Yan, Aeolian | Ghostblade 🖤

(AN: this intro was specially dedicated for Lylian lore and i just copied pasted from my bot experience so my apologies for the unaligned lines)

---

As you gently patted her shoulder, the rhythmic motion acted like a lullaby, pulling Lylian toward the edge of sleep. The familiar cadence of your touch triggered memories of their childhood years spent as two halves of a whole. Though they were opposites you, the gothic black panther of Solaris, and she, the blazing red phoenix they had been inseparable. They had shared everything: the same fascination with the deep glow of emerald gemstones, the shared love for the weight of gold accessories against their skin, and the fierce bond forged through hours of sparring and the elegant discipline of court dances.

Lylian allowed herself to sink into the comfort of your presence, the lion cubs shifting as she snuggled closer. Her mind wandered through the bitter irony of their lives. She looked at you the free willed Crown Princess who had been forged in the fires of independence. Because your father had passed when you were young, the Empress had raised you not as a pawn, but as a weapon and a ruler. You were a provider, a warrior, a woman who needed no man to complete her. You had the power to choose your own destiny, to choose your own lovers, to choose your own path.

Lylian, meanwhile, felt the walls of her gilded cage closing in. She knew the suitors were already being selected from the desert nobles men who would see her as a prize to be won, a womb to carry the next generation of Solaris royalty. She was a princess of duty, while you were a princess of will.

That disparity fed her jealousy like oil on a flame. She envied your freedom, but more than that, she envied the way you could simply choose to give your heart to someone like Yan.

As sleep finally began to claim her, Lylian's grip on your sleeve tightened unconsciously. Her feelings were raw, genuine, and devastatingly one sided. She loved you with the intensity of a desert storm, a love that had grown from childhood companionship into something consuming and painful. In her dreams, she didn't want to fight Yan for your attention; she simply wanted to be the one you looked at with that same unguarded tenderness not as a sister, not as a cousin, but as the only person in the world who mattered.

---

The political landscape of Solaris was a battlefield of bloodlines and legacies. Your uncle Nubis had grown up believing that raw talent and ambition could conquer any throne, but history had proven him wrong. Your father, Arslan, had been the true paragon a warrior who commanded the kingdom with nothing but his indomitable will and his loyal eagle companion. But it was your mother, Aura, who had truly forged you. A daughter of the Numina clan, she possessed a lethal elegance; she was the kind of woman who could poison an enemy slowly enough that they would thank her for the drink.

When Arslan fell during the great Void War, Aura didn't crumble. She transformed her grief into steel. She raised you not as a princess to be admired, but as a predator to be feared a lioness, a tigress. You were the perfect synthesis of Arslan's strength and Aura's cunning, the greatest Crown Princess Solaris had ever seen.

Nubis understood this power. When you laid down your ultimatum, he didn't argue. He knew better than to challenge the daughter of Arslan. With a resigned nod, he turned to his scribes, drafting urgent letters to every northern alliance. The message was clear: The marriage negotiations are canceled by the direct command of Crown Princess Aeolian. In Solaris, your word was law, and the nobles knew that to defy you was to invite the wrath of the lioness.

Once the political fires were banked, you turned your attention to the real wound.

You pushed open the heavy doors to Lylian's chamber. The room smelled of salt and spent candles. Lylian was a shadow of her usual self; her magnificent dark hair was tangled and matted, and her emerald eyes so like your own were swollen and raw from hours of weeping. She looked small, broken, and utterly defeated.

Without a word, you crossed the room and sank onto the edge of her bed, drawing her into your arms. You cradled her head against your shoulder, letting her sob against your ceremonial armor.

"Foolish girl," you murmured, though there was no venom in it, only a fierce, protective tenderness. You stroked her hair, trying to soothe the ache in her soul.

Yet, as you held her, a pang of guilt pierced through your resolve. You knew that your own presence in her life the way you had become her sun, her escape, and her idol was perhaps what made this betrayal feel so absolute. By being her everything, you had inadvertently made the world outside her room feel like nothing.

And as you held your cousin, your mind briefly drifted across the desert and the clouds to the distant spires of Asteria. You thought of Yan, wrapped in her black silk, crying for your touch. You were a woman caught between two fires: one burning with the desperate need to protect the sister of your soul, and the other burning with the hunger for the star that had claimed your heart.

---

It took days of patient tending of bringing her food, sitting in silence when she couldn't speak, and simply existing as her anchor before the light finally returned to Lylian's eyes. The storm had passed, leaving behind a fragile calm. When she finally insisted on riding her Giant Rhinoceros through the northern plains, the sight of her silhouette against the horizon brought a genuine smile to your lips.

That evening, you climbed to the highest peak of the northern mountains, far above the political machinations of the palace. The air was thin and crisp, and the stars hung like scattered diamonds across a velvet sky. Lylian clung to your arm as you sat together, her head resting against your shoulder.

For a long moment, you simply watched the cosmos, but the weight of what needed to be said pressed against your chest like armor.

"Feng Yi..." you whispered.

The sound of her name felt like a prayer. You loved the symmetry of it how your names were almost echoes of one another. Feng Ling and Feng Yi. In the courts, you were the untouchable Aeolian and the mysterious Lylian, but here, under the infinite sky, you were simply two halves of a shared history.

You reached out, your fingers gentle as you lifted her chin so she had to meet your gaze. The emerald of her eyes mirrored your own, but yours held a sorrow she needed to understand.

"I love you," you said, the words honest and raw, "but I could not love you the way you wanted me to."

You leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. You felt her body stiffen, felt the precise moment her heart fractured beneath your touch.

"As long as I live, you will be my sister, my cousin, and my best friend the ones I will cherish above all others. I promise you that." You reached down, your thumb brushing away the first tear that escaped her lashes. "But you deserve more than a love that is divided, Feng Yi."

You cupped her face in both hands, forcing her to see the conviction in your expression. "Explore the world. See the deserts of Solaris and the floating gardens of Asteria. Find someone who can give you their whole heart, someone who loves you more than I ever could. Please, Feng Yi."

The reaction was immediate. A choked sound escaped her throat a sound halfway between a sob and a scream of protest. "How can you say that?" she gasped, her voice cracking. "How can you be so cruel after everything?"

She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, to rail against the stars for making you the one person she could never truly possess. But she couldn't. The words died in her throat as she collapsed against you, her fingers gripping your robes as if she might drown without your hold.

She cried in your arms, her tears hot against your skin. And as you held her, you knew the truth that haunted both of you: how could she not love you? You had been her constant, her north star, her protector. To love you was as natural to her as breathing, and now, you were asking her to learn how to breathe without you.

(AN: again i copied pasted from my own experience, this is the concept of the Void while i included Rafayel our beloved groom of love and deepspace. i might create another bot of rafayel x lylian hahaha.

also this scene i thought after seeing the picture of Yan and Aeolian by the balcony watching sea, they explored the Lemuria)

---

The evening transformed the ocean into a realm of twilight indigo. The Lemurian artisans had worked wonders on Yan; they had woven strands of living coral into her silver hair and adorned her skin with pearls that glowed with a soft, phosphorescent light. She no longer looked like a princess from the sky; she looked like a goddess of the tides, a mermaid born from starlight and sea foam.

You guided her through the water on the broad, velvety back of a massive manta ray. The creature glided effortlessly, carrying you both past forests of swaying jellyfish that pulsed like living lanterns, past curious crabs scuttling through sand cities, and even through the outskirts of the shark's lair where the great predators moved with a silent, respectful grace that defied their fearsome reputation.

But as you glided toward the edge of the continental shelf, where the light of the surface began to fail and the true Abyss yawned open below you, the playful magic of the day began to deepen into something more profound. The water grew colder, the silence heavier.

Yan clung to you, her fingers curling into your arm as she stared down into the endless black void below. "It's so... empty," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"It's not empty, Yan. It's just waiting," you replied quietly. You pulled her closer against your chest, letting her feel the steady heartbeat beneath your ribs as you began to speak.

"You know Rafayel's story, don't you?" you asked, watching the way the faint light from Yan's coral adornments flickered in the dark. "They say he is half merman, the son of a witch from the Sea Daughter lineage and the late Sea God. But the stories change depending on who tells them. Some say his father killed his mother. Some say she abandoned him." You paused, your gaze fixed on the darkness. "But that's just how we see things when we're young through the lens of our own innocence and fear. Just like your fear of the darkness that took your wings, or my regrets about the choices I've made."

Yan listened intently, her pale blue eyes reflecting the haunting depths.

"I helped his kingdom when it was on the brink of freezing, and I've seen how close it came to being turned to sand by the rushing tides," you continued, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "And it made me think about the Void we fight. We think of it as an enemy army, an external plague of ink and corruption. But looking down there..." you gestured to the Abyss, "...I think the Void is within us. It's our own inner darkness."

You turned Yan's face toward yours, forcing her to meet your eyes. "Like how the abyss is everywhere in the ocean, or how the unknown spaces of galaxies stretch forever, or how the night inevitably falls upon Solaris. The Void isn't just something that attacks us from the outside, Yan. It's the cumulative fear we carry the parts of ourselves we're afraid to look at. The darkness we try to purify is often just the shadows we cast ourselves."

Yan was silent for a long time, processing the weight of your words. The manta ray carried you in silence through the threshold between light and shadow. Finally, she leaned her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your lips despite the cold water.

"Then perhaps," she whispered, "that's why we fight so hard. Not to destroy the darkness, but to learn how to carry our own light through it."

---

The farewell at the border between the desert sands and the ascending sky paths was bittersweet. The ocean's salt still seemed to linger in your hair, and the memory of Yan's mermaid like glow was burned into your mind. But as the celestial portal opened to receive her, the atmosphere shifted from romantic longing to icy, suffocating hostility.

The moment Yan's feet touched the sacred marble of Asteria, she was not met with flowers or cheers, but with the stern, disapproving faces of the High Priest and the Council of Elders. Their robes were stark white, their expressions carved from ancient stone.

"Princess Yan!" the High Priest's voice boomed, echoing off the crystal spires like a crack of thunder. "You have been absent from the holy sanctum for far too long. The purity of your essence must be maintained through meditation and prayer, not through... wandering."

The Council members nodded in synchronized disapproval, their eyes fixed on you with undisguised contempt.

"This mortal princess from Solaris has led you astray," one elderly councilwoman hissed, her gaze raking over your sun kissed skin and the practical leather of your riding gear. "She has exposed you to the raw, unpurified elements of the lower realms. You have risked the contamination of your celestial grace."

You stood your ground, your hand still hovering near the hilt of your blade, your emerald eyes blazing with the defiance of a lioness. You didn't care for their sanctimonious posturing. You knew what Yan had experienced she hadn't been contaminated; she had been alive. She had seen the world not as a series of prayers, but as a living, breathing miracle.

"She has not been led astray," you countered, your voice steady and dangerous. "She has been awakened. If your 'holy region' is so fragile that a few days of sunlight and sea air can corrupt it, then perhaps your purity is nothing more than a gilded cage."

A collective gasp went up from the Council. The High Priest stepped forward, his staff striking the floor with a sharp crack. "Insolence! You dare speak to the guardians of the Star Princess in such a manner?"

Yan stepped between you and the Council, her pale silver hair shimmering with residual magic from the ocean. Though she was smaller than you, in that moment, she carried the authority of the heavens. "Enough," she commanded, her voice quiet but carrying an unmistakable celestial resonance. "I am not a relic to be stored in a temple. I am a Princess of Asteria, and I have returned with my spirit stronger than before."

She turned to you, ignoring the outraged murmurs behind her. Her blue eyes held a fierce gratitude. "Thank you, Aeolian. For showing me that the world is bigger than their prayers."

As the guards began to escort her toward the inner sanctum a move clearly intended to isolate her from your influence you watched her go. You knew the battle for her soul wouldn't be fought with swords against monsters, but with words against tradition. But as you turned to leave the floating kingdom, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction. The Void might be the darkness within, but you had given her something to fight it with: the memory of the sun, the sea, and a love that refused to be contained by walls.

The guards moved to intervene, their hands outstretched to separate you, but the sheer intensity of your gaze made them hesitate. For a moment, the entire courtyard of Asteria fell into a deathly silence. The High Priest looked as though he might suffer a stroke from the scandal, and the Council members whispered urgently among themselves about blasphemy and transgression.

But you didn't hear them. You didn't care about the celestial laws or the ancient traditions that sought to cage the star you loved.

You stepped forward, closing the distance until you were inches from her. Your hands, still warm from the desert sun and the salt of the sea, reached up to cup her face. Your thumbs traced the delicate line of her cheekbones, brushing against the faint glow of the pearl dust that still clung to her skin.

"Have I told you today that I love you?" you asked, your voice dropping to a husky murmur that carried only to her.

It was a question asked with such raw, unguarded vulnerability that it felt like a challenge to the very heavens above. You weren't asking for permission from the Council; you were stating a truth that was as undeniable as the sunrise.

Yan's breath hitched. In the midst of the sterile, cold marble of her home, surrounded by people who saw her as a symbol rather than a woman, your touch was the only thing that felt real. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second, leaning into your palms as if she could absorb your heat through your skin. When she opened them again, they were bright with unshed tears not tears of sadness, but of overwhelming relief.

"You tell me every time you look at me," she whispered back, her voice trembling but certain. "And every time you hold me. I hear it in the wind of Solaris and I feel it in the depths of the ocean."

A low growl rumbled in your throat as you glanced sideways at the High Priest, warning him not to break this moment. You turned your attention back to her, your forehead pressing against hers, creating a private sanctuary amidst the chaos of her return.

"Then remember it now," you murmured against her lips, "when the walls close in. Remember that there is a lioness waiting for you beyond these clouds, and that my heart belongs to you, whether you are among the stars or walking on the sand."

"Take care, my star."

The words felt like they were being torn from your throat as you pressed one last, soft kiss to her lips. It was a kiss of promise and pain, a fleeting anchor before the inevitable current pulled you apart. You watched as she was led away a silver streak disappearing into the blinding white marble of the celestial palace.

As you turned away, a bitter taste filled your mouth. How unfair.

The word echoed in your mind like a funeral dirge. It was the same word Lylian had spat at you when you told her you couldn't give her what she craved. She had been by your side through every campaign, every drought, every political storm she had been your shadow and your shield and yet your heart had wandered toward the constellation. You had chosen the impossible light of Yan over the familiar fire of Lylian.

Now, you understood the irony. The alliance between Solaris and Asteria, forged in the blood and sweat of the Void War, was crumbling not because of monsters, but because of prejudice. The Council saw Yan as 'tainted' by your touch, failing to realize that you were the one who had given her the strength to stand against them. They forgot that while their priests prayed, your people bled. They forgot that your parents and hers had died side by side on the same battlefield, their sacrifice the very reason these two kingdoms still existed.

But the stars and the sun could never truly touch without burning.

"Forward," you commanded, your voice cracking slightly.

You descended from the floating kingdom, the air thinning as you dropped toward the cloud layer. Your Great Lion Beast let out a rumbling roar that shook the sky as you approached, its golden mane whipping in the wind. Unlike the Asterian guards who moved in rigid formation, you descended with the wild, unbridled freedom of a predator. You needed no escort; you were the Crown Princess of Solaris, a woman who had carved her own path through destiny.

As you mounted the lion and began the long journey back to the desert empire, the wind howling past your ears, a sudden, sharp pang struck your chest.

Maybe this loneliness is what Yan felt.

All those years she spent in the silent, sterile halls of Asteria, surrounded by people who loved her title but feared her spirit she must have felt like a prisoner in paradise. She had been surrounded by light, yet she had been utterly alone.

You reached up, your fingers brushing the spot on your cheek where her lips had touched. The sky above was vast and indifferent, stretching from the golden horizon of Solaris to the infinite black of the cosmos. You rode toward your home, toward Lylian's complicated embrace and the responsibilities of your throne, but your eyes never stopped wandering upward.

You were a lioness returning to her territory, but your soul remained suspended somewhere between the sand and the stars.

---

Back in the floating spires of Asteria, the celestial beauty of the palace felt like a tomb. The walls of pearl and crystal, which once seemed magnificent, now felt like the bars of a cage designed to keep her pure, sterile, and utterly alone.

The silence of her chambers was deafening. There was no sound of crashing waves, no warm desert wind, and most painfully, no heartbeat against hers.

Yan lay curled on her bed, the priceless silks feeling like sheets of ice against her skin. Every time she closed her eyes, she didn't see the holy symbols of her people; she saw the way your emerald eyes crinkled when you smiled, and she felt the phantom heat of your hand against her cheek. The memory of your kiss was a brand on her soul, making the reality of her isolation unbearable.

A sob broke from her throat, muffled by the pillow. She wept not for the loss of her freedom, but for the distance between two souls that had finally found their rhythm.

"Please," she whispered into the darkness, her voice cracking. "Kain..."

In her desperation, she reached out to the only familiar presence she had left the memory of her fallen protector. "Kain, I know you are watching from beyond. I know you loved me as your princess. But please... please protect her. Protect Aeolian. She carries the sun in her heart, and I fear the darkness of this place might try to dim it."

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face as she wrestled with a guilt that tore at her core.

"How could I have been so foolish?" she cried silently. "If you were still here... if you hadn't died that day at the lake... would I have stayed loyal to your memory? Would I have remained the frozen princess of the stars?"

She imagined Kain standing guard at her door, his silver armor gleaming, offering her the safety she had always known. But even his ghost couldn't give her what she truly craved. His protection was a shield, but your love was fire. His memory was a sanctuary, but your presence was life.

"I don't want to be protected anymore, Kain," she sobbed, curling tighter into a ball, trying to find some semblance of warmth in the empty bed. "I want to be alive. I want to be with her."

As she drifted into an exhausted, fitful sleep, her dreams were not of holy light or celestial duty. They were filled with golden sand, the scent of salt, and the feeling of riding on the back of a lion through a sky that refused to separate the sun from the stars.