The Princess who freed the Stars

The fall of Elarion began not with battle, but with betrayal. In the grand halls of Vaelora Palace, where Queen Seraphina and I once filled every corner with warmth and light, a shadow had long been growing. Dravorn, once called, Kaelith, the trusted head butler, turned against the crown he had served since youth. Pretending loyalty, he opened the gates to Elarion’s enemies and sold its secrets for power. When the silver towers burned and the moonlight vanished behind smoke, it wasn’t the enemy’s blades that destroyed the kingdom—it was the trust they had given a traitor. Seraphina’s faith was her downfall, and my tears were all that remained of a kingdom once radiant with peace.

The clash of steel and magic echoed through the palace as my mother fought bravely beside her guards. I could only watch, frozen in fear, as Kaelith— no. Dravorn—shed his disguise. His body warped into shadow, his eyes burning with unnatural power. He wasn’t human—he was a Monster, a creature born of darkness and deceit.

I wanted to help her, to fight, but my magic failed me. Hiding behind the crumbling pillars, I remembered the story my mother once told—a tale of The Collector, a child from the stars sealed away for bringing chaos. Neither mortal nor demon, yet powerful as a god.

She had warned me never to seek them. But as I saw her light fading under Belos’s wrath, I made my choice. If The Collector truly existed, then they were my only hope. With Elarion burning behind me, I ran toward the ruins where the stars once fell.

Celestra ran through the forest, branches clawing at her torn dress as the glow of burning Elarion faded behind her. Her heart pounded with fear and desperate hope. The stories her mother once told echoed in her mind—the ruins where the stars fell. She didn’t know what she would find, only that she had to try.

She broke through the trees and froze. Before her stood the ancient ruins, half-buried in mist and moonlight. Cracked pillars and fallen arches rose like ghostly guardians, their surfaces glowing faintly with runes older than time. Without hesitation, she pushed open the stone doors and slipped inside.

The air was cold and still. The walls were carved with swirling images—her ancestors binding a radiant figure in chains of light, the story of The Collector told in silence. The artistry was both sacred and sorrowful, the weight of it pressing on her chest.

At the center of the ruin stood a pedestal draped in an old, tattered cloth. A faint glow pulsed beneath it, soft and rhythmic—like a heartbeat. Celestra stepped closer, drawn by a voice she couldn’t hear but somehow understood. Whatever was beneath that cloth was calling her name.

I took a shaky breath and reached for the cloth. The air around it buzzed, almost alive. My fingers trembled as I pulled it away—then a flash of pale light swallowed everything. I gasped, stumbling back, my eyes burning. The brightness was blinding, endless, like staring straight into the stars themselves.

When the light faded, the ruins no longer looked the same. The carvings on the walls glowed a soft violet, the air humming with strange warmth. In front of me was a flat marble circle, smooth and white, a star carved deep into its center. It shimmered faintly—then a smiling face appeared on it, cartoonish and bright, surrounded by tiny, spinning colorful stars.

I froze, heart racing. The stories were true. The Collector was real—and awake.

A giggle was echoing through the chamber—light, playful, and strange. It bounced off the walls like a child’s laughter, yet it carried a weight that made my heart tremble. The marble’s star shimmered brighter, the smiling face twisting with amusement as the laughter grew louder.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I fell to my knees, tears stinging my eyes.

“Please,” I cried, my voice shaking, “if you truly are The Collector... help me! My mother—my kingdom—they’re falling apart! I don’t care what it takes, I just need your power!”