NYRIEL CLEPSYDRA
I was sitting beside the little clock outside our house, poking at its rusty gears with a stick, when my mother's voice called.
"Nyriel! Where are you?"
I jumped up, brushed the dust from my dress, and ran over. "What is it, Mom?" I asked, smiling.
She crouched down to meet my eyes, her face glowing with excitement. "We're moving into the city. Your father got a job as a repairman in the palace, so get ready."
My bright blue eyes widened. "Really? The palace? Will we get to see knights and princesses? Do you think they have a huge library?" I asked, bouncing on my toes.
My mother laughed and ruffled my silver and white hair. "Maybe not quite that exciting, little one—but life will be much better than it is here."
"So… does this mean you'll finally buy me those books I wanted?" I asked, grinning from ear to ear. "The adventure ones. And the big one with all the maps!"
She chuckled and pinched my cheeks. "Yes, my sweet little Nyriel. All the books you can carry."
"Yay!" I spun around, laughing, and dashed back inside. A moment later, I came wobbling out with a teetering tower of books stacked in my arms.
My mother covered her mouth, laughing. "Nyriel, you can't bring all of them!"
"But I love them all!" I protested, hugging the pile tighter. "What if the palace library doesn't have these?"
She shook her head with a warm smile and helped me sort through them as the first rays of sunlight touched the gears of Clockwork. Soon, we were packing in earnest, ready for the journey that would change everything.
A few hours later, our things were loaded into the caravan, and we rattled down the forest path. I pressed my face to the window, eyes darting everywhere. Foxes, deer, and even owls peeked out from the trees, their eyes following me longer than usual.
I tilted my head and smirked. "They must think I look important," I whispered to myself, trying not to giggle.
My mother glanced at me, amused. "What's with that face?"
"Nothing!" I said quickly, though my grin gave me away. I plopped my chin into my hands and went back to watching the forest, my hair catching the light as a strange little tug pulled at me—like the world itself was watching too.
I looked out from the caravan and beheld the massive city. The aroma of food drifted into my nose, and beyond the bustling streets, the palace gleamed—its sides plated with gold, its marble walls so flawless that even the faint cracks seemed beautiful.
I stepped out of the caravan, the sky alive with majestic birds soaring overhead, while the fragrance of flowers drifted through the garden. And then I saw him—a boy more radiant than the city itself, more wondrous than heaven, his golden and white hair shining as though it outshone the heavens. His eyes were strange yet breathtaking—one brighter than gold itself, the other a crimson red, frightening as the blood spilled in the ancient war between heaven and hell.
Sitting beside him was a girl with wings—an Aetherbird, or so I thought. But she didn't look like one: no claw-like nails, no birdlike ears. She looked more like the angels spoken of in old myths… yet angels weren't real. Not anymore. Not since the war between heaven and hell, eight eons ago.
And yet, I doubted myself as I looked at her. Her golden-blond hair shone radiantly, and I could almost believe she was an angel; her platinum eyes sparkled with an otherworldly beauty. But even then, I remembered the boy I had seen before—Vanitar Grimstone. Compared to him, even this angelic girl seemed less. His presence had been more majestic than hers, more radiant than heaven itself.
Then I looked at my mother. She gave me a little nod, her smile warm and encouraging, as if to say, Go on. My heart raced, but I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and began walking toward the boy and the girl.
I appeared in front of them, fidgeting a little. "Uh… hi. My name's Nyriel. What's yours?" I asked, forcing an awkward smile.
The boy with golden-and-white hair spoke in a calm, steady voice. "Hello, Nyriel. My name is Arthur."
My eyes went wide. "Arthur Starlight?!" I gasped. "Oh my gosh—please forgive my impoliteness!" I blurted, bowing so quickly I nearly lost my balance.
The winged girl giggled, her wings fluttering as she tried to stifle her laugh. Arthur's eyes widened for a moment before he spoke, his voice calm.
"No need. After all, I'm just a child, too. Come, sit with us. And this"—he gestured toward the girl—"is Seraphel."
I sat down beside the winged girl. "Hi, Seraphel. Hmm… do you like reading books?"
She looked at me with a bright smile. "Yeah, I love reading books."
Before long, the two of us were flipping through pages together, our heads bent close, while Arthur simply sat back and observed the garden in silence.
A few minutes later, another boy appeared. His hair was pure white, like the pale horseman of death, and his gray eyes were gorgeous. The moment I saw him, a strange warmth bloomed in my chest, and my face grew hot.
Arthur might have been handsome, but this boy… he made my heart stumble in a way I didn't understand. I quickly covered my face with my book, hoping no one would notice.
"Hmm… hey, Arthur. Your trainer has come," the white-haired boy said.
Arthur stood and left with Seraphel, leaving me alone with him.
Slowly, I lowered the book from my face. "Uhh… hmm… my name is Nyriel. What about you?" I asked, my voice wobbling a little.
He gave me an awkward smile. "Mine is Vanitar."
The moment he smiled, my head spun, my cheeks grew warm all over again, and I thought, "No fair. Smiles aren't supposed to hit this hard outside romance novels."
Then he sat down beside me.
"Oh, is that Iron Blood? I love that novel," he said with a smile.
He leaned closer, gently pulling the book toward him so he could read. I froze, staring at him, and when his eyes met mine, we both suddenly realized just how close our faces were.
"Ohhh, look at that! Vanitar's gonna kiss someone!" a girl's voice rang out.
From behind a bush, a girl with bright red hair — fiery as the sun itself — suddenly leapt out, grinning mischievously.
Both of us blushed at once.
"It's not what it looks like! We were just reading a book," Vanitar said nervously.
"Really, Vanitar?" the red-haired girl teased, tilting her head. "Because from here, it looked like you were about to—" She smirked, then waved it off. "Anyway, where's Arthur?"
Vanitar shook his head quickly. "It's really not what you think, Elanor! We were actually reading a book. Arthur's at the training ground with Seraphel."
"Sureee," Elanor said, then left
I glanced at Vanitar, my cheeks heating up. 'I… I think I should see my parents. See you later!' I blurted, before quickly standing and half-skipping away.
I wandered down the hallway until it opened up into the training grounds, where I spotted Arthur. He was locked in a spar with his trainer, and I froze, wide-eyed. His movements were so sharp, so precise, I could hardly believe it. With a clean swing of his wooden sword, he forced the trainer to shift behind him—only for Arthur to spin and parry the strike like he'd been practicing for years. In the next heartbeat, the trainer was flat on the ground, staring up at him in defeat.
"He fights like the heroes I've only ever dreamed of," I murmured, awe prickling at my skin, as though the words of my novels had come alive.
ARTHUR STARLIGHT
As I struck Claude down once more, a murmur reached my ears—soft, but clear enough. "He fights like the heroes I've only ever dreamed of." I turned toward the sound and saw the girl I'd met earlier—Nyriel. If I remembered right, she was the daughter of the new repairman my father had hired.
I called out to her across the training ground.
"Hey, Nyriel—how about we show you around the palace?"
Elanor and Seraphel, who were sitting on the bench, both turned toward her. Elanor grinned.
"Yeah, come on, let's go."
I set down my sword and walked over with them to Nyriel.
"Anyway, do you know where Vanitar is?" I asked.
Her fingers fidgeted nervously. "He's in the garden," she said.
Elanor suddenly leaned in with a mischievous smile.
"Did you guys kiss?"
Nyriel's cheeks flared red. "What? No! We just met—why would we kiss?"
We made our way to the garden and spotted Vanitar among the flowers.
"Hey, Vanitar," I called out, grinning. "Want to go into the city with us?"
"Oh… sure," he said nervously, his eyes flicking toward Nyriel before quickly looking away.
We walked into the crowded city, the noise of merchants and clattering hooves filling the air. As we passed a candy shop, I caught Elanor staring at the window display, her mouth practically watering.
I chuckled. "You're going to drool all over the window, Elanor."
"Pleaseee, can you buy it for me?" she asked, tilting her head and giving me puppy eyes.
Vanitar crossed his arms, raising a brow. "I don't think you should be asking the son of the king to buy you candy."
"Anyway, aren't you getting paid for tutoring me?" I asked.
Elanor pouted, crossing her arms. "Yeah, but my mom's keeping all the money safe. She says I'd just spend it all on candy."
"Fine," I sighed, buying the candy and handing it to Elanor.
As Elanor tore the wrapper open with a grin, a strange warmth drifted through the crowded street. For a moment, the chatter of merchants and clatter of hooves seemed to dull, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
My gaze dropped toward a patch of grass pushing through the cracks near a fountain.
An egg lay nestled there, faintly glowing, its shell traced with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
I bent down, cradling it carefully in my hands. The warmth seeped into my skin, unfamiliar yet oddly familiar.
When I glanced up, Seraphel's eyes were already fixed on it too, wide with recognition.
Seraphel leaned closer, her voice dropping. "I don't know… but those runes look like an ancient phoenix tongue."
I turned to her sharply. "Wait—you can read it?"
She huffed, puffing out her cheeks. "Do I look like I'm a million years old? I'm seven!"
"So… how do you even know it's phoenix tongue?" I asked, staring at her, dumbfounded.
Seraphel rolled her eyes with a little smirk. "I'm an angel, duh. I've seen runes like those before—back when my mother taught me history, she showed me the ruins of an ancient phoenix temple."
I shot her a disappointed look. "You've got to be kidding me… whatever."
Turning to Vanitar and the others, I jerked my head. "Let's go."
We started walking, but Elanor's eyes lit up as she pointed. "Wait—what's that egg?"
I glanced down at it in my hand and shrugged. "No idea. Found it lying on the ground."
As we walked, the eggs glowed brighter, and suddenly my eyes burned with the same light. A vision crashed into me—two figures standing in a void of shifting stars. Both of them were me… but older.
The first me snarled, every word dripping with rage.
"I fucking hate you. How dare you let her die—let her suffer? You had the power to change history! You had the Book—the Book that makes you a god, a god who can rewrite the rules themselves! And still you did nothing. You're just a coward, too scared to face her again. You pathetic piece of shit." His hatred was so sharp it felt like it could rip the universe apart.
The second me stood still, calm as a lake at midnight.
"Simple. I already revived mine, not yours. She's in a garden I made for her."
The first me's fury only deepened. "What…? What the fuck do you mean? You revived yours? Why not ours?"
"Because," the second me said, voice steady, "you need to prove it. Prove that you deserve her."
The first me trembled, his voice breaking but his eyes burning. "Fine. Then I give everything—my life, my soul, anything. Revive them all in exchange for me."
The second me finally moved, and in his hand shimmered a blade.
"Here. The Blade of Immortality. It can kill anyone—permanently. But there's a price. You must let her kill you with it."
Before I could process his words, the air split open. A third being emerged from nothing. Its form was hidden, veiled in shadows, but its presence bent reality itself. The first me turned toward it, and without hesitation, let the being strike him down. He fell, smiling even as the life left his eyes.
The second me let out a low laugh. "Haha… fine. But I'm not reviving anyone." He tossed a book at the corpse of the first me.
"That book can do anything," he said coldly. "But first, you're taking my job. I'm retiring. Let's see if you can handle it."
As we walked, the eggs in my arms pulsed brighter, each heartbeat of light sinking into my skin. My own eyes flared in response, glowing until the world around me shattered.
A vision swallowed me whole.
I stood in a void where stars bled like open wounds and fragments of broken worlds drifted by, colliding in slow motion. There—across the emptiness—two figures appeared. Both of them wore my face, but older, heavier, carrying the weight of lifetimes I hadn't lived yet.
The first me was trembling, fists clenched so tight that blood trickled down his knuckles. His eyes blazed with hatred, his voice a snarl that cracked through the void.
"I fucking hate you. How dare you let her die—let her suffer, violated and forgotten! You had the power to change history! You had the Book—the fucking Book that makes you a god, a god who can rewrite the rules of existence itself! And still you did nothing. You're not me. You're a coward, too scared to face her again. You disgust me."
Every word vibrated like shrapnel in the air, so sharp I swore the cosmos itself recoiled.
The second me stood opposite, unmoving. His eyes glowed faintly, calm and cold, like twin moons over a dead ocean. When he finally spoke, his voice carried no anger, no regret—just a quiet certainty that made the stars themselves seem to pause.
"Simple. I already revived mine, not yours. She rests in a garden I made for her."
The first me froze, his fury collapsing into disbelief. "What…? You—what the fuck are you saying? You revived yours? Why not ours?"
"Because," the second me answered, his tone like a blade sliding from its sheath, "you haven't proven you deserve her. Not yet."
The first me staggered, his chest heaving, grief mixing with rage until his voice cracked. "Then take me! Take everything I have. My life, my soul, my name. I'll give it all—if it means reviving everyone else. I'll pay the price."
The second me lifted a hand, and light bent around it. From the distortion emerged a weapon—a long blade blacker than void, etched with symbols that shifted when you tried to look at them. The Blade of Immortality. Even the stars shuddered at its presence.
"Then here," he said softly. "Take it. This blade kills even gods. Permanently. But know this—you can't use it on yourself. To pay your debt, you must let her be the one who kills you."
The first me's eyes widened, but before he could speak, the void rippled. Something stepped through.
A third being.
It had no face, no shape I could truly comprehend—only a blur of shifting forms, a thousand silhouettes collapsing into one. Its arrival dragged a cold wind through the stars, and reality itself bent like a bowstring ready to snap.
The first me did not flinch. He turned to the being, lifted the blade, then lowered it into his own chest—guiding its hand to strike him down. The steel pierced him, light erupting from his body in a thousand shards. And as he fell, he smiled, whispering words I couldn't hear.
The second me chuckled, low and cruel. "Haha… fine. But I'm not reviving anyone." He snapped his fingers, and a heavy book materialized, bound in skin that seemed to shift like living flesh. He tossed it onto the corpse of the first me, where it landed with a thunderclap that shook the void.
"That book can do anything," he said, his voice fading into the endless dark. "But it comes with a cost—my job. I'm done. Retired. Let's see if you can survive holding it."
Then the vision cracked apart, splintering into light: the stars, the corpse, the blade, the book—all dissolved into nothing.
I gasped as my eyes snapped open. The eggs in my arms had gone still, their glow dimming to embers. But my hands were trembling, my chest hollow, as though a piece of me had truly died in that place.
I froze for a heartbeat, the world tilting as warmth from the egg crawled up my arm.
"Arthur… did something happen?" Seraphel's voice broke through, soft but sharp.
I forced my face blank, steadying my breath. "Uh… nothing. Just nothing." My tone was calm, maybe too calm.
I quickened my steps, catching up with the others. Vanitar and Nyriel were deep in quiet conversation, their words tangled with shy laughter, while Elanor grinned and teased them mercilessly.
But Seraphel's gaze stayed fixed on me. "You're sure nothing happened?" she pressed, her wings twitching faintly.
"Yeah… nothing."
The egg pulsed again in my hand, glowing faintly, as though mocking the lie.