Starfania left the warm hum of the kitchen behind, her footsteps echoing through the hollow corridors of the castle. The deeper she went, the colder it became—as though she were walking into the lungs of something ancient. Her hand trailed the cold stone of the stairwell, each step drawing her closer to the wing where her father spent most of his waking hours. But halfway down the hall, the world seemed to shift. A flicker of darkness rippled across her vision—a flash of another place entirely. The corridor dissolved, replaced by the image of a cavern drenched in gloom. The air there felt heavy, suffocating. She heard water dripping, echoing against the unseen walls.
The torches flickered weakly, their flames suffocated by the shadows that seemed alive. Then she saw it. A trail of crimson on the stone floor. Not splattered—smeared, as if something massive had been dragged through it. Her breath hitched. Instinctively, she crouched, brushing her fingers across the liquid. It felt tacky—still warm. When she brought her hand up, her pulse stopped. Blood. Before she could process it, a sharp caw tore through the silence. A black crow swept down from the cavern ceiling, its wings slicing through the air before it landed on a rusted hook. Its eyes glimmered like embers. It tilted its head…watching her.
Then, in a blink, the vision broke. Starfania gasped, hand trembling against a wooden door—her father's door. The flicker of the torchlight in the corridor seeming to steady again, the scent of blood replaced by dust and old books. She blinked rapidly, trying to shake the vision. Was it just in her mind? A leftover fragment of the unease she'd felt all morning?
" Get it together, Starfania," she whispered under her breath, steading herself. " It's just breakfast."
Her hand closed around the handle. The hinge gave a long, groaning creak as she pushed it open.
The air inside Cesar's study was thick with the scent of parchment and ink. The dim amber light from the oil lamp cast deep shadows across the room, touching the rows of aged books, the stacks of maps, the gleam of metal. Her father's armor stood in the corner, polished to perfection—black steel with streaks of crimson, the sigil of VulcanFire carved into the chest plates. It was both beautiful and terrifying, the very symbol of authority and burden. And she stared at it, something changed. Her vision blurred again, and for an instant, the armor shimmered into something entirely different—white metal with faint celestial light etched on its form, crowned with a dragon-shaped helm. The black sword that once hung beside it now gleamed silver, a sapphire gem burning softly in its hilt.
She felt her breath catch. The transformation was mesmerizing, holy even—and yet, hauntingly familiar. " Who's there?"
Her father's voice snapped her out of it. Deep, steady, commanding. She blinked, and just like that, the white armor was gone. Only black remained, cold and imposing.
" It's…me, Dad," she whispered. Cesar didn't look up right away, his quill scratching against paper.
" Hmmm," he murmured, gesturing absently towards the chair in front of him. She obeyed, lowering herself into the seat. The massive desk felt like a barrier between them—a mountain of documents and ledgers forming a wall of words that kept them apart.
Starfania's gaze drifted again to the armor. Her mind replayed the glimmer of light she had seen, wondering if it meant something. Was she losing her grip on reality or…were these visions trying to tell her something? Finally, Cesar set down his quill and leaned back, his eyes locking with hers. His gaze was sharp, assessing, yet unreadable—the gaze of a man who had long forgotten softness.
" What is it?" he asked. " What do you desire?"
His words were precise, as if he expected a request, a command, something meaningful. But Starfania could only swallow the lump in her throat and mutter, " I…came to let you know breakfast is served."
A long pause followed. The ticking of the old clock filled the space between them. Cesar's expression barely shifted. His hand rose, dismissive, his voice clipped and cold. " Go back and tell them to start without me."
Starfania froze for a moment, her chest tightening as something fragile inside her cracked just slightly more.
" Yes, father," she murmured, lowering her gaze. She stood and turned to leave, the vision of the white armor still burned in her memory—its sapphire glow reflecting in her mind's eye like a promise, or a warning. Outside the study door, the rain had slowed to a whisper, But to Starfania, the silence was deafening.