The lanterns in Azure Ridge Square flickered like hesitant stars as the Grand Selection Ceremony reached its peak. Music drifted from the central pavilion — flutes and drums mixing with laughter that felt too loud, too forced.
Nox Rhinyx stood near the edge of the crowd, shoulder brushing his younger sister,Lyra's. She was fifteen, all nervous energy and bright eyes, clutching a small wooden charm he'd carved for her last winter.
"You're really going to become a strider?" she asked, voice half-uneasy, half-hopeful. "Mom says it's a very treacherous path filled with tragedy and pain.brother are you really ready"?
Nox smiled down at her, the expression easy, filled with a doting brother's love."Better than staying powerless in a world that values power and prestige more than anything else". Then he added in his mind, 'to better protect you and mother and "her".'
Lyra elbowed him, but her laugh was soft. "Shut up, don't act like an old man"."you Little... sigh, forget it. He smiled sweetly."
Their mother, Elara, approached carrying two cups of spiced wine. Her face was lined with quiet pride tonight, the kind that came from years of scraping by after their father's death. She handed one cup to Nox, the other to Lira.
"Tonight's for dreaming," she said, voice warm but tired. "Whatever path you choose, Nox… just come home after. That's all I ask."
He took the cup, fingers brushing hers. For a moment he wanted to say something more — that he was scared the standard paths felt like cages, that sometimes he dreamed of walking until the horizon swallowed him whole. Instead he squeezed her hand.
"I'll come home, Mom. Promise."
Qinglan appeared then, slipping through the crowd like she belonged anywhere she chose. Her dark hair was pinned with silver combs he'd given her on her last birthday. She smiled at him the way she always did — half-secret, half-promise — and linked her arm through his.
"Stealing him already?" Lyra teased.
"Only for a dance," Qinglan replied, voice light. But her fingers tightened on his sleeve a fraction too hard.
They moved to the edge of the square where the music was softer. Lantern light painted her face in warm gold. For a few minutes they swayed without speaking, the kind of comfortable silence that came from years of stolen moments behind the clan stables.
"You've been quiet lately," she murmured against his shoulder. "The Selection… it's weighing on you?"
Nox exhaled slowly. "Everything feels decided before we even step onto the stage. The paths, the rankings, who gets the good mentors. Sometimes I wonder what happens if someone just… walks away from all of it."
Qinglan pulled back slightly, searching his face. Her eyes were unreadable for a heartbeat. "Don't say things like that. Not tonight. We have a life here, Nox. You, me, your family. That's enough."
He wanted to believe her. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of jasmine oil and smoke from the lanterns.
"Yeah," he whispered. "It's enough."
Later, as the ceremony wound down, the four of them walked home together — Nox, Lyra, Elara, and Qinglan trailing a step behind. Lyra chattered about the fireworks planned for tomorrow. Elara hummed an old lullaby under her breath. Qinglan's hand stayed linked with his, thumb tracing small circles on his knuckles.
At the door of their modest house, Nox paused. The night air felt heavier than it should. He looked at each of them — his sister's gap-toothed grin, his mother's gentle exhaustion, Qinglan's quiet certainty — and felt a strange ache in his chest, like something was already slipping through his fingers.
He didn't say goodnight. He just hugged them one by one, holding on a little longer than usual.
then he dreamt, a long dream full of love, betrayal and power.
That was the last normal night.