0.1 — Prologue — Our Universe
The planet Leyloris stood on the brink of total annihilation – what had once been a vibrant civilization had turned into a desolate ruin. Crumbling buildings, the howling and wailing of terrified inhabitants, and a chaotic crowd wandering aimlessly through devastated streets painted a picture of despair and helplessness. Children, dirty and abandoned, deprived of any shelter, gazed hopefully for even the smallest gesture of help from another human being – yet no aid came. No signal, no hand, no salvation. No one was able to explain what exactly had happened on that one, seemingly ordinary day – the day that so drastically changed the face of reality.
Just yesterday, everyone had enjoyed the calm of everyday life, living in harmony with the familiar rhythm – as if catastrophe were a distant fable from dark folklore. Though prophecies foretelling the end of the world had circulated for ages, most people regarded them as the fantastic inventions of madmen or ancient prophets whose words no longer bore meaning. The aristocracy looked down on common peasants with disdain, the emperor devotedly nurtured his empire, and the countesses, busy with intrigue, whispered about one another over steaming cups of tea during lavish banquets. In this reality, everything had its place – until the moment the entire planet was split in two.
From the earth emerged an abyss, vast and terrifying, dividing the world into two hemispheres separated from each other, their rupture seeming endless – as though existence itself had been cut by the blade of fate.
Thousands of lives were annihilated in a single instant, and millions were consumed by doubt that plunged them into the darkness of despair and a crisis of faith in the meaning of existence.
Although some prophets had foretold the coming cataclysm, they were unable to foresee its true nature – they could not perceive that behind the veil of everyday life lurked beings resembling humans, and yet not human at all, who could become the catalyst of this devastation. For many, the existence of God ceased to be obvious – in the face of tragedy, they believed themselves abandoned, that no higher power watched over them anymore. And yet, as it later turned out, their beliefs were mistaken.
On that same day, when everything fell to ruin, one of the stars in the sky flared with an extraordinary, almost blinding light – its brilliance growing more intense with each passing minute, so that most mortals, when gazing upward, had to shield their eyes to avoid losing their sight. Then, suddenly and without warning, it vanished from the firmament, and at that very moment, the planet underwent its final division.
The sky turned gray, shrouded itself in fog and sorrow, and against its backdrop appeared the figure of a young man with shining white hair and golden eyes. His appearance contrasted sharply with the gothic aesthetic of Leyloris’s inhabitants – he wore short, snow-white shorts and a knee-length coat, and around his head was a golden crown of thorns. In his hand, he wielded a glowing yellow sword that seemed to be the source of both light and judgment. Perhaps he was the answer to questions no one had ever thought to ask.
The white-haired boy slowly made his way toward the summit of the highest mountain on the entire planet, his figure slender, his steps firm and silent. He crossed a long, monumental bridge suspended over an abyssal valley whose depth seemed infinite – as though it swallowed the last remnants of light and hope. At the end of that journey, at the very peak, stood a colossal palace – black as night, built in the Gothic style, its sharp contours and soaring towers resembling more a temple than a seat of power. According to local belief, no mortal had the right to approach that place – for it was a structure dedicated to a divine being, a sacred, untouchable, eternal site.
The boy reached the end of the bridge and stood before the monumental gates of the palace. Their black surface, covered in ancient runes, began to part slowly with a prolonged, metallic groan. They had not yet fully opened when he stepped forward, crossing the threshold with a confident stride into the heart of the structure.
In his left hand, a second sword suddenly appeared – identical to the one he held in his right. Both blades emanated a yellow light, revealing themselves with a brief yet intense flash. Walking across the marble floor, polished to such perfection that it reflected his every movement like a mirror, the boy advanced, and the echo of his steps resounded against the walls of the temple – silent as a grave.
In the depths of the structure, near one of the massive pillars, he noticed the silhouette of a man – slightly taller, with red hair, leaning nonchalantly against a stone column. The boy stopped, his golden eyes hardening into a cold gaze filled with ominous determination. The red-haired man stretched his lips into a smirk full of irony and spoke:
— Cethus, constellation of radiance and light, — he said, taking a deep breath. — I never thought you’d bother to come here in person.
For a moment, he waited for a reply, but none came, so he continued, straightening up and moving away from the pillar.
— Your greeting was… discourteous. We haven’t exchanged a single word, and yet you obliterated my planet without hesitation. You destroyed everything! Leyloris was my home. I protected the civilization here, and they… they worshiped me as a god, not realizing such a being doesn’t even exist! Do you truly think that—
His voice swelled with anger, trembling with emotion, but he was suddenly interrupted by Cethus, who spoke in a calm, cool tone:
— Raeliyel.
Just that. A single word – a name. And yet it was enough to make the fire in the red-haired man’s eyes blaze even more fiercely. His rage, however, was mixed with something else – a hidden trace of helplessness, a glimmer of surrender.
— Traitor! — he snarled. — You act exactly like him. You traverse planets, leaving behind nothing but ruin and death. You’re insane! A stupid, thoughtless fool!
Raeliyel grabbed his face, grinding his teeth, clenching his jaw with such force it seemed he might crush it.
— I had no choice, — replied Cethus with irritating calm. — It was the only way to save my sister.
— You had no choice?! You?! Hahaha… Do you think I’m naïve?! — Raeliyel removed his hand from his face, revealing an expression of madness.
— Yes, I had no choice, — Cethus repeated. — For five hundred years I’ve been searching for a way to resurrect the dead constellation. I tried everything. I didn’t care how much chaos I unleashed upon the galaxy.
Raeliyel looked at him as though at a madman – with disgust, without a shred of compassion.
— Only after she was gone did I realize that without her, I am completely alone.
He clenched his fist.
— You’re pathetic. Who cares that your sister died?! Does that give you the right to destroy worlds?! You’re sick! — shouted Raeliyel.
— It was also a form of revenge… against him.
— No one cares about your revenge! — roared the redhead. — You’ve become an enemy to most constellations because of your recklessness!
— And I don’t care, — Cethus replied coldly. — Because I know that my journey ends today.
He smiled and gripped his sword firmly in both hands. Raeliyel, startled, fell silent for a brief moment, then his fury returned. He summoned his own sword from the ether.
— Farewell, Leyloris… and the constellation Raeliyel, — said Cethus and lunged forward at the speed of light.
The battle didn’t last even a second. The entire structure of the temple collapsed, turning into dust. In the middle of the ruins, pinned down by Cethus’s body, lay Raeliyel – impaled through by his sword.
— Th-this fight… it was… so… pointless… — he gasped, choking on blood. — My L-Leyloris… my… p-people…
Cethus looked at him, uncomprehending. Why was he smiling? He had been pierced by a weapon that annihilated constellations. And yet, a mocking, final smile lingered on his face.
— Hah… ha… — he groaned. — You too… farewell… Cethus.
At that moment, Cethus felt unease. His own body… had been wounded as well. He looked down and saw that his chest had been pierced clean through – by Raeliyel’s hand.
No… how is that possible?
So he knew from the beginning that he couldn’t defeat me in battle, and yet he still managed to wound me… Fatally?
Raeliyel’s body dissolved into dozens of tiny sparks, vanishing one after another. After his death, nothing remained except a small, orange crystal.
Cethus, struggling to his feet, looked at the wound – it still refused to close. And as a constellation, he should have regenerated almost instantly, unless he had been struck by a weapon of special purpose…
Did he use some kind of trick before dying?
He shook his head, trying to regain clarity of thought. He looked at the crystal and lifted it gently, then began absorbing its energy. His yellow eyes faded, turning white. The crystal disappeared, and in his hand, a white counterpart slowly took shape.
He raised it to eye level, holding it between his index finger and thumb.
— Lyttia… If I had known that I’d find the answer here, I would have come right away. Without hesitation. Without destruction. I swear, I never wanted any of this.
And with that vow, he closed his eyes.
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