1 - Circle of Orion

Volume 1: Ashes of Dawn
Chapter 1: Circle of Orion

"From the ashes, we rise," Orion's voice cut through the crisp, frosty air of Pluviae, reaching the ears of the Plebeius Inferus tending to the winter harvest. He stood tall among the workers, a worn-out copy of Ashes of Dawn cradled against his chest.

"Don't you reckon they've heard it enough, Orion?" A teasing voice broke through his recitation, pulling his attention away from the book. It was Diana, his older sister, standing at the edge of the field, her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. "You're not giving a lecture at the Citadel of the Sacred Illuminary, you know."

Orion flashed a quick grin, his blue eyes gleaming with a cheeky light. "But wouldn't it be a sight if I were?" He gestured grandly towards the workers, the worn tome held high. "A field as my forum, a bountiful harvest as my audience..."

"Which," Diana interjected, rolling her eyes fondly, "need to focus on their work, little star. Not on your dramatic retelling of Eos's epic tale. Again." She emphasized the last word, a playful smirk quirking her lips.

Orion's grin widened as he closed the book, stepping away from the workers. "Fine, fine, I yield," he chuckled. "But remember, Diana, it was you who deprived them of this riveting performance."

"And saved them from the torture more like," Diana retorted, linking her arm with his as they retreated from the field. She tilted her head up at him, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "There's a time and place for everything, little star. And now," she pointed towards the receding sun, "it's time for dinner."

Orion sighed dramatically, glancing back at the workers who were sharing amused smiles at the siblings' antics. He muttered under his breath, an impish glint in his eyes, "From the dinner, we rise..."

Diana snorted, nudging him gently with her elbow. "You're incorrigible," she laughed, her laughter harmonizing with his as they headed home, leaving a trail of mirth behind them in the frosty air of Pluviae.

"Alright, who needs help with what?" Orion announced as he walked back into the fields after dinner, book tucked under his arm. He rolled up his sleeves, a twinkle in his eyes that the workers had come to associate with his boundless enthusiasm.

A few chuckled while others merely shook their heads, a shared amusement passing between them. It was a common sight: the young Seraphim, energetic and eager, ready to lend a hand despite his noble status.

"Here, Orion," a grizzled old man named Atticus gestured towards a stubborn tree, heavy with frostbitten fruits. "This one's been giving us a hard time."

"Say no more, Atticus," Orion grinned, stepping up to the challenge. He reached out, his hand gently touching the bark, and whispered something under his breath. A soft glow emitted from his palm, warmth spreading from his touch, and the tree seemed to shudder and relax, its fruits dropping willingly into the waiting baskets.

The workers murmured their thanks and admiration, a warmth spreading through them that had little to do with Orion's magic and more with his heart. As Orion returned to his narration, his voice melding with the quiet rustle of the wind and the soft chatter of the workers, Seraphim Manor stood silent and majestic in the distance.

It was a grand structure, an embodiment of the Seraphim family's status and legacy. The heart of the manor was its expansive library, a treasure trove of knowledge that had lured many a scholar from across Luna Lux. From ancient scripts of magic and lore to contemporary treatises, the library housed them all, its shelves sagging under the weight of wisdom. It was here that Orion spent most of his time, devouring books like a starved man, his mind a fertile field for the seeds of knowledge.

As the evening drew on, and the workers' laughter rang through the fields, Orion’s recitation a comforting echo, the manor and its library stood as silent witnesses. Their stone walls hinted at secrets yet to be discovered and a story yet to unfold, under the watchful stars of the continent of Luna Lux.

As the twilight hue draped over the region of Pluviae, the fields fell silent, workers retiring into their warm huts after a long day. Orion, too, retreated but not to the comfort of the Manor. With his father's old telescope slung over his shoulder, he sauntered off towards the open field, away from the chatter of the estate.

Under the cover of the night, Orion was simply a boy, his lineage and nobility dissolving into insignificance. He was not a Seraphim, not a Virtus Nobilis, just Orion. And the cosmos didn't care for his title.

He loved these moments, the silence of the night interrupted only by the whispering winds, the twinkling stars overhead his sole companions. With the telescope, he charted the constellations, their familiar patterns a soothing balm to his soul.

Orion mused over the stories he had recited earlier, the tale of the Phoenix Sage particularly resonating with him. He lost himself in the tales, his thoughts scattered across the cosmos, his heartbeat syncing with the distant pulsing of the stars.

When Orion finally returned to the Manor, he was drained yet oddly fulfilled, his mind a whirlpool of thoughts and cosmic tales. Distracted, he didn't notice the slight creak of the gate, the soft glow of the protective magic dimming as he left it unlatched.

His mistake went unnoticed, swallowed by the silent night. But the consequences loomed ominously, waiting to unfold under the oblivious cover of darkness. The tranquility of the night had been breached, the safe cocoon of the Seraphim estate punctured, the first indication of the turbulent times that were to come. Orion, oblivious and weary, retreated to his chambers, the anticipation of the dawn unknowingly mirrored in his fate.

Back inside the warm confines of the Manor, Orion quietly padded up the grand staircase, his mind still lost in the cosmic tales. He reached his room, a comforting space filled with half-read books and scribbled star maps. Orion slipped off his boots, settled into his bed, and let the exhaustion of the day sweep him into a deep sleep. The mundane routines of his life, the blissful monotony, felt so familiar, so safe.

The silence of the night was like an old friend, a peaceful blanket that swathed Seraphim Manor. Outside, the gate stood unlatched, the magical barriers dimmed. Orion's mistake was now more than just an error; it was a breach in the safety of their world, a slip in the rhythm of his existence. But, within the depths of his dreams, Orion remained blissfully unaware.

Suddenly, a faint rustle echoed through the stillness. Shadows moved with stealth, slipping into the estate unnoticed. Strange figures cloaked in the darkness of the night, their motives as obscured as their faces. The peace of Seraphim Manor was disturbed, and a vague sense of unease began to churn the calm night.

This was it, the moment when the wheels of destiny began to turn, when the protective cocoon of Orion's life started to crack. Unseen by the sleeping inhabitants of the Manor, the intruders ventured further into the estate. The last peaceful night at Seraphim Manor was ending, and with the dawn, a new chapter of Orion's life was about to unfold.

But, in the comfort of his room, Orion slept on, oblivious of the imminent storm that was about to change everything.