The First Epoch Cycle Anniversary Celebration

The 42 months anniversary celebration was held at the beach.

Night had spread its indigo veil across the curved back of the Halo Islands. The crescent shores glittered like broken pearls beneath the sky, and at their center was the Obsidian Runic Spire. Its blackened body shimmered with dormant runes, some glowing gently, others humming with restrained power.

This night was no ordinary one. It was the beginning of the Longest Nightfall.

It was a period of fourteen uninterrupted nights, where the skies remained cloaked in darkness and starlight, the sun absent, the two moons reigning. Once every hundred and twelve years, this celestial phenomenon bathed Spheraphase in a week-long nocturnal calm in a silence so profound, not even the predatory Krepsunas stirred from their lairs.

And it was the perfect time to celebrate.

Inside the Obsidian Runic Spire, both the Ground Floor and the expansive First Floor halls had been transformed into a dazzling scene of music, warmth, laughter, and reunion. The very students of Minafallen Academy, once prideful prodigies and scholars of the most advanced institution in Spheraphase, were now survivors, each scarred, changed, and reforged by the harrowing cycle of the First Epoch Cycle.

This was their 42-month mark since arriving on the Erna Isles, since their forced displacement by EPOCH, since their fall from the skies of Minafallen into this grounded realm of primal beauty and terrifying truths.

And on this night, they celebrated not with grief, but with joy.

The interior of the ORS glowed like the inside of a celestial heart. The obsidian walls reflected torchlight and magical lanterns cast by crystal spheres, bouncing gold, indigo, and violet hues around the room in dizzying symphonies of color.

Long tables were lined with food. The spread was excessive, decadent even, by survival standards. Local dishes of Erna-grown fruit and smoked meat, thick honeyed root tarts, roasted boar slices, and spiced seafoam stew bubbled in enormous cauldrons. Towering bread loaves were stacked next to wheels of pastries and cups of fermented island-nectar wine flowed freely.

The students themselves were unrecognizable from their former academic personas.

They were dressed in relaxed tunics and flowy silks. Some wore face paint drawn from their own group colors, a mingling of the old world and the new.

On the ground floor, they danced in waves, arms thrown over shoulders, laughter erupting like thunderous applause as an impromptu group performed an ancient chant song with poorly timed percussion but unmatched heart.

Others sprawled across woven mats, lying against one another as friends did, chewing on slices of fruit or spilling wine over tales that kept growing taller with each retelling.

There was music of soft flute melodies overlaid by humming runes embedded in the walls that adapted to the mood.

Beyond the great obsidian doors of the Spire, the Halo Islands' open grassland dipped slightly toward a hollow, and there was a massive bonfire roared in celebration. Magical logs, enchanted by the artisan mages of the group, burned in colors of deep teal and silver-white, casting shadows that danced and flickered like forgotten ancestors gathering close.

It was camping at its finest but the kind born of camaraderie, not necessity. Dozens of tents circled the bonfire. Blankets were unfurled and lined with more food, drinks, storytelling corners, and even arm-wrestling tournaments that attracted absurd levels of attention. Couples curled into each other under the stars. Friends sang in drunken harmony. Some just stared at the night sky, whispering thanks to deities they didn't know they believed in.

Here, the pain of loss was acknowledged but not emphasized. They had lost over a thousand of their own in the first year. But tonight, those that remained chose to live for them.

The brilliance of the celebration wasn't random.

Phaenora had planned every detail, from the way the dancing lights followed certain flute frequencies to the layout of the food tables based on crowd flow. The sapphire-haired tease was seen darting between floors in a silken dress that somehow sparkled with real constellations. She never sat still. She made people laugh, pulled dancers into the circle, replaced spilled drinks with new ones before anyone noticed.

She even enchanted little floating runes that bobbed around above everyone's heads like light fairies, each displaying messages like:

"You survived. That matters."

"Your dance moves are illegal. Keep going."

"Drink water, you gremlin."

Meanwhile, Adelasta, in her usual cold elegance, stood outside. She wore a midnight-black gown tailored to perfection, minimal in design but majestic in form, her orange eyes scanning the crowd below. She had helped secure the island for this celebration, ensuring no threats would approach.

And then, when all was in motion, she stepped forward to speak.

The music dimmed. Conversations softened. All eyes lifted to the high platform where Adelasta stood beneath a hanging orb of glowing light.

She raised one hand and silence followed.

"Forty-two months ago, we fell. We weren't ready. We weren't warned. And we weren't forgiven for being weak."

The wind blew gently through the spire's high archways.

"We lost 1,274 of our own. Some of them… better than us. Some of them, selfish, arrogant, flawed, but still ours."

She exhaled.

"But we are here, still breathing. Not because we were chosen, not because we were lucky. But because we kept moving."

Her gaze swept across every floor.

"For the next seven days, you are free. There will be no missions, no patrols and no expectations. You will eat, sleep and dance. Kiss, laugh and live as we should have done from the beginning."

The crowd stirred. Whispers rose. Heads lifted higher.

"The Krepsunas never strike during this period so consider this your gift from fate."

And then, against all expectations, she bowed. Deeply.

"Thank you… for surviving."

For a beat, silence prevailed. Then roars of cheering emerged.

They erupted like a tidal wave. People whistled, stomped and clapped until their palms stung. Some chanted her name. Others lifted their cups and toasted to the speech. Phaenora smirked from the ground floor, raising her drink.

And so, the first night began.

People danced until the torches sputtered. They lay beneath magical heat blankets as stars wheeled slowly above. Some couples whispered promises of love they might not remember in a week. Others sat in silence, listening to old friends snore and knowing that for now, they were safe.

Somewhere high on the spire, Adelasta stood again with Phaenora by her side.

"Think they'll remember this night?" Phaenora asked as she saw the happiness.

"They better. It took me long enough to plan it."

A sudden flash of starry light warped into existence in front of the Obsidian Runic Spire.

Narisva Starisnova appeared right in front of them.

Adelasta instinctively took half a step back, her eyes narrowing, while Phaenora dropped the wine cup in her hand and muttered something definitely not appropriate for an Enlightenment student. The soft sound of it shattering below wasn't even noticed over the chorus of gasps.

"By the Primordials! Can you not just appear like that?! It's a celebration, not a horror game!"

Adelasta's icy exterior cracked just a little as she straightened her posture, brushing off invisible nerves.

"Next time, announce yourself."

But of course, Narisva just leaned against the obsidian walls like she owned the island. Her wavy locks shimmered in the starlight and she was dressed in a robe, glimmering like galaxies were stitched into the very fabric. Her gaze lazily swept over them,.

"Oh please. You should be grateful it was me and not something worse. I do remember saving your tails more than once."

"Still," Phaenora muttered under her breath, "doesn't mean I want a damn heart attack every time you show up."

But neither she nor Adelasta refuted her presence because she was the strongest. And they knew it.

"You're lucky I like you two, Anyway. You're right. The Krepsunas won't be stirring for the next seven days. Even they fear what happens during the Longest Nightfall."

Her tone had that casual confidence again, too smug to be humble, too powerful to be called out for it. Adelasta nodded slightly.

"Good to have that confirmed."

But Phaenora, ever the instigator, crossed her arms and raised a brow.

"So... what, did you teleport in just to show off your timing and make us flinch, or is there actually something you came to say?"

Narisva glanced up at the distant sky for a moment, as if thinking whether to answer seriously or with sarcasm. She chose… both.

"I tried going to the Fallen Bridge earlier. Thought I'd check up on Vastarael and his adorable little girls. You know, the fluffy ones."

"They are not fluffy," Adelasta said flatly, though a twitch of a smile hinted at her affection.

"Still fluffy. Anyway, I didn't get in. Or rather, the Bridge rejected me."

Both Adelasta and Phaenora's expressions shifted.

"You were rejected? You?"

"Yes, sapphire haired girl. I ended up on the Island of Peony by accident. Again. Stupid Crimson Curtain Peonies caught my scent."

"They didn't…?" Phaenora asked, eyes narrowing.

"I got away this time. Barely. If I hadn't short-teleported out, they would've cocooned me like last time. I still smell of that cursed pollen."

Adelasta looked at her.

"You could've destroyed them."

"Oh, absolutely," Narisva said with the kind of certainty only gods possessed. "I could kill the Crimson Verdarite itself if I wanted."

"Then why didn't you?" Phaenora tilted her head.

Narisva leaned back again, staring out toward the distant horizon where the Halo Islands ended and the forbidden seas began.

"Because… that revenge belongs to Vastarael. And I won't rob him of that glory when he gets back."

"When he gets back…"

Adelasta echoed softly.

She turned away from them and walked a few, eyes softening in ways few ever saw. Her voice was quiet, almost too fragile for someone usually so unreadable.

"I miss him. Even if he always complained about how cold I was. Even if he didn't understand why I kept asking. I knew something would go wrong. That's why I forced him to marry me earlier than planned."

"You forced him?"

"Hey, I negotiated with reality," Adelasta muttered with the faintest trace of a smirk. "And now I'm glad I did. Because I can't feel him. Not through the Boon. Not anymore."

Narisva's confident demeanor dropped just a notch, her gaze growing more serious.

"The Fallen Bridge cuts off more than just distance. But I knew he was alive. I felt it… until just now."

Her voice faltered. Then. she gasped loud enough to startle both women beside her. Her knees buckled almost immediately and she dropped to the ground, one hand clutching her chest, the other pressed hard against the cold surface to keep herself from collapsing fully.

"Adelasta?" Phaenora rushed to her, catching her before she hit the ground. "What's wrong?!"

Narisva was there in a blink, her palm glowing faintly as she hovered it over Adelasta's form, scanning for curses, tethers, injuries, anything.

Adelasta's fingers trembled. Her breath was tight.

"…He's not fine."

"What?"

Phaenora asked, voice now frantic.

Adelasta's head lowered, her crimson hair spilling over her shoulders.

"Vastarael is… he's dying."