XCER

Chapter 02 Irelia

This dress is so tight I can barely breathe. It's an off-the-shoulder gown made of silk, draped in a layer of cream-colored mesh that cascades to the floor, whispering against my skin with every hesitant step. I wear a simple silver necklace—nothing too ostentatious, but enough to catch the eye. My hair falls freely around my shoulders, unrestrained, framing my face like a veil of modesty that belies the tempest brewing beneath my calm exterior. This year marks Aethria's return to the social stage since the war, and with it, my obligation to embody our fragile hope, stepping into the glaring spotlight of the Outset Gala.

As I step out of the car, my heart races. I inhale deeply, trying to quell the unease that tightens my chest. Flashes of light explode around me, blinding, as reporters descend like vultures, desperate for a morsel of scandal. Ethan, my steadfast protector, steps in, shielding me from their relentless inquiries and guiding me toward the entrance, where I am met with an unsettling silence.

Inside, the gala demands an entrance—each name a proclamation, each title a weight. "Irelia, Queen of Aethria," I announce, forcing a smile as if it doesn't feel like a mask. The hushed reverence of the crowd envelops me, suffocating in its intensity. I descend the grand staircase, each step a battle against the fabric that threatens to ensnare me. Whispers erupt once more, sharper this time, laced with judgment and disdain as I move through the throng.

The music resumes, its melodic tendrils winding through the room, but my thoughts are elsewhere—trapped in a cocoon of uncertainty. I scan the ballroom, adorned with grotesque opulence: paintings that seem to leer, crystal chandeliers casting jagged shadows. Then, a name cuts through the din: "Aria, Princess of Elysium." Heads turn, eyes drawn to her radiant perfection—an impossible standard of beauty and brilliance that makes my stomach churn.

I approach my designated table, where the warmth of belonging is overshadowed by the palpable tension of exclusion. Valance is conspicuously absent, cloistered away in self-imposed exile, leaving me alone to navigate the undercurrents of politics and rivalry. I settle into my seat, lifting the heavy fabric of my gown, and place my drink down with an unsteady hand.

As I glance around, I catch a pair of striking purple eyes staring at his name card. My heart sinks—I must be seated with the Solstice Royals. My suspicions are confirmed when a girl enters, her youthful exuberance a sharp contrast to the weight of the moment. She chatters with her brother, their laughter piercing through the oppressive atmosphere, until they notice my gaze. I rise, extending a hand, desperate for a connection.

"Hi, I am Irelia. Nice to meet you."

Her brother's father, however, stiffens and retreats as if my very presence is an affront. Confusion washes over me until the girl grips my hand, shaking it with fervor.

"Hi! You're so pretty! My name is Gemma. I love your dress," she exclaims, her eyes wide with admiration, a beacon of warmth in this frigid room.

"Thank you, Gemma. I like yours too," I reply, a thin smile crossing my lips, my mind racing to mask the growing tension that crackles in the air.

Gemma beams and suggests switching seats so we can sit together, her enthusiasm almost contagious. "I don't think they'll like that very much," I respond, glancing warily at the retreating figure of her father, a sense of foreboding creeping in. Suddenly, a heavy presence looms behind me, a chill racing down my spine.

"I don't think anyone likes you very much," Daniel sneers, his voice a venomous hiss that slices through the veneer of civility like a knife.

"Oh, that's okay," I manage to reply, my heart pounding as I fight the urge to flee. "You know what you are? Just a boy without parents, too weak to control your own aura. You killed my father and your own brother," he spits, the words landing like a physical blow, raw and painful.

"You'll be next," I retort, my own aura flaring with defiance, igniting a fire within me as I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to cower.

"Strong words from the girl whose house is no more than a graveyard," Daniel mocks, his laughter a cruel echo in the silence. Just as I open my mouth to respond, a hand presses against my chest, holding me back. Devian steps in front of me, his presence a stabilizing force in the maelstrom.

"That's enough, Daniel," he commands, his voice cutting through the tension, calm and authoritative.

"Wow, Mr. Prince of Solstice, what a surprise. Defending a freak with two-colored eyes," Daniel scoffs, venom dripping from his tongue, the air thick with animosity.

"Hey, I heard there's a meteor shower tonight. Why don't we check that out, Devi?" I suggest, desperation tinging my voice, yearning to divert attention from the festering conflict.

Without waiting for an answer, Devian takes my arm, his touch grounding me, leading me through the throng as whispers chase us. The night air envelops us as we step outside, the chill sharp against my skin, mingling with the scent of cinders in the air.

"How about your parents?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood, though a part of me aches with curiosity.

"They don't care anyway—only about their reputation, not about me," he replies with a nonchalant shrug, his words tinged with bitterness that cuts deeper than the evening chill.

"Oh, can't relate; don't have them," I quip, a wry smile barely masking the ache in my heart. Together, we walk into the cool night, the gentle breeze carrying whispers of distant galaxies, as we prepare to escape the confines of our respective worlds—if only for a fleeting moment under the stars.