Riven moved deeper into the library, letting his feet carry him between towering shelves while his eyes scanned spines and titles, getting a sense of how information was organized. The Astravar family apparently collected everything. Histories and philosophies, combat manuals and economic treatises, journals and ledgers documenting centuries of family business, personal accounts and scholarly analyses, fiction and fact blended together in a collection that spoke of wealth beyond mere money.
Shelves dedicated to what looked like technical subjects caught his attention, sections devoted to topics he had no frame of reference for, but three books in particular stood out among the countless others, positioned at eye level as though waiting for him specifically.
The first was thick, leather bound, its spine embossed with silver lettering that read History of Desolara. Comprehensive and direct, exactly what he needed to understand this world beyond the fragments Esme had provided.
The second was slimmer but somehow carried more weight, titled An Exposé on Aster. The letters seemed ordinary enough but something about the book drew his attention with almost magnetic intensity, like it held answers to questions he did not yet know how to ask.
The third bore a title that made his breath catch. The Astravar Legacy, written in violet thread against black leather, the family crest embossed beneath the words in silver that seemed to shimmer in the ambient light.
His family's history. Their secrets. Their power documented and preserved.
But beside these three books, rolled and secured with a violet ribbon, sat a large scroll. The binding that held it closed bore words in careful script: Astravar Family Skill Tree.
Riven's hands trembled slightly as he gathered all four items, the weight of them substantial in his borrowed arms. Knowledge that might mean the difference between survival and whatever fate awaited failed Astravar sons.
He found a comfortable corner near one of the high windows where natural light fell in golden streams, settled into a chair that had probably supported generations of Astravar scholars, and arranged his discoveries on the reading table before him.
Four sources of information. Four keys to understanding his new existence.
He started with History of Desolara, opening it carefully and letting the pages fall naturally to the beginning.
The text began without preamble, direct and factual, the kind of historical writing that prioritized information over literary flourish.
Desolara, the world he had been transmigrated into, could be considered a medieval utopia, at least it had been at one point in its history. There was no ruling class in the traditional sense, no king or emperor sitting on a supreme throne dictating law to all the lands, no divine right monarchy or inherited autocracy. But that did not mean they lacked leadership or structure or order.
Rulership of the world was split into four blocs. North, South, East, and West. Geographic divisions that had existed for as long as recorded history. And within these blocs certain families had risen over generations, their power both financial and martial growing until they towered over all others, their resources and numbers and influence becoming so vast that they became de facto rulers through sheer capability rather than inherited divine mandate.
The division was remarkably balanced. Each bloc contained exactly three such families, three powers whose authority shaped everything within their territories. The Astravar was one of these families in the West, one of the three who controlled that quarter of the world through might and wealth and legacy stretching back centuries.
Together these twelve families, three from each of the four blocs, became known simply as the Twelve. The name carried weight throughout Desolara, speaking of power and authority and influence that transcended normal governance. They were not kings but they might as well have been. Their word was law within their territories, their armies maintained order, their courts settled disputes, their economies drove prosperity or ruin depending on their decisions.
Time flew by and generations passed. Things went well for the most part. Desolara functioned as a world with proper order should function. The Twelve maintained stability, criminals and terrorists who arose were dealt fitting punishment, bandits were hunted, pirates were destroyed, rogue elements were crushed before they could threaten the peace. Disorder existed as it always did in any society but remained manageable, contained, controlled by families who had spent centuries perfecting governance.
The book described an almost idyllic period, hundreds of years where Desolara prospered under the Twelve's collective rule. Trade flourished between blocs, culture bloomed, scholarship advanced. It was not perfect but it was stable, predictable, a world that functioned according to understandable rules where hard work brought reward and breaking laws brought consequences.
Until suddenly everything changed.
The text marked this moment with unusual emphasis, the words themselves seeming heavier on the page, as though the author understood they were describing a pivot point in history. The moment that would divide all of Desolaran civilization into before and after.
A forming grand nebula in the universe had exploded violently. Some cosmic catastrophe billions of miles away, completely beyond human awareness or understanding or control. The death of something vast and ancient, scattering shards of a newly formed star across the cosmos in all directions. Fragments of something primordial flung into the void, most lost forever to the infinite darkness between worlds.
But one such shard, perhaps through pure chance or perhaps through some design beyond mortal comprehension, entered the world of Desolara.
It collided with the planet's core, the impact sending ripples and fragments of the original shard cascading through atmosphere and earth and water. Pieces breaking off and scattering across the world's surface, embedding themselves in mountains and oceans and deep beneath the ground, while energy from the collision spread like ripples in a pond except the pond was an entire world and the ripples were transformation itself.
At first nothing happened. Days passed in eerie normalcy. People had seen strange lights in the sky, shooting stars that burned brighter and longer than any meteor shower in living memory. Scholars noted the phenomenon, priests proclaimed various interpretations, but life continued as it always had. The Twelve maintained their rule, society functioned, everything seemed fine.
Then gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, things began manifesting. Changes so subtle initially that most dismissed them as imagination or coincidence. Animals behaving strangely, crops growing in unusual patterns, people reporting strange sensations they could not quite describe. Feelings of energy or pressure or something present in the air that had not been there before.
The changes accelerated. What had been gradual became obvious. What had been dismissible became undeniable. An omnipresent force had spread throughout the world, invisible but tangible, existing everywhere and in everything, saturating reality itself with something new and transformative and utterly alien to everything humanity had known.
The text called this force Aster, cosmic energy from a dead star's fragments, and it changed everything it touched.
The first to be visibly affected were the animals. Beasts across Desolara began mutating in ways that defied natural law. They grew larger, stronger, developing abilities that should not have been possible. Deer whose antlers generated electricity, wolves whose fur turned to living stone, birds that could breathe fire, serpents that could phase through solid matter. Predators and prey alike transformed into something more and something other than what they had been.
These mutated creatures, these beasts fueled by something they could not understand or control, began rampaging through territories that had been safe for centuries. They attacked settlements with newfound intelligence and capabilities, killed travelers, destroyed crops, made roads and trade routes too dangerous to traverse. The careful order the Twelve had maintained began crumbling under assault from nature itself gone mad with power.
Humans followed, their bodies beginning to awaken to this cosmic energy that now permeated everything. Some faster than others, some more completely. The awakening process proved painful and unpredictable, people's bodies literally transforming as this force called Aster integrated with their biology, rewriting them on fundamental levels. Some gained strength beyond normal human limits, others developed enhanced senses, still others manifested stranger abilities. Manipulation of heat or cold, enhanced healing, the capacity to perceive things invisible to normal sight.
But not everyone awakened, and those who did varied wildly in capability. Chaos erupted as social structures designed for normal humans suddenly had to accommodate people with supernatural abilities, as hierarchies based on wealth and position found themselves challenged by individuals whose personal power eclipsed institutional authority.
The world which had been maintained by the Twelve began breaking down systematically. Their armies struggled against beasts that could not be killed by conventional weapons, their economies collapsed as trade became impossible, their authority meant nothing against awakened individuals who could ignore normal consequences. Everything the Twelve had built over centuries crumbled in months as Aster transformed Desolara into something unrecognizable.
Then came the turning point. The moment when destruction might have become extinction, when humanity teetered on the edge of losing everything to forces it could not comprehend or control.
The Twelve, perhaps through desperation or brilliance or simple determination not to lose what generations had built, performed deeper research than anyone else could afford. They had resources to dedicate entire facilities to study, scholars to analyze phenomena others could only survive, the capability to experiment and test and push boundaries that common people could not approach.
Through this research they discovered the source, traced the cosmic energy back to that initial collision, and more importantly they found physical remnants of what had struck their world. Twelve fragment shards scattered across Desolara, pieces of that original star fragment that had impacted the core. Each one radiating pure concentrated energy, each one humming with power that dwarfed what had spread through the atmosphere.
The Twelve families recovered these shards through methods the text did not elaborate on, presumably involving great cost and effort, and in studying them made a discovery that would reshape their world again. Touching the shards awakened something deeper than the ambient transformation everyone had experienced, something the text called bloodline abilities. Powers that went beyond what normal awakened humans could achieve, capabilities that made the difference between common soldiers and legendary heroes.
But the shards were selective. Not everyone who touched them gained these bloodline abilities. The compatibility was specific, exclusive in ways that suggested either cosmic coincidence or deliberate design. You had to come from one of the Twelve families, had to carry their blood, their legacy, their genetic heritage. Only then would the fragments respond, only then would bloodlines activate and grant abilities that transcended normal limits.
Riven closed the book slowly, his mind processing the implications. This was the foundation. The cosmic catastrophe that had transformed an orderly world into something far more dangerous and far more wondrous.
He reached for The Astravar Legacy next, the black leather cool beneath his fingers.
The book opened to a family crest on the first page, intricate and detailed. Seven stars arranged in a specific constellation pattern, surrounded by symbols he recognized from the tapestries and armor throughout the estate. Beneath it, a single line in flowing script: Power Through Unity, Strength Through Blood.
The text began with the founding, tracing the Astravar line back centuries before the cosmic event, when they had been merely wealthy merchants who had leveraged trade into influence, influence into military capability, military capability into regional authority. But it was the arrival of Aster that had truly elevated them.
The Astravar family had claimed one of the twelve fragments, the book detailed with pride how the then Patriarch had personally recovered the shard from deep within the western mountains, how it had cost the lives of dozens of warriors but secured the family's future for generations to come.
The shard had awakened their bloodline. Elemental.
As the name implied it granted awakening to one of nine fundamental forces. The text listed them with reverent precision: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light, Dark, Space, Ice, Lightning. Nine possible affinities, nine paths to power that made Elemental bloodline bearers among the most versatile combatants in all of Desolara.
But elemental affinity alone was not what made the Astravar feared among the Twelve. Coupled with their varied elemental powers came something the book called Invincible Physique, a transformation of the body itself that went beyond normal awakening. It meant that even an untrained, newly awakened Astravar could dismantle a trained awakened person from any other background. Their bodies were simply superior by default, stronger, faster, more durable, enhanced beyond normal limits by bloodline that ran deeper than surface ability.
The combination proved devastating. Elemental manipulation gave them offensive and defensive versatility while superior physiques ensured they could survive and dominate in any combat scenario.
But what truly made the Astravar terrifying among the Twelve was their numbers.
The book devoted an entire chapter to this, explaining with clinical detail how the family had deliberately cultivated size as their strategic advantage. Where other families among the Twelve maintained bloodline purity through selective breeding and limited marriages, carefully controlling who could claim their name and abilities, the Astravar had taken the opposite approach.
They bred prolifically. Multiple wives and concubines for male heirs, carefully arranged marriages that prioritized fertility over political gain, an entire system designed to produce as many bloodline carriers as possible. The text noted that the current generation alone included over three hundred awakened Astravar scattered across the western territories, serving in various military units, administrative positions, and family enterprises.
Where other families might field a single elite unit of perhaps fifty bloodline warriors, the Astravar could deploy ten such units simultaneously. Where others had to carefully protect their few bloodline carriers, treating each one as irreplaceable, the Astravar could afford casualties that would cripple other families.
Numbers were their doctrine. Their strategy. Their overwhelming advantage.
The book showed tactical deployments from historical conflicts, demonstrating how Astravar forces had simply drowned opposition in waves of bloodline warriors, each one individually superior to common soldiers, collectively forming an unstoppable tide of elemental power and enhanced physiques.
It was brutal efficiency. Raw calculation. The kind of strategy that only worked if you could actually produce hundreds of viable bloodline carriers, which apparently only the Astravar had managed among all the Twelve.
Riven felt a chill run down his spine. This was the legacy he had inherited. Not just power, but systematic, overwhelming numerical superiority. This was why Hugo could have seven sons and still view the seventh as disposable if he proved defective. This was why failing to awaken was not just disappointing but fundamentally questioned his value to the family structure.
He was supposed to be one more soldier in an army of elemental warriors. One more piece of overwhelming force. And if he could not even awaken, then what purpose did he serve?
The book concluded with a listing of current family assets and holdings, the sheer scope making Riven's head spin. Training facilities, military installations, mining operations, trade networks, entire cities under Astravar administration. This was not just wealth. This was empire.
He set the book aside and reached for the scroll with trembling fingers.
The violet ribbon came loose easily. The scroll unrolled across the table, revealing a massive diagram that branched and split like an actual tree, names written in careful script at each node, lines connecting parents to children, spouses indicated with intertwining marks, the entire structure mapping generations of Astravar bloodline.
At the top, in bold letters that seemed darker than the rest: Hugo Von Astravar. Patriarch.
Below him, seven branches. Seven sons.
Riven's eyes traced each one, finding the information Esme had provided now given visual form.
Kieran Astravar. First Star. Age 29. Affinity: Lightning. Commander, Northern Crusade.
Seth Astravar. Second Star. Age 28. Affinity: Fire. Commander, Eastern Reconnaissance.
Thane Astravar. Third Star. Age 26. Affinity: Earth. Commander, Southern Defensive Operations.
Rein Astravar. Fourth Star. Age 25. Affinity: Fire. Commander, Western Frontier.
Kameron Astravar. Fifth Star. Age 21. Affinity: Water. Recently graduated Academy, Independent Operations.
Ariel Astravar. Sixth Star. Age 20. Affinity: Air. Final year Academy, Top of class.
And finally, at the bottom of the tree, the seventh and final branch.
Riven Astravar. Seventh Star. Age 15. Affinity: Unknown. Status: Awakening Failed Twice.
The words seemed to burn on the page. Unknown. Failed.
While his brothers had lightning and earth and fire and water and air, elements that granted them power and purpose and place within the family structure, Riven had nothing. Just two documented failures and a question mark where capability should be.
He stared at that entry for a long moment, at the visual representation of his inadequacy compared to six successful brothers who had all awakened on schedule or early, who had all claimed their elements and proven their worth, who were all out in the world doing important things while he recovered from nearly dying in a bed.
The skill tree showed other branches too, cousins and uncles and extended family, dozens of names spreading across the scroll, each one marked with their affinity, their status, their contributions to Astravar power. Fire seemed most common, followed by earth and water, with air, ice, light and dark appearing less frequently. Space and lightning were rare, perhaps the rarest, with only a handful of names claiming those affinities across multiple generations.
But every single name had an affinity listed. Every single Astravar on this entire tree had awakened to something.
Except Riven.
He rolled the scroll closed slowly, his hands steady despite the weight of realization settling in his chest.
This was what he was up against. Not just Hugo's expectations, not just his brothers' achievements, but the entire documented history of a bloodline that had never produced a complete failure. Oh, there were notes here and there of Astravar who had died young, been killed in battle, proven less talented than their siblings. But none who simply could not awaken at all.
He was potentially the first. The anomaly. The broken branch on an otherwise thriving tree.
Riven looked at the remaining book, An Exposé on Aster, still waiting on the table. That one would have the technical details, the mechanics of how awakening actually worked, perhaps even clues about why someone might fail.
But for now, he sat in the golden afternoon light streaming through high windows, surrounded by the accumulated knowledge of his new family, understanding for the first time exactly what being the Seventh Star meant.
He was the youngest son of the most numerous bloodline family among the Twelve. One potential soldier among hundreds. Expected to awaken, claim an element, prove his worth through the same Invincible Physique and elemental mastery that every Astravar before him had demonstrated.
And he had failed. Twice.
Three days until the third attempt. Three days to figure out how to succeed where he had failed before, or be left to fate in a world that had no use for powerless Astravar sons.
The library stretched quiet and vast around him, full of knowledge that might save him or simply document his final failure with the same clinical precision used for every other entry in the family records.
Riven reached for An Exposé on Aster, his borrowed hands steady with determination that had survived death once already.
Time to learn how awakening actually worked.
And maybe, hopefully, how to make it work for someone who apparently should not exist.