Agastya meets the princess

The cold, damp prison cell smelled of rust and decay. Shackles lay discarded in the corner, their chains broken from previous captives who had either perished or been taken away. Eliora sat on the stone floor, knees pulled to her chest, her golden hair matted with sweat and dust. The light from the high, barred window was pale and fleeting, doing little to warm the biting chill that clung to the underground dungeon. She barely registered it. There was no warmth left in her world.

Her arms wrapped tighter around herself as she stared blankly at the wall, lips trembling as she whispered, "Why was I born cursed?"

The words were more to herself than anyone else, the weight of her misfortune pressing down like an iron hand.

Her father had disappeared before she even opened her eyes to the world, vanishing like a ghost without a trace.

Her mother had died giving birth to her, never even getting the chance to hold her.

When she was twelve, she had at least dared to hope for something better—her awakening had come, and with it, the elemental core that every noble child awaited with excitement. But fate had laughed in her face once again. Light. A healing element. A useless ability in a world where potions could be bought with mere pocket change. She had been ridiculed, pitied, and dismissed.

And now, the final nail had been driven into her coffin. She had awakened her celestial bloodline.

Had she been normal, she could have lived as royalty, betrothed to a prince, living a life of prestige and influence. But the moment that halo had appeared over her head, her fate had been sealed. A mark of death. Celestial bloodlines were hunted to extinction. No matter how powerful their ancestors had been, no matter how pure or strong the divine energy coursing through their veins, they were nothing but prey for the Galactic Empire. And she was no exception.

She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her skin.

The door of her cell remained firmly shut, but she knew what lay beyond it—a world that had no place for her. The thought of being dragged out at sunrise, bound and helpless, to be handed over to the Raiders was unbearable. She wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice of it all, but what use was it? There was no escape. With anti-mana cuffs around her wrists, she couldn't even conjure any energy. She is now nothing more than a helpless lamb waiting for its head to be cut off.

Above the dungeons, in the grand halls of Iberica Palace, Governor Theodore sat alone in his chambers, his hands trembling as he nursed a goblet of wine that had long lost its warmth. His heart was heavy, and his mind tormented by the cruel hand fate had dealt his niece.

Eliora was his favorite. The little girl who had once clung to his robes, laughing with innocent joy, had grown into a young woman with a kind heart and a quiet strength. And yet, here he was, the very man who had ordered her imprisonment.

But what choice did he have?

Had he tried to hide her, had he shown even the slightest hesitation in following protocol, the consequences would have been dire. It was not just his own life at stake—it was his entire bloodline. Every servant in the temple had seen the awakening. The guards, the nobles, even the priests had witnessed the divine glow that had marked her as celestial. There was no undoing it. There was no secrecy to be had.

The law was absolute. And the law demanded her life.

Even if Sovereign Xyrian himself would never concern himself with a single girl from a backwater planet like Earth, his Raiders were another matter entirely.

The Raiders were the enforcers of the Galactic Empire. Scattered across the cosmos, stationed in every major star system, they were the Emperor's eyes and hands. They sniffed out rebellion before it even began, they quelled uprisings before a single battle could be waged, and above all—they ensured that no celestial bloodline could ever rise again.

And by morning, they would come for Eliora.

Theodore exhaled, rubbing his temple with weary fingers. There was no escaping this. If he defied the law, he would not only be signing his own death warrant but dooming his children, his grandchildren, and all who carried his name.

And yet… how could he condemn his own niece to such a fate?

Soon, midnight arrived. The city of Iberica remained eerily silent, its people knowing of the tragedy unfolding within the palace walls, but they could only pity her and go on with their lives.

And as the night stretched on, she could only wait for dawn, when the gates of her prison would open, and her fate would be sealed forever.

But fate had other plans.

At the stroke of midnight, a sudden commotion echoed through the dungeon halls. The heavy clang of armored bodies hitting the floor, muffled cries of pain, and the sharp hiss of wind cutting through flesh broke the silence of the prison. The guards stationed outside Eliora's cell barely had time to react before a figure, swift as a ghost, tore through them with merciless precision.

Priestess Isabella stepped into the dimly lit cell corridor, her robe shimmering faintly with the afterglow of magic. Her serene face was set with grim determination.

"Come, child," she commanded, kneeling before Eliora and shattering the anti-mana cuffs binding her wrists with a mere touch. "We do not have much time."

Eliora, stunned beyond words, could only stare. Nothing came out of her mouth.

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, Isabella had already lifted her to her feet. More guards came charging from the stairwell, swords drawn, but the priestess raised a single hand. "Scram." A pulse of radiant energy exploded outward, sending them sprawling like ragdolls.

The palace elites, hearing the commotion, rushed in from above. These were no ordinary soldiers—they were the finest warriors under Governor Theodore's command, trained to handle the strongest of threats.

As they cut her path, Isabella narrowed her eyes. "I guess I can't take her like this."

She glanced at the princess floating in mid-air beside her. "Your Highness, you are going in for a ride. Brace yourself."

"Eh?" The Princess just came out to her senses but went into a daze once again as she saw Isabella's form shimmered, her body engulfed in blinding golden light. The air vibrated with immense power, causing the very walls of the dungeon to tremble. And then—she changed.

In an instant, the priestess was gone. In her place stood a colossal light dragon, its scales glowing with divine brilliance, its wings unfolding to fill the chamber with celestial radiance.

"It's a fucking dragon" "Oh my Sovereign (Xyrian), Priestess was a celestial bloodline" "Everyone, attack." "What attack, you bastard… It's a Tier-10 monster. Run…"

Gasps of shock echoed from the elites, but shock soon turned into panic as the dragon unleashed a devastating roar.

With a single sweep of her tail, Isabella sent the warriors crashing through the stone walls.

Then, with Eliora clutched safely in her grasp, she ascended, breaking through the prison ceiling in an eruption of debris and magic. The night sky welcomed them with open arms, the city of Iberica shrinking beneath them as Isabella fly high above the clouds, disappearing from everyone's sight eventually.

*

Hundreds of kilometers away from the Iberica province;

The city of Valencia Nova rested in eerie silence under the watchful glow of the twin moons. Neon signs flickered over empty streets, and the hum of distant skycars was the only sign of life at this late hour.

But within the darkened halls of an unassuming guildhouse, alarms blared like a raging siren.

Agastya bolted upright in his bed, his senses instantly sharpening. "Intruders. Who is it?"

Carefully, he reached under his bed, grabbing the handheld energy cannon on the floor before swinging his legs over and stepping onto the cool floor.

Descending the creaky wooden stairs, his bare feet made no sound as he moved toward the guild hall. His golden-brown eyes darted to every shadow, his grip tightening around the dagger's hilt. The lights flickered, casting long, wavering silhouettes on the walls. Then, as he turned the final corner, he saw them.

Two figures. Cloaked. Hooded. Standing in the middle of his hall as if they owned the place. No hiding or showing any hostility. They simply stood there.

Agastya didn't hesitate—his stance shifted, his energy flaring within him, ready to attack. But before he could act, the shorter of the two figures moved. A slender hand emerged from beneath the cloak, holding something small, metallic, and broken in half.

A coin.

The half-broken silver coin gleamed under the dim lighting, and Agastya's breath hitched. He narrowed his eyes and observed it again. "This is…"

His fingers instinctively reached for his pocket, where his own half of the coin rested. Slowly, he pulled it out, holding it between his fingers. A perfect match.

His gaze lifted to the strangers, assessing them anew.

The taller figure—a woman—lowered her hood, revealing a sharp yet graceful face. Strands of platinum hair framed her pale skin, and her golden eyes held an unreadable expression. She was powerful—he could feel it in the way the air around her seemed to shimmer faintly, charged with energy.

But it was the girl standing beside her who caught his attention.

She was younger, no older than sixteen, wrapped in a cloak far too big for her small frame. Strands of golden hair peeked from under the hood, and when she shifted slightly, he caught a glimpse of striking silver-blue eyes—tired and wary.

The woman gestured toward the girl. "Mr. Agastya, she is the one you must take," she said, her voice carrying the weight of command. "Princess Eliora Bat-El."

Agastya's expression didn't change. He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I have seen the news."

Almost every news channel, or atleast the local ones, reported the story of the third princess.

The third princess of Iberica had awakened an angelic bloodline, marking her for death. The Galactic Raiders were undoubtedly hunting her as they spoke. And now, she was standing in his guildhall, looking like a frightened rabbit on the run.

Agastya sighed, rubbing his temple. A secret escort mission involving a celestial? This job just became a hundred times more dangerous.

Still, one million credits had already been paid. Fortunately, he hadn't spent anything. So, should he give it back and refuse or take the risk for this stranger? He went into a dilemma.