The Fox and the Banished Star
Spirita's jewel, the Soulforge Citadel, loomed like a city carved from the bones of Gods. It was the richest, grandest city on the continent—not because of its markets, nor its gold, but because it was the seat of Spirita's most feared power.
From the cobbled streets to the sweeping plazas, life here revolved around reverence. Citizens bustled in endless currents, yet every head turned when their eyes inevitably drifted toward the colossal palace at the city's heart. Majestic towers, carved with runes of forgotten ages, clawed into the heavens. Even the stone seemed to breathe authority, each line whispering of the Queen's rule.
Their gazes brimmed with awe, almost worship, as if even the air was holy.
And yet, amid the throng, one figure did not belong.
A young man walked as though the noise of the world could not touch him. His steps were unhurried, almost detached, as though he were both part of this mortal crowd and something utterly beyond it.
Nux.
His presence drew the world like iron to a magnet. His features, refined and flawless, seemed carved by immortal hands. But it was his eyes—black, fathomless, deep as star-swept skies—that caught and held every gaze. They did not merely look; they pulled, as though every soul yearned to glimpse what worlds lay hidden in their depths.
Men, women, the young, the old—it didn't matter. No one who passed him could remain unaffected.
"Tsk, tsk… that aura… no ordinary man. Must be the son of some great house, out here to play at being common."
"Nonsense! Even the seven sects' heirs don't carry themselves like that. Look at him. That face alone… incomparable."
"Keep your damn voice down! If he is a noble's son, do you want to lose your tongue?"
Admiration flickered in men's eyes, but the whispers of women told another story entirely.
Two girls lingered near a stall of steaming buns, their voices carrying just enough for those beside them to hear.
One tugged at her friend's sleeve, her voice a breathless whisper.
"Look—over there! Do you see him? Handsome… he's so—Gods, my heart…"
Her best friend rolled her eyes, laughing as she swatted at her hand.
"You little fool. Every time you see a decent man, you swoon like a spring-struck maiden. This place is crawling with rough types. Where would a handsome man suddenly appear from?"
"No! This one is different," the innocent girl protested, eyes glazed, lips parted slightly as she stared at Nux. "This… this is real. I swear my heart's racing."
Her friend chuckled, about to tease again, but when her gaze casually followed—her laughter died. Her lips parted, and her expression froze.
"…!"
The silence stretched.
The innocent girl turned, caught the look on her friend's face, and sneered in mock disgust.
"Oh, look at you. Didn't you say I was the one pining for spring? Then what's that drooling face you're making now?"
"I-I'm not!" her best friend snapped, flustered, though her eyes clung helplessly to Nux.
The first girl folded her arms, triumphant.
"Some people slap themselves silly, huh? Saliva dripping, face flushed—shameless!"
Her friend sputtered, cheeks crimson.
"You damn brat, stop spouting nonsense! You're the shameless one. Your virtue's long gone—"
"Bah! And what if I did? What if I decide to chase after him first?"
The argument dissolved into bickering, the bystanders whispering and shaking their heads.
"Sisters, keep it inside," one older woman muttered under her breath, cheeks reddened despite herself. "At least pretend to be reserved."
Yet even as they scolded, their own eyes lingered. Not just on his beauty—it was more. Something about Nux carried the weight of mystery, the magnetism of inevitability. He wasn't just a handsome stranger; he was a question they all longed to answer.
And then, a voice—clear, lilting—cut through the murmurs.
"Hey, handsome little brother. First time in the Soulforge Citadel?"
Nux slowed, brows lifting as a figure stepped boldly into his path.
The girl who stood before him was striking in a way that silenced the crowd. Dressed in a lavish golden gown, her form was sculpted in curves and lines that drew every eye. Long legs gleamed beneath silk, flawless skin shining faintly under the afternoon sun. Her face—sharp, exquisite—was the kind carved for temptation, straddling the line between holy and devilish. And those eyes, pink as dusk over a battlefield, seemed to tug at the soul itself.
The men around them faltered mid-step. Many stared, desire and fear tangled in their gazes, but none dared approach. They knew her. Or rather, they knew enough to stay away.
Nux, however, only adjusted his hold on the small pink rabbit nestled in his arm—Syra in her compact form—and scratched idly behind its ears. His eyes flicked up and down the girl who blocked his way.
Short golden hair glimmered like flame, her posture confident, her beauty undeniable. By any measure of men, she was a Goddess among mortals, confirmed by the way the crowd gawked.
But to him?
Nux's tone was cool, almost dismissive.
"And what business is it of yours?"
The girl's smile froze.
Hera—the Queen's personal disciple, Spirita's famed enchantress—wasn't used to this. She was the jewel of the Soulforge Citadel, raised with reverence, her talent unmatched, her beauty praised as second only to her teacher, Rose. Wherever she went, men stumbled over themselves to kneel, to beg for her favor.
Yet this man… didn't even blink.
For a heartbeat, Hera doubted herself. She even touched her cheek, smooth as jade, to make sure nothing was amiss. Still perfect. Still flawless. Then why—why did this man's indifference cut deeper than any insult?
Nux moved to step around her, uninterested.
Her breath hitched, her pride stung, and before she realized it, words tumbled out.
"Wait—hey, stop!"
She darted forward, long legs carrying her effortlessly as she chased after him, eyes burning with curiosity she hadn't felt in years.