The last night of the twentieth century was bright and loud, like the whole city had decided to believe in a better tomorrow.
Astaria was glowing with festival lights. Strings of bulbs hung over the streets, paper lanterns floated near the clouds, and neon signs ate up the darkness with cheerful colors. Fireworks cracked in the distance, sounding like glass breaking far away. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, gunpowder, and the cheap perfume people wore when they wanted to feel fancy.
On nights like this, everyone pretended the future could be fixed with cheers and hope.
Near the old shrine at the edge of the city, the mood felt different. Mist covered the stone steps, making them slippery. A couple walked down the path together.
Rohart was tall, careful, wearing a long French coat that caught the wind. Alicia walked beside him, glowing even under her heavy fur coat. The soft curve of her stomach made it clear,she was pregnant.
They laughed together, trading small jokes that only made sense to them. There was a quiet warmth between them, like they carried their own little world.
On a bench nearby sat a man in a black suit. He didn't just look lonely, he looked like loneliness itself. His coat was worn, his hands buried in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the couple with a strange hunger, or maybe pain.
Then, suddenly, he stood up. The movement was rough and sudden. He rushed at Alicia. His foot hit her stomach, not a clean strike, more like a desperate act. The sound it made was small, swallowed by the fireworks.
Rohart moved on instinct. He kicked out, knocking the man down. The man crumpled to the ground, blood already showing on his collar, old blood, like it had been waiting there all along.
Alicia's hand flew to her stomach. Her face twisted in pain.
"It hurts," she whispered.
Without a second thought, Rohart lifted her into his arms like a soldier carrying a fallen comrade and ran. The shrine disappeared behind them. Festival lights blurred. He kept whispering, "I'm here. Hold on. Don't worry." The words were fragile, but they were all he had.
Then everything went quiet, not truly silent, but like the world suddenly realized this moment was serious. Alicia's eyes opened but didn't focus. Her lips parted. Her chest didn't rise.
Rohart's breath caught. His scream broke through the city's celebration, raw and sharp.
A hand touched his shoulder. He spun around.
The man from the bench stood there. Blood stained his sleeve, but his expression was calm, too calm.
Rohart grabbed him by the collar. Rage filled his voice. "Why? Why did you do this? Why her?!"
The man let him shout. Then, when there was space between breaths, he said quietly, "I can save her."
Rohart didn't let go. "Then do it," he demanded.
The man reached out and touched Alicia's forehead. He muttered something too soft to catch. A dark mist uncoiled from his chest thick, alive, like ink in water. It slipped into Alicia's body.
Her eyelids fluttered. Color slowly returned to her cheeks. Rohart let out a shaky laugh, half joy and half fear, holding her closer.
The man didn't smile. "No," he said, calm but firm. "She's not truly fine. Not the way you hope."
"My name is Kiwan," he said. "I'm a Creator."
The word carried weight. A "Creator" wasn't ordinary. They were people who could change fate itself.
Kiwan looked tired. "I was human once," he said simply. "I'm not anymore."
Rohart's grip tightened. "You attacked her."
Kiwan shook his head. "A hallucination. Or maybe a failing. I don't know which is better. But listen, your child and this lady were supposed to die tonight in a car accident. I gave up my life energy for him. He will live. She won't. She'll give birth, but afterward, she'll die."
Midnight bells rang in the distance. Rohart's hands shook. Fury and gratitude mixed inside him in a way that didn't make sense. "Why my son? Why not save them both?!"
"Fate keeps a ledger," Kiwan answered, like he was reading the weather. "I changed one entry. I have about a month of life left. After that, I'll die. I'm giving what's left to him. I have no one else."
He lifted his hand. A small butterfly appeared, shining like glass. Its wings glowed softly in the night.
"This is Skies," Kiwan said. "She chooses new Creators. If your son grows strong enough, if he reaches the threshold I once did, Skies will come to him. She'll grant power to those she finds worthy."
"Worthy?" Rohart and Alicia asked together.
Kiwan smiled weakly. "It's not a title. It's something you earn. To be worthy, he'll have to surpass limits, grow stronger than anyone expects. If that happens, Skies will decide."
He lowered his hand. The butterfly floated for a heartbeat, then vanished.
"A debt has been paid," Kiwan said quietly. "A life has been spared. The balance is set. The rest is the world's business."
Rohart held Alicia close. Somewhere in the city, people laughed and kissed as fireworks ended. No one knew that, in the shadows of celebration, a deal had been made,one that would shape decades to come.
Kiwan folded his hands like he'd finished a prayer. "You don't need to know everything tonight," he said. "The child will know when it's time."
Then he stepped back into the darkness.
Rohart pressed his forehead to Alicia's. The night had changed. The year had turned. And somewhere, unseen, fate quietly changed its course.