the wheels kicking up small clouds of dust as they passed through Viridia’s idyllic countryside. Tall stalks of golden grain swayed in the breeze, and the occasional farmhouse appeared, plumes of smoke spiralling lazily from chimneys. The pastoral beauty of the land did little to soothe Valeryon’s growing concern.

As they drew closer to their destination, the Nexus Gate loomed ahead, a monolithic structure that dwarfed the landscape. Its imposing presence dominated the horizon, far more significant than the smaller Etheric Arch they had previously passed through. The Gate's stone surface covered in layers of intricate runes, each one more complex than the last, shimmering with a pulsing energy that resonated in the air. Valeryon could feel the weight of its magic, heavy and almost suffocating, as if the very atmosphere was charged with it.

As the carriage came to a halt at the base of the Gate, Valeryon took a deep breath, her heart racing. Outside, attendants dressed in dark robes stood waiting, their heads bowed in respect as the carriage door swung open. One stepped forward, a graceful figure amidst the looming stone, and gestured toward the massive staircase that led up to the platform of the Gate.

“Your Highness, please follow me,” the attendant said

As they ascended the stone stairs, the runes on the Gate flared to life, glowing brighter with each step they took. The air hummed with energy, vibrating through the very stones beneath them.

“Step through when ready, Your Highness,” the attendant instructed, gesturing toward the shimmering threshold that pulsed with an otherworldly light.

Valeryon hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, Laurel by her side, her knights close behind.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the magic enveloped them, and the world shifted. It felt as though they were being pulled through a veil, the sensation both disorienting and exhilarating.

When Valeryon and Laurel emerged onto the Nexus platform, an icy gust slammed into them, the cold wind striking like a solid wall. It was a jarring contrast to the warm, temperate air of the Archipelago they had just left behind. Valeryon instinctively braced herself against the unforgiving chill, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She glanced back at the Nexus Gate, its magical glow fading into the distance, leaving only the bleak expanse of Asua before them.

Asua, the "City of Endless Winters," lived up to its reputation in every sense. . Snowflakes drifted lazily from a slate-grey sky, blanketing the ancient cobblestone streets in a thin layer of white. The air was crisp and biting, each breath a cloud of condensation that hung in the cold. Dark stone buildings loomed around them, their facades blackened and weathered by centuries of relentless winters. The city felt as if it breathed despair; sagging rooftops bore the weight of countless storms, their once-grand designs obscured by grime and soot.

Laurel exhaled sharply, and his breath formed a small cloud that dissipated quickly. “Just as miserable as I remember,” he muttered, his keen eyes scanning the cityscape.

“It certainly has… character,” Valeryon offered, struggling to find a more positive description of the bleakness around her.

Laurel chuckled softly. “Character is one way to put it. This place has been swallowed whole by the cold. There’s no warmth here, Val. Not even for its people.” He gestured to a pair of townsfolk trudging below, their faces hidden beneath heavy hoods, shoulders hunched against the icy wind.

Wrapping his cloak tighter around his slim frame, Laurel leaned closer to Valeryon, likely hoping to benefit from excess heat radiating from her body. Valeryon, sensing his intention, instinctively hooked her arm through his and pulled him closer. Laurel looked at her in surprise, but a delighted smile quickly overtook his face. “Tsk. What were you getting all huffy at me about before if you were going to do as I said anyway?” he said, feigning a snooty tone before bursting into laughter.

Valeryon ignored his teasing and let her gaze sweep across the grimness of Asua. For a place heralded as the capital of Mainland Fiore, it fell far short of the vibrant, thriving metropolis she had envisioned. Instead, the city appeared weary, as though it had long since surrendered to the elements. Each building seemed to tell a story of resilience, yet collectively, they felt more like monuments to despair.

The soft clinking of armour drew Valeryon’s attention. A small contingent of knights ascended the stairs toward the Nexus platform, their polished armour gleaming faintly against the drab winter backdrop. At their head walked Lady Daphne, her white hair pulled back into a sleek bun, and her silver eyes sharp as they scanned the area. The black, ankle-length coat she wore billowed in the wind, cutting an imposing figure against the grey skyline.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” Lady Daphne said, bowing deeply as she reached Valeryon. Her voice, though formal, carried an underlying warmth. “I trust your journey was uneventful?”

“It was,” Valeryon replied, her tone betraying none of the uncertainty she felt. The air around them seemed thick with unspoken tension, a sense of unease that had shadowed them since their departure from the Viré Terminal. Something felt wrong, though no one had articulated it. Laurel, usually quick to respond on Valeryon’s behalf, remained pointedly silent at the question, heightening her suspicions. His previous carefree demeanour had been replaced by a quiet vigilance, making her acutely aware of his tension, even as he tried to mask it.

Lady Daphne's lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at the armoured knights, who had formed a protective circle around them. “We are here to ensure your safe return from Asua,” she explained, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

“Immediate return?” Laurel interjected, his tone sharper as he tightened his grip on Valeryon’s arm. He began tapping his foot rhythmically against the stone platform, the sound echoing in the stillness.

“Not immediate,” Lady Daphne replied, hesitating momentarily—an unusual gesture for her. A faint line appeared between her brows, betraying her unease. “You may acquire what you came for, but we must expedite Her Highness’s return afterward.”

Laurel’s response was curt, his gaze piercing. “Just the uniform and the staves, then.”

Valeryon remained quiet, observing the exchange between them without pressing for more details. Whatever had prompted the increased security, she expected that Lady Daphne and the knights could handle it without her involvement.

Daphne’s eyes softened slightly as she turned her focus back to Valeryon. “I apologise for arriving unannounced, Your Highness. I know you wished to remain discreet today.”

“There is no need to apologise. I trust your judgment, Lady Daphne.”

A flicker of relief crossed Lady Daphne’s features, her rigid posture relaxing ever so slightly. “It honours me to have your trust, Your Highness. I promise you, we will keep you safe.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, the cold wind filling the silence. Then Lady Daphne turned to Laurel, “Keep her close, my son,” she said, her voice low but firm.

“Always, Mother,” Laurel replied, pulling Valeryon closer pointedly, barely suppressing a laugh at the immediate scowl that appeared on Lady Daphne’s face as she seemed to finally realise their proximity. However, for once, she did not immediately launch into a lecture about propriety. Instead, she simply nodded, gesturing for the knights to prepare to depart.