“Oh, you’re here,” Astia said with an innocent smile.

“Yes, and you pulled me out of a lovely dream, you pesky child,” Surra replied sharply, her arms crossed.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so lazy,” Astia chided her playfully.

Surra narrowed her eyes. “Who are you calling lazy? Now, what do you want?”

“Power.”

“What?”  

Astia lifted the globe from the table and held it up excitedly. His enthusiasm made the globe wobble in his hands, making it hard to distinguish anything about what he was holding.

“What do you want to do with that thing?” Surra asked coldly.

“Can you pour some of your power into it? I want to turn it into a memory globe!”  

Surra raised an eyebrow. “A memory globe? You mean a Nuflak?”  

“Exactly!”  

Surra sighed and shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. The energy must resonate with your core, not mine.”  

“What do you mean by that?”  

“This globe is an ancient artifact,” Surra explained, her tone softening slightly. “It represents the love and connection between angels and demons. To create one, people pour their own energy into it and then gift it to someone important to them.”

“So… I have to use my own energy? But I can’t,” Astia murmured, his excitement waning a bit.

“There’s another way,” Surra said.

Astia’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”  

Surra opened her hands delicately, and between her palms, a red light began to glow. The light gradually formed into a sphere of energy. “This is your mother’s energy core,” Surra revealed. “You can use it to fill this globe. A portion of it will be enough for your purpose.”  

Astia gasped. “So I was right... you absorbed her energy.”  

“Of course, I did. Do you think I’d let such a powerful core fall into someone else’s hands?” Surra smirked. “Your mother had an exceptionally strong core.”  

Astia's mind began racing. He had always known that his mother’s energy was extraordinary. That was one reason his grandfather had tolerated her for so long—her energy core had rejuvenating properties that prolonged his life.

Finally, Astia said with determination, “Okay. Let’s do this.”  

“Got it,” Surra replied.

Surra carefully started to unravel the sphere of energy, weaving threads of red light into the globe like she was stitching fibers. The moment the energy entered the globe, it transformed. The red color shifted to a brilliant white and then became completely transparent.

Surra returned the remaining energy to her body and yawned. “If you don’t have anything else, I’m off,” she said, turning toward the door.

“Go, go, get some sleep,” Astia waved her away. 

“Shh. You little brat,” she replied. 

With that, Surra vanished, leaving Astia alone with the completed memory globe. Its soft glow illuminated the room, a symbol of what was to come.

The first royal banquet that Astia attended as the new prince of the sky felt like stepping into an entirely different world. From the moment the servants brought out the finest clothes and sparkling jewels for him, he transformed from a hesitant young girl into an image of grace and splendor. Although it wasn’t his birthday, the grandeur of the occasion—the exquisite garments, lavish decorations, and the palpable excitement in the air—conspired to create the illusion that the entire celebration was dedicated to him.

“This necklace is a bit heavy,” Astia murmured, tracing her small fingers along the delicate gold chain that sat atop her collarbone.

One of the servants, always polite and composed, responded calmly, “Your Highness, this necklace symbolizes the royal family.”

Astia's gaze fell upon the ruby at the center of the necklace, its deep red surface glimmering in the light. Despite its beauty, the weight of the necklace felt symbolic—more than just a physical burden.

“Do I really have to wear this?” she asked, her tone hinting at reluctance.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the servant replied firmly, leaving no room for debate.

With an exaggerated sigh, Astia surrendered to her fate. “Oh… fine.”

The servants surrounding her exchanged glances, their eyes sparkling with admiration as they looked at her transformed appearance. Their excitement nearly overwhelmed her, making her feel more like a decorative kitten on display than a prince. Shifting nervously under their lingering gazes, she hoped to break the spell of their attention by changing the subject.

“Is the gift ready?” she suddenly asked loudly, trying to divert their focus.

One of the servants stepped forward gracefully, holding a glossy black box in her hands. With a gentle motion, she opened the box, revealing the memory globe nestled within a bed of velvet. The globe shimmered gently, its surface shining with promises of hope and effort.

“That’s perfect,” Astia said softly, her voice filled with quiet hope. This globe represented hours of effort and held deep meaning. It was her gift to Iliran—a symbol to bridge the distance between them.

“It’s amazing, Your Highness,” Stella, one of the young servants, said with unrestrained enthusiasm. Her genuine admiration brought a small, warm smile to Astia's lips.

Others nodded in agreement, their gazes devoid of jealousy. In their collective looks, Astia saw something real—an uncommon warmth that eased the anxious tension in her chest.

---

As Astia descended the grand steps of the palace, her heart raced like never before. The ceremony was only moments away, yet her mind was fully focused on her mission. She clutched the black box tightly in her hands, antsy to get things moving. She needed to find Iliran before the banquet began. If she could hand over the gift in privacy, she’d ensure no one would have the opportunity to criticize her intentions.

But Iliran was nowhere to be found. She searched the palace’s grand halls, her steps quickening with growing frustration. Despite being the guest of honor and naturally busy, his absence created an odd sense of instability in Astia.

“Little sister.” 

A familiar voice echoed down the hallway, and she turned quickly to see Arin approaching. A wave of calm washed over her as she rushed toward him.

“Arin!” she called, her tone a mixture of urgency and gratitude.

He stood next to a royal advisor, who seemed to be handing him a scroll. The advisor soon vanished into the depths of the palace, leaving a faint tension in the air.

“You’re looking for Iliran, aren’t you?” Arin asked, his sharp eyes catching the worry etched on Astia’s face.

“Yes. I’ve looked everywhere for him. Where is he?”  

“He’s with Uncle Ryan. They’ll be here soon… What’s that?” Arin’s gaze fell on the black box in her hands, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Astia opened the box to reveal the memory globe. His reaction was immediate; his eyes widened in a mix of awe and disbelief.

“This…” he started, but his voice gradually faded. “Where did you get this energy?”  

Astia gave him a mysterious look and offered a sly smile. “That’s a secret.”  

Arin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, whatever you did, it’s incredible.”  

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Astia asked doubtfully, her confidence wavering slightly.

“He’ll love it,” Arin replied firmly.

Before she could respond, the grand palace doors creaked open. Ryan and Iliran entered the hall, their regal presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone nearby. Astia’s gaze locked onto Iliran, a surge of excitement flooding her. Without waiting for any further words from Arin, she dashed toward him, tightly gripping the black box.

“Astia… wait!” Arin called after her, but it was too late.  

When she stood before Iliran, she noticed the stress etched on his face; his brows were knitted and an unshakeable pressure seemed to weigh on him. Still, she pressed on, hoping that her gift could lighten his burden.

“Iliran, I want to show you something,” she said, her voice laced with excitement.

Without meeting her eyes, Iliran replied tersely, “Astia, show me later.”

The coldness in his tone made Astia flinch, but she wouldn’t back down.  

“Please, just take a quick look.”  

His eyes flickered momentarily toward the box in her hands, but with a heavy sigh, he repeated, “Later.”

Iliran brushed past her, but she hurriedly followed, her will unshaken.

“Iliran…”  

“I said later!” he barked, frustration rising in his voice.

Suddenly, with a swift motion, his arm swung out and collided with the box. The box slipped from Astia’s grasp and landed with a loud thud on the marble floor. The lid flew open, and the memory globe rolled out, its delicate surface gliding across the polished palace floor.

The hall fell into a deathly silence. Ryan, who had been deep in conversation with his advisor, turned his sharp gaze toward the commotion, a deep frown forming on his face. Arin, who had been watching from a distance, froze in shock, unable to process what had just happened. Even Iliran seemed momentarily paralyzed, his red eyes locked onto the broken globe.

“Damn…” Iliran muttered under his breath, palpable regret in his voice.

Astia quickly knelt down, grasping the globe. A thin crack marred its pristine surface, but it still looked intact. She released a breath of relief and carefully placed the globe back into the box, closing the lid.

In a quiet voice, she said, “I wanted to give this to you. It’s a little cracked now, but it still works. With this, you can see the memories of the people you love every day.”