The Empress's Star
The oars pulled slowly through the water.
A few wisps of drifting clouds cast fleeting shadows against the blazing sun, while beyond the horizon, jagged spires rose to pierce the sea.
With every occasional gust of wind, the undulating waves reflected four pairs of towering spires, bringing the moss-covered ramparts into sharp focus.
Arselion, the grand capital of the southern kingdom.
The wars, both great and small, had finally ended, and the tears of blood had been washed away.
Had they ever even pointed swords at one another?
Spice merchants busily haggled with earnest faces, driving down prices, while warhorses roamed the meadows, their magnificent manes fluttering in the breeze.
Third-rate dancers, who once survived on the charity of passersby and the newly rich, brightened at this newfound vitality and settled down in the capital.
Taverns began setting up stages one by one, and the dancers who flocked to the city soon filled the seats to capacity.
One would expect her to rejoice as a fellow dancer, but the young girl riding in the old rower's ferry did nothing of the sort. She merely squinted, shielding her eyes from the shimmering sunlight filtering through her long, outstretched fingers.
It was her own fault for believing the old man's boast that they would arrive before sunrise.
In truth, rowers who claimed to be the fastest in the land were a dime a dozen, and the hurried passengers who boarded their boats always seemed satisfied with that empty promise, readily handing over their silver.
The young dancer, squinting to exert silent pressure on the old rower, had apparently fallen for the same trick. Sitting demurely in the tiny skiff—so small it rocked at the slightest movement—she glared at his wrinkled hands, her face flushed from the scorching sun.
He, too, seemed to feel a prick of conscience.
With bloodshot eyes, he rowed with all his might, sweat dripping continuously from his brow.
With every stroke, the ornaments on the wide skirt she had carelessly tossed aside chimed merrily—clink, clink. He diligently steered the boat toward the rapidly approaching pier.
It was past noon by the time they finally reached the Last Shore, the tavern boasting the largest stage in the capital. No sooner had the young dancer stepped ashore than she was seized by the older girls, who were fussing about in colorful makeup. They began tossing her around like a doll playing princess.
"Ow! That stings my eyes!"
"You deserve it for arriving late and dumping all the morning customers on us. Lunchtime is almost over, so don't you dare make a mistake."
"The stupid rower told me we'd be here before sunrise! I barely got any sleep and struggled the whole way here. Instead of worrying about me, this is how you treat me?"
"Why are you taking your gullibility out on me? There. I've made you look beautiful, so go out there and open those fools' pockets!"
The young dancer, Aria, pouted her small lips as she peered at her reflection in the mirror.
The light eye makeup added a vibrant spark to her clear, translucent eyes, while the soft pink blush on her cheeks shimmered subtly, like a freshly bloomed petal.
Seemingly pleased with her look, Aria rose without another word and scurried toward the backstage area.
"Don't let the tavern owner swindle you out of your share. There are plenty of other places to perform besides here."
As if on cue, the heavy curtains parted. Aria stepped onto the stage, her expression shifting instantly. She bowed gracefully to the audience, lifting the hem of her long, flowing sleeves.
The musicians, who had been resting, struck up a lively tune with flutes and lutes. Under the clear sky, her elegant dance began.
The young dancer parted her lips, and her song drifted through the air.
A warm breeze carried the sound of the crashing waves.
The spectators, who had been chatting sleepily after their meals, instantly perked up. They began clapping in time with the rhythm.
It was as if the avatar of spring itself were frolicking before them. In no time, the tavern was packed to capacity.
No one knew where she had been hiding, but the young dancer who had suddenly appeared just a few months ago was now considered a rare marvel; people said you were lucky just to catch one of her performances.
However, not everyone shared this sentiment. For instance, the knight who had just pushed his way through the crowd remained entirely unmoved.
Clad from head to toe in heavy plate armor despite the broad daylight, the knight approached a woman dressed in red who sat in the seat with the clearest view of the stage.
Though the crowd glared at this intruder for ruining their precious moment, the knight ignored them completely. He simply dropped to one knee beside his master.
[Messenger. A letter.]
Turning toward the knight, who gestured in the air with his empty hand as he offered her the letter, the woman smiled softly and accepted it.
After scanning the letter with a languid gaze, the woman rose and approached the young dancer, who was currently bowing in gratitude amidst a storm of applause.
The woman in red offered a silent handshake, then turned and departed the Last Shore. Aria watched her retreating figure, her eyes falling upon the ring that had been slipped into her palm.
It was a ring set with a small, blue crystal.
Mesmerized, Aria slipped the ring onto her finger.
She received countless other gifts and letters that day.
For this was to be Aria's very last performance.
There were those who expressed deep regret, and those who offered her new jobs.
Some simply held her hand, weeping silently without a word.
"Did you get what you wanted?"
Backstage.
The other dancers, having finished their performances to liven up the bittersweet atmosphere, approached Aria.
"This is only the beginning," Aria replied.
As she packed her things, she gazed out at the shimmering sea beyond the open terrace.
Far in the distance, a solitary little star shone so low it seemed to touch the horizon.
They said every dancer had a story, but Aria was peculiar even by those standards.
Her origins were unknown. Her age, a mystery.
The girl, who had seemed to have dropped straight from the heavens, had been fortunate enough to be taken in by a troupe of traveling dancers near the capital, eventually becoming a part of the Last Shore.
Aria closed her meager travel bag, only to open it once more.
Inside was a change of clothes, a pouch of dried rations that would keep for a long time, two books that looked incredibly ancient, and a small purse containing the few coins left over from purchasing them.
Nazmira and Tanarota.
Aria was certain these two books would guide her into the world of magic.
The sole reason she had used up all her saved leave to travel to the lands across Peiren Bay was to acquire these magic books.
Since she had spent nearly her entire life savings to obtain them, they had to contain incredible magic.
Aria peeked inside one of the books, which was filled with writing she couldn't even read, and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
At sunrise, she would board a carriage and leave this place for the great northern city of Alzoren. There, she would study the two magic books, ascend the Magic Tower, and become a mage.
If anyone asked her how one actually went about becoming a mage, Aria would have bluntly answered, "I don't know." She had never even seen a real mage.
All she knew of magic was that the three great founding kings had used it to defeat the bloodline of the mad fire, and that all mages resided in the Magic Tower in Alzoren.
Even so, Aria wanted to become a mage.
She cared for nothing else.
The romantic gossip of girls her age and the well-meaning advice of the older dancers went entirely in one ear and out the other.
Dancing was merely her means of survival; singing was simply a talent she was born with.
Some might call her foolish, or say she was chasing a hopeless dream, but Aria had never once wavered since she first conceived this ambition.
In that regard, she already possessed a far greater purpose than those who merely drifted through life doing what others told them to.
At a rustling sound, Aria closed her bag and turned around.
She saw one of the dancers standing there, bathed in the pale blue moonlight.
"You're not asleep yet, are you?"
"Sister," Aria said.
As the older girl smiled and approached, Aria shifted to make room for her.
The dancer's long, wavy orange hair cascaded down like the colors of a sunset. She reached out with a pale, slender hand and gently stroked Aria's hair.
Aria spoke again.
"Do you have something to say?"
"Of course. If I said everything on my mind, it would probably take over a week."
Chuckling softly, the dancer lay down beside her.
Not knowing how to respond, Aria lay there awkwardly for a moment before turning to face her.
"We already said our goodbyes."
The orange-haired dancer fell silent.
Aria tried to read the swirling vortex of emotions in her sister's eyes.
The dancer finally spoke.
"You know you can always come back, right?"
"I know."
Though I never will.
Aria repeated the thought to herself.
She knew exactly who she was and what she had to do.
So, rather than voicing her thoughts, she closed her eyes and basked in her sister's gentle touch.
The night deepened, and Aria soon drifted off to sleep.
Etching the faces of her nameless sisters into her memory one by one,
she promised herself she would write to them from time to time.
That night, Aria had an ominous dream.
Standing at the very center of the continent, she looked up at the sky and gazed at the brightest star shining directly above her.
The star was growing larger.
As she watched the star swell, Aria suddenly realized it wasn't growing—it was hurtling closer.
The scorching heat of the burning star set the forests ablaze and tore the earth asunder.
I have to run.
But where?
Alarm bells rang incessantly in her mind, but Aria couldn't move her feet.
Overwhelmed by the sensation of the world collapsing around her, she fell.
The dark earth was swallowing her whole.
She screamed, flailing wildly to grab onto anything, but she only sank faster.
With only her face above the surface, through her fading vision,
the darkest star far to the north began to emit a brilliant, pure light,
and absolute darkness fell.
Then, in an instant, she was back at the beginning, where she discovered a single star glowing crimson above her head.
Over and over, the cycle repeated endlessly,
until a frantic hand shaking her body finally jolted her awake.
"Wake up!"
The terrace was glowing red.
Her sister's orange hair whipped around like wild flames.
Screams, the clashing of steel.
The acrid stench of ash was spreading rapidly.
"Hurry! You have to run!"
"...Sister?"
She couldn't make sense of the chaos.
But looking at the dancer's pale, terrified face, she managed to snap out of it.
Aria tightly strapped her pre-packed bag to her body and followed the orange-haired dancer.
From beyond the stage, the shrill screams of women, the shouts of men, and horrific laughter echoed.
The two of them quickly retreated, but the flickering red light outside the terrace was brightening at a terrifying speed. The back exit had already been cut off.
As panic seized them with no way out, the dancer suddenly shoved Aria into a large jewelry chest.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Sharp ornaments pricked her skin all over, but Aria clamped both hands over her mouth, stifling even a whimper.
She heard her sister's scream, followed by the cry of a man who had been laughing and spewing crude jokes.
Silence. A dull thud. The sound of someone retching.
"Burn the whole building down with these damn whores inside!"
A single command.
At those words, the dancers' screams grew even more desperate.
Amidst the horrific shrieks and curses she had never heard before, Aria thrashed wildly, trying to escape the locked chest.
"Let me out! Let me out!"
Aria screamed as well, but the chest remained stubbornly shut.
She felt a searing heat. The metal ornaments, heated by the flames, pressed painfully against her skin.
An unbearable, agonizing pain flared through her,
and before she knew it, she blacked out.
When she opened her eyes again,
Aria rose from the hideously warped nest of melted metal.
Beneath a clear sky, clutching her two perfectly intact books,
she stumbled out of the ashes.