Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Dhamarr Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Archer's Day (13)

  Despite the darkness, the Desert Palace stood imposing against the night. Hundreds of lanterns illuminated its outer walls, their golden light flickering across pale stone and casting long, wavering shadows.

  For Orin—who had never once left Solaris—the sight felt unreal.

  Even the cold was different—dry and sharp. The wind carried sand instead of moisture, brushing against his skin like a whisper from another world.

  He followed behind Altair, Felis, and Aran as they climbed the wide stone staircase toward the main entrance.

  Standing directly before the great doors, arms crossed, was a girl with silver hair that shimmered faintly beneath the lantern light. Her golden eyes were sharp and observant. She didn’t appear much older than Felis.

  “Finally,” she said, irritation laced with relief. “When I heard you entered Solaris, I was half tempted to drag you back myself.”

  “We didn’t exactly have a choice,” Felis replied smoothly, stepping forward first. “The boy proved… more complicated than expected.”

  The girl’s gaze shifted past him and settled on Orin.

  “So this is him…” she murmured, voice tightening almost imperceptibly.

  “Yes,” Altair confirmed. “This is Orin.”

  He stepped forward.

  “I’ll go ahead—I would prefer to report to the Oracle immediately. There are urgent matters from Balabar.”

  “There’s no need,” the girl replied. “The Oracle is expecting all four of you.”

  “All four?” Aran echoed.

  “It seems,” she added, stepping aside, “that he has something very important to discuss.”

  Altair, Felis, and Aran exchanged a glance.

  Felis shrugged lightly.

  “If that’s what our new Oracle wishes, who are we to argue?”

  They entered.

  The interior of the palace stole the air from Orin’s lungs.

  An enormous hall stretched before them, lavishly decorated. Rich fabrics draped the walls—velvet and shimmering silks in deep desert hues. Intricate carvings and gilded ornaments adorned pillars that seemed to rise endlessly upward. A heavy, sweet fragrance lingered in the air.

  Orin felt as though he had stepped into a storybook.

  As he walked, still taking it all in, the silver-haired girl slowed her pace and fell beside him.

  “By the way,” she said smoothly, extending her hand, “I’m Caeli. I work within the palace’s intelligence division. You could say I’m Felis’s superior.”

  Felis scoffed ahead of them.

  “Superior?”

  Caeli ignored him.

  “I hope we’ll get along.”

  “Likewise,” Orin replied, shaking her hand—though his eyes still wandered across the hall’s overwhelming opulence.

  They were soon led into a grand chamber.

  At its center, behind a simple wooden table covered in documents, sat a man.

  He appeared to be around fifty. Black hair streaked with gray framed a weathered, tanned face. But what drew Orin’s attention most were his eyes.

  They were completely white.

  Aran gasped softly.

  “I can’t believe it…” she said, her tone shifting to something almost nostalgic. “Imir… you’re the new Oracle?”

  The man smiled gently and shook his head.

  “I am no longer Imir, little Aran,” he said calmly. “When one assumes the title, one leaves behind family, past… even their own name.”

  His voice carried no regret—only quiet acceptance.

  “I am simply the Oracle.”

  “I’m sorry, Oracle,” Aran said quickly, bowing her head.

  Before the moment stretched further, Altair stepped forward and knelt slightly in formal respect.

  “Oracle, I bring urgent information from Balabar.”

  “I am aware,” the Oracle replied, rising slowly from his seat. “But before that… we must speak of Orin.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  Orin felt suddenly exposed.

  Should he kneel? Should he bow? Address him as one would a king?

  Before he could decide, the Oracle spoke again.

  “Do not be afraid to speak freely, Orin,” he said gently. “I am no monarch. Only a guide. If your heart carries questions, ask them.”

  Something in his tone—calm, steady—eased the tightness in Orin’s chest.

  “Oracle,” Orin began, stepping forward despite himself. “There’s someone I’ve been searching for. For five years now.”

  “I know,” the Oracle interrupted softly. “But she is not in Solaris at this time. She is not far yet… though the path she walks will lead her northeast.”

  “Northeast?” Orin repeated. “Toward Riddens?”

  The Oracle smiled again, stepping closer.

  “You need not chase fate so desperately,” he said. “Your paths will cross again. Naturally.”

  He stopped before Orin.

  “What matters now,” he continued, “is that you come to understand who you truly are.”

  Orin’s body stiffened.

  His heartbeat quickened.

  Was he ready for that answer?

  “Of all those present,” the Oracle went on calmly, “the previous Oracle entrusted knowledge of your true origin to only one other person besides myself.”

  His white gaze shifted.

  “Isn’t that correct, Felis?”

  Everyone turned.

  Felis exhaled slowly.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s true.”

  He glanced at Orin, then looked away.

  “It’s not like I wanted to keep it from you,” he added with a dismissive shrug. “But the old man made me promise not to say anything until we reached Dhamarr.”

  “So you understand now why no one but you could carry out this mission?” the Oracle asked.

  The old man’s tone was gentle, almost kind—yet it carried a weight that pressed against the air itself.

  Orin shifted his gaze to Felis.

  The usual carefree spark in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a gravity Orin had never seen before.

  “I understand…” Felis said at last, his voice low. “So the boy’s origin is really the same as mine.”

  “Not exactly,” the Oracle corrected gently.

  Felis’s eyes sharpened.

  Beside them, Caeli—who had remained silent until now—stepped forward, her brow furrowed.

  “Would someone explain what you’re talking about?” she demanded. “What origin?”

  The Oracle’s lips curved faintly.

  “You are familiar with the ancient legend of the Star Children, are you not?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Everyone except Orin.

  The Oracle let out a soft chuckle.

  “Would you explain it to Orin, little Aran?”

  Aran straightened at once and gave a firm nod.

  “It’s an ancient legend from Dhamarr,” she began. “Long before our era… even before the Great Cataclysm reshaped the world… Our Duradeen ancestors were not bound to the desert. They wandered the continents as traders, hunters… even mercenaries. There were said to be more than a hundred tribes, scattered across the world.”

  She hesitated.

  “But among them, there was one tribe unlike the others. They could hear the whispers of the stars… and speak back to them. They were called the Star Children.”

  “Star Children…” Orin murmured. “Then the current Star Children—”

  “…aren’t the true ones,” Altair finished. “Which is precisely why we avoid that title. The five tribes of Dhamarr refer to themselves as the Children of the Sands.”

  Felis exhaled lightly.

  “A less poetic name,” he muttered.

  Aran ignored him and continued.

  “The original Star Children possessed unimaginable power. Power that surpassed even the strongest among today’s Duradeen.”

  Her voice faltered slightly.

  “But that tribe was wiped out by—”

  “…the Great Cataclysm,” Felis finished for her. “The calamity that resets the world every thousand years.”

  The Oracle nodded.

  “The Cataclysm is said to be a divine trial. A destructive rebirth. An end meant to force a new beginning.”

  Caeli crossed her arms, frowning.

  “Then I don’t understand,” she said. “According to the legend, none of the Star Children survived. So what does that have to do with Felis and Orin?”

  The Oracle clasped his hands behind his back.

  “That is what the legend says,” he corrected calmly. “The truth is… one survived.”

  Silence fell over the room.

  “The last Star Child escaped extinction. And their bloodline still exists. The descendant of that survivor... stands in this room.”

  Orin saw Aran’s eyes widen. Even Altair’s composed expression shifted slightly.

  Felis, however, remained very still.

  “Felis carries that blood,” the Oracle declared. “Diluted by generations… but unmistakable.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  But Felis said nothing.

  “Wait…” Aran’s voice trembled slightly. “Then the reason Felis and Orin share the same origin… is because they both descend from the Star Children?”

  “Not exactly,” the Oracle replied, slowly shaking her head.

  The movement was calm, but it carried the weight of a verdict.

  “It is true that Felis bears the blood of the Star Children. That much is undeniable.” Her gaze shifted toward Orin. “But Orin’s case is… different.”

  The room seemed to grow smaller.

  “He is not their descendant... He is a Star Children.”

  Silence collapsed over them.

  Aran’s lips parted in shock. Caeli took an involuntary step back. Even Altair’s disciplined composure cracked for the briefest second.

  Felis remained still—yet something in his posture tightened.

  “I do not know how such a thing was possible,” the Oracle continued, his voice lower now. “That tribe was erased during the Great Cataclysm. Their bloodline scattered, diluted… nearly forgotten.”

  His eyes settled on Orin.

  “And yet… what stands before us is not a fragment. Not a descendant. He is one of the originals.”

  Orin felt it immediately. The weight of their stares.

  Except one pair of eyes.

  Felis had closed his.

  His expression was unreadable, but—

  Suddenly, he opened them.

  “Wait…” he whispered. “If that’s true… then Orin is…”

  His gaze locked onto Orin.

  “No. That’s impossible.”

  The Oracle’s expression remained serene—but there was no warmth in his eyes now.

  “So you’ve connected the pieces.”

  Felis ran a hand through his hair, thinking fast.

  “If Orin is who I think he is…” he said slowly, looked directly at the Oracle.“Then, how much time is left?”

  Caeli stepped forward, irritation flashing across her face.

  “What did you realize?” she demanded. “Time for what?”

  Felis didn’t answer. He seemed to be calculating something only he could see.

  The Oracle turned to Caeli.

  “Tell me, Caeli,” he said gently. “The legend of the Star Children… doesn’t it mention another element tied to the Great Cataclysm?”

  Caeli hesitated.

  “I only remember that the Cataclysm destroyed them…”

  But Aran’s eyes suddenly lit up.

  “Oh! You mean the Summoner of Time and the Summoner of Space!”

  Caeli gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

  “Those are myths, Aran. Bedtime stories.”

  But no one else was laughing.

  She looked from Felis to the Oracle—and the color drained from her face.

  “You’re not serious…”

  The Oracle’s voice lowered, losing its softness.

  “The Cataclysm does not come unannounced,” he said. “It is heralded.”

  He turned his gaze to Orin.

  “And each era… the Summoners are reborn.”

  “Oracle, wait a moment…” Aran cut in, his voice tense. “You’re not suggesting that Orin is one of those legendary Summoners… are you?”

  The Oracle did not answer.

  But his silence was answer enough.

  “It can’t be…” Aran muttered.

  “Little Priestess,” Felis said calmly, though his eyes were sharp, “don’t you remember what happened in the forest? When Orin appeared out of nowhere… surrounded by that uncontrolled surge of energy?”

  Aran stiffened. “You mean that was…?”

  “Yes,” Felis replied, his tone turning grave. “The power of the Space Summoner.”

  He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.

  “Teleportation.”

  His gaze shifted to the Oracle.

  “Am I wrong?”

  The Oracle gave a slow nod.

  “It is exactly as you say,” he said at last. “That is why, as a bearer of the Star Children’s blood, you were the only one capable of carrying out this mission. If his power were to spiral out of control… you are the only one who could stop it.”

  Felis crossed his arms.

  “So that’s what this was about…”

  “But there’s something I still don’t understand,” Caeli interjected, forcing her voice into composure. “Does this mean… the Great Cataclysm is approaching?”

  The Oracle closed his eyes briefly. The chamber seemed to grow heavier in those few seconds.

  When he opened them again, there was uncertainty behind his calm.

  “The truth is… I do not know what it means. Nor why someone like Orin has appeared among us,” he admitted. “The answer is one he must discover for himself. Our duty is only to guide him… and teach him to control that power.”

  His gaze settled on Felis.

  “And only another bearer of the Star Children’s blood can fulfill that role.”

  “Wait,” Felis said immediately. “You want me to train the boy?”

  The Oracle nodded without hesitation.

  Orin, still frozen in place, could barely process what was unfolding. The words swirled around him like fragments of a dream he couldn’t wake from.

  For once, Felis looked genuinely unsettled.

  Caeli, however, suddenly burst into laughter.

  “Felis as a master…? After everything we’ve just heard, that might be the strangest revelation of all.”

  Felis shot her an irritated glance, but the Oracle stepped in before the exchange could escalate.

  “For now, we have more pressing matters,” he said, turning his attention elsewhere. “Isn’t that right, Altair? I trust Balabar’s response was favorable.”

  “Yes.” Altair stepped forward, retrieving a sealed letter from within his coat and handing it over. “Everything is detailed inside. They intend for us to gather the Five Princes of the Sands and bring them into their cause.”

  The Oracle broke the seal and scanned the contents swiftly.

  A faint smile formed on his lips.

  “This is ideal. With this letter… and with the Summoner of Space at our side, the Five Princes of the Sands will not refuse an audience.”

  Altair glanced toward Orin.

  “So he does have a part to play in this.”

  “Indeed,” the Oracle confirmed. “But before any of that, Orin will train in the Art of Summoning under Felis’s guidance… and under your supervision.”

  Felis exhaled through his nose.

  “Well, it seems you won’t be getting rid of me anytime soon, Orin.”

  Orin managed a small nod, though his thoughts were still racing.

  The Oracle approached him then, his presence steady and reassuring.

  “Orin,” he said gently, “there is nothing to fear. Your true story begins now. Once you master your power, you will come to understand your place in this greater design.”

  He paused.

  “Tell me… are you ready to accept this challenge?”

  Orin’s mind drifted through everything that had brought him here—his days at the Military Academy, his transfer to Solaris Academy, the journey from Solaris to Dhamarr. Each step had felt accidental at the time.

  Now, it all seemed like preparation.

  He took a deep breath.

  “I’m ready,” he said firmly. “But promise me something. If I make progress in my training… allow me to return to Solaris. I need answers. I need to understand the connection between the Church of Luminia… and the Princess.”

  The Oracle smiled.

  “You have my word. Show me results, and I will not only grant you permission to return to Solaris—I will lend you the strength of my finest assassins and soldiers to see that mission through.”

  For the first time since the meeting began, Orin smiled.

  A fire ignited in his chest and spread through his entire body.

  Space Summoner.

  He didn’t fully understand what that meant.

  But if it was the power he needed to protect those he cared about… then he would master it, no matter the cost.

  And once he uncovered the truth waiting for him in Solaris—

  He would set out in search of Andromeda.

  With that resolve burning within him, Orin stepped out of the chamber.

  His journey, it seemed, had only just begun.