The sky-schooner returned to Astralis not with the gentle descent of the previous evening, but with a swift, silent urgency that felt like being swallowed by the heavens. Elara sat between her parents in the crystalline cabin, her hands clenched in her lap. Seraphina sat opposite, her earlier triumph hardening into tense anticipation. No one spoke. The only sound was the whisper of the celestial winds against the hull.
Through the transparent walls, Astralis loomed larger, more imposing by daylight. The palace wasn't just gleaming; it was radiant, its spires reflecting the light of the distant sun with a sharp, cold brilliance. Elara could now see the intricate details—the living crystal pulsed with a slow, internal rhythm, veins of silver and azure light flowing like ethereal blood. Flying creatures she had no name for circled the highest towers, their forms made of shimmering energy and sleek, metallic feathers.
"Remember," Althea whispered, her voice barely audible. "Be respectful. But not fearful. Fear invites cruelty."
Loras nodded, his strong jaw tight. He was a man of earth and mist, out of place in this realm of absolute sky. "We are still citizens of Aethel. We have rights under the Covenant."
Seraphina adjusted the sleeve of her gown, a determined glint in her eye. "He asked for the family. This is an honor. We must be gracious."
Elara said nothing. She remembered the cold touch of Orion's fingers, the absolute certainty in his voice. This is just the beginning.
The schooner docked at a different, more private quay—a slender platform of white stone that jutted from a sheer palace wall like a frozen wave. Awaiting them was not a steward, but a tall Celestial-born woman in armor of polished obsidian, a cloak of deep blue falling from her shoulders. Her hair was the color of a winter moon, cropped short, and her eyes were solid silver, pupil-less and unnerving.
"I am Captain Lyra of the Starward Guard," she announced, her voice devoid of inflection. "The King awaits you in the Sun-Throne Hall. Follow me."
They were led through corridors that defied earthly logic. Hallways curved upward, gravity shifting subtly so they walked on walls that became floors. Windows showed impossible vistas—nebulas birthing stars, planets locked in eternal dances. The air grew heavier with magic, a pressure that made Elara's ears pop and her skin prickle.
They passed other Celestial-born. Some glanced with mild curiosity, others with open disdain. A pair of elegant ladies with hair like flowing liquid gold whispered behind fans, their laughter like tinkling ice.
"Terra-borns in the inner sanctum," one murmured. "How quaint."
"The King's new fascination," the other replied, not bothering to lower her voice. "It will pass. Like the others."
Like the others. The words chilled Elara. How many had there been? And what happened when his fascination passed?
Finally, they reached two enormous doors forged from a single piece of star-iron, etched with the history of the cosmos. They swung open silently.
The Sun-Throne Hall was a vast, circular chamber. The domed ceiling was a perfect holographic representation of the current sky, complete with drifting clouds and the slow arc of the sun. The floor was a massive, intricate orrery, the planets moving along their tracks in real time. At the room's center, on a dais of black marble, sat the Star-Throne—a seat carved from the heart of a fallen star, glowing with contained ferocity.
Orion sat upon it.
He was not dressed in the finery of the masquerade, but in regal simplicity: a tunic of black silk, trousers of the same, a sword with a hilt of twisted constellations at his side. His crown was a slender circlet of platinum, set with a single dark gem that absorbed the light. He looked younger without the mask, yet infinitely older—his beauty was severe, ancient, and utterly commanding.
Standing to his right was a man Elara recognized—Theodore, the King's advisor, with his intelligent brown eyes and perpetually calm expression. To his left was the Captain of the Guard, Lyra, who had taken her place beside the throne.
The Vance family was ushered to the center of the orrery, their steps echoing. Loras and Althea bowed deeply. Seraphina executed a flawless, graceful curtsy, her eyes lowered demurely. Elara followed suit, her body moving on instinct, her mind screaming.
"Rise," Orion said. His voice filled the hall effortlessly, cool and clear.
He stood and descended the dais steps, his movements languid and predatory. He stopped before them, his gaze passing over Loras and Althea with detached appraisal, lingering on Seraphina for a brief moment, before settling irrevocably on Elara.
"Your daughter danced with me last night," he stated, looking at Loras but speaking of Elara as if she were an object of discussion.
"A great honor, Your Majesty," Loras said carefully.
"It was." Orion finally turned his head to look at Loras. "Elara has a unique quality. A stability. A light that does not flicker with every passing wind of ambition or fear." He began to circle them slowly. "My court is full of screaming novae and dying stars. She is… a fixed point. Rare. Valuable."
Seraphina's smile had become strained. Elara kept her eyes on the moving planets at her feet, watching a tiny sapphire orb that represented her home, Lyria, trace its slow path.
"We are humbled you think so, Your Majesty," Althea said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.
"Humbled." Orion stopped behind Elara. She could feel his presence like a physical weight. "I am not offering a compliment. I am stating a fact. And I have decided to act upon it."
He walked back to face them. "Elara will remain in Astralis. Effective immediately."
The words fell like stones into a silent pool.
Loras paled. "Your Majesty, I… I don't understand."
"It's simple. She stays. You may visit, with prior permission, once she is settled."
Seraphina could no longer contain herself. A sharp, hurt breath escaped her. Orion's eyes flicked to her, a spark of irritation in their cosmic depths.
"Your Majesty," Seraphina began, curtsying again, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. "If I may… we are both your loyal subjects. Perhaps there has been a… misunderstanding about which daughter—"
"There is no misunderstanding," Orion cut her off, his tone final. "My interest is in Elara. Not the louder one."
Seraphina recoiled as if struck, her face flushing with a mixture of fury and humiliation.
Loras found his voice, a low rumble of paternal defiance. "With all respect, Your Majesty, you cannot just take my daughter. She is not a celestial artifact to be collected. She is a person. She has a life. She… she has an understanding with a young man in Lyria."
A dangerous stillness settled over Orion. "An understanding?"
"Kaelen, the cartographer's son," Althea added quickly, trying to soften the blow. "It is informal, but there is affection."
Orion's expression did not change, but the air in the room grew colder. The holographic clouds on the ceiling darkened. "Break it."
The command was absolute.
"You can't—" Loras started.
"I can." Orion's voice was quiet, yet it vibrated with power. "I am the law in Aethel. My word shapes reality. She is mine. Any prior… affections are irrelevant. Erase them." He looked at Elara for the first time since his decree. "You will come to appreciate the life I offer. Jewels from asteroid cores. Gowns woven from the light of dying stars. A palace that watches eternity pass. You will want for nothing."
Elara lifted her head, meeting his gaze. The terror was still there, a cold knot in her stomach, but beneath it, a spark of defiance ignited. "I want to go home."
He smiled, a thin, chilling curve of his lips. "What you want is adapting. It will align with what I provide." He turned to Theodore. "Have the Spire of Echoes prepared. Assign a full retinue. She is to be treated as a prized possession."
Theodore bowed. "At once, Your Majesty."
"Wait!" Loras stepped forward, but Captain Lyra moved faster, an obsidian spear materializing in her hand to bar his path.
Orion didn't even look at him. "You are dismissed. The schooner will return you to Lyria. Remember my generosity—I am not punishing you for your defiance. I am gifting your daughter a destiny greater than you could ever imagine. Your family's status will be elevated. Your mist-smith business will have royal patronage. See this not as a loss, but as your greatest fortune."
He gestured, and guards in silver armor moved forward to gently, firmly, guide Loras and Althea back. Althea reached for Elara, tears streaming down her face. "My baby…"
"Mother—" Elara's voice broke.
Seraphina stared at Elara, her earlier jealousy now a raw, open wound of betrayal and envy. She said nothing, turning on her heel and walking stiffly toward the exit after her parents.
Orion approached Elara. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her tears fell, hot against his cool skin.
"Don't look so tragic," he murmured, for her ears alone. "You are not being sacrificed. You are being chosen. In time, you will thank me."
He released her and nodded to a gentle-faced Terra-born maid who had appeared. "Take her to her new quarters. Let her rest. She has had a shock."
The maid, named Nissa, curtsied and took Elara's limp arm. "This way, milady."
Elara was led away. At the great doors, she glanced back. Her parents were being ushered out the opposite entrance, her father's shoulders slumped, her mother weeping. Orion had already ascended his throne, speaking quietly to Theodore, the matter settled.
The doors closed, separating her from everything she had ever known.
---
The Spire of Echoes was a tower of breathtaking, lonely beauty. Its main chamber was circular, with walls of semi-transparent crystal that offered a 360-degree view of the endless sky. The furniture was elegant and minimalist—a bed floating on a disc of solidified cloud, a vanity of moon-pearl, chairs that seemed sculpted from wind. A door led to a bathing chamber where water drawn from orbital ice-rings cascaded into a sunken pool.
"I've laid out some clothes for you, milady," Nissa said softly, gesturing to a wardrobe that had already been filled with garments of impossible fabric. "Would you like me to draw a bath? Or perhaps some tea?"
Elara stood in the center of the room, hugging herself. "I just want to be alone."
Nissa's expression was pitying. She bowed and left, the door whispering shut.
Alone, Elara's composure shattered. She sank to the floor, the smooth, cool crystal beneath her, and sobbed. She cried for her parents, for Kaelen, for the simple life that had been ripped away. She cried in fear of Orion, of his cold eyes and absolute power.
After what felt like hours, her tears dried into a hollow ache. She stood and walked to the curved wall. Placing her hands against it, she looked out. She was higher than she'd ever been. The cloud-sea below was a rolling, white blanket. Other sky-isles drifted in the distance, some with tiny cities clinging to them. Lyria was nowhere in sight.
A soft chime sounded. The door opened, and Nissa entered with a tray bearing food—exotic fruits that glowed softly, bread that smelled of stardust, a pitcher of liquid that shimmered with captured light.
"The King requests your presence at dinner, milady. In his private chambers."
Elara's stomach turned. "I'm not hungry."
Nissa set the tray down. "It is not a request, milady. I am to help you prepare."
Resistance was futile. Elara allowed herself to be dressed in a gown of deep blue nebula-silk that clung to her form before flowing into a liquid pool at her feet. Nissa brushed her blonde hair until it shone, leaving it down as per "the King's preference." No jewelry was offered.
When she was ready, Nissa led her through a series of private passages, not the main halls. They arrived at a set of doors less imposing than the throne room's, but no less significant.
Orion's private dining chamber was surprisingly intimate. A table of dark wood sat before a colossal window showing the rings of a gas giant on the horizon. Two places were set. He stood by the window, silhouetted against the cosmic vista.
"Leave us," he said without turning.
Nissa vanished.
"Sit," Orion commanded.
Elara sat. He joined her, filling her glass with the shimmering wine. "You've been crying."
She didn't answer.
"It's to be expected. The transition is difficult." He served her food, his movements precise. "You'll find the cuisine of Astralis surpasses anything in the mist-cities. This fruit is from a garden grown in the light of a binary star system. The flavor is… explosive."
"I don't care about the fruit," Elara whispered.
"You will." He ate a piece, watching her. "You have to care about something, Elara. You can care about the luxuries, the art, the power. Or you can care about the suffering I will inflict on everyone you love if you continue to defy me. The choice of what to care about is yours. The fact that you will care is not."
The threat was explicit, coldly delivered. Her defiance crumbled into a new kind of fear—not just for herself, but for her family, for Kaelen.
She picked up her fork, her hand trembling, and took a small bite. The fruit was explosive—a burst of sweet and tart and something like energy on her tongue. It was the most incredible thing she'd ever tasted, and it tasted like ash.
Orion smiled, a real one this time, reaching his eyes. "See? A beginning."
The meal continued in silence. Elara ate mechanically. Orion watched her with the focus of a scholar studying a rare specimen.
As a servant cleared the plates, Orion stood. "Come. There's something I want to show you."
He led her onto a small, enclosed balcony off the dining room. Here, the air was protected but the view was uninterrupted. He pointed to a sleek, predatory shape perched on a rail further along the spire—a creature of flame and molten gold, twice the size of a hawk, with eyes like miniature suns.
"A solar hawk," Orion said. "They are born in stellar nurseries. Imprinted to obey only one master." He whistled, a sharp, clear note.
The creature turned its head, then launched itself, landing on Orion's outstretched, armored forearm. It gave a soft, crackling cry, heat shimmering off its body.
"This is Ember," Orion said. "He is the alpha of my flock. They patrol the palace grounds at night. Deterrents against… intruders." His eyes locked with Elara's. "Or escapees."
He extended his arm toward her. "Touch him."
Elara flinched back. "He'll burn me."
"He will learn your scent. So he will know you belong to me, and will not harm you. So he can find you, if you are ever lost." His gaze was unyielding. "Touch. Him."
Trembling, Elara reached out. The heat was intense, but not scalding. She let her fingertips brush the creature's blazing feathers. They were strangely solid, vibrating with immense power. Ember tilted his head, his sun-like eyes blinking slowly.
"Good," Orion murmured, a note of approval in his voice. "Now he knows you."
He sent the hawk away with a flick of his wrist. It shot into the darkening sky, a streak of fire.
Orion turned to her, the dying light of the gas giant's rings painting his face in bands of orange and violet. "This is your life now, Elara. It is filled with wonders beyond your imagination, and terrors to match. Your duty is to accept it. To adapt." He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "The stars have woven our threads together. You can struggle and fray, or you can become part of a stronger tapestry. The choice, in the end, is always yours."
He left her on the balcony, staring at the infinite, imprisoning sky.
Back in the Spire of Echoes, Elara stood again at the wall. In the distance, she saw a tiny, familiar cluster of lights—Lyria, orbiting on the far side of Astralis. Home was still visible, but separated by an unbridgeable gulf of space and power.
She placed her palm flat against the crystal. It was cool and unyielding.
This is just the beginning, he had said.
And she knew, with a dread that seeped into her soul, that he was right. The battle for her mind, her heart, and her very soul had just begun. And the battlefield was a cage of stars.