The courtyard was completely enveloped in silence, broken only by the sound of raindrops hitting the ground. The drops slid off the leaves of the trees, creating a soft, rhythmic music with each one that fell. Astia, hidden behind a tree trunk, cautiously peered out. His eyes fixed on Arcsil, who stood motionless among the greenery. The rain poured down incessantly onto his shoulders and hair, yet he remained still, staring at the wet grass beneath him.

**"Arcsil..."** his voice trembled, barely rising above the sound of the rain.  

Arcsil offered no response. He didn’t even lift his head. His silence felt heavier than the rain, suffocating the air around him.

Astia, still unable to move from where he stood, tried again with a softer voice, **"Are you... okay?"**

---

**Arcsil Carnileus's Perspective**

Astia’s muted, trembling voice finally snapped me back to reality. It was as if his words—*“This isn’t you”—*cut through the shadows that engulfed me. I came to my senses, realizing I was still staring at the wet grass beneath me. My hands were shaking, and the memories of the moments that had passed felt like dark echoes in my mind.

The dagger in my hand had left bloodied lines on Astia's delicate skin. That image burned brighter than anything else in my memory.

His shaky voice, filled with a mix of worry and caution, urged me to look up. But I couldn’t meet his gaze.  

**"Brother... are you okay?"**

As I tried to gather myself together, I heard him again. Despite the pain he was in, he took a cautious step toward me.

When I finally looked at him, the sight was unbearable. His white clothes, once radiant, were now torn and muddy. His pale skin was marred with bruises and scratches, blood staining his clothes. Yet even in that state, his eyes were filled with concern—concern directed straight at me.

---

Astia took another step forward from behind the tree. Arcsil, still rooted in place, slowly raised his head. His movements, although deliberate, conveyed a heavy weight that seemed to press down on his shoulders.

**"You're... seriously hurt,"** he observed, his voice calm but heavy.  

Astia didn’t respond, only maintaining his gaze on him.  

**"Come here. Let me help you."**

Arcsil took a step forward, but Astia instinctively stepped back. This reaction caused Arcsil to hesitate. He raised his hand gently and said, **"I don’t want... to hurt you."**

After a moment’s hesitation, Astia took a small step toward him. In that instant, Arcsil began to glow; a soft, soothing light, resembling the healing power of Iliran, radiated from his hands. Within seconds, the light healed all of Astia's wounds.

But now, Arcsil started to retreat. Each step seemed to distance him from the dark world he wanted to escape. **"I... I'm sorry."**

Astia, filled with disbelief, whispered his name: **"Brother..."**  

He replied, **"Please, stay away from me. I don’t want to hurt you again, not like today."** His voice trembled, revealing the inner battle within him.

Before Astia could say anything, Arcsil turned and left the starlit hall. Astia stood alone in the continuing rain.

---

### A Brief Exchange

A brief conversation unfolded between Iliran and Arin as they presented their daily report to Ryan. Ryan, clearly concerned about Arcsil’s peculiar behavior and his sudden disappearance, wanted to uncover the truth.  

**"My brother is missing again. He hasn’t left his room for days."**  

**"Maybe something happened that he's not telling us."**  

**"I don’t know, but he’s definitely more reclusive than before."**

Astia, present at that moment to give his own report, overheard their conversation. A weight of guilt pressed down on him. He knew the reason behind Arcsil's behavior, but he remained silent.

Ryan nodded and said, **"Try to figure out what’s going on before Iliran’s birthday."**  

**"Birthday?"** Astia's voice, laced with curiosity, caught everyone's attention.

With a gentle smile, Ryan replied, **"Iliran’s birthday is in two weeks. People from all over the empire will come to the royal palace. I want you to stand beside him as his younger sister."**

Astia responded with excitement, **"That’s amazing!"**  

His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and his reaction brought a satisfied smile to Ryan's face.

**"Astia, this will be your first royal celebration. I’m sure you’ll love it,"** Arin added, buzzing with eagerness. But unlike the others, Iliran only wore a calm, artificial smile.

---

### The Birth of Iliran Carnileus

The crowned prince of the Celestial Empire, Iliran Carnileus, embodied the grace of fate. As the heir to the celestial throne and the future ruler of the skies, his destiny was woven with grandeur and opulence. His upcoming birth promised a grand celebration—a moment to inspire the empire, to bring hope, and enlighten future generations.  

Iliran’s birth was proclaimed throughout the skies as a blessing. Unlike the shadow of a curse that pursued others, he was declared by the church from the beginning. He was bestowed with honorific titles: **"The Radiant Light of the Sky"** and **"The Sun of Hope."** From the moment he opened his eyes, his existence was intertwined with purity, power, and hope.

Iliran’s life, while distinct from his family members, remained magnificent. Every detail of his life was meticulously designed to reflect the ideals of the empire. As a young man, per the directive of his grandfather, the late emperor, he was to marry a saint whose virtues and renown resonated throughout the heavens.  

**Serna Citrin.** Her name bore a weight of quiet respect. With hair that glimmered like sunlight and eyes that mirrored its warmth, she was a living embodiment of the ideals of the sky. She was lauded not only for her stunning beauty but also for her endless compassion and kindness. Unlike many church members, Serna remained untouched by their political machinations and power struggles. She was a woman who embodied true virtues and refused to yield to the whims of those seeking to control her.

For Iliran, Serna was more than just a wife; she was his refuge. Their bond transcended duty or obligation—this was love in its purest form. Together, they had a son, and Serna embraced her role as a mother with grace and dedication, molding him into an exceptional presence in the celestial court.

But perfection is often short-lived. The church, aiming to strengthen its hold over the empire, meticulously orchestrated Serna's entrance into the palace. Their goal was simple: to make her the queen of the skies and, through her, exert influence on the emperor. Yet Serna’s integrity presented a challenge. She was incorruptible, a characteristic that rendered her both admirable and threatening.

Desperate to control her, the church resorted to darker measures. They poisoned her, administering a venom that gradually and cruelly eroded the very core of her energy—her essence. For someone like Serna, the toxin was inescapable. It slowly siphoned her strength, leaving her weak and bedridden.

Iliran was just four years old when his mother’s decline began. His memories of her were bittersweet—a gentle figure confined in her bed, far too fragile to rise, let alone celebrate birthdays or share in joy. Each passing year, her absence during such celebrations left a permanent scar on his heart.  

Her death was inevitable. The venom, in its ruthlessness, ultimately succeeded in extinguishing the light that was Serna Citrin. The destruction of her energy marked the end of her life and, with it, the demise of hope that had once shone so brightly. The truth behind her death, though revealed, was beyond reach. The church’s power rendered them untouchable, and justice for Serna became a fleeting dream.

Yet her legacy lived on. The memory of Serna persisted in the hearts of those who loved her. For Iliran, losing her shaped the man he became—a ruler who bore the burden of sorrow while embodying the steadfast spirit of hope.

Serna Citrin, the radiant sun of the sky, was no longer among them. Yet her light remained, an everlasting presence in the lives of those she had touched. May her spirit rest among the gods, finding the peace that eluded her in life.