Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Vanishing Stars

The stars began to disappear on the night Prince Orion Valkeir's father died.

It was supposed to be a celebration—his father's fortieth year on the throne of the Empire of Solaryn. The Great Hall of Valkeir Castle was alive with music, golden banners swaying from the high marble pillars, and the clinking of goblets raised in eternal praise of Emperor Auron. But outside, the world was crumbling.

Orion stood on the castle balcony, his breath clouding in the cold night air. Below him, the capital city of Teyrhaven stretched like a sea of lanterns, the streets packed with revelers. Above, the sky was darker than he remembered, an unsettling absence where the stars should have glittered like distant fires.

"Brother?"

A soft voice came from behind. Orion turned to see his sister, Elira, standing at the threshold. Her silver dress shimmered faintly in the moonlight, but her face was drawn with concern.

"They're gone again, aren't they?" she whispered, stepping beside him. Her eyes traced the empty sky, where just a month ago, thousands of stars had burned.

"Yes," Orion replied, his voice quiet, his gaze still fixed on the heavens. "The stars are vanishing, one by one."

The rumors had spread across the empire in whispers at first—fishermen, sailors, and nomads claiming to have witnessed stars winking out in the far corners of the sky. No one believed them until the nights grew darker, until even the scholars of the Astral Tower confessed they had no explanation. It was as if the gods themselves were retreating from the world.

Elira shivered. "Father thinks it's just a sign of the coming winter. But I know he's lying. I can see it in his eyes. He's afraid."

Orion clenched the stone railing of the balcony. His father, Emperor Auron, was many things: a ruthless ruler, a skilled warrior, but never a man given to fear. Yet, in the last few months, there had been a change in him, a deepening weariness in his voice, a shadow behind his eyes that no one dared speak of. Even the court magisters, once frequent visitors, had grown scarce.

"There's something coming," Orion said, more to himself than to Elira. "Something none of us are prepared for."

As the words left his mouth, a shrill cry echoed from the Great Hall behind them. The suddenness of it froze Orion in place. For a moment, he thought it was part of the revelry, some foolish game played by drunken nobles. But then the cry came again—piercing, frantic—and this time it was followed by the clash of steel.

"Orion!" Elira's voice trembled with fear.

He didn't wait. With one last glance at the dark sky, Orion rushed back inside, Elira close behind him.

The hall was chaos. Nobles were scattering like frightened birds, overturned tables and shattered goblets littering the floor. At the center of the room, surrounded by the Emperor's royal guards, stood a figure draped in dark, tattered robes. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his hands—pale and skeletal—were outstretched toward the Emperor, who lay motionless on the floor.

"Father!" Elira cried, trying to push through the throng of guards.

Orion's heart pounded in his chest. He had no weapon, but instinct took over. He lunged forward, grabbing a fallen sword from one of the guards and charging toward the cloaked figure.

"Stay back!" the figure hissed, its voice cold and hollow, like the wind through a crypt. With a wave of its hand, a blast of dark energy surged toward Orion, knocking him back against the far wall. The air was ripped from his lungs, pain shooting through his chest.

The guards rushed in, swords raised, but the figure moved with inhuman speed. Dark tendrils of shadow sprang from its cloak, cutting down the men like wheat before the scythe. One by one, they fell, their bodies lifeless before they even hit the ground.

Orion struggled to his feet, dazed and gasping. Through the haze of pain, he saw Elira kneeling by their father, tears streaming down her face. The Emperor's eyes were open, but they were blank, unseeing.

"No…" Orion whispered, stumbling toward them.

The cloaked figure turned to face him, the shadows curling around its form like living smoke. It stepped closer, and as it did, its hood fell back, revealing a face that was not a face at all—a void of blackness, like staring into the heart of nothingness.

"I am the herald of the end," it whispered, its voice a deathly rasp. "The Accord is broken. The light will fade. And all will return to the Void."

Before Orion could react, the figure dissolved into the shadows, vanishing as if it had never been.

Silence fell over the hall, broken only by Elira's soft sobs. Orion dropped to his knees beside her, his hand trembling as he reached for his father's still form.

Emperor Auron Valkeir was dead.

And above them, the stars continued to vanish.

---

This marks the beginning of a new era for Orion, where not only the empire teeters on the brink of collapse, but the very fabric of the world is at stake. The vanishing stars, the dark figures, and the broken Accord are only the beginning of a cosmic unraveling that will force Orion to confront the truth about his world—and the impossible choices that come with it.