Ancient China, Dynasty of the Jade Valley - 100 Years After Philos
The youngest princess of the Valley Kingdom was escaping again.
Princess Angelina Wang—though she much preferred when people called her Nana—had perfected the art of tiptoeing past palace guards over her twenty-two years of life.
The heavy silk robes didn't help with stealth, but she'd learned to gather them just so, to move like a whisper through the corridors, to exploit every blind spot in the guard rotations.
Tonight's destination: the Harvest Festival in the main town.
She'd heard about it for weeks—the paper lanterns floating on the lake, the wishes written in candlelight, the joy of common people celebrating abundance under the full moon. Everything she'd never experienced, locked away in the palace because of her__
"rare heart condition."
That's what the physicians called it. A weakness in her chest, a flutter in her heartbeat, a condition that left her breathless and pale if she exerted herself too much. They didn't understand it, this strange ailment that came with an even stranger mark on her palm—a star-shaped birthmark that glowed faintly when she was emotional.
Her father, the King, was convinced she was too fragile for the outside world. Too delicate. Too precious to risk.Nana thought she was going to die of boredom before any heart condition took her.
"Princess."
She froze mid-tiptoe, one foot raised, her hand on the garden gate. That voice—deep, quiet, resigned—belonged to the one person who always caught her escape attempts.
Nana turned slowly to find Xavier standing in the shadows of the plum blossom trees, arms crossed, expression unreadable in the moonlight.
Her assigned knight. Her constant shadow. The man her father had hired three years ago to "protect and supervise" her after the fifth escape attempt had nearly given the King a heart condition of his own.
"Knight Xavier"
Nana said with as much dignity as she could muster while caught red-handed.
"I was just... admiring the moon."
"The moon is in the opposite direction, Princess."
"I meant the... the other moon."
"There is only one moon."
Nana deflated.
"Are you going to tell Father?"
Xavier was quiet for a long moment, his blue eyes—so pale they almost seemed to glow—studying her with that intensity that always made her squirm. He looked at her sometimes like he was memorizing her face. Like he expected her to disappear.
It was unnerving. And also, secretly, a little thrilling.
"Where were you planning to go?"
he asked instead of answering.
Hope bloomed in Nana's chest.
"The Harvest Festival! In the town! There are lanterns on the lake, and wishes, and Father is launching the first lantern at moonrise. I just wanted to see—"
She stopped herself before she could beg, straightening her spine.
"I am twenty-two years old. Surely I'm allowed to attend a public festival."
"Your father believes—"
"My father believes I'll shatter like porcelain if I leave the palace."
Nana's hands clenched in her robes, frustration bleeding through.
"I know I'm not strong like other people. I know my heart is weak. But Xavier—"
She looked up at him, and something in her expression must have struck him because his stoic mask cracked slightly.
"I'm so tired of watching life happen through windows. Just once, I want to be part of it. Please."
Xavier's jaw tightened. For a moment, Nana thought he'd refuse, would escort her back to her chambers and post guards at her door.
Then he sighed—a sound so weary it seemed to carry centuries of exhaustion.
"Stay close to me,"
he said quietly. "If you feel faint, tell me immediately. And if your father asks, this was my idea."
Nana's face split into a brilliant grin.
"Really? You'll take me?"
"Before I regret this decision. Come."
She practically bounced through the gate, her earlier stealth forgotten in her excitement. Xavier followed at a measured pace, and Nana noticed—not for the first time—how he always positioned himself slightly behind her, his hand never far from his sword, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
Like he was protecting her from threats she couldn't see.
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The Festival
The town was alive with color and sound and movement—everything the palace wasn't. Lanterns hung from every building, their warm light painting the streets in shades of amber and gold. Vendors sold candied fruits and roasted chestnuts. Children ran laughing between the stalls while musicians played traditional instruments that made Nana's heart sing with joy.
"It's beautiful,"
she breathed, spinning in a circle to take it all in, her robes billowing around her.
"Careful," Xavier cautioned, steadying her elbow when she stumbled slightly.
"Your heart—"
"Is fine! I feel wonderful!"
And she did—energized by freedom, by life, by being part of something bigger than palace walls and physician visits.
"Oh, Xavier, look! The lake!"
She grabbed his hand—propriety be damned—and pulled him through the crowd toward the water's edge. Xavier followed without protest, his fingers closing gently around hers, warm and steady and safe.
The lake was transformed into a sea of floating lights. Hundreds of paper lanterns drifted across its surface, each one carrying a wish, a hope, a prayer to the heavens. At the center, a raised platform held the King and his court, preparing to launch the ceremonial first lantern.
"We should get closer,"
Nana said, already tugging Xavier toward the boats available for rent.
"Princess, I'm not sure—"
"Xavier, please. We're already here. Let's make it count."
Something flickered across his expression—pain, maybe, or recognition. But he nodded and arranged for a small boat, helping Nana step in with careful hands before settling himself at the oars.
As they drifted onto the lake, Nana produced two paper lanterns from the folds of her robe with a triumphant grin.
"You made these?" Xavier asked, something soft in his voice.
"This morning! I knew—I hoped—we might get to use them."
She held one out to him.
"One for you, one for me. I want to hear what my knight wishes for."
You, Xavier thought immediately. Every lifetime, every breath, every heartbeat—I wish for you.But he couldn't say that. Couldn't explain how he'd spent eighty-seven years wandering Earth, searching for signs of her rebirth, feeling the pull of fate like a compass pointing toward his Starlight.
Couldn't tell her how three years ago, he'd walked into the Valley Kingdom and seen her in the palace gardens and nearly collapsed from the weight of recognition and grief and desperate, desperate hope.
Couldn't tell her that he knew—knew with the certainty of someone who'd lived this nightmare before—that tomorrow she would turn twenty-three.
And she would die.
"Xavier?"
Nana's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.
"You okay? You look..."
"I'm fine."
He took the lantern, careful not to let their fingers touch for too long. Every contact was precious and painful, joy and agony in equal measure.
"Just thinking about what to wish for."
Nana beamed at him and turned her attention to the raised platform where her father stood. The King raised his ornate lantern high, and the crowd fell silent.
"May the heavens bless our harvest,"
the King proclaimed. "May peace reign in our valley. May my daughters find joy and health in the coming year."
Health, Xavier thought bitterly. If only wishes worked that way.
The King released his lantern, and it rose majestically into the night sky. The crowd erupted in cheers, and suddenly the lake was alive with people launching their own lanterns.
"Hurry, hurry!"
Nana bounced excitedly in the boat, making it rock.
"Father already launched his! I want mine to fly the highest! I made a bet with my sisters that I could beat Father's lantern!"
Despite everything—the grief, the knowledge, the crushing weight of fate—Xavier felt his lips curve into a genuine smile.
She was so alive, so vibrant, so purely herself in every lifetime.
"You'll need fire,"
he said, holding up his hand. A small flame appeared at his fingertip—his light evol, refined over decades but fundamentally unchanged. The same power that had once created fireflies on Luna, now reduced to lighting lanterns.
Nana's eyes widened.
"Your evol is so beautiful. Like bottled starlight."
You have no idea how right you are, Xavier thought, but he only said,
"Make your wish, Princess."
Nana closed her eyes, her expression becoming serious as she clutched her lantern. Her lips moved silently, and Xavier wondered what she hoped for. Freedom, probably. Health. A life beyond palace walls.All things he couldn't give her.
She opened her eyes and held the lantern out.
Xavier lit it carefully, watched the flame catch and the lantern fill with hot air. Nana released it with a delighted laugh, watching it rise into the sky.
"Your turn!" she insisted.
Xavier looked down at his own lantern. He'd made the same wish so many times over the decades that the words felt worn smooth, like prayer beads rubbed to polish.
Let me save her this time. Let me find a way to break the curse. Let me keep her alive past twenty-three.
If I can't have that, then let me fade instead. Take my life for hers. Let me be the one who disappears.
Please. Please. Please.
He lit his lantern and released it, watched it join the hundreds of others rising toward an indifferent sky.
Nana watched the lanterns dreamily, then suddenly gasped.
"Xavier, look! Mine is falling behind Father's!"
Indeed, her lantern was drifting lower than the King's ornate one, caught in some unlucky air current.
Nana's face fell into an exaggerated pout that made Xavier's chest ache with fondness.
"If my lantern doesn't beat his, I'll never hear the end of it from my sisters,"
she lamented dramatically.
Xavier shouldn't interfere. Shouldn't use his powers for something so trivial. But this was his Starlight, pouting like a child, and he'd traveled eighty-seven years and three lifetimes just to see her smile again.So he did what he'd always done—gave her what she wanted, consequences be damned.
His light evol reached out subtly, invisible tendrils of power catching her lantern and lifting it higher. Higher. Past the King's. Past all the others. Until hers was the highest point of light in the entire sky, a single star among hundreds of lesser flames.
Nana's gasp was pure joy.
"It's—Xavier, it's flying! It's the highest one! I won!"
She turned to him with such radiant happiness that Xavier had to look away before she saw the tears threatening to form.
"Father will have to grant my wish now! That was our bet—whoever's lantern flies highest gets one wish granted, no questions asked!"
"What did you wish for?"
Xavier asked, his voice rough.
Nana's expression softened. She looked at him with those warm eyes, that gentle smile, that crushing kindness that had captured him in every lifetime.
"I wished," she said quietly__
"to spend more time outside the palace. With people who see me as Nana, not as the fragile princess. With—"
She paused, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "With you, maybe. If you don't mind. You're the only person who treats me like I'm normal. Who doesn't flinch when I laugh too loud or run too fast. Who just... lets me be me."
Xavier's heart shattered and mended simultaneously.
"Princess—"
"Just Nana," she corrected gently.
"When it's just us, can you call me Nana? Not Princess. Not Your Highness. Just... me."
Starlight, Xavier wanted to say. I've called you Starlight through three lifetimes. I've held you as you died twice already. I've mourned you for eighty-seven years. I know you better than I know myself.
"Nana,"
he said instead, and watched her smile bloom.
They sat in the boat as the last lanterns faded into the sky, the festival continuing around them in a bubble of joy and life.
Nana chattered about everything and nothing—her sisters, her studies, the book she was reading, how she'd bribed the kitchen staff for the paper and ink to make the lanterns.
Xavier listened to every word like scripture, memorizing her voice, her laugh, her mannerisms. Storing them away for the decades of grief that would follow tomorrow.
Tomorrow.His hand unconsciously moved to his sword—a different blade now, from this era, but carrying the same star-shaped tassel that had survived every lifetime. Pristine despite eighty-seven years.
A promise kept across time itself.
"Xavier?"
Nana's voice cut through his dark thoughts. "What did you wish for? You never told me."
You. Always you. In every lifetime, every breath, every moment—I wish for you.
"Peace," Xavier said quietly. "I wished for peace."
Nana studied him with those too-perceptive eyes.
"You're sad a lot, aren't you? I've noticed. You smile sometimes, when you think I'm not looking. But mostly you seem... heavy. Like you're carrying something."
The weight of watching you die. The burden of loving you across lifetimes. The curse of remembering when you don't.
"Old memories,"
Xavier said, which wasn't entirely a lie.
"Well," Nana said decisively, reaching across the boat to pat his hand.
"you can make new memories. Happy ones. Starting tonight! This was wonderful, Xavier. Thank you for bringing me."
I didn't bring you. You dragged me here with that same irrepressible joy that makes it impossible to deny you anything.
"You're welcome... Nana."
Her smile could have lit the entire sky.
They rowed back to shore as the festival began to wind down, the crowd thinning, the lanterns fading to embers on the water. Xavier helped Nana from the boat with careful hands, hyperaware of how fragile she seemed in this life, how the exertion of the evening had left her slightly breathless.
"Are you alright?"
he asked, concerned.
"I'm perfect,"
Nana assured him, but she did lean on his arm more heavily on the walk back.
"Just a little tired. But it was worth it. Tonight was—" She paused, looking up at the stars. "Tonight was one of the best nights of my life."
Mine too, Xavier thought. And tomorrow I'll lose you again.
They made it back to the palace through the same gate Nana had tried to escape from. The guards were conspicuously absent—Xavier had paid them well for their convenient blindness.
At Nana's chamber door, she turned to him with that gentle smile.
"Thank you, Xavier. For everything. For letting me be free, even just for a few hours."
"Anytime,"
Xavier said, and meant it. He'd give her anything. Everything. Even if every gift was measured in borrowed time.
Nana hesitated, then impulsively stood on her toes and kissed his cheek—a quick, innocent gesture that sent lightning through Xavier's carefully maintained control.
"Goodnight, my knight,"
she said softly, then disappeared into her chambers.
Xavier stood frozen in the hallway, his hand rising unconsciously to touch where her lips had been.
The star-shaped mark on her palm—he'd seen it tonight when she'd grabbed his hand, glowing faintly in her excitement.
His mark. His curse. Their connection across every lifetime.
Tomorrow was her birthday. Twenty-three years old. The same age, the same day, the same inevitable ending.
Xavier's hand moved to his sword, touching the star tassel.
"I'm sorry,"
he whispered to the closed door, to the girl sleeping peacefully beyond it, to every version of her he'd failed to save.
"I'm so sorry I can't protect you. Not from this. Not from fate itself."
The star tassel glowed faintly in response, a cruel reminder of promises he couldn't keep.
Xavier took his position outside her door—the loyal knight on watch—and settled in for his last night of guarding her.
Tomorrow, the curse would come.
And he would hold her as she died.
Again.
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⭐⭐⭐
To be continued ___