The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Selene felt the rush of wind against her face as she rode the stolen horse, her mind racing nearly as fast as the galloping hooves. The dark trees of the forest blurred into the background, and the cold night air stung her skin. She clutched the reins tightly, her body tense, trying to make sense of what she had just learned.

A riot. The words echoed in her mind, gnawing at her. How did Damion even know that? And if he knew, why wasn’t he doing something about it? Was he planning to use it to his advantage? Or worse—was he plotting against Marcelline in her own home?

Her thoughts churned, confusion and suspicion swirling like a storm. The distant walls of Valarian were finally coming into view, the city lights casting a faint glow on the horizon. Relief began to creep in—she was almost free, almost back to the safety of the city. But then, a sudden, sharp whistling sound cut through the night.

Thunk!

A spear slammed into the ground mere inches from her horse’s hooves, startling the animal. Selene yanked the reins, pulling the horse to a stop as her eyes darted around, searching for the source of the attack.

From the shadows of the forest, two heavily armored figures emerged, their armor gleaming dully in the moonlight. Knights—well-trained and well-equipped, their faces obscured by helms, but their intent unmistakable. One carried a scimitar and shield, his stance wide and ready, while the other hefted a massive two-handed halberd, clearly the one who had thrown the spear.

"Filthy demon!" the one with the halberd growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Thought you could just steal a horse and waltz back into Valarian, huh?"

Selene’s heart raced, her fingers tightening around the reins. Of course. Knights. They had been trailing her, probably since she had fled Marcelline's estate. She cursed under her breath, her guard instantly up. These weren’t regular city guards—these were soldiers of the knight path, seasoned fighters in heavy armor. Their movements were smooth, practiced. They had the advantage of numbers, armor, and the element of surprise.

And worst of all, they knew exactly what she was.

"Should’ve known a demon would resort to thievery, and whatever else you could do at the estate." the knight with the scimitar sneered, his shield raised defensively as he began to circle her.

Selene glared at him, but didn’t waste her breath on a retort. She could feel the adrenaline already surging through her veins. There was no talking her way out of this. She needed to act fast—these knights were dangerous, and they clearly weren’t here for a casual arrest.

The halberd-wielding knight advanced, his heavy boots thudding against the ground as he swung the massive weapon in a wide arc. Selene barely had time to react, ducking low as the halberd sliced through the air where her head had been just moments before. The force of the swing sent a gust of wind past her face, and she could hear the sharp metallic scrape of the blade cutting through the night.

No choice. She would have to fight.

Selene leaped off the horse, landing in a crouch as she called upon her void-infused abilities. She flexed her Mithralite hand, feeling the void energy pulse through her arm, the familiar dark power coiling around her like a living shadow. But these knights were no ordinary foes. They were strong, armored, and well-trained. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The scimitar-wielding knight lunged toward her, his blade flashing in the moonlight. Selene ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of his sword. She retaliated with a quick strike from her Mithralite arm—Void Fist. The punch connected with his shield, sending a pulse of void energy rippling through the metal. The force knocked him back a step, but the knight quickly recovered, his shield absorbing most of the impact.

"Is that all you've got, demon?" he sneered, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his voice.

Selene didn’t respond. Instead, she shifted her weight and activated Shadow Step. Her body became one with the shadows, slipping between spaces as she dashed to the side, reappearing behind the knight with the halberd. The massive weapon came down again, but she was already gone, her speed amplified by the void energy surging through her veins.

She spun, her Mithralite fist crackling with void energy, and delivered a devastating punch to his side—Void Sunder. The impact sent a shockwave of void energy through his armor, the metal groaning under the pressure as it warped and buckled. He grunted in pain, staggering from the force of the blow, but he wasn’t down yet. His armor was heavy, reinforced, and the man inside it was built like a tank.

The scimitar knight recovered and lunged again, swinging his blade with deadly precision. Selene twisted, parrying the strike with her arm, but the scimitar’s blade bit into her side, tearing through the fabric of her cloak and drawing blood. She hissed in pain, her body twisting as she pulled away, the wound searing as her blood soaked her clothes.

"You’ll bleed out soon enough," the scimitar knight jeered, pressing the attack.

Selene gritted her teeth, her body moving on instinct as she activated Phantom Strike. Her Mithralite arm moved faster than the eye could track, each punch phasing in and out of reality, creating echoes of her strikes. She delivered a rapid series of blows, the void-infused strikes landing with brutal precision. The scimitar knight's armor dented under the relentless assault, but he raised his shield, trying to weather the barrage.

She could hear the other knight, the one with the halberd, approaching again. His movements were slower, more deliberate, but no less deadly. The halberd swung wide, and this time, she wasn’t fast enough to dodge completely. The blade sliced across her shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through her body.

Selene stumbled back, her breath ragged. Blood dripped from her wounds, staining the ground beneath her. She could feel her strength waning, but she wasn’t done yet. She couldn't be.

As the scimitar knight pressed forward, Selene activated Abyssal Grapple. Her Mithralite arm shot forward, latching onto his armor and pulling him toward her with a burst of void energy. He let out a startled grunt as he was yanked off balance, his sword flailing uselessly.

"You're mine," she growled, slamming her fist into his chest with a sickening crunch. The void energy tethered him to her, weakening his defenses and making his movements sluggish.

She barely had time to react before the halberd knight came at her again, the massive weapon arcing down in a brutal overhead strike. Selene dodged to the side, her body screaming in protest from the effort, but the tip of the halberd still grazed her side, drawing more blood.

Panting, Selene knew she had to end this, and soon. She could feel her vision starting to blur, the edges of her world dimming from blood loss.

Desperate times, she thought, her fingers flexing as she activated her most powerful ability—Desperate Awakening.

Void energy surged through her Mithralite arm, transforming it into a massive, void-infused weapon. The air around her seemed to warp, the fabric of reality itself bending to the power of the void. Her strength and speed surged, the pain in her body momentarily forgotten.

With a roar, Selene charged the halberd knight, her arm slashing through the air like a reaper’s scythe. The void energy tore through his armor, shattering the heavy metal plating as if it were nothing more than brittle glass. The knight let out a choked gasp, his body crumpling under the force of the attack.

Selene spun, her vision narrowing as she focused on the remaining knight. He had managed to recover his scimitar, but his confidence was gone, replaced by fear as he saw what she had become.

Before he could react, Selene closed the distance between them, her arm slamming into him with the force of a collapsing star. The void energy shattered his shield and sent him sprawling to the ground, gasping for breath. His helmet rolled away, revealing a face twisted in pain and fear.

Selene stood over him, breathing heavily, her body shaking from the exertion. She could end it—one more strike, and he’d be gone.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she lowered her arm, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She wouldn’t kill him. Not tonight.

She turned away, stumbling toward the horse. Her body ached, blood still dripping from her wounds, but she had won. Barely.

Selene stumbled over the knight wielding the halberd, her boots crunching softly in the dirt as she knelt beside his barely conscious form. Brutal, jagged wounds crisscrossed his chest, the telltale signs of her void-infused strikes. He was alive, but only just. His breath came in ragged gasps, the sound of it harsh in the quiet night. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and thick, and for a moment, Selene hesitated.

The old her—the ruthless, cold Selene—would have ended him without a second thought. She wouldn’t have even considered leaving him alive. It would have been the safer choice, the cleaner option. But she wasn’t that Selene anymore. Or at least, she was trying not to be.

Her mithralite hand, slick with her own blood, trembled slightly as she rummaged through the small pack at his side. After a few tense seconds, her fingers closed around the smooth glass of a healing potion. She uncorked it with her teeth and drank deeply, feeling the warm, soothing energy of the potion begin to work on her wounds. The stinging pain in her side dulled, her strength returning in slow, steady waves. She let out a slow breath of relief.

With the remaining potion, she poured it over the knight's chest, watching as the shimmering liquid seeped into his wounds, slowing the bleeding. His breathing steadied slightly, though it was clear he would need a proper healer if he was to make a full recovery.

“Should be enough to keep you alive,” she muttered, her voice low. She didn’t owe him kindness, not after the way he and his companion had sneered at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave him to die. He was just following orders, after all, and killing him would solve nothing.

She stood, brushing dirt from her knees, and cast a final glance down at the knight. He’d recover soon enough. His wounds were severe, but not fatal—thanks to her intervention. That realization settled uneasily in her chest. The old Selene would never have done this. The old Selene would have made sure he didn’t get back up.

But she wasn’t that person anymore.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Selene turned and limped back to the horse. Her body still ached, but the potion had done its work. She could feel the pain receding with each passing moment, her strength returning. Swinging herself up onto the horse, she urged it forward, casting a glance at the distant walls of Valarian. They loomed large in the night, the city’s lights flickering like distant stars.

She knew the city well—well enough to know she couldn’t just ride through the main gates. Not with the guards already alerted, and certainly not with two knights left in her wake. They’d raise an alarm soon enough, and the last thing she needed was to be dragged into another confrontation.

No, she needed to find a way back into Valarian unseen.

Her mind raced, searching through her mental map of the city. There was one place—a small crack in the wall, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. It was low to the ground, almost hidden among the brush and debris that had gathered near the outer edges of the city. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was often overlooked by guards and soldiers more concerned with the larger threats outside the city.

She spurred the horse forward, her eyes scanning the perimeter of the wall as she approached. And then she saw it—a small hole, half-buried in the ground, barely wide enough for a person to crawl through. Perfect.

Selene dismounted, sending the horse in the direction of the main gate. It would be found, likely returned to its owner, and no one would be any the wiser about its part in her escape. She crouched low, inspecting the hole carefully. The guards would be changing shifts soon—if she timed it right, she could slip through unnoticed.

The hole was damp and narrow, the earth cold against her hands as she crawled through. The tunnel smelled of wet dirt and decay, the air thick with the scent of mildew. Her mithralite arm scraped against the stone as she dragged herself forward, her movements slow and careful. After what felt like an eternity, she emerged on the other side, the narrow alleyways of Valarian stretching out before her.

She was in.

But Selene didn’t feel the usual sense of relief that came with a successful infiltration. Her mind was still racing, still trying to process the information she had gathered from Damion. A riot, planned for the masquerade. It didn’t sit right with her—how had Damion known about it, and why was he so confident that Lady Marcelline had it under control? Was he playing a deeper game, plotting something in the shadows of his own?

Her thoughts swirled with questions as she moved through the dimly lit streets, her body blending into the shadows. She couldn’t go back to Paola, not yet. The guards would be on high alert after her escape, and she couldn’t risk leading them back to the others. She would have to lay low, at least until the heat died down.

Selene sighed, her breath misting in the cool night air. Looks like I’ll have to miss the second day of the festival, she thought bitterly. A part of her longed to be back with Paola, Poca, and even Yasmin—back in their warmth, away from the constant edge of danger that her life seemed to bring. But she couldn’t afford to risk it. Not tonight.

There was only one place Selene could go—her safehouse, tucked away deep in the slums of Valarian, far from the prying eyes of the city’s elite. It wasn’t luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it was secure, and more importantly, no one knew it existed. Hidden beneath the city’s towering structures, nestled within the skeleton of an abandoned airship dock, it was a sanctuary she could rely on when the world turned against her.

Reaching the safehouse was no simple task. The climb itself was as treacherous as the city streets below. Selene had to scale the rusted remnants of the old dock, gripping onto corroded metal beams and precarious wooden platforms that creaked with age under her weight. A missed step here meant plummeting several stories into the maze of alleyways and rooftops below, but Selene was no stranger to such risks. She had been here many times before, and each time, the thrill of the climb gave her a sense of control over the chaos of her life.

The safehouse was built into the underbelly of the old dock, halfway up one of the tallest structures in the slums. Two walls of weather-beaten wood held up the roof of the dock above, while the remaining sides were left open to the elements. It gave her a panoramic view of Valarian, stretching from the slums below to the grandiose upper levels of the city above. A gust of wind whistled through the gaps, cold against her skin, but Selene welcomed the chill. It kept her alert, reminding her that she was still alive.

From her vantage point, she could see the sprawling city laid out like a chaotic painting. The mid-levels were alive with activity, the narrow streets packed with people despite the late hour. Lanterns glowed warmly, their flickering lights casting a soft golden hue across the stone buildings. The faint strains of music from the Festival of Breath drifted on the breeze, mingling with the distant sounds of laughter and revelry. Valarian was still awake, the city’s heart beating steadily as the festival carried on.

Far above, the noble district sparkled like a crown on the city’s head, its towering spires and grand estates illuminated by magical lights that never dimmed. Airships floated lazily in the sky, their hulls gleaming in the moonlight as they drifted between the higher levels, carrying the city’s elite to and from the festivities. They were out of reach—untouchable, separated by both distance and class from the slums where Selene hid. Yet here she was, with a perfect view of it all, as if she were watching the city from a realm in between.

The safehouse itself was a spartan affair, but Selene had made it her own over the years. A sturdy hammock swayed gently in one corner, strung between two beams that groaned under the weight of the dock above. It was far from comfortable, but it beat sleeping on the cold, hard ground. A few crates lined the walls, stacked neatly with dried meats in preservation jars, some stolen, others bartered for in the slums below. A small bookshelf held an odd collection of tattered books, their spines cracked from years of use, the pages worn thin by Selene’s restless hands. They were stories of distant lands, ancient histories, and myths—escapes from the harsh reality she lived in.

The floor was strewn with old maps, notes, and the remnants of long-forgotten plans. She had never been one to leave things tidy, but there was a certain order to the chaos. A cracked mirror hung on one of the walls, reflecting the faint glow of the lanterns outside, casting fractured light across the small space.

Selene finally collapsed into her hammock, her body groaning in protest. The deep aches of the fight with the knights still throbbed in her muscles, and the faint sting of the healing potion’s magic lingered in her wounds. She winced as she shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate the bruises. The hammock swayed slightly as she settled, the gentle motion soothing her despite the pain.

Her eyes drifted to the horizon, where the festival lights flickered like distant stars. The celebration was still in full swing, the music and laughter drifting up to her like a faint echo of a world she wasn’t part of. The contrast was stark—down below, in the slums, life was harsh, survival a constant struggle. Up above, the city’s elite danced and feasted, their lives untouched by the darkness that lurked in the shadows.

Selene’s thoughts wandered as she stared out at the city. She had once lived a life defined by violence and power. She had been feared, her name whispered in the darkest corners of Valarian. Respect had never been given to her freely; she had taken it, claimed it through force and brutality. She had enjoyed it then, the thrill of breaking those who stood in her way, the satisfaction of seeing fear in their eyes.

But now... now things were different.

The old Selene would have killed those knights without a second thought. She would have relished the fight, delighted in the way her fists shattered bone, the way her void-infused strikes ripped through their armor like it was nothing. But tonight, she had spared them. She had let them live, even going so far as to heal one of them before leaving him behind.

What have I become? she wondered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She wasn’t the same person she had been. Poca, Paola, Yasmin—even Ayla. They had changed her, softened her in ways she hadn’t expected. The thought of returning to her old ways made her stomach turn. The cold satisfaction of victory through violence no longer held the same appeal.

She sighed, staring up at the rotting wooden beams above her. The hammock swayed gently as a breeze from the open sides of the safehouse swept through the space. It was quiet up here, far removed from the chaos of the city below. It was the kind of solitude she had once craved, a place where she could disappear, where no one could find her.

But now, it felt empty.

Selene closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to Paola and Poca. She imagined them back at the inn, laughing, sharing stories, Yasmin probably throwing in some playful teasing. The warmth of their companionship tugged at her, a strange feeling of longing settling in her chest. She had never cared about anyone the way she cared about them, and it was unsettling in the best and worst ways.

She shifted again, the rough fabric of the hammock creaking under her weight. She was used to being alone—had lived her life that way for so long—but now she found herself wanting something different. She wanted to be with them, to feel the warmth of their presence, to be a part of something more than just survival.

Soon, she promised herself. The day after tomorrow I’ll be with them again.

The festival would continue, and she would find her way back to Paola and the others. But for tonight, and tomorrow, she would have to lay low, hidden away in this creaking shack above the slums, with only the distant hum of the city for company.

Selene’s eyes fluttered open again, catching a final glimpse of the festival lights twinkling in the distance. The city was alive with celebration, unaware of the threats looming on the horizon. She would have to deal with it when the time came. But for now, she let the sway of the hammock and the quiet of the night pull her into a restless sleep, knowing that her world—her new world—was waiting for her when sun rose twice over. Just one day of waiting.

***

Paola blinked after Selene finished her story, the weight of everything sinking into her mind like a lead weight. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. A riot? Tonight? The words echoed in her head, bouncing around as she tried to piece everything together.

That’s what Ayla was talking about, Paola realized, her breath hitching slightly. That’s why she didn’t want me by her side.

A knot of anger tightened in her chest, bubbling up before she could stop it. After everything they’d been through, why did Ayla doubt her? Why did she think Paola couldn’t handle herself? The bitterness was sharp, a sting that was impossible to ignore.

But then Paola paused, her mind reeling with the truth she couldn’t deny—she had died once. She had been inches from death again, and it was Ayla who saved her. So there’s that, she admitted to herself bitterly. Still, the frustration didn’t fade entirely. If she was fighting with Ayla, that would be different. They were stronger together—weren’t they?

Before Paola could spiral deeper into that line of thinking, there was a gentle knock on the door. All of them froze, expecting Ayla to walk in any second.

Another knock, soft and measured.

Paola’s heart thudded in her chest as she stepped forward cautiously. Her hand hesitated on the door handle before she swung it open, her breath held tight in her lungs.

And there, standing in the doorway, was Lady Marcelline herself.

Her icy blue eyes sparkled with an unreadable intensity, the kind that sent a chill down Paola’s spine. Her expression was calm, almost serene, with the faintest traces of a smile gracing her lips. The delicate crows’ feet by her eyes spoke of wisdom and experience, yet the rest of her appearance was nothing short of regal. Her silver hair was elegantly bound back, and her robes shimmered with magical enchantments woven so intricately they almost hummed in the still air.

Lady Marcelline gave a noble, graceful nod to Paola, her voice soft yet commanding. “Paola, my dear, may I have a word?”

The tension in the room thickened, the air suddenly feeling much heavier. Paola’s mind raced, her thoughts swirling with Selene’s revelations and the unexpected arrival of one of the most powerful women in the city.

A thousand questions screamed in Paola’s mind, but none of them made it to her lips. She could only stare, her heart pounding as she nodded slowly, her voice caught somewhere in her throat.

Lady Marcelline’s gentle smile lingered, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. “This won’t take long.”

And just like that, the room seemed to shrink around them, the weight of what was to come hanging in the air, thick with unspoken danger.