"Father…" the prince murmured, his voice barely above a breath.
The air in the grand hall froze.
"Akira!"
The emperor's voice cracked like thunder. The prince's head dropped instantly, his posture tightening, his mask hiding the flicker of pain that crossed his features.
"Don't call me that." The emperor turned his back to him, his heavy robes sweeping the polished floor like waves crashing against a cliff.
"You lost that right the moment you were cursed with those eyes… and you know exactly why."
His words rang across the hall, echoing off the cold marble walls.
"You defied the law the second you stepped out of this palace. And then?" He scoffed bitterly.
"You vanished, Caused a mess And when I summoned you back, you dared to delay your return by a week?" The prince said nothing. Not a word, He remained bowed, his silence louder than anything he could've spoken.
The emperor continued, "For your disobedience and disgrace, your punishment is this…..Seven days and seven nights confined to your quarters. Not a drop of water. Not a crumb of food.
You are to seal your spiritual energy during that period and suffer the consequences of your choices." He waved his hand toward the doors making them open with a thud, not even glancing back.
"Now… get out of my sight."
The prince bowed once more, his voice quiet.
"As you command." Then, he turned and walked away, the grand doors closing behind him with a deep, echoing thud.
"Your Highness?"
Zuzu, who had been pacing restlessly in front of the giant door, immediately rushed forward the moment he saw the prince step out. The prince gave a soft smile, tilting his head slightly, calm as ever. Zuzu didn't waste a second. "Did His Majesty give you any punishment?"
The prince shrugged casually. "No. He just wants me to rest in my room for a while." Zuzu squinted, unconvinced. "Really?"
"Yes, really. Or what, you think I'm lying?" The prince placed an arm lazily over Zuzu's shoulders, steering them down the corridor as if everything was fine. Zuzu still looked doubtful, his face scrunched in mild suspicion, but he didn't press further. He just sighed and muttered under his breath,
"I know you're lying."
———————
The world stood on the very edge of annihilation when the Great War of the Three Realms erupted.
Its origin was a nameless, corrupt energy—an evil energy so absolute it devoured existence itself. By the time the war began, half of creation had already been wiped away, erased as if it had never existed.
In desperation, the Seven Thousand Gods gathered and led an army forged from every being of the Three Realms—gods, spirits, mortals, and creatures beyond naming. For eighteen relentless days, the war raged across heaven, earth, and the void between. Skies shattered. Seas burned. Time itself fractured. And still… the evil energy could not be stopped.
With no path left, the gods committed the ultimate taboo.
They combined their remaining strength and called upon the Three Supreme Gods
the Supreme of Creation, the Supreme of Balance and the Supreme of Destruction.
At that time, the Three Supremes were sealed in Eternal Convergence, a sacred and perilous state of deep meditation in the Primordial Void Realm, where the raw flow of existence itself converged. Once every few hundred years, they entered this state to stabilize their immeasurable power maintaining the equilibrium of life and death, chaos and order, beginning and end.
To disturb them during this convergence was forbidden.
If broken prematurely, their overflowing power could spiral out of control, warping realms, overturning fate, and collapsing the balance of existence itself. Entire worlds could be rewritten or erased.
But the gods had no choice.
Destruction had already begun.
With trembling resolve, they shattered the ancient rule and trespassed into the Primordial Void, calling out to the Three Supremes for aid. It was a gamble against fate itself—one that risked replacing total extinction with something far worse.
Yet even so, they prayed.
For without the intervention of the Three Supreme Gods, the Three Realms would not merely fall…they would cease to exist.
"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"
Seirou sat beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other, a massive, ancient tome balanced effortlessly in his hands. His eyes scanned the text with focus, voice steady as he read. On the bed, Astra fought a losing battle against sleep—her eyes fluttering shut, then snapping open, then drooping again.
In the corner, Seiya sat quietly, threading a new string onto his bow with careful precision.
"Astra," Seirou said, stopping mid-paragraph. "You're the one who begged me to read this. And now you're sleeping."
He snapped the book shut with a heavy thud.
Astra jerked upright with a gasp, eyes wide.
Even Seiya flinched—his hands slipping as the bowstring nearly snapped.
"Oye! Can't you shout a little quieter?!" Seiya snapped, clutching the bow like it was a wounded child. "I almost broke it again!"
Seirou rolled his eyes and tapped the thick book in his lap. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to sneak this out of your master's room?" he said flatly. "I almost got caught because I sneezed."
Seiya scoffed. "That wasn't a normal sneeze. You sneezed so hard the scrolls on the top shelf fell down."
Astra rubbed her eyes and groaned. "I wasn't sleeping," she muttered. "I just got bored."
Both twins turned to look at her.
She sighed and pushed herself up against the pillows. "No matter how many times I try to learn about the Great War, I either forget everything or end up completely confused. There are too many versions. My head starts spinning whenever someone asks what actually happened a thousand years ago."
She gestured weakly with her hand. "Some records say demons caused everything and paint the gods and mortals like flawless heroes. Others say all three realms fought together and glorify everyone equally. Every book tells a different story."
Astra let her head fall back with a dull thump against the pillow.
"It's ridiculous. Can't they just stick to one version? At this point, it feels easier to sleep than to lose my mind trying to figure out what really happened a thousand years ago."
Seirou was about to say something when Seiya scoffed, stretching his arms lazily.
"She's definitely getting punished again," he said with a grin. "No way she memorized even one line, judging by how she's talking."
He turned to Astra, his smirk widening.
"Don't worry, Astra. Everyone knows your memory is that of a goldfish—no, wait. Not even a goldfish forgets this fast." Then he paused, brows knitting in mock confusion. "But what I don't understand is… why are you even trying to learn all this now? Didn't Ryoma already ban you from attending those sessions?" He snapped his fingers lazily. "What were they called again… ah, right. The Ancestral Chronicles."
He laughed, clearly amused with himself. "Those long, endless gatherings held every where within the empire, every year before the festivals begin, where elders lecture for hours about ancestor clans, bloodlines, ancient wars, and the entire history of conflicts from the beginning of time. Supposedly meant to 'educate the next generation.'"
He shook his head, still chuckling. "I nearly laughed myself sick when Shion wrote to me saying you wanted to learn history. You—of all people."
He glanced at her sideways. "You never cared even once. Whenever there was a lecture like that, you'd disappear faster than smoke—ran away every single time."
His lips twitched. "So tell me… which heavenly god possessed you this year that you chose to attend on your own?"
Astra didn't bother replying.
She grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him.
The pillow sailed wide and smashed straight into a vase.
Crash.
For a heartbeat, the room went silent.
Then Seiya burst out laughing. "See? I told you! At this point, even a blindfolded donkey has better aim!"
Seirou pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the shards on the floor. "The innkeeper is definitely going to charge double now…"
Seiya waved a hand dismissively, still chuckling. "Relax. We'll earn enough to cover it during the performance anyway."
There was a pause.
Astra blinked. "…Performance?"
Seirou slowly turned his head toward Seiya.
The room temperature dropped.
A very familiar, very dangerous death glare settled onto Seiya's face.
Seiya froze, the realization hitting him a second too late. "I mean—what performance?" he backtracked quickly. "I didn't say performance. You're hearing things. Must be a side effect of the venom."
"Aha." Astra narrowed her eyes, pushing herself upright, suddenly very awake. "Seiya… what performance are you talking about?"
Seiya began inching toward the door, step by careful step. "Nothing big. Really. Just… they said it's a small gathering event. And they wanted us to perform. With costumes. And maybe swords." He scratched his cheek. "And maybe a little fire act."
"…What?" Astra said flatly.
Seirou pinched the bridge of his nose, already exhausted. "You truly have a gift," he muttered, "for saying the worst possible thing at the worst possible moment."
Seiya laughed nervously, hands raised in surrender. "Okay, okay! Fine! Yes—we might be performing at the Moonlight Festival tomorrow."
Seirou shot him a sharp glare. "You had one job. One."
Seiya shrugged, still smiling sheepishly. "Hey, I didn't mean to spill it. It just… slipped out."
They both turned to Astra.
She sat silently, head bowed, fingers absently twisting the edge of the blanket. Sheiya scratched the back of his neck and glanced at Seirou. They exchanged a quick signal, a silent agreement.
Seirou moved first, sitting on the edge of the bed. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably softer. "Astra… we didn't mean to hide it from you. It's just—" He paused, weighing his words. "You're not in the best condition right now."
Seiya nodded quickly. "Yeah. You always overdo it, even when you're not supposed to be out of bed. If you saw us performing, you'd try to sneak in a sword flip or something and pass out halfway through."
Still, Astra didn't lift her head.
Seirou let out a quiet sigh and knelt beside her instead. "It's not that we didn't want you there," he said gently. "We just… don't want to see you get worse."
"…I'm not that weak," Astra finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Seirou looked at her steadily. "We know you're not. That's the problem." His tone softened further. "You push yourself too hard trying to prove it—even when you don't need to."
Astra's lips curved just a little, her fingers finally relaxing their grip on the blanket.
"I just…" she murmured. "I wanted to cheer for you guys. Like before."
Seirou hesitated. Then, almost casually, he slipped a small cloth-wrapped bundle into her palm.
She blinked. "What's this?"
"Just a bribe," he said, turning his face away like it meant nothing. "Sweet almond milk chocolate. Don't tell Kaen. He was hiding it under his bed." He paused, then added dryly, "He'll be upset—you know he told you no sweets anymore. Only porridge."
Astra looked down at it, then back at the two of them. The corners of her mouth lifted.
"You two are terrible at hiding things," she whispered.
Seiya grinned instantly. "And you're terrible at aiming."
"Shut up," she muttered, though she was already unwrapping the sweets.
Seirou nodded in quiet satisfaction. "Alright. Rest properly. And don't let them know we told you."
He grabbed Seiya by the collar and shoved him toward the door. The twins slipped out, the door closing softly behind them.
Astra sat alone for a moment, staring at the cloth-wrapper resting in her hand.
"…Idiots," she whispered.