Fates oddity, p.18
Fate's oddity, page 18
He offered one of the coffees to Murasaki. “Didn’t know what you’d prefer. You drink coffee?”
Murasaki took it, gave it a testing sniff, then flashed a crooked grin. “Tea, coffee—I swing both ways.” She took a long sip, eyes never leaving his. “But this’ll do nicely.”
Krimson let out a quiet laugh as he settled beside Celestia. The three of them sat in a triangle, a moment of rare peace suspended between them like steam from their cups.
But it didn’t last long.
“I think,” Krimson said, eyes on the sky, “we need to talk about who I am. Or was. And why we’re really here.”
Murasaki didn’t blink. “About bloody time.”
Celestia rested a hand on Krimson’s knee but said nothing. Letting him take the lead.
“I was raised by my mother. Kris,” he began. “You’ve met her. You’ve probably guessed—she’s not just some ex-soldier or merc. She was the most feared assassin alive.”
Murasaki gave a slow nod. “Figured as much. She moves like a ghost that’s done killin’ but still remembers how.”
Krimson smiled faintly. “I trained under her. Learned everything from her. I was… good at it. Too good.”
Murasaki tilted her head. “Bloodtrail.”
He looked at her. “Yeah, that was me. Rather it was us.”
No denial now. No deflection. Just quiet confirmation.
Celestia glanced at Murasaki, her expression unreadable.
The rabbit warrior took a long sip of her coffee. “Didn’t expect you to admit it so easily.”
Krimson gave a quiet shrug. “No point hiding it. Not from you. We were in public, and you’re basically family now.”
He leaned back, resting his cup on one knee. “I’ve stopped taking contracts, but I haven’t forgotten what I was. What I am. I just… don’t want that to be all I am.”
Murasaki studied him, eyes sharp but not unkind. “And your eyes?”
He hesitated.
“My mother,” he said, voice lowering, “wasn’t just an assassin. She was also royalty. From Nox. Before it fell.”
Murasaki’s grip on her cup tightened slightly.
“And my father…” He looked away, jaw clenched. “He’s the King of Gaia.”
A beat passed.
Murasaki blinked once. Then again. Her gaze dropped to his face—lingering on the white hair, the mismatched eyes. Her jaw slowly unhinged as the pieces began to slot together.
“…Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”
Krimson gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. That about covers it.”
Celestia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Murasaki leaned back with a groan. “Explains the damn eyes. And the royal good looks. Spirits above, I think I need a stronger coffee.”
“So ye’re a prince. Royal bastard. Assassin. Heir t’ kingdoms that hate each other.” She squinted. “Yer life’s a bloody soup pot.”
“That’s why we’re keeping things quiet,” Krimson said. “No one knows who I really am. Or who Celestia really is. Or that we’re together. If it gets out…”
Murasaki leaned back, mug resting on one thigh. “I see.”
“We came here to try something better,” Celestia said, finally. “We just want to live free.”
Krimson nodded. “I’m done killing. Mostly. Ya know, unless I have to. I want a life. A real one. With people I can count on.”
He looked at her directly.
“I think I want that to include you.”
Murasaki blinked. Once. Then again.
Then gave a slow grin. “Well then, Alpha. I suppose I’ll just have t’ stick around.”
Celestia groaned softly. “You’re really going to keep calling him that?”
Murasaki leaned against the railing. “Damn right. He earned it.”
Krimson ran a hand down his face. “I’m never living this down, am I?”
“Nope,” Celestia and Murasaki said together.
And with that, the morning felt just a little warmer.
World of Aeterya Codex Entry #25 Exiled Royalty: The Fall of Nox
Over three decades ago, the isolated island kingdom of Nox—situated off the northern coast of Aeterya’s mainland—fell swiftly and violently to Gaia’s invasion. Once a nation renowned for its advanced magical academies and pioneering work with ancient magic and magicite technology, Nox now stands as an uninhabited ruin, a silent battlefield reclaimed only by nature and echoes of the past.
Its people, once fiercely independent and prosperous, became refugees overnight. With their homeland now a wasteland and their ruling family presumed lost, the survivors fled across the continent. Scattered widely, they now live quietly among the citizens of other nations, often blending seamlessly into new cultures and communities, hiding their true heritage from those who might still harbor prejudice or fear.
Despite their dispersion, these refugees have subtly preserved pieces of Noxian tradition—ancient magical practices, skills in magicite craftsmanship, and fragments of their rich cultural heritage—passing them down through careful whispers and concealed customs. Many harbor a quiet hope that someday they might rebuild or reclaim a semblance of their lost homeland, while others have accepted permanent exile, weaving themselves quietly into the fabric of their new nations.
Still, rumors persist that descendants of Nox’s royal family survive hidden in plain sight, bearing the unmistakable heritage of vibrant scarlet hair and golden eyes—markers of a bloodline that could one day awaken old tensions, reshape alliances, or even ignite conflicts long thought buried.
***
Time passed. The cups were still warm, but the silence that settled between them was different. More thoughtful.
The soft clink of ceramic cups echoed gently under the morning sun. Krimson sat back in his chair, nursing the last of his coffee. Celestia lounged nearby, legs curled up under her on a cushioned bench, swirling her tea idly. Murasaki sat across from them, her fingers drumming quietly against her mug, her axe propped against the chair beside her.
The peace hung between them like fog. Comfortable. But unfinished.
Krimson cleared his throat.
"So... Saki."
Her ear twitched at the nickname, but she didn’t comment. Just tilted her head in curiosity.
Krimson looked at her directly. "There’s something real here. A pull. Between us. I can feel it. But it’s come fast. On tradition. Instinct. Heat. And I don’t want that to be all we are."
Murasaki’s brows rose slightly, her expression unreadable.
"I’m not saying I don’t feel anything," Krimson continued. "But I want to know you first. The real you. Not just your strength. Not just what your tribe believes."
He glanced briefly to Celestia, then back to Murasaki. "I want us to be friends first. Real ones. Then maybe... something more."
Celestia smiled quietly into her tea but said nothing.
Murasaki stared at him for a long moment, then let out a breath. "Aye. That’s fair. We don’t have to rush it, Alpha. I said I was yours, but that doesn’t mean I want to skip the part where we actually get to know each other."
Krimson smiled faintly. "Good. That’s what I hoped you’d say."
Celestia leaned forward, setting her tea down with a soft clink. "And I think you’ll like getting to know her, Krimson. I already do."
Murasaki smirked, then lifted her mug. "To takin' it slow, then. Even if it kills me."
Krimson raised his own cup. "To doing it right."
Celestia joined them with a gentle clink of porcelain. "To choice."
With decisions made and choices laid
Celestia looked at Krimson, then at Murasaki.
"There’s something we should share."
Krimson raised an eyebrow. "Sounds serious."
Murasaki straightened a little, suddenly alert.
Celestia nodded. "It is. It’s about us. All three of us."
Krimson sat forward, setting his coffee aside.
Celestia met his gaze. “Murasaki and I… we were close. At the academy. Closer than most. We shared a bed, our bodies, a lot of confused nights. There was comfort in it—touch without questions. But I think… I was still trying to figure out what love was supposed to feel like.”
Murasaki added, more gently than usual, "We trained together. Slept in the same dorm. Oftentimes the same bed. I never forgot her."
Krimson listened. Carefully. Quietly.
Celestia leaned forward. "When I met you, everything changed. I thought those parts of me were gone. Buried. But they’re not. And I don’t want to lie about it."
Murasaki nodded. "I’m not tryin' to win her back or steal you away. I came because I wanted to be with the both of you. If it works. If we let it."
Krimson exhaled slowly. "So you’re saying... this could be the three of us. Together."
"If you want it," Celestia said softly.
"If we all choose it," Murasaki added.
He looked at them both.
One graceful, radiant, deliberate.
The other raw, powerful, loyal.
Both offering themselves. Not as prizes. Not as obligations.
But as people.
He leaned back, watching the wind play with Celestia’s fringe and Murasaki’s curls.
"Then let’s not rush, take the time. Build it right. We deserve that." He said thoughtfully.
Murasaki grinned. "Then I’ll court you proper, Alpha. Just you wait."
Celestia giggled. "Oh, this I need to see."
Krimson rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
For once, the world didn’t feel like it needed running from.
Not with them beside him.
***
after Celestia declared them a “chaotic triad of destiny” with both pride and mischief—the three of them left for the Adventurer’s Guild.
The guild lobby was buzzing with morning activity—adventurers trading stories, scribes scribbling, and the distant clatter of gear being inspected in the training yard.
Murasaki pushed through the front doors like she owned the place.
“I’m here to register!” she declared to the startled clerk at the front desk.
“Murasaki o’ Clan Usagami, first daughter to Chief Daiketsu. Write it proud.”
Celestia winced beside her. “Maybe… a little less volume?”
Krimson leaned on the edge of the counter, amused.
“She’s not exactly a quiet entrance type.”
The clerk—a slim woman with ink-stained fingers and tired eyes—stared.
“Do you want an alias for recordkeeping?”
Murasaki tilted her head. “Why would I need one?”
“For plausible deniability,” Krimson muttered under his breath.
The clerk sighed and handed over a form.
“Please fill this out. All of it.”
Murasaki scratched her name into the sheet like she was signing a challenge.
Celestia took the liberty of checking a few boxes for her.
Once the ink dried, the clerk handed over a stamped token.
“You’re now a registered adventurer with the Silvanus Guild. Try not to burn anything down.”
“No promises,” Murasaki said cheerfully.
Krimson scanned the request board while they finished.
“There’s one here marked with the guildmaster’s seal.
‘Suspicious disappearances in the north woods. Last three search parties failed to return. Use caution.’”
Celestia stepped up beside him, frowning.
“That’s awfully vague. But it’s got a high pay rate for a ‘missing persons’ mission.”
Murasaki cracked her knuckles. “Suspicious and dangerous. My favorite combo.”
Krimson plucked the request from the board. “We’ll take it.”
The clerk glanced up, brow raised.
“Three-man team? Fine. Report back in person. If you die, we don’t refund the paperwork.”
As they walked toward the exit, Murasaki slung her axe over her shoulder and grinned wide.
“So what kind of trouble we huntin’? Bandits? Beasts? Rogue nobles?”
Krimson didn’t look back.
“Let’s find out.”
Celestia sipped from her flask and sighed.
“You’re both terrible influences.”
But she didn’t stop smiling.
By midday, they reached the city gate together—three shapes walking side by side beneath the high sun.
Krimson’s red cloak swayed with each step, blades hidden in places most people wouldn’t think to check. Celestia walked beside him, hood lowered, sipping something fragrant and unmistakably expensive from a lacquered flask. Murasaki trailed half a step behind, not because she had to—just because her axe and bouncing satchel took up enough space for two.
They looked like trouble.
The good kind. Probably.
“All set?” Krimson asked.
Murasaki grinned. “I brought rations, a whetstone, and a flask. In other words—yes.”
Celestia arched a brow. “The flask has water, right?”
Murasaki grinned.
Celestia squinted. “ It has water right?”
Murasaki took a long swig. “Aye. That’s what I said. Liquor.”
Krimson didn’t even look up. “We’ll burn that bridge when we’re thirsty.”
The journey into the northern woods took most of the day. The terrain shifted gradually from gentle hills to dense trees and uneven ground, the kind where every broken twig felt like a warning.
They didn’t talk much—just enough to trade theories. Krimson suspected rogue mercenaries. Celestia guessed a magical anomaly. Murasaki hoped for monsters.
“Missing patrols don’t happen without reason,” Krimson muttered as they approached the forest’s edge. “Three teams gone, no bodies returned. Either someone’s cleaning up, or something’s eating them whole.”
“Lovely,” Celestia said, already summoning a light orb to float ahead.
The trees closed in quickly, cutting out much of the sky. Sunlight filtered through only in thin, pale ribbons.
About an hour in, they passed what was left of a makeshift campsite—old embers, crushed grass, broken arrow shafts.
“Fresh,” Murasaki noted. “Maybe two days old.”
Krimson knelt, fingers brushing the disturbed dirt. “And whatever came through here didn’t leave by the same path.”
Celestia’s voice was quieter now. “I feel something. Not a spell. A presence.”
Krimson stood. “Good. Let’s go say hello.”
They pressed deeper into the woods.
Behind them, the breeze carried the faint scent of smoke and rust.
Ahead—only silence.
World of Aeterya Codex Entry #26: Northern Woods and Surrounding Territories
The Northern Woods, located just beyond the northern gates of Silvanus, stretch far and deep, a sprawling expanse of dense trees, rugged terrain, and hidden trails. The forest acts as a natural barrier, separating the capital and its cultivated farmlands from the wilder lands to the north. Historically, the woods served as hunting grounds for Gaian nobility, but in recent decades have fallen into relative neglect, becoming increasingly overgrown and mysterious.
Travelers are advised to move cautiously within these woods. Paths are poorly marked and quickly reclaimed by nature, and the canopy overhead allows only fragmented sunlight, leaving much of the area perpetually dim. Wildlife in the Northern Woods ranges from harmless deer and small game to more dangerous creatures like wolves, bears, and occasionally monsters drawn to the ambient mana that pools naturally in the area.
Surrounding the Northern Woods are several small hamlets and villages, primarily consisting of woodcutters, hunters, and herbalists who trade with the capital. These settlements are rugged but hospitable, and their residents possess intimate knowledge of the woods. Despite their expertise, villagers have recently reported increased disappearances and mysterious occurrences, prompting the Adventurer's Guild in Silvanus to investigate with heightened urgency.
Legends speak of hidden ruins within the woods—remnants of ancient civilizations or abandoned magical experiments. These sites, largely uncharted and avoided by locals, have become the subject of fascination and cautionary tales. Explorers seeking fortune or forbidden knowledge occasionally venture into these ruins, though few return with coherent stories.
The Northern Woods represent both an obstacle and an opportunity for adventurers. Its depths promise rewards for those brave enough to explore, but the shadows within remind travelers that not every secret is meant to be uncovered.
***
The trees were wrong.
Not by shape or color, but by silence. No birds. No breeze. Just the muted crunch of boots through damp leaves.
Krimson moved first, eyes narrowed, shoulders loose. His steps didn’t make a sound. Behind him, Celestia’s robes whispered with each movement, arcane symbols glowing faintly at her sleeves. Murasaki brought up the rear, axe over her shoulder, expression alert but calm.
“This is too quiet,” she murmured.
“Because something’s eating the noise,” Krimson replied.
Celestia frowned. “I thought this job was to investigate missing travelers. Not a war zone.”
“Disappearing caravans,” Krimson corrected. “And nobody coming back to report. Could be monsters. Could be people. Could be both.”
Murasaki sniffed the air. “Smells like steel. And something fouler underneath.”
Celestia stepped around a bramble, careful not to snag her hem. “I’m not exactly thrilled about my second mission being so... ambiguous.”
“You’ll be fine,” Krimson said over his shoulder, then added with a smirk, “Just stand behind the blood-soaked murderers.”
“Excuse you,” Murasaki said with mock offense. “I’m only blood-soaked on holidays.”
Celestia made a face. “How reassuring.”
But Krimson wasn’t smiling anymore.
His hand hovered near his belt—where a thin, almost invisible filament stretched between two fingers. Blood, cooled and hardened into an impossibly taut line.
