THE DAY OF THE BALL
It was a masked ball—where identity blurred and mystery reigned.
Aria was… strangely excited.
Not for the people. Not for the politics. But because inside the ball, everything felt real. Alive. A fleeting illusion of normalcy in a world built on secrets.
Her silver hair, the signature of her bloodline, was braided elegantly and pinned with crimson gems. The red dress she wore hugged her skin like fire and silk—regal, daring, and unmistakably hers.
The moment she entered the ballroom, no one had to ask who she was.
Only one person in the entire empire bore hair like moonlight. The child of the Southern Duchess and War Knight. The miracle.
"Aria! Over here!"
It was Lily, her childhood friend—always bright, always waving too eagerly.
They gathered in a small circle, gossip and laughter rippling like ribbons.
"I heard the Tower Master will be here tonight," one of the noble girls whispered, eyes wide with curiosity.
Of course. He was the talk of every ball. The youngest to ever master the arcane tower. Wielder of the rarest magic—the violet aura. And once, a friend of Aria's.
But Aria's thoughts drifted elsewhere. Toward timing. Toward danger.
Something about tonight felt... wrong.
Selene and Kaelen arrived soon after, walking with quiet majesty. Other nobles bowed, whispered, observed.
The dancing began.
And Aria, to her horror and delight, was pulled into a waltz by her overprotective father. Kaelen twirled her with surprising grace, laughter spilling from them both. It echoed, drawing smiles. Even Selene—cool and distant—watched with a flicker of something soft in her eyes.
That child in the centre... she used to beg for my love, Selene thought. And now she shines.
Aria stepped back from the crowd, slipping toward the quieter edges of the hall. Her gaze swept across the guests—most masked, yet not nearly enough to hide intent. Whispers followed her like perfume in the air.
"She doesn't look sick at all. Do you think the rumours were false?"
"I heard the Duchess was the real target—"
"Shh. The Tower Master is arriving soon. Careful with your words."
She caught bits and pieces, but what struck her most was the briefest flicker of motion on the balcony above.
A figure stood half-shadowed, peeking from behind one of the columns.
Silver mask. Black hair tied on his back. His blue eyes shine in the moonlight.
Her breath hitched.
Icarus.
Their eyes locked for the barest second before he quickly turned away, cheeks tinged red—even from that distance.
Her heart skipped in spite of itself. But there wasn't time to dwell.
Aria watched as her mother passed a masked noble who bowed a little too low, his hands covered in silk gloves embroidered with southern runes.
Why would someone from the South be here?
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
The gossip. The glances. The timing.
Something was wrong.
That's when it happened.
A shadow cut through the light—a black force, swift and precise—racing toward Selene like a curse in motion.
The system pinged instantly.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Threat Level—CRITICAL. Y.G. ENGAGED.]
No time to think.
Aria moved on instinct.
She lunged toward Selene, shoving her mother aside just as the shadow struck.
Pain tore through her chest. She hit the ground hard.
A collective gasp cut through the music.
The ballroom stilled as if time itself froze.
Aria hit the floor, her silver hair spilling across the crimson marble like moonlight on blood. Her red dress—so regal, so radiant—now clung to her body in a way that made the pain look poetic. Her fingers trembled, clutching her chest where the dark force had struck.
"ARIA!"
Kaelen's roar tore through the silence.
The former war knight surged forward, eyes wide with panic, sword already halfway drawn from instinct. His knees hit the floor as he cradled her, hands trembling—hands that had held a thousand dying soldiers, but never his child.
"No, no—Aria, stay with me. Look at me. Look at me!" he pleaded, his voice cracking.
Selene didn't scream.
She dropped to her knees beside them with an expression no one had ever seen horror carved into stone. The cold composed Duchess now looked like a mother who'd just watched her world fall apart.
"My child..." she whispered. "Why do you always throw yourself into danger for me?"
The nobles stared, stunned. Some clutched their mouths, others backed away as if the shadow might return. A few began murmuring spells—those with power—but it was too late.
Lily pushed through the crowd, her face pale. "Aria? What happened? Someone helps her! Heal her!"
The musicians had long stopped playing, but the echo of their last note still seemed to ring through the air like a ghost.
And from behind a marble pillar, near the balcony, Icarus stood frozen.
His purple aura flickering around his fingertips—and the sight of Aria collapsing made something shatter behind his calm facade.
For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, a flicker of something sharp.
Pain.
Then fury.
His jaw clenched. The air around him stirred unnaturally.
"She got hit protecting the Duchess," someone whispered behind him.
But Icarus didn't respond. His eyes stayed locked on Aria's motionless form.
And though no one saw it, his hand trembled.
Aria tried to smile through the pain. "It's okay, Mother… Let me go this time…"
But then—
[SYSTEM ALERT: Do NOT die. Permanent death confirmed. Soul cannot respawn.]
Her eyes widened.
What?
Then—everything went white.