"The days before war do not roar. They whisper."
⸻
Ten days before their wedding, Kishorio stood at the height of its beauty.
The floating capital gleamed like a crown beneath the twin suns — its canals sparkled with mirrored light, the waterfalls shimmered like ribbons of glass, and the air was filled with the scent of mana blossoms blooming early in celebration of the royal union.
Every street echoed with music, every balcony draped in silver and blue. From the poorest districts to the noble estates, the people sang of love and peace — of the young King who had brought prosperity and the woman who had captured his heart.
Yet above that music, something quieter stirred.
A vibration. A hum. A breath from the heavens.
Few noticed it.
But Kayden did.
From the highest spire of the castle, he stood overlooking the empire, his cloak fluttering softly in the early breeze. To anyone else, he was simply a ruler admiring his city — but in his eyes, there was calculation, not calm. He saw the fluctuations of the ley channels, the thin shifts in the planet's outer field.
The Visitors had not withdrawn. They lingered — patient, invisible, waiting.
And time was running out.
⸻
The preparations for the wedding continued regardless.
In the royal courtyard, the finest engineers of the Shruk family were setting crystalline arches that pulsed with soft mana light. Each crystal sang faintly, harmonizing with the ley lines beneath the island, creating a melody meant to bless the union.
Kirti walked among them, her gown catching the sunlight, her hair tied in a simple braid. Despite her noble birth, she worked with her hands, helping arrange the flowers and guiding servants with a kindness that made even the palace guards smile.
When Kayden appeared at the archway, she looked up and smiled.
"You're supposed to be preparing for your vows, not inspecting the mana output," she teased gently.
Kayden smiled faintly. "If the ley patterns fluctuate during the ceremony, we might end up with floating guests."
"I think they'd enjoy that," she said with a laugh. "A wedding in the sky — what could be more fitting?"
Her laughter warmed him more than the sunlight. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world loosened its hold.
But then, a faint tremor passed through the air. The nearest crystal dimmed for a heartbeat before brightening again. Kirti didn't notice. Kayden did.
He glanced toward the horizon — where the blue of the sky met the faint silver of the void. His instincts whispered again: They are closer.
⸻
That night, the palace held a small gathering in honor of the soon-to-be-wed couple.
The hall was filled with warm light and quiet joy.
Prince Lionel spoke endlessly about his newest invention — "A shield enhancer that can double defense while consuming only half the mana! Imagine what that means for our outer provinces!" — while Princess Aria played a soft tune on the crystal harp, her melodies filling the space like drifting stars.
Kirti laughed, surrounded by friends and nobles, yet her eyes always found Kayden. He stood by the window, half-turned to the stars. He looked almost otherworldly — the faint silver in his coat glowing under the hall's light.
She excused herself and walked to him, her voice soft. "You're thinking again."
He turned, his gaze distant but kind. "Always."
"What is it this time?"
"The tremors are growing stronger," he said quietly, keeping his voice low. "The Ministry of Defense reported three spatial fluctuations beyond the upper stratosphere. They're not natural."
Her expression didn't falter. "Then you already know what it means."
"I do," he admitted. "And yet… I can't ruin the peace they've built. Not until I'm sure."
She took his hand — the gesture small, human, grounding. "Then hold onto this instead of your doubts. For ten days, Kayden. Ten days of peace. Promise me that."
His eyes softened. "You'd ask a king for a promise he can't keep?"
She smiled faintly. "I'm not asking a king. I'm asking the man who once said the stars whisper to him."
For the first time that night, he laughed — quiet, real. "Then I promise to listen only to your voice until our vows are spoken."
Her eyes shimmered with warmth. "Then I'll make sure it never fades."
⸻
Three days later, the first storm hit the outer border.
Not rain, not thunder — but a spatial ripple, a shimmering distortion that tore through the night sky like liquid glass. The outpost stationed there reported strange readings, moments before their signal went silent.
By morning, only ashes and mana fragments remained.
The Ministry of Defense tried to suppress the report, but whispers spread. The people of Kishorio began to sense unease. The winds carried questions, and even the waterfalls seemed quieter.
Kayden knew the truth. The Visitors were testing their defenses.
And he knew what would come next.
That evening, as he stood once again upon the balcony, Kirti found him there — as always.
The pendant he had given her glowed faintly at her neck, responding to his presence.
"Another ripple?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "The first of many. The peace we have left can now be counted in days."
Kirti stood beside him, her eyes steady. "Then let's make those days matter."
He turned to her, words unspoken in his throat. "Kirti—"
But she shook her head gently. "No speeches, Your Majesty. Just… be here. With me. Tonight, forget the stars, the empire, the threat. Just us."
And for that night, he did.
The sky outside Kishorio shimmered faintly with the hint of approaching doom, but in the royal gardens, two souls shared a moment of fragile eternity — hands entwined, hearts calm, as if they could hold back the universe itself for one last breath.
TO BE CONTINUE…