Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Guided by instinct, by the pull he could no longer deny, he lifted a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. Her skin was soft, cool like porcelain kissed by winter air. Khione’s lashes fluttered, but she didn’t shy away. If anything, she leaned into his touch

’’Khione...” he murmured, her name leaving his lips with unfamiliar weight, as though saying it grounded him.

Her ice-blue eyes lifted to his, searching, steady. Then, without hesitation, she closed the gap once more.

Their lips met again, but this time it was slower, more deliberate—less of a storm, more of a flame that burned deep and sure. Nero’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, while her own hand gripped the fabric of his shirt, clinging as though she might fall without him.

The stars bore silent witness as they kissed beneath them, the world forgotten. Each second deepened their connection, melted the walls she had built around herself, and fanned the fire he had long suppressed. It wasn’t just passion—it was the fragile beginning of something greater, something both terrifying and exhilarating.

When they finally parted, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths unsteady. Khione’s cheeks were faintly flushed, the icy mask she wore so often nowhere to be found. She didn’t speak immediately—words felt clumsy compared to what had just been shared.

Nero gave a faint smile, his crimson eyes softer than she had ever seen them. ”So the ice queen does melt after all.”

Her lips curved ever so slightly, though her voice remained steady, carrying that touch of pride only she could wield. ”Only for the right flame.”

A silence followed, not awkward, but charged—full of meaning, of the unspoken acknowledgment that something had shifted between them forever.

Below them, the city hummed faintly. Above them, the stars shone brighter, as though the heavens themselves approved.

For the first time in her life, Khione allowed herself to simply be. Not a princess of the Undine, not a mage, not the cold prodigy feared by her peers. Just a woman, standing beside a man who had dared to reach her heart.

And Nero, gazing at her in that fragile, fleeting moment, realized something too—he wasn’t just fighting battles for survival anymore. Somewhere along the way, he had found someone worth fighting for.

The night was theirs, the stars their witness, and the kiss they shared beneath them was the promise of everything yet to come.

That same evening, while the stars still glittered above Angel’s City, another story quietly unfolded.

Elreth had been restless since the sparring match, her mood only darkening after Nero’s bold kiss. She could not shake the sight from her mind—Khione’s calm acceptance, the softness in her eyes, the way Nero had not hesitated once and they went on a date since the morning and had yet to come. To Elreth, humiliation, and an ache she could not name. Sitting alone in her room only made it worse.

Finally, unable to endure the churning storm inside her chest, she rose and sought Azalea.

The elven princess was sitting in the guest salon of the Leclair estate, sipping a delicate herbal tea, her posture graceful as always. When Elreth appeared, Azalea arched one perfect brow, sensing her agitation.

”Azalea,” Elreth said sharply, though there was a tremor under her tone, ”Come out with me.”

Azalea’s emerald eyes softened with a flicker of curiosity. She set her teacup down with quiet elegance.

”Out?” she repeated, tilting her head, the golden glow of the chandelier catching on her pale hair. ”Where?”

”Anywhere,” Elreth muttered, turning her gaze aside. ”I just... need some air.”

Azalea studied her for a long moment before nodding. ”Very well. I’ll come with you.”

Minutes later, a sleek black sedan car pulled away from the Leclair estate. Inside, the two princesses sat in silence, the leather seats polished, the city lights passing by in glittering streaks through the tinted windows. Elreth leaned her cheek against her hand, eyes fixed outside, her jaw tight. Beside her, Azalea remained serene, though she glanced at her friend more than once, curious at the turmoil written all over her face.

The car eventually stopped before one of the tallest towers in the city—the very hotel Nero and Khione had chosen. Neither Elreth nor Azalea knew this. They ascended into the grand lobby, marble floors gleaming, crystal chandeliers scattering light like stars, before being guided to their floor—two levels below the rooftop.

Their private dining room was luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the sprawling city below. Lamplights-lit streets wound through Angel’s City like glowing veins, and the distant harbor reflected the shimmering colors of the night.

”It’s beautiful,” Azalea said softly, her voice carrying that melodic grace unique to elves. She moved closer to the glass, her silhouette framed by the lights. ”Angel’s City has its charm, though it lacks the timelessness of the Elven woods.”

Elreth didn’t reply immediately. She sank into her chair, her white-gold hair catching the candlelight as she exhaled sharply.

”Beautiful or not, it feels suffocating tonight.”

Azalea turned, her green eyes narrowing ever so slightly. ”Is this about him?”

Elreth froze, then glanced away. ”Tch. You’re quick.”

Azalea allowed herself a small smile as she gracefully took her seat across from her. ”I would be blind not to notice. You burn too brightly when it comes to Nero. Even I can feel it.”

Elreth gritted her teeth. ”Burn? Don’t be ridiculous.” But her clenched fists betrayed her.

Dinner arrived—plated dishes of exquisite design. Golden-roasted pheasant with sweet wine glaze, bowls of seasonal vegetables sautéed in herbs, and a delicate elven fruit wine brought from the far south. The fragrance filled the room, blending with the faint scent of candle wax and fresh flowers that decorated the table.

Azalea delicately lifted her fork, tasting her meal with calm appreciation. ”At least let the food soothe you. Even fury can be tempered by wine and flavor.”

Elreth stabbed at her plate with far less grace, chewing aggressively. Her mood refused to lift, but the flavors were rich enough to momentarily distract her.

After a while, she sighed, resting her chin in her hand again, gazing out at the twinkling city. Her voice came softer now. ”Tell me, Azalea. How do you... deal with it? When someone takes what you want, right in front of you?”

Azalea paused mid-sip of her wine, then set the glass down gently. She studied Elreth, her gaze deep, steady. ”I endure. I wait. For the heart is not easily stolen nor easily kept. If you rush to seize it, it will only slip through your fingers.”

Elreth’s lips pressed into a tight line. She wanted to retort, to deny, but those words struck deeper than she wished to admit.

’’But tell me why are so obsessed with him? I know he is a bit special but that’ll.’’ Azalea voiced her doubt. The princess chuckled.

’’There is something special about it. If you didn’t notice anything it mean you’re still lacking.’’

Azalea frowned she didn’t like the way Elreth phrased her response, it was as if she was treating her like an idiot, which was infuriating.

’’Don’t tell you’re in love with him?” Azalea decided to tease her friend, to vent a bit.

’’Don’t be ridiculous. I saw his potential, I want someone like that in my rank. As my subordinate. While I’m not vying for the throne I must have powerful subordinates beside me. It’s why I want him, no romancing or whatever.’’

’’I see. He is bit unusual. For some from one of the seven families, someone who hadn’t awaken before leaving his family to awaken but not the lightning inherited by the family but a Law of Fire it practically unheard of. Do you believe he might be able to awaken another Law, this time the Law of Lightning?”

Facing Azalea’s question, the princess’s heartbeat quickened, her desire to have Nero grew incessantly. She must have him, he had to become his.

’’Maybe!” Elreth responded but Azalea thought it was unlikely, if he were to awaken another Law, this would make a dual Law wileder something unprecedented, his value might skyrocket, everybody will want him, even she might be tempted despite not liking him. Azalea shook her head, discarding such unrealistic expectation.

The night stretched on, the two of them dining as the city glittered beneath their feet. They laughed a little—Azalea teasing with her usual elegance, Elreth snapping back with her sharp tongue—but underneath it all, tension simmered, a storm waiting to break.

Neither of them knew that just two floors above, Nero and Khione were lost in their own world—sharing wine, laughter, and a kiss beneath the stars.

And yet, perhaps some part of Elreth felt it. Her chest tightened as she gazed at the horizon, her heart restless.

”Khione... I won’t let you have him so easily.”

The night was far from over.

Elreth would absolutely not give up. No matter what.