New Conception

While maneuvering herself through the stream of people decked in resplendent ensembles, a glimpse of long braided hair caught Astra's attention. The corridors winding throughout the palace were overflowing with the multitude of nobles alike, appointed imperial knights maintaining control by the sides. It was one thing to be stuck at the rear, and another to elude the surveillance of the guards.

But alas, an opening. The crowd came to a halt before another doorway similar to the previous ballroom they had just fled from. Directions were spoken that Astra paid no heed to, discreetly moving herself away from the assemblage to a corner where the elderly were granted a resting place, awaiting for their turn to enter.

Astra sauntered towards the farthest lounge and seated herself. She then shut her eyes and listened.

"—and you are sure it was not explosives, but magic?" A curt tone welcomed her ears.

"Yes, we did not hear the sound of explosions; we did not hear anything alarming at all. If it were not for Lady Heroux here, I would have been cut up to bits." This must be The Duke.

"Commander Basset."

"Yes, Your Highness." Someone new?

"Detain every single guest for tonight. Commence an investigation immediately."

"Understood, Your Highness."

"Your Highness, I—" Rosalita's voice…

Without warning, a force pressed itself onto Astra's body, interrupting her auditory range with white noise. She shot her eyes open from the contact.

Camille had buried her face into her neck and pulled back, a distressed expression on her appearance. An eerily calm facade must've sported itself onto Fleur's countenance, as the uncertainty in her friend's eyes darted across her visage.

"Camille," Astra lamely let out. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

The brown-haired girl hadn't let go of her grip on Astra's shoulders as she spoke, "I was looking everywhere for you! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I was just momentarily swept away back there." Astra attempted to relieve that look on her friend's face with a small contrite smile. Moments of suspicion occurred once in a while, but it was only appropriate to nip it in the bud.

"How are you so composed...?" Camille muttered to herself and then finally turned away, pulling up Astra's weight in the direction of the new hall. "I have heard the power dynamics of some nobles have tilted off balance because of the Crown Prince. And only the Avssatha Empire would recklessly utilise such barbaric methods of explosives. Do you think tonight's events were some kind of message?"

"Keep your voice down, Camille!" In what was her best imitation of Fleur's modesty, Astra nudged the other girl's shoulder and let herself be dragged away.

With a slight turn of her head, she looked back at the corner where the leading characters of the story were convening in secrecy, hidden from everyone else's sight and hearing.

The aftermath of this royal banquet had proceeded to move into a rather unsystematic route. While it was fortunate for Astra to have heard the important things—magic, and not explosives? Something was definitely misaligned here—the sequence of events was rather too fast for a slow-burn romance book, and she didn't know how to feel about it.

Pushing open the chained device adorning the curves of her waist, a holographic outline of all the currently completed acts of this story blinked before her, invisible to everyone but her eyes. Her designated Compass. Four roman numerals depicting the main units of time—twelve, three, six, nine—were engraved onto its dial, the small hand seconds away from hovering over the second quarter. The first act of Rosalita's story was on the brink of its completion.

One of the displays produced images of Rosalita entering the ball, exchanging false pleasantries with false peers, and finally, the moment in which she had almost met her death by the inscrutable magical assaults. The terrace was sliced into destruction, solidified rings of blue light slashing at the railings and chasing after her and The Duke. An array of lines materialised from the display after it played out—the estimation of probable choices and endings. This was the formulation of the main storyline that the gods pursued with a feverish devotion.

'There's no reason for the gods to voluntarily miss out on all that.'

Astra mulled over it some more by fiddling with the Compass, idly standing around along with the other nobles in this new hall. Eventually, three figures emerged atop the flight of stairs by the entrance.

"Silence." An authoritative voice stifled the noise.

It was the Crown Prince.

"I had hoped for tonight's celebrations to be free from disturbance, but it has come to my attention that the circumstances from earlier have put a few of my people in danger." Augustus' predatory gaze swept across the entirety of the place.

His choice of words sounded somewhat careless, but Astra had speculated him to be selective in his understanding as a callous man. He only brought himself to care because one of his most influential supporters was endangered. And yet, Astra could only find that part of his personality to be so absurd, as if it had never been something to that extent.

A bustle of voices rang out, each murmur spoken by the guests as something of an apprehension for their Crown Prince showing an offensive side. Except for one bald-headed man who stepped forward.

"But Your Highness—"

Astra didn't know whether or not this man was simply fearless or foolish.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" The Crown Prince raised his voice, expanding the pressure already permeating the air.

As if possessed, the bald man fell on his knees at once and prostrated himself towards the prince. "Forgive me, Your Highness!"

Augustus' expression darkened more than ever. "Whoever dares to utter a word from here onwards will be suspected of orchestrating the terrorist attack against Duke Riviere and Lady Heroux."

In true royalty fashion, this man dealt with things pretty efficiently.

Before Astra could listen to the black-haired man go on with his dialogue, however, the muffled sound of a page being ripped was emitted into the air. Her head whipped up towards the high ceiling, ears racing everywhere to discern the origin. Several seconds passed by and it came again with a louder tear. This time, it was unmistakable.

Astra instinctively stilled. What lay before her eyes was a sight not unfamiliar to her.

'Tsk. Today has been rather unstable.'

Blocks of letters and chains of sentences were flowing out of everyone's bodies, from the strands of their hair to the ends of their feet. It put a hold on their motion and thoughts, as if the roots of the threads they were tethered to were being plucked. These written symbols were what encompassed their entire ego, woven into their skin and bones to create an essence of life. And now Astra was witnessing their escape.

It didn't exclude her either as they coalesced into thin air and drifted upwards, passing through the ceilings and walls as if nothing could obstruct them.

Alarms set off in Astra's head at the spectacle before her. She was well aware that they were traces of a new Conception. An act that she had only experienced once before, the suffering it had left behind still a crystalline sensation that seized her by the throat. There was always a penalty to these stories, Astra thought. It occurred to her at that moment that it was something she endlessly had to bear the weight of as a Wandering Star.

But it was her gods calling out to her. She had to answer.

In the face of all this, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. A Conception meant the revision of rejected scenes.

'So the attack earlier was from an external source…'

It was then that the last of Astra's letters slipped out of her fingers, finally submerging her into nothingness.

Curiously enough, pain never came.

✦ ✦ ✦

Fluttering her eyes open in a half-roused state, Astra's vision caught onto emerald green eyes peering down on her. The slope of this woman's nose was perfectly straight but small, her thin eyebrows angled in uneasiness and the bow-shaped lips beautifully stained with cherry, hair the colour of...

Magenta.

'Rosalita?!'

Astra jolted awake and pulled herself away from the other woman's embrace. Another presence lingered somewhere completely out of her peripheral vision.

She lifted her head with caution only to discover that they were now below one of the many balconies of the castle. The exact same one that she came to recognise as the devastated terrace by reasons unknown—if not for the man casually leaning out of the railings and smiling down at her.

'Duke Riviere?!'