Ariella
Thornhill,
Vankar Island
Northern Isles Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 29th 6414
5:05 am
The Great Hall of the Royal Palace stretched out before me, as vast and imposing as I remembered. Tall, arched windows lined the long room, their crystalline glass glowing faintly in the evening light. At the far end, raised on a dais, stood the high table, a familiar gathering place for my family. My father sat at its center, his silver hair catching the light, his electric indigo eyes meeting mine with their customary warmth. He smiled at me—an expression I'd always known to be genuine, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he was in control. Beside him, my eldest brother, Elijah, stood at attention, every bit the loyal heir. The twins, Quincy and Addam, bickered as usual, their playful banter lightening the somber atmosphere. At the opposite end of the table was my mother. Her golden hair, always meticulously braided, shimmered like spun sunlight. I moved toward her—or tried to—when the air suddenly split apart with a searing roar. A fiery line erupted before me, a living wall of flames consuming the room in an instant.
It was the nightmare. The scene that haunted me night after night. My body froze as I watched in horror. My family burned—ashes where moments ago there had been laughter and love. The acrid stench of smoke and charred flesh filled my senses. Stakes, silver and merciless, impaled my father and brothers, their fiery auras feeding on the destruction. My father collapsed first, his chest pierced by a glowing shaft of metal. Behind him, his brother—my uncle, General Nehemiah—loomed. His fangs gleamed as he sneered with sadistic delight, plunging another silver stake into my father's back.
"Run, Ella, run!" my father's voice rang out, strained but commanding. Those were his final words before his body crumbled into dust, leaving nothing but a bitter emptiness where he had once stood.
"Stop it!" I screamed, my voice trembling with rage and despair. The emotions hit me like a tidal wave—grief that clawed at my insides, anger that seared through my veins, and a helplessness that threatened to overwhelm me. I tried to push the feelings away, to bury them before they consumed me. How could he? How could Nehemiah do this? My own uncle, turning on us, slaughtering us as if we were nothing. My legs wouldn't move. My body betrayed me, rooted to the spot as Nehemiah advanced. His true form was monstrous—scarlet eyes burning with malice, bulging veins writhing beneath pale skin, his grin exposing rows of serrated fangs. He moved closer, a predator stalking its prey, and all I could do was shut my eyes.
What could I possibly do against him? I was nothing. No match. Not yet. I lacked my father's overwhelming might, my siblings' effortless talents. Whatever strength I had was borrowed—no, gifted. Without Sanders and Lil, I would've already been reduced to a smear of blood and ash.
When I finally forced my eyes open, Nehemiah was gone. The Great Hall had vanished. In its place stretched a void—formless, soundless, endless. A silence that pressed in on all sides, swallowing thought and breath alike.
Then I fell.
The descent was sudden, as if the void itself had torn open beneath me. I plummeted through it, weightless, voiceless, as fragments of reality—shards of the void—peeled away like broken glass around me. Lightless panels spiraled by, flickering with faint memories and echoes of sound.
Then came sky.
In an instant, I was no longer falling but floating high above a ruined world. A land I did not recognize at first—until the wind carried the scent of ash and burning flesh. Columns of smoke bled into the heavens, thick and black. Fires raged across shattered cities, their embers sweeping like tidal waves.
Among the wreckage were domes—familiar in shape and architecture. I knew them. Ashtarium. Those were Ashtarium's arcane shielding domes. Its capital defenses.
But everything was in ruin.
Before I could comprehend more, the scene warped. My body was yanked backwards, ripped from the sky and hurled once more into the void. Only now, I was no longer falling—I stood upon an open palm. A palm that belonged to a being… not of flesh.
It was shadow made manifest—alive, pulsating, formless yet towering. Its silhouette writhed with darkness so thick it swallowed even the faintest light. And yet, in haunting contrast, its left hand burned with a blinding white radiance, casting stark shadows across its featureless face.
Behind the creature, four colossal wings unfurled—vast appendages etched from the void itself. They spread wide with jagged, asymmetrical lines, trembling with latent power. Each beat of their phantom wind scraped against my soul like claws on glass.
Then, it looked at me.
Or rather, through me.
Its unseen eyes pierced the layers of my being. And slowly, its fingers curled inward, closing around me like a divine judgment. I couldn't breathe. My chest tightened as if the very idea of life had been plucked from my lungs.
I jolted awake, the remnants of my nightmare clinging to me like cobwebs. My chest heaved, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free. I was drenched in sweat, a damp patch soaking through the fabric beneath me. I tried to control my breathing, to dispel the dread that still gripped me. Nightmares weren't new—two years of restless, haunted nights had made them a bitter companion. But this one was different. It felt more than just a dream; it felt like a warning.
I placed a trembling hand over my chest, feeling my heartbeat surge beneath my palm. I knew I had to calm myself. I reached over to the drawer beside my bed, pulling it open to retrieve the small space ring I kept there. Slipping it on, I focused for a moment and retrieved several Mana cores from its storage. The crystalline spheres, faintly pulsing with light, gleamed in the dim room as I laid them out before me.
Settling into a lotus position, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Slowly, I began to pull on the essence stored within the cores, drawing it toward my own spirit. I could feel the threads of Spirit essence winding into my soul core, saturating it with energy. Minutes ticked by, then nearly an hour, as I focused on refining and absorbing that essence to grow and nurture my mana core. When I finally stopped, my body was drenched again, not from fear this time but from the heat generated by the process. My temperature had spiked, and I felt the toll of my efforts.
I turned my attention inward, reaching toward my Mana core. But when I glimpsed it, disappointment tightened my throat. The core still hovered at the same light yellow hue it had held for so long. Its slow growth gnawed at me. Once, before my Vampirism awakening, while I had been forging my mana core, I had cultivated at a speed that defied reason.
Now, my progress crawled, and the Mana cores I used were of such poor quality that their Spirit essence barely made a dent. If I wanted to become stronger, if I wanted to accelerate my growth, I would have to find more potent sources of Spirit essence—stronger beings, deeper dungeons. The thought alone made my hand curl into a fist, my frustration simmering as the nightmare replayed in my mind.
"Ariella… Ariella!" The voice snapped me from my thoughts. My head whipped around, searching the room for its source. No one was there. But something was wrong.
"Ariella… Ariella…" The voice came again, now layered with a faint static. The noise swelled, growing louder and sharper, as if threatening to burst my eardrums.
"Ariella! Ariella! Please… the town...Help." A desperate, crackling cry. It sent a chill down my spine. I jumped from my bed, heart racing, as the sound reverberated through the room. For a moment, I thought I saw a figure—just a flicker—standing there. Then it was gone.
The whispers persisted, faint echoes that lingered in the air. My mind scrambled to place them, to make sense of what I was hearing. Ever since Lil and I went to that damn cave, and the blinding light had hit me, things had felt out of place. I felt like my mind was going crazy, filled with memories of my nightmares.
And yet I didn't have the time to dwell on it. The destruction of Ashtarium...if it was even that... that nightmare was just my anxiety over my uncle reigning over the Kingdom. I didn't have time to be afraid of him, to be riddled with fear. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of fear and confusion. I couldn't afford distractions now. Our time in Thornhill was limited, and Sanders was working on something I didn't yet understand. I had to make the most of it. I had to grow stronger. I couldn't let myself be a burden—not again.
I glanced down at the Mana cores still scattered across the floor. I'd need more—more power, more Spirit essence. Whatever it took, I had to get back into that dungeon.
****
Thornhill took Remembrance Day seriously—far more than I'd expected. The town's main square was alive with color and sound, a whirlwind of celebrations that seemed to grow louder as we drove through. We were in Ben's car, winding our way past bustling streets and makeshift stalls that lined the sidewalks. He had picked Lil and me up from the mansion earlier with Neil, and now we were headed toward the Dungeon hidden deep in the woods.
Normally, I'd have felt that familiar excitement bubbling in my chest at the thought of diving back into the fray, but today my mind was elsewhere. The celebrations seemed like a dream I couldn't quite grasp. Vendors called out to passersby, laughter echoed off stone walls, and strings of lights crisscrossed above the square, glowing faintly in the midday sun. It all seemed so festive—so alive—and yet my focus was locked on the task ahead.
We passed the fighting arena, a sprawling amphitheater that sat just outside the square's bustle. A place where warriors from all corners tested their mettle in duels for glory or grudge. Over the last several days, Lil had been making regular trips there, facing off against Jennifer Mcclough—a human fighter who seemed just as determined as she was skilled. I'd stood in the stands more times than I cared to admit, watching as Lil gave it her all, anticipating the moment she'd finally best her opponent.
But it never came. Every time, Jennifer walked away the victor, leaving Lil frustrated, sulking, and muttering under her breath. It stung, watching Lil in those moments, but it also lit a spark in me. I wanted to get stronger—to prove to myself and to her that I could stand alongside her. And yet, as time passed, I began to notice something else gnawing at me.
It wasn't just the losses that bothered me. It was the way Lil spoke about Jennifer—the ease in her voice when she said her name, the almost imperceptible smile when she talked about their matches. At first, I couldn't place what I was feeling. Jealousy was a foreign concept to me. It wasn't until those brief, gut-twisting pangs grew harder to ignore that I realized the truth. I hated seeing them together, even if it was only on the field of combat.
"Not going to the arena today?" I asked Lil, breaking the silence in the car. She was leaning against the window, one earbud plugged in while music blasted faintly through the other.
"Nah," she replied, shaking her head. "Jen's busy with raiding today. No point going there." Her tone was nonchalant, almost casual, but hearing Jennifer's name spoken so easily made my stomach tighten.
As we neared the woods, Ben pulled off the main road and parked in a small lot beside a dozen other vehicles. The trees stretched up high above us, their canopies thick enough to blot out most of the sunlight. We stepped out into the crisp air and started down the narrow, dirt-packed path that led toward the Dungeon's entrance. Along the way, we passed through Enoch's Plaza, another hub of activity brimming with stalls and people enjoying the holiday spirit. The energy in the air was infectious. For a moment, I felt the pull of the celebration—the urge to let myself be swept up in the lively crowd and enjoy the day as I once would have.
"If you want, we can check some of them out," Lil said, her voice softer now. She must have noticed the way I glanced at the booths, the faint flicker of longing in my expression. She knew how much I'd loved Remembrance Day in the past, how it used to light me up inside. The past two years, though, had been different. My enthusiasm for the holiday had dulled, but maybe she was right. Maybe this time would be different.
"I don't know…" I hesitated, torn between old habits and the mission at hand. "We came here to raid the Dungeon… Maybe we should focus on that."
"Having a little fun won't hurt," Lil said, gesturing toward a section of the plaza brimming with carnival attractions. "Why don't we try some of the games over there?"
I followed her gaze, taken aback by the spectacle. I'd never been to a carnival before, let alone given much thought to attending one, and the sight before me was more than I'd imagined. The plaza had been transformed into a lively carnival ground, with colorful amusement rides, vibrant food stands, vendors selling trinkets and merchandise, and even a synthblood shop tucked among the rows of booths. The air buzzed with laughter and excited shouts, and the decorations—clown faces painted on banners, streamers strung between tents—made everything feel whimsical and surreal. The townsfolk, many of whom had no connection to dungeon raiding, wandered the stalls, their faces alight with joy as they joined in the festivities.
Our first stop was a food stand, where we bought sticks of fluffy blue cotton candy. The sweet, spun sugar melted on my tongue as Neil began to recount the history of Thornhill's carnival. But while his voice carried on, my mind drifted. My thoughts turned inward, to my family.
Every Remembrance Day since their deaths, I found myself imagining what might have been. If they were still alive, what would we be doing now in the Palace? These thoughts had been my anchor, a childish dream I clung to so I wouldn't fall apart. I stepped aside to let a group of laughing children pass, then rejoined the others.
And then there was Delilah. My cousin, who might think me dead, might have mourned me—or, perhaps, she had been complicit like the rest of her family. The thought twisted something inside me. I didn't want to think of her that way, but I didn't know what to believe anymore.
My steps faltered. Memories of that night in the Great Hall crashed over me, as vivid and sharp as ever. I saw it all again: my father and Uncle Nehemiah locked in a battle of terrifying beauty. For a mortal girl like me at the time, the fight had been impossible to follow. The hall, bathed in cold, artificial moonlight streaming through the windows, seemed like a stage for a tragic play. The bodies of my brothers lay charred on the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of fire and death.
Sparks of light had flared and burst around the room as the two clashed, moving too fast for my eyes to track. One spark landed on a curtain, and flames erupted, spreading like a serpent made of fire, consuming everything in their path. I had been rooted in place, unable to move. My father's desperate voice echoed in my head, telling me to run, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave him behind, even as fear held me like chains.
"Ariella." I blinked. The voice was so soft, so close, that I turned instinctively. My father's face appeared out of the light, his expression of deep concern. I felt his presence, his protection, for the briefest of moments. And then Nehemiah lunged at him…
"Ariella," the voice repeated, this time pulling me back into the present. I snapped back to reality, my surroundings shifting. The vivid memory gave way to the bustling carnival. I felt a hand squeeze mine, and when I looked down, Lil's gentle touch steadied me.
She was gazing at me, her eyes full of understanding. She'd seen my memories, felt my fear and pain, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she simply pulled me forward, easing the memories back into the shadows of my mind—where nightmares waited to resurface.
"Is she okay?" Neil's voice cut through the haze.
"She's fine," Lil said calmly, glancing at me. "Right, Anna?"
"Yeah," I replied quickly, trying to sound convincing. "I'm good."
"You sure?" Ben raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. I nodded, brushing it off, and followed them toward the ticket booth.
We stopped at a tall game machine where a kid was testing his strength. He struck the attached puck with a hammer, and it shot halfway up the machine's column before sliding back down. The others watched, amused, as the boy made another attempt.
"I wasn't expecting to see you all here," a familiar voice called out.
Turning toward it, I saw Jennifer Mcclough walking gracefully toward us. She wore a white frilly dress and a brown hat adorned with a white ribbon. Her polished appearance contrasted sharply with the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the carnival, and though I hated to admit it, she looked stunning.
"Neither was I," Lil replied coolly, though the slight twitch of her eyebrows betrayed her irritation. It was hard to tell if she was thrilled to see Jennifer, but I knew Lil well enough to read the nervous energy beneath her aloof façade. She'd been like that when she first came to live with me, covering up uncertainty with indifference.
Jennifer gave a halfhearted wave to Neil and Ben, who still looked dumbfounded that she had approached them. Jennifer, on the other hand, turned her attention to me. Her smile was polite but appraising. I could feel her gaze moving over me, measuring, comparing. She was striking—no, she was beautiful. About my height, but with a fairer complexion that made her emerald eyes stand out even more.
"I thought it might be fun to see what the fuss was about," Jennifer said, her tone casual.
Lil's eyes narrowed slightly as she took a step closer, her gaze locked on Jennifer. "Strength testing without Mana usage? How's that fair for Humans?"
"Life was never meant to be fair," Jennifer said with a shrug, her smile never wavering. "So, are you heading to the Dungeon after this?"
"Yeah, once we're done looking around," Lil replied. "Weren't you supposed to be raiding?"
"My team and I did." She said. "We were in the Dungeon in the morning."
"And you're here for what?" Lil said.
"Can I join your group?" she asked, not directing the question to Lil, but to the rest of us.
Neil's jaw dropped at her request, and even Ben cleared his throat, clearly trying to suppress his awe.
"Of course," Ben said quickly.
Jennifer's smile grew a touch warmer, and then her eyes landed on me. That quiet, focused stare made me feel suddenly self-conscious, like I'd been put under a spotlight.
"Uh, sure," I said, forcing a nervous laugh. "Why not?"
She smiled again, this time more brightly. "Great. I thought you'd all be heading to the Dungeon soon anyway."
"We were," Neil started to say, but I nudged him hard in the ribs before he could blurt out any more. He winced and corrected himself quickly. "Oh, yes! Definitely. We were just about to head there. We don't have time to hang around much longer."
Ben and Lil both shot Neil a pointed look, and he quickly shut his mouth. I sighed, stepping into the lead as we made our way to the Dungeon entrance.
The portal loomed before us—a shimmering, bluish-white gateway framed by two ancient, crumbling pillars. As we approached, we began suiting up in our combat gear. My armor was a sleek, silver-gray piece designed for speed and agility. A shortsword hung at my waist, while my bow rested easily on my shoulder, the string taut and ready.
Lil wore her usual black armored jacket—light and minimal, offering just enough protection without sacrificing her mobility. She was confident in her strength, even without cultivation, and it showed in her choice of gear. Neil's green mage robe flowed as he adjusted his long staff, the intricate carvings on it glowing faintly as he checked his grimoire. Ben's ash-colored armor was similarly simple, a reflection of his practical, no-nonsense approach to combat.
Jennifer stood slightly apart from us, already dressed in her gleaming silverish blue armor. The fitted design enhanced her graceful movements, giving her an almost regal air. Despite being the only human among us, she exuded an aura of competence and danger. Her every step, every movement, seemed measured and deliberate.
"Shall we?" Lil asked, her voice calm but brimming with determination.
I nodded, and so did the others. One by one, we stepped forward, the shimmering light of the portal washing over us as we passed through.
_
Royal Palace
Pandemonium City,
Hudsonia Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 20th 6407
Weeks had passed since the King had made his offer for her to join the Royal Guard. Lilith still hadn't accepted. She wasn't in a rush to chain herself to duty like those shadow-lurking fools who followed her around everywhere. Always watching, always silent, as if they'd fade into the walls if she looked away too long.
No, she didn't want to become one of them.
When the King had asked, she simply told him she'd think about it. He hadn't pressed. Instead, he'd granted her access to the workshop whenever she wished, no questions asked.
And so, she returned.
Day by day, she immersed herself in the smell of oil and old metal, surrounded by gutted bikes, fractured engines, and obsolete consoles. Sometimes, Rafael was there—guiding her with patient hands and occasional dry humor. Other times, she worked alone, letting the hum of dormant machines and the rattle of tools fill the silence.
Somewhere in that quiet rhythm, Lilith discovered something unexpected.
She liked tinkering.
Not for the same reason the King did—he repaired broken things because he believed in second chances, in redemption. He saw potential and restoration.
Lilith wasn't so noble.
No—she liked understanding how things worked. Systems. Mechanics. Logic. She wanted to unravel the puzzle, break it apart, lay its pieces bare... and then rebuild it better than before. It wasn't about mercy. It was about control. About mastery.
She realized she loved learning what made something tick—what kept it running, what could bring it to ruin—and how to take that knowledge and wield it like a blade or a key.
As her hands grew steadier and her instincts sharper, Lilith found herself wanting to go further. The simple repairs weren't enough anymore. She began sketching out new designs. Studying circuit layouts. Digging into old archives when no one was watching.
A quiet spark had been lit inside her—a desire not just to fix or break, but to build.
By the time the moon had cycled again, Lilith found herself eyeing the Royal Guard offer in a new light. Not for the uniform. Not for the title.
But for the access.
Because if there was one thing the Guard had, it was unrestricted entry into the Kingdom's core—its systems, its technology, its secrets.
And Lilith was beginning to crave knowledge like others craved power.
Lilith was hunched over a scattered collection of broken watch clocks, her fingers delicately probing gears no wider than a fingernail, when the elevator let out its soft chime.
She barely glanced up.
Ariella stepped through the doors, looking thoroughly worn out—her clothes clinging slightly with sweat, a faint flush on her cheeks, and that glazed, distant look only training could give. She dragged a chair beside Lilith and collapsed into it with a sigh, setting down a basket that immediately filled the air with the scent of warm food—warm bread, grilled meat, something sweet underneath it all.
Being an Ascendant must be exhausting, Lilith thought as she stole a sideways glance at the princess.
"What?" Ariella said, catching the look. "You get so wrapped up in your new obsession, I figured you'd skip dinner again. So I brought it here."
Lilith grunted in response, only half-listening as she adjusted a gearwheel inside the cracked casing. "Your cultivation training done?"
"Mm-hmm," Ariella nodded, reaching into the basket for a roll. "I'm nearly finished with the Novice phase. Should break through to Acolyte any day now."
Lilith's hands slowed. Her eyes flicked to Ariella with unexpected curiosity.
"What's it like?" she asked. "Being a cultivator."
It was an innocent question—but for Lilith, it wasn't idle. Ever since she'd begun tinkering, disassembling machines, and learning how things worked, she'd found herself growing more curious about the deeper systems that governed the world. Cultivation… Ascendancy… those were just another kind of system. One she didn't understand.
"I'm not a cultivator," Lilith added, returning to the innards of the clock. "Never really cared before. But now... I kind of want to know what it feels like. How it works. What makes it possible?"
Ariella took a bite of her food, chewing slowly. Then, with a thoughtful hum, she set it aside.
"It's hard to describe," she said at last. "It's like... stretching your soul into something bigger than your body. Like touching the shape of your potential—and then chasing it."
Lilith glanced at her, brow furrowed.
"You start small," Ariella continued. "You cultivate energy—refine it. But it's not just about strength. It's about control. Awareness. The more you ascend, the more... connected you feel. To everything. Like you're no longer just you, but part of something larger."
Lilith said nothing, but her hands had stopped moving altogether.
Ariella smiled faintly. "It's terrifying at first. Then thrilling. Like standing on the edge of something vast—and daring yourself to jump."
Lilith leaned back, the broken watch still in her hands. "Sounds like madness."
"Maybe," Ariella said. "But sometimes madness is where freedom begins."
That made Lilith laugh—quiet, dry, but real. For a moment, the two girls sat in silence, surrounded by gears, tools, and the comforting scent of dinner. A princess and a human. An ascendant and a fixer. Two different lives, stitched together by chance and choice.
Lilith couldn't help but be intrigued by the freedom Ariella spoke of. There was something seductive about the idea—unshackling yourself from the limits of the world, shaping your path with sheer will. But in the end, Ariella's explanation, while poetic, didn't quite satisfy the practical curiosity burning in Lilith's mind. It left too many unanswered, too much wrapped in mystery and metaphor.
So, she let the topic drop.
Without a word, she turned her attention back to the broken watch in her hands. The soft click of gears resumed, and the familiar rhythm of tinkering settled over the space once more.
Ariella remained beside her, watching with quiet fascination. Now and then, she'd comment on Lilith's work, asking what a certain part did, or how she knew where each piece belonged. Lilith would answer in short, clipped replies, but never asked her to leave.
And though the conversation had faded, the silence between them felt companionable, like two very different people finding comfort in the quiet motion of hands and the quiet hum of understanding.