Hours later, a discreet transport touched down on the far side of the garden.

  No fanfare, no heralds — only the low hum of its engine fading into silence.

  From it stepped Leroy Livingstone, The Green Wraith.

  He walked through the garden paths alone. His face was calm, unreadable. The face of a man accustomed to both war and worship.

  He was expected, yet not publicly announced. Only Lord Star and Starmist knew the timing of his arrival.

  He stood by the entrance, hands in his pockets, his sharp eyes tracing the constellations above — their reflections glimmering faintly on the marble pillars.

  He exhaled quietly.

  Then, footsteps approached — soft, deliberate, echoing lightly against the tiles.

  Starmist emerged from the garden’s side path, her long silver white hair glowing faintly beneath the lamps.

  Starmist’s voice cut sharply through the quiet courtyard.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her tone firm, her eyes hard. She walked toward him with quick, decisive steps.

  Leroy blinked, taken aback by the hostility.

  “What? You said I could meet your brother tonight, didn’t you?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

  “Yes,” she snapped, “but you should know that faction gatherings aren’t to be interrupted!”

  The words stung more than he expected.

  “Starmist, what’s wrong?” Leroy asked, frowning slightly. “Did someone say something to you?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said curtly, already turning toward the manor doors. “Just… come back tomorrow.”

  Leroy sighed and raised his hands in surrender.

  “All right, all right. No problem,” he said softly. Then, with a hint of warmth, he added,

  “Have a pleasant night, Starmist.”

  He turned away, heading back toward the outer gate, but stopped when he heard a quiet, playful giggle behind him.

  It was not the kind of sound Starmist would ever make.

  He turned sharply just in time to see her form shimmer like glass — and then collapse into the familiar shape of another woman entirely.

  Sicilia.

  “Honestly,” she said, laughing, “men are so easy to fool.”

  Leroy pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard.

  “Sicilia… If you ever pull that shapeshifting trick at the wrong time, I swear I’ll report you to Cygnus.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said between giggles, raising both hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to have a little fun.”

  Leroy crossed his arms but couldn’t help a faint smirk.

  “Good thing we’ve known each other long enough. For a moment there, I thought Starmist was actually losing her mind.”

  Sicilia tilted her head, her smile sly.

  “Do you really think the most beloved woman in all the realms could ever be depressed?”

  Leroy gave a small chuckle, deciding to change the subject.

  “Right. Anyway, I’ll just wait here. Please tell Starmist and Lord Star that I’ve arrived.”

  “Of course, Lord Councilman,” Sicilia said playfully, giving a little bow.

  But just as she reached for the door, she hesitated — closing it again halfway. Her tone dropped to a whisper.

  “Leroy… have you heard anything from Lucretius?”

  Leroy turned back, his expression thoughtful now.

  “Honestly? It’s been a while since we spoke,” he said. “But you could ask Cygnus. Those two have been spending more time together lately.”

  Sicilia frowned faintly, the humor fading from her eyes for the first time that night.

  She nodded and disappeared inside the manor, leaving Leroy once again alone beneath the cold, starlit sky.

  Leroy stayed behind, lowering himself onto one of the benches in the courtyard. He took a slow breath — the air of Stargate was unlike any other, crisp and alive, scented with the mingled winds of mountain and sea.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the calm settle in.

  When he opened them, he caught sight of Starfall crossing the path ahead. Leroy raised a hand in greeting.

  “Starfall.”

  But the young heir only glanced his way, silent and cold, before turning his eyes elsewhere and walking inside without a word.

  Leroy exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  “Still the same as ever,” he murmured.

  A few minutes later, the person he’d truly been waiting for appeared.

  Starmist stepped out from the doorway, her silver hair catching the faint blue glow of the starlamps.

  Without a word, she joined him on the bench. The night was quiet enough that they could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the courtyard.

  “Just wait a little longer,” she said kindly. “Most of them have gone to rest by now.”

  Leroy laughed suddenly — a full, hearty laugh that startled her.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said between chuckles. “Let’s just say… someone pretending to be you was very convincing earlier.”

  Starmist raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled.

  Leroy only smiled, deciding not to explain.

  He leaned back, looking up at the endless sweep of stars above them.

  “Tell me something, Starmist,” he said quietly. “Why do you think the world always needs good people… and bad ones?”

  “Is that a question, or a riddle?” she asked, amused.

  “Both,” Leroy replied. “Humor me — answer it your way.”

  Starmist took a moment, thinking seriously before she spoke.

  “Because we can’t understand what’s good unless there’s evil to compare it to. And the other way around.”

  Leroy grinned.

  “Wrong,” he said playfully.

  “Oh?” she challenged.

  “The right answer,” he said, smirking, “is that you’d have to ask Cygnus. He’s the only one who thinks he actually understands balance.”

  He burst into laughter at his own joke.

  Starmist blushed faintly, giving him a gentle shove on the shoulder.

  “You never change.”

  Their laughter echoed softly in the courtyard — the laughter of old allies who’d seen too much yet still found something human between the stars.

  For a while, they simply talked. Starmist shared the latest council gossip:

  how Amaterasu was losing her patience with Susanoo, who’d been placed under house arrest in Takamagahara; how the two had apparently taken to monster-hunting just to keep from destroying each other.

  Leroy laughed until his shoulders shook.

  “That sounds exactly like them.”

  The conversation lingered, warm and light, until finally Starmist rose and brushed off her dress.

  “Please stay here for a moment if you would,” she said softly. “I’ll let you know when everyone’s gone.”

  Leroy nodded, watching as she disappeared back into the golden-lit halls.

  Ten minutes passed. The stars above had shifted subtly when the doors opened again.

  “You can come in now,” Starmist called, smiling from the threshold. “They’ve finished.”

  Leroy stood, straightening his cloak, and followed her inside.

  The soft hum of the manor returned — faint music, distant laughter, the scent of sugar and essential oil in the air.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  As soon as he crossed the threshold, a small voice called his name.

  “You came!”

  Before he could react, Starlax ran forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Her silver hair brushed against his coat; her small hands clung tightly to him.

  Behind her stood Lord Star, watching the reunion with quiet fondness.

  “It’s been too long,” Starlax said, her words slightly slurred with sleep.

  Lord Star placed both hands gently on his daughter’s shoulders.

  “Starlax,” he said softly, “Leroy brought something for you.”

  Leroy smiled — a real one this time, warm and unguarded, as he reached into his cloak.

  Leroy bent down slightly, a polite gesture of greeting, before reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket.

  From it, he drew out a small, star-shaped chip, the faint silver engraving pulsing with a soft inner light.

  On its center was a name — Starlax — etched with elegant precision.

  It gleamed like a jewel, but this was no mere ornament.

  “This,” Leroy said with a smile, “is your first chip at Unus Bank. You’re finally old enough to have your own saving.”

  Starlax gasped, her eyes lighting up as she took the tiny object in both hands.

  “It’s beautiful…! That means I can buy anything I want now!”

  She turned it over in the light, giggling.

  “Does Morrigan have one too?”

  “He does,” Leroy replied.

  Starmist laughed softly, watching her niece’s delight.

  “Come now, little star,” she said gently. “You can show it off tomorrow. Time for bed.”

  Starlax pouted for only a moment before nodding and letting her aunt guide her down the hall.

  The sound of their footsteps faded, leaving only Lord Star and Leroy standing together in the dim, quiet glow of Stargate’s marble halls.

  Outside, most of the lights across the estate had been extinguished. The moonlight pouring through the high windows now shone brighter than any lamp.

  The two men began walking side by side through the corridor, their voices lowered to an easy murmur, old friends sharing soft laughter at a late hour.

  They reached a long hallway lined with ornate silver columns. On one side, through an open archway, lay a lounge filled with old furniture — the kind of room made for memory rather than comfort.

  Leroy slowed his pace, his eyes drawn toward it.

  Lord Star followed his gaze and smiled faintly.

  “If I remember right,” he said, placing a hand on Leroy’s shoulder, “this was the first place we ever met.”

  Leroy gave a short, awkward laugh.

  “Yes… that foolish night. Hard to forget.”

  Lord Star chuckled.

  “Foolish? You broke into my house and threatened my family. I’d call that a little more than foolish.”

  Leroy could still hear it, the echo of screams, the smell of smoke, the thunder of collapsing stone.

  The memory was a wound that refused to heal.

  He had returned from his mission to an empty barracks, to the silence that follows loss. His comrades were gone. The council of Superhumans had done nothing. The Commonfolk military offered even less.

  For days he sat alone in his ruined quarters, the words of Mia replaying endlessly in his head:

  “There are relics in this realms that can change everything.”

  That promise or curse gnawed at him like a fever.

  He could not eat. He could not sleep.

  He could only think.

  And the more he thought, the more unbearable it became.

  Five days later, exhaustion became clarity. The only way to escape the torment was to face it. To find the truth himself, even if it killed him.

  Breaking into the home of a Council Member during wartime was suicide.

  But if the choice was between being torn apart by soldiers or cursed by the unknown, Leroy preferred to die fighting flesh rather than fate.

  He packed what little he owned, tidied the small house out of reflex, shut off the lamps, and left a few scattered notes — words written for no one, or perhaps for ghosts.

  Then he stood at the door for a long moment, looking at the life he was leaving behind.

  And he walked away.

  The first day was reconnaissance.

  He watched Stargate from a distant ridge, his worn field binoculars tracing the movements of guards and their rotations. He memorized every path, every signal flare, every flicker of a barrier spell.

  No Lord Star in sight that day. Likely off-world, he thought commanding fleets or attending war councils. That was good. He didn’t want to meet that old man or alien.

  He scribbled everything into his small logbook. It looked like a soldier’s notebook — but inside, every line was the blueprint of a crime.

  The second night.

  Past midnight.

  He began his ascent.

  He avoided the main gates — too well-lit, too predictable. Instead, he scaled the cliffs that bordered the western wing of the estate, his gray uniform blending with the stone. The cliffs were barren, deliberately stripped of foliage to deter infiltrators.

  But he was no ordinary infiltrator anymore.

  He was a man already dead, moving out of habit, not hope.

  He reached the upper terrace, crawling low against the marble balustrades. The entire estate was enormous gardens and outbuildings circling the heart of the manor fortress.

  He didn’t know where the relic was kept.

  But every small building offered shadow and cover, enough to cross the open grounds unseen.

  When he finally reached the main manor, he slipped through a side window overlooking the cliff. The scent of refined oils filled his lungs — the unmistakable fragrance of nobility.

  He crouched in silence, eyes adjusting to the dim interior glow.

  “So this is Stargate,” he thought grimly. “Let’s see how many white-haired aliens live here.”

  Then came the shout.

  “Intruder! To the main hall! Wake Lord Star!”

  The cry echoed through the corridors. Leroy froze.

  His pulse surged. No… not now. Not now.

  So the old man was home after all. His entire plan shattered in seconds.

  Footsteps thundered through the halls. Heavy doors slammed open. The air vibrated with the sound of drawn weapons.

  He could sense them, not mere spears or rifles, but artifacts of power.

  Leroy dove behind the largest piece of furniture he could find an ornate sofa, heavy enough to hide behind but not soundproof enough to breathe easily.

  He crouched there, heart hammering in his throat, counting the boots outside.

  From the corridor came a commanding voice — calm, aged, unmistakably authoritative.

  “What is it? Who dares break into my house?”

  Lord Star.

  He had been woken from sleep, though his tone was composed.

  From deeper inside the chamber, Lady Star’s voice murmured faintly — weary, unalarmed, the voice of a woman heavy with child.

  She did not rise.

  “We’re not sure yet, my lord — but it seems to be only one intruder,” said one of the guards, his voice tight.

  Lord Star frowned.

  “One man? A Superhuman?”

  “We can’t confirm, my lord. But the patrols have already begun sweeping every wing of the manor.”

  At that, Lord Star’s expression hardened.

  “Then seal the upper corridors. Guard my chambers — and the rooms of Starmist and Starfall. Double the watch on the lower vault, the relic chamber, and the war room. No one gets in or out.”

  He reached for his coat and relic blade.

  “I’ll join the outer team myself.”

  Inside the manor, Leroy crouched behind the massive sofa, breath shallow, heart hammering.

  So far, the footsteps had passed him by. The distant clatter of armor echoed through the marble halls, but no one had entered this room yet.

  Then he heard something new, not the heavy tread of a soldier, but the soft, dragging sound of bare feet across carpet.

  He froze.

  The door creaked open.

  A young woman stepped inside, pale as snowfall, her hair a silvery white, her skin faintly luminous in the moonlight. Her eyes — that unmistakable azure.

  She yawned, rubbing at one eye. Clearly, she’d been woken by the commotion, unaware of the danger.

  Leroy’s breath caught.

  No… please, not now—

  She turned and her gaze locked on his.

  Instinct overrode thought. Leroy leapt from behind the sofa, grabbing her from behind and clamping his hand over her mouth.

  She let out a startled cry — not loud, but enough.

  Down the hall, a guard turned sharply toward the sound.

  “My lord! A scream from the recreation hall!”

  Lord Star’s eyes narrowed.

  “Move!”

  The group broke into a run, armor clattering against stone as they rushed toward the source.

  They burst into the room — relic weapons drawn, energy blades igniting in a flurry of blue light.

  “Why haven’t you captured him yet?” Lord Star demanded, his voice like thunder.

  “My lord— he’s taken a hostage!” the captain gasped.

  Lord Star pushed past the line of soldiers and stepped into the room himself.

  There stood Leroy, disheveled, wild-eyed, his arm locked around the throat of the pale woman — the dagger’s tip glinting against her skin.

  “Stay back, Lord Star!” Leroy barked, his voice rough and desperate. “I don’t want to hurt her!”

  The woman’s voice, soft and steady despite the blade at her neck, broke through the tension.

  “It’s all right… please, don’t do anything rash.”

  She wasn’t afraid — just calm, as if she were the one trying to protect him.

  Lord Star’s eyes darkened.

  “You have nerve, breaking into my home and threatening my family.”

  His tone was composed, but underneath it was the quiet fury of a man who could level cities.

  “Who sent you? Weapon Masters? Cogworks?”

  The soldiers behind him adjusted their stance, aiming relic rifles at Leroy’s head.

  “My lord,” the captain whispered, “by his aura readings… he’s a commonfolk.”

  Lord Star’s eyes flickered in disbelief.

  “A commonfolk? Then either this man is mad… or suicidal. No—” he corrected himself, his gaze sharpening.

  “The real question is how a commonfolk managed to infiltrate Stargate at all.”

  Leroy’s grip tightened on his dagger.

  “Call them off,” he hissed. “Pull your soldiers back and let me leave. I don’t want blood tonight.”

  The captain of guards member took a step forward, anger flaring.

  “You think we’ll let you walk out alive after breaking into a Councilor’s home, you fool?”

  “One of us thinks it’s a disgrace,” one of the soldiers holding a relic spat. “He should die, what’s it to kill a commonfolk anyway?”

  Lord Star said nothing; he simply watched the exchange between Leroy and his men.

  Leroy’s voice cracked with the last of his resolve.

  “Fine. Then I’ll hurt your wife,” he snapped, desperate and numb, words of a man who’d run out of options.

  Lord Star’s expression changed — a faint, almost pitying smile.

  “You think she is my wife,” he said. “She is my sister.”

  The revelation hit Leroy like ice. He had not only misjudged the target; he had been holding Starmist, not Lady Star. The fact didn’t lessen his desperation, Lord Star’s family was family, and the dagger at Starmist’s throat still mattered.

  “Her power is healing,” Lord Star added quietly. “You cannot hurt her. Put down your weapons, they will do nothing.”

  Those words should have calmed the room. Instead, the sight of Starmist’s composed face, and Lord Star’s cold certainty, only intensified the rawness inside Leroy. He was not deterred. He opened his jacket and revealed four grenades tucked into the lining — small, crude, but enough to change the calculation. Now Starmist’s face slackened; panic finally flickered across her features.

  “Brother, save me!” Starmist cried once, the plea cutting the marble air.

  “Let me go, Lord Star,” Leroy urged with a broken dignity, eyes burning with something like grief. “I don’t want to ruin your beautiful manor.”

  The guards held their ground at a cautious distance. Lord Star folded his hands, voice calm, but every syllable carried the weight of command.

  “Tell me plainly, why are you here?” he asked.

  Leroy told the truth in a tight, pouring rush: he had come to borrow a relic — to use it to free the team that had been captured by Cogworks’ rogue scientists during his last mission. He’d been the squad leader; responsibility and guilt bound him to their rescue. The military and the superhumans had ignored their plea — the case had been buried. So he’d taken matters into his own hands.

  Lord Star listened, absorbing the story in staccato beats. When it ended, his face betrayed nothing but thought.

  “How many were in your squad?” he asked, folding his arms.

  “Four,” Leroy answered, blunt and steady.

  The words snapped the room. Lord Star’s eyes widened, Starmist’s expression shifted to stunned confusion, and the soldiers exchanged baffled glances.

  “What kind of fool tries to breach a Councilor’s home for four men?” the captain barked, outraged.

  “I thought this was a whole company or some state secret, this man’s an idiot,” one of the soldiers snapped.

  Lord Star exhaled slowly. For a moment his face dropped; his fingers unclenched and he looked distinctly tired.

  “Everyone, stand down,” he ordered.

  There was an instant of argument among the guards, then obedience. Lord Star’s command brooked no dissent.

  He turned his gaze on the intruder. “What is your name?”

  “Leroy Livingstone—Army, ground forces,” Leroy replied, watching the soldiers file out one by one until the hall quieted.

  “All right, Leroy. Release my sister,” Lord Star said. “I’ve withdrawn the men. I’ll hear your request.”

  Leroy remained where he was, tense and wary, waiting until the last guard had gone. Only then, and only after he was sure Lord Star would not strike, did he let Starmist go.

  She stepped free, whipped her head around, and slapped him once—sharp, clean and left the room without a word.

  Silence fell. Only Lord Star and Leroy stood in the large chamber. Lord Star took the nearest chair and sat, regard steady.

  “You know,” he said quietly, “All Realm is full of deranged entities. If you read the papers you’ll have seen stories—demonic professors, malicious aliens, and worse.” His voice was soft, not mocking but factual.

  Leroy said nothing. He kept his stance, fingers tight around the knife’s hilt in case the night shifted again. He had learned to watch people like Lord Star closely.

  “But a commoner breaking into a Councilor’s house for four men? That’s a different shade of madness,” Lord Star continued, folding his hands across his lap.

  “So, will you grant my request, or not?” Leroy asked, urgency and fatigue in his voice. The place felt dangerous and thin—every marble shadow might hide a relic.

  “It’s not that simple,” Lord Star answered, a small, unreadable smile touching his mouth. “I’ll make you an offer. Consider it a wager.”