Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Meanwhile, in the opposite direction, another train thundered across the empire’s vast railways. Unlike the long commercial super train boarded by Nero and the others, this one was far more compact, yet no less impressive. Painted in deep crimson with golden crests along its sleek hull, it cut through the night like a blazing comet. Its polished steel shimmered under the moonlight, while runes of protection glowed faintly along the sides, pulsing with quiet power. This was no ordinary locomotive—it was one of the royal family’s personal trains, property of Samael’s lineage.

Shorter than the commercial line, yes, but more luxurious, every detail screamed of its status. Its windows were shaped like cathedral arches of black crystal, framed by gilded steel. Guards in ceremonial armor stood at both the front and rear cars, vigilant even while the train hurtled ahead at breakneck speed. The roof bore mounted arcane cannons, their sapphire cores humming softly, ready to fire should any threat dare approach. Where the common train was built for speed and commerce, this one was a moving fortress—elegant and dangerous, like a beast of prey wrapped in velvet.

Inside, soft carpets muffled footsteps, chandeliers of enchanted crystal bathed the carriages in warm light, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air. Elreth, the empire’s third princess, had naturally chosen such a vessel for her journey to Angel’s City. She sat reclined in one of the velvet-cushioned compartments, the flicker of lamplight dancing across her striking features. Beside her was Azalea, the elven princess, whose serene expression contrasted Elreth’s fiery aura.

Across from them sat Khione.

The princess of ice also known as the Ice Queen was as composed as ever, her white hair falling like a sheet of frost over her shoulder, her cold gaze fixed out the window. She and Elreth had exchanged not a single word since the train departed. They were like Fire and Water—no, Fire and Ice—utterly incompatible. Even seated in the same carriage, the tension between them was thick enough to chill the air.

Azalea, of course, spoke freely with Elreth, laughter and playful remarks passing between the two like easy currents. But with Khione, silence ruled. Not a single attempt was made to bridge the gap. Both princesses seemed content to ignore the other, though every shift of posture, every subtle glance carried the unspoken reminder of rivalry.

As members of the Seven Families, they had grown up orbiting one another since childhood. Alongside Lux, Blake, and Adam, their paths had overlapped countless times. They could be called childhood friends, but that description was far too simple. Within this group, familiarity often bred friction rather than warmth.

No rivalry burned more fiercely than that between Elreth and Khione. Since their earliest years, they had been at each other’s throats, sparks and frost clashing at every meeting. Neither ever backed down, and their confrontations often escalated into open duels, their Laws of Fire and Ice colliding with explosive intensity.

The second most infamous pair, however, was none other than Azalea and Adam, the dwarf prince. Elves and dwarves had never gotten along—centuries of grudges and bitter history ensured that—but those two had taken the ancestral animosity to an almost comical extreme. Where Elreth and Khione clashed with fire and fury, Azalea and Adam dueled with barbed words. Every encounter ended with insults sharp enough to draw blood.

It was for this very reason that Adam had once refused to give Azalea any gift, unlike Nero, Lux, Blake, Elreth, or even Khione. His reasoning had been simple: even if he offered, she would never accept it—or worse, she would accept only to lace her thanks with scorn. Better to save himself the trouble.

Still, that animosity weighed on him more than he admitted. When he first learned Azalea would be accompanying them to Angel’s City, his mood had soured. Rivalry between them always ended the same way: Adam storming away red-faced, Azalea smirking with victory. Their score, as everyone knew, was firmly in her favor.

And so, aboard the crimson royal train, the unspoken currents of history and rivalry ran deep, thicker even than the hum of its enchanted engines.

Like the male, they played various games, well only Elreth and Azalea though. Khione simply sat there in silence uninterested as she flipped through a book with an obscure cover.

°°°

Later, as the evening deepened into night, the three retreated to the observation lounge. It was a domed chamber of glass and crystal that stretched above and around them, giving the illusion of floating through the open sky. The stars shimmered overhead, endless and cold, while below the dark tapestry of the empire passed in blurs of forest, river, and mountain.

Azalea leaned back with her wine, her laughter softened by fatigue, while Elreth stretched languidly, her fiery hair spilling down the seat like silk. Khione sat a little apart, her pale reflection mingling with the starlight, her gaze fixed on the horizon as though the world itself were beneath her notice.

Yet despite the silence, despite the rivalry, there was something undeniable in that moment—something all three of them shared. They were heirs of power, born into roles larger than themselves, bound together by the destiny of the Seven Families. And whether they embraced or resisted, the crimson train carried them all toward the same destination, the same inevitable crossing of paths.

In the meantime, Khione slipped her phone from her sleeve, her pale fingers gliding across the screen to check if a message had arrived. Nothing. Her expression remained calm, but her eyes lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before she set it down on her lap.

The book she had been reading earlier resurfaced in her mind. A man should contact you several times before you answer. If not, you’ll end up on the losing side—the lesser side—whether in friendship or in matters between men and women.

”...Maybe I should wait a little longer,” she thought, closing her eyes briefly. Yet the thought carried no certainty. To her own surprise, she found herself longing for interaction—for his words, his presence. Something unthinkable not long ago.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. People changed. Whether that change was for better or worse mattered little. What mattered was that she was discovering a new side of herself, one she hadn’t even known existed. And strangely... that in itself was fun.

’If he doesn’t contact me, then I’ll do it—after I’ve waited a bit.’ The decision echoed quietly in her mind.

She rose, brushing an invisible crease from her dress, ignoring the faintly curious glances Azalea and Elreth cast her way. When she reentered the lounge, she did not realize the corners of her lips had softened into a small, fleeting smile. The sight left the other two in subtle shock. For a moment, their fiery banter faded, replaced by silent wonder at the Ice Queen who, unknowingly, had begun to melt.