Like aged ink, night was thickly smeared across the skies over the continent of Etheria. The stars—once radiant points of light as brilliant as diamonds—now left only weak embers that seemed ready to be devoured by the darkness at any moment. Dusk City, an ancient city once famed for its starlight magic, was now shrouded in a suffocating twilight. Only sporadic magical lamps cast faint halos along the winding streets, reminiscent of a dying soul's final breath.
Raine Dawnstar stood on the terrace at the highest point of his family's ancestral mansion. The cold night wind whipped up the hem of his timeworn yet impeccably tailored noble coat. This mansion had once symbolized the glory of the Dawnstar family, its every brick and stone engraved with the illustrious history of the Starborne lineage. Now, however, it was nothing more than an empty, dilapidated shell. Peeling plaster resembled the wrinkles on an old man's face, the window frames were rotted, and the garden was long left to ruin; only a few stubborn vines—marked by ominous purplish-black spots—clung to the ruined walls, the earliest sign of the creeping Shadowblight.
The air was thick with a mingled scent of dust, mildew, and a faint, sickly-sweet decay that defied easy description. Raine drew a deep breath, feeling as though the smell could seep into his very bones and deliver a piercing chill. His gaze extended beyond the broken railing into the distance. Most of the city lay immersed in darkness, save for the central district where atop the spire of the Holy Radiance Cathedral, a magic rune known as the "Eternal Light"—maintained by the Church as a symbol of sacred order—emitted a steady yet icy glow, as if silently mocking this increasingly dim world.
Reaching out, he ran his hand along a nearly worn-down family crest on the terrace's railing—a pattern depicting a shooting star slicing through the long night. The Dawnstar family had once been among the most illustrious of Etheria's Starborne nobility, with a bloodline infused with celestial power that allowed them to read the movements of the stars and even catch brief visions of the future. But how long ago had that glory faded?
Memories surged like tides, accompanied by the taste of blood and an indelible chill. That night, under similarly muted starlight, the mansion was not as eerily silent as it was now. Back then, the house had been filled with laughter; the bright, warm flames of the hearth had danced cheerfully, and his sister, Aellariel—yes, his beloved Aellariel—had clung to him, begging him to tell the tales of the stars. Then, the shadows descended. Without warning or premonition, a group of masked assailants, emerging like demons from the void, with their cold blades and silent magic, nearly extinguished the bloodline of the Dawnstar family.
He had survived, the sole witness left alive, forced to watch his parents fall in pools of blood and his sister, Aellariel, be taken away by a figure cloaked in darkness, vanishing amid the chaos and flames. Those terrified and desperate eyes have since haunted him as an eternal nightmare.
"Aellariel…" Raine murmured, his knuckles blanching from clenching too tightly. The wound in his heart—stemming from the annihilation of his family and his sister's disappearance—had never truly healed, merely gathering a thin scar that ached with even the lightest touch as time passed. Over the years, he had drifted like a ghost through this desolate mansion, selling off every tangible remnant of his heritage to sustain even the barest essentials of life, and to fuel the faint hope that one day he might unravel the truth and find his sister.
He looked upward once more at the pale, dim stars. Those once reliable beacons that had given guidance and strength now appeared veiled in a shroud of gray mist, their light was as feeble as a candle fighting against the wind. Rumors had long circulated through the city: in their panic, the people whispered that this was "divine punishment"—the gods retributing the sins of mortals. The Church's preachers ceaselessly propagated this notion, blaming the expanding corrupted zones and the fading stars on humanity's decadence to consolidate their authority and suppress any dissent.
Corruption… Raine's eyes swept over towards the city's fringes, where a hazy expanse draped in ashy-black mist was barely discernible. What was once a thriving forest and prosperous village had become a forbidden land overrun by deformed creatures and life-devouring decay—the Brightwood. It was said that not even sunlight could penetrate the thick fog there, and those who set foot inside rarely returned. The boundary of the corruption was slowly, but relentlessly, advancing like a growing tumor, threatening all of Etheria.
Raine knew deep down that this was no mere "divine punishment." His sparse Starborne blood endowed him with an unusual sensitivity to the changes in the stars and the creeping corruption. He could sense a malevolence emanating from the distant void—a cold, ravenous force intent on devouring everything. And his family, perhaps, had incurred this fate by delving into a secret connected to that primordial evil.
Turning, he retreated into the interior of the house. The room was pitifully bare, furnished only with a modest bed, a heavily worn desk, and in one corner, a stack of ancient star charts and family documents. These were all that remained of his possessions, and his only clues in his quest for the truth. He lit a costly oil lamp fueled by magical energy; its dim light barely dispelled the darkness clinging to the corners.
Spread open on the desk was an old parchment map, marked in red ink with several dubious locations. The most conspicuous was the legendary, floating, shattered capital—Fallenstar Citadel. Ancient texts recorded that the origins of the Dawnstar family were intricately linked to Fallenstar Citadel, a place that might hold the key to secrets about starlight magic, his family's history, and even the whereabouts of Aellariel. Yet, Fallen Star Citadel had long been lost, rumored to be shrouded by powerful magical barriers and chaotic temporal currents, rendering it inaccessible to ordinary mortals.
Just as Raine's despair threatened to engulf him, a faint glimmer of hope broke through, like the first light of dawn piercing through dense fog, illuminating his shadowed life.
A few days prior, an informant who had long been mingling within the underworld of Dusk City had brought him startling news: that a highly clandestine underground auction was to be held tonight, and among the items to be auctioned was an extraordinarily rare artifact: a fragment known as the "Fallen Stone."
The informant, his eyes glinting with both greed and awe, had described the stone, saying, "…it is said that this thing fell from the heavens—a genuine fragment of a star! When held, one can feel the flow of starlight; some even claim that it resonates with the lost art of starlight magic, guiding its bearer to forgotten treasures, or even… the missing ones."
The missing ones.
Those four words struck Raine like a bolt of lightning. He knew it was likely a fabrication—a ruse concocted by the auctioneers to inflate the price. Yet, after enduring countless disappointments and dead ends, any hint of a connection to starlight magic was enough to ignite a desperate resolve within him.
He had to secure that Fallen Stone.
To muster enough funds, Raine had almost sold everything he owned. He removed the family signet ring from his finger—a ring that, though worn, still displayed the exquisite craftsmanship symbolizing the last vestige of Dawnstar dignity; he sold his father's sword, embedded with a faintly gleaming gemstone of starlight; and even the only intact relic from his mother—a silk shawl painted with the family's star map—was pawned at the shop.
In exchange, he received a heavy sack of gold coins. Yet he had no guarantee that this sum would suffice to prevail in the cutthroat, opulent environment of the underground auction. He knew he was about to step into a dangerous realm teeming with greedy merchants, mysterious spellcasters, and myriad concealed forces lurking in the shadows. But he had no other choice.
This was his final hope—the only thread linking him to Aellariel. He had to wager everything.
Raine secured the sack of coins tightly around his waist and cloaked himself in an oversized mantle that concealed his figure. Casting one last determined glance at the dim stars outside, his eyes resolute, he extinguished the magic lamp and melted into the profound darkness of the mansion—a shell that bore both the legacy and the ruin of his family.
Down in the labyrinthine lower quarter of Dusk City, in a filthy and damp alley, the air reeked of poor-quality ale, rotting garbage, and the acrid residue of certain magical potions. The lighting here was even gloomier than in the upper district; only a few unstable, flickering, low-grade magic lamps cast wavering patches of light upon the slick cobblestones.
A plain wooden door, heavily reinforced with dark iron and utterly unremarkable in appearance, was hidden in the shadows. There was no sign upon the door except for a subtle, ever-shifting magical rune that flowed silently, barring any unwanted prying eyes. This was the entrance to tonight's underground auction.
Raine pulled the hood of his cloak low to obscure most of his face, revealing only a pair of alert, keen eyes. Following the informant's instructions, he knocked on the door in a specific rhythm—three distinct taps. Moments later, a concealed peephole opened, and a pair of emotionless, reptilian yellow eyes scrutinized him.
"Credentials," a hoarse, low voice demanded from behind the door.
Raine retrieved from his cloak a black iron token embossed with a unique pattern—his entry pass, purchased at a steep price from the informant. The token was taken by a scaled hand that emerged from behind the door. After a brief inspection, the heavy bolt was drawn back with a grating sound.
Beyond the door lay a narrow, steep passageway descending downward. Inlaid in the walls on both sides were crystals that emitted a cold, eerie blue light, barely illuminating the path ahead. At the end of the passage was a subterranean space that appeared far more spacious than the exterior would suggest.
Once, this area might have been an abandoned wine cellar or a secret warehouse; now, it had been temporarily repurposed as the auction hall. The air was thick with swirling smoke—a mix of exotic spices, magical elixirs, and the pungent odor of sweat. At the center of the space, a low auction stand had been hastily erected, surrounded by an assortment of chairs and benches. Already, several people were seated.
Raine quickly surveyed the room. The crowd was a mix of all kinds—more diverse and complicated than he had expected. There were mysterious, well-dressed merchants cloaked in silken garments with hoods concealing their faces; hulking mercenary leaders whose weapons were barely visible beneath their attire and whose eyes burned with ferocity; haughty spellcasters in scholarly attire complete with a monocle; and several individuals shrouded head-to-toe in dark cloaks, emanating an aura that warned strangers to keep away. Raine could even sense a faint, disconcerting surge of shadow energy from one of them.
Each person was like an inscrutable reef hidden in a fog, mysterious and potentially dangerous. Raine chose a nondescript corner and sat quietly, minimizing his presence while straining his ears to catch snippets of whispered conversation around him.
"...They say tonight there's some serious merchandise, something from deep within the Blightwood..."
"...Hmph, Blightwood? Don't tell me someone's brought back some curse..."
"...I, for one, am more interested in that so-called 'Fallen Stone'—is it true, after all?"
"...Who knows? With the Dawnstar family gone, starlight magic has long been relegated to mere legend..."
The mention of the Dawnstar family sent a sharp pang through Raine's heart, and his grip on his coin purse tightened involuntarily. Forcing himself to remain calm, he knew he must not reveal his identity here.
Soon, the auction commenced. A short, stout auctioneer with a slick smile took the stage, his somewhat piercing voice energizing the atmosphere. One by one, bizarre and wondrous items were presented: a vial of forbidden elixir said to temporarily enhance spellcasting, a dagger stained with dried blood and inscribed with ancient runes, and a fragmented map indicating the location of a lost ruin—each bid accompanied by tense competition and covert glances.
Raine waited patiently, his heart pounding faster with each passing moment. The coins he had brought were, in this setting, hardly a fortune. Several items were sold for prices far exceeding his expectations, which filled him with mounting unease.
Finally, after a few of the marquee items had been auctioned off, the auctioneer cleared his throat and, in an air of feigned mystery, announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, next up is an item that may very well be tonight's highlight. It hails from an… um, exceedingly special origin. Some say it is a fragment of a star fallen to mortal realms; others claim it holds the magical secrets of a lost era; and still others believe it can guide the lost to find that which they so desperately seek..."
As he spoke, an attendant carefully carried a black velvet-covered tray onto the stage. With a sudden flourish, the auctioneer swept away the velvet cover—
At the center of the tray lay a stone roughly the size of a clenched fist, its shape irregular.
At first glance, it appeared unremarkable; its surface was rough, displaying a deep, nearly black-gray-blue hue. Yet, when illuminated by the magic lamps on the auction stage, countless tiny glimmers seemed to flow within its core, as if a miniature cosmos had been imprisoned within. An indescribable aura, ancient and woeful, emanated from the stone, causing the entire auction hall to fall into an abrupt hush.
Raine's heart constricted. He was almost certain—this was what he had been searching for! That subtle resonance, emanating from the stars, stirred the dormant Starborne blood within him.
"Fallen Stone!" the auctioneer announced loudly. "Starting bid, five hundred gold coins! Increments of no less than fifty gold coins!"
Five hundred gold coins! This opening bid would nearly deplete half of Raine's funds. He took a deep breath, suppressing the surging mix of excitement and anxiety within him.
"Five fifty!" An elderly man in an elegantly cut mage's robe was the first to raise his paddle. "Six hundred!" a gruff-voiced mercenary followed. "Seven hundred!" a figure cloaked entirely in black intoned in a low voice from a darkened corner.
The price began to escalate steadily. Each bid pushed Raine's heart further down. Although the number of bidders was few, it was clear they were all determined to obtain this stone, and they were well-heeled.
"One thousand gold coins!" the mage in the robe increased his bid again, his tone authoritative and uncompromising. The mercenary hesitated briefly before shaking his head and bowing out. The cloaked figure remained silent for a moment, seemingly weighing his options.
Surveying the room, the auctioneer declared, "One thousand gold coins! Is there anyone willing to bid higher? This is a genuine fragment of the stars, imbued with limitless potential..."
Raine's palms were slick with cold sweat. All his assets combined would only suffice for one more bid. He had to seize this opportunity—and it had to succeed in one fell swoop.
At the very moment the auctioneer was about to bring down his gavel, Raine suddenly raised his paddle and, in as calm a voice as he could muster, declared, "One thousand two hundred gold coins!"
Instantly, all eyes in the hall fixated on him. One thousand two hundred gold coins—for an artifact of such uncertain purpose, it was an exorbitant sum. The elderly mage frowned in discontent, casting a dismissive glance in Raine's direction. The cloaked figure too shifted slightly, and beneath the shadow of his hood, a sharp gaze seemed to fix upon Raine.
A spark of surprise flashed in the auctioneer's eyes before it was swiftly replaced by a professional thrill: "One thousand two hundred gold coins! The gentleman from the corner has bid one thousand two hundred gold coins! Is there another offer? One thousand two hundred gold coins, final!"
The aged mage finally shook his head and withdrew.
"One thousand two hundred gold coins, going, going—sold!" The auctioneer struck his small wooden gavel sharply, the crisp sound announcing the Fallen Stone's new owner.
Raine exhaled deeply, his taut nerves dissolving into a sudden wave of dizziness. He had succeeded! He had wagered his last resources to secure this single glimmer of hope.
Stepping forward amidst the curious, covetous, and indifferent gazes, he handed over the heavy coin pouch to the auctioneer and cautiously took hold of the Fallen Stone.
The stone, cold to the touch, nonetheless emanated a faint, peculiar warmth—as if one were holding a slumbering heart. The inner glow within the stone seemed to intensify, and a subtle resonance, akin to the whisper of the stars, reached into his mind.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, his keen senses detected that at least two pairs of eyes remained fixed on him, their intent as disturbing as parasites clinging to bone. One pair, belonging to the cloaked figure who had refrained from bidding further, radiated scrutiny and discontent; the other was even more elusive, emanating from deeper within the hall's shadows—a cold, focused look reminiscent of a predator locking onto its prey.
Alarm bells rang in Raine's mind. He knew that by exhausting all his means to win the Fallen Stone, he had not only spent his final resources but had also thrust himself into the eye of the storm. This small stone, though it might guide him to his missing sister, could just as well herald a fatal catastrophe.
He dared not linger. Clutching the Fallen Stone close to his heart and wrapping his cloak tighter around his body, he lowered his head and swiftly slipped away from the crowd, disappearing into the dark alley outside the auction hall. He had to get back to a secure hideout and study the stone, hoping it would indeed answer his silent prayer.
Yet, unbeknownst to him, a lithe, agile shadow-a figure as silent as a cat merging with the night—had slipped out from the darkness behind him, following at a measured pace. Those eyes, hidden beneath the hood, glimmered with a complex and profound intensity in the dark, like the loneliest stars in a barren sky. The target: the Fallen Stone now nestled in Raine's grasp.