There were four moons in the sky.
One to the east, greater than the others.
One to the west, brighter than the others.
One to the north, prettier than the others.
One to the south, darker than the others.
And the sun, still and steady, hung in the center of it all, as though the four moons bowed in reverence before it.
Below, the lands stretched with mountains and fields, rivers weaving their way westward, toward the capital that stood nestled before the towering Crimson Mountain.
The city of Flaine, the heart of Velrane, lay there. Its roads reached far and wide, extending like veins from distant lands to its colossal gates.
Walls rose to block the path, and soldiers stood to guard them, sharper, sterner, and more seasoned than those found elsewhere.
Beyond the walls lay a hundred thousand homes and shops, accompanied by thousands of estates and mansions, along with thousands of Colosseums, hundreds of towers, and tens of districts.
Some were grander, some larger, sturdier, more lavish, more astonishing, and more remarkable than the rest.
A hundred thousand rings, bracelets, and necklaces glimmered in the marketplace, gold glowing on fingers, around wrists and necks, with thousands crafted with diamonds and hundreds made from what falls from the heavens.
Some of these treasures were brighter, eye-dazzling, status-marking, and worn by individuals more beautiful than the rest.
Some were more precious, some bearing fates that shone brighter and burned harder than others.
Hundreds of thousands of people filled the city—men and women, commoners and soldiers, even gladiators battling in deep and bloody pits.
Thousands of nobles rode in gilded carriages, followed by hundreds of ministers, high lords, and royalty, each with lineages considered purer than the rest.
And among them, there were those prettier, with better taste, more coin, and more power than the rest—more magic, more mana, flowing richer and deeper through them.
All of it, every stone and spire and soul, came into view.
But there was only one building, one palace, that towered above all else, greater than any other.
And within that palace, only two gems were set in place, burning more brightly than the rest, gazing out from atop the highest tower, their presence casting a shadow over every other.
There lived only one person inside that palace, wearing the two gems upon a face more beautiful than any other, draped in garments that flowed with unmatched grace, holding more coin than everyone else combined.
Majestic, beyond doubt.
And the blood flowing within? It was purer than all others.
Across the city, hundreds of thousands of hearts beat—once, twice, over and again. Some beat faster, some fought for blood, some fled from others, some pumped life, and some stole it.
And among them were hearts, innocent and young, not beating for long, kneeling before those far darker than the others.
But among them all, there was only one with a heart much darker than any other.
A queen, ruling over a kingdom greater than the empires to the south and the kingdoms to the east.
Her rule reached farther, her voice echoed louder, and her will weighed heavier than any other.
The four moons bowed before her.
She was a star that burned, one far hotter than the sun above—radiant, fierce, and unyielding in brilliance, presence, and power.
Yet, some stars fade from the heavens sooner than others.
Some linger with more patience.
Some blaze into copper, others collapse into iron.
Some shine with the glow of silver and gold.
And a rare few, scattered far and wide, give birth to life—creations far more precious than anything else.
But among all those burning gods of night, there was only one star that waited longer, more patiently than the rest.
One whose light did not shatter, did not fade.
One who did not forget.
She birthed a life long buried by time, a life long forgotten by others.