Chapter 3: Aetheria Galaxy

Outer space is a deep, dark ocean, vast and terrifying, yet filled with wonders no mind can truly grasp. In that endless void, there are countless galaxies, each one a brilliant, spiraling island, a jewel spilled across the black velvet.

One of those islands, anchored far away on the edge of darkness, was the Aetheria Galaxy. Its center was a giant, steady beacon of light, constant and calm, keeping every world in its grip warm and alive. Though breathtaking, Aetheria was just a single, small piece in the immense, sprawling territory controlled by the Royal Fenrir Empire.

Among its many stars, one planet was supreme: Balthazar. This was the biggest, most beautiful, and most vital planet, the home of Aetheria’s Lord. From the void, Balthazar was a spectacular sight. A swirl of deep, vibrant green, woven thick with endless forests and soaring, towering mountains. Along the high slopes, rich streaks of brown earth met the clouds, painting a clear picture of a powerful, fertile world.

At this very moment, in the expansive, opulent Marquess's palace on Balthazar, a different kind of quiet sorrow reigned.

Lev Knox Aetheria, the Marquess’s lover, sat motionless on a plush, ornate chair. He wasn’t reviewing ancient war reports or galactic maps. Instead, his soft gaze was fixed and distant, his finger gently tracing the glossy cover of a tiny book. It was clearly a child’s tale, with bright, playful pictures and colorful fonts. The depth of the longing in his eyes was unmistakable.

Marquess Aslan Aetheria, the Lord of this entire galaxy, stood a short distance away, watching with a slight, tight frown. His other half was lost in these thoughts again.

Aslan drew near, his steps silent. He reached for Lev’s hand, his touch careful as he gently slid the simple book from his fingers.

"Let's go out for a walk, langga. The air is beautiful today," he murmured, his voice full of adoring softness as he gave a light, encouraging squeeze, inviting the man to stand.

"Aslan, I’m just not in the mood for a walk," Lev replied, too listless and heavy with sadness to move.

"Go. I hear the new variety of Azure Petals just bloomed. Go pick some to brighten our room, Lev."

Aslan gently guided his lover toward the door, planting a series of light, hopeful kisses on his left cheek. He quickly signaled three trusted servants to follow Lev outside. Then, with a weary sigh, he turned and went back into his quiet study.

He knew his lover was aching, and he desperately hoped the bright, vibrant flowers might somehow chase the shadows away.

Outside, the servants immediately began to gently encourage their liege.

"Marchioness! Look, those flowers over there are fully open! Let's go pick a basketful!"

But Lev still looked empty and merely nodded, his eyes unfocused.

"You go ahead," he said quietly.

"I’ll just breathe the fresh air right here."

He walked away without waiting for their response. The servants glanced at each other, helpless, before going off to gather the flowers, chatting in hushed tones.

"The Marchioness must be thinking about a child again."

"Exactly. The Marquess and Marchioness have been together for three thousand years, and the heir problem is still a deep scar. No wonder he’s always lost in thought."

"May the spirit of Fenrir be upon their path," whispered the third.

"But the Marchioness has seen countless physicians, even those exclusive to the royal bloodline. Still, there’s been no effect."

"It’s just terribly hard for same-sex couples to have an offspring, even with the Interstellar Empire’s technology."

"Exactly. It's still only a one-in-a-thousand chance."

"They are two of the most powerful people in the galaxy, yet they can’t buy this one simple blessing. How can people like us ever hope for such a miracle?"

Lev wandered aimlessly through the grand garden. It was a spectacular, massive space, filled with rare trees trimmed into perfect shapes and unique, exotic flowers. His husband had planned this beauty as a gift just for him. Lev had walked this path a thousand times, knowing every scent and texture, and he used to love tending to it. Now, it all felt empty and dull.

The breathtaking sight failed to capture even a sliver of attention from the garden’s owner. Lev walked on, lost in thought, until he stopped dead.

A shocking scent cut through the sweet perfume of the flowers "blood".

Following the sharp, metallic smell, his eyes fell upon a lush, green bush. Huddled beneath it was an extremely small, ragged figure, soaked in crimson. It was a tiny person, curled up pitifully and completely covered in dark blood. He likely wouldn't have noticed the figure if not for the strong scent of blood hanging in the air.

"Bless the almighty Fenrir," Lev whispered, the words a frantic prayer. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over a familiar stone tile in his panic. Quickly regaining his balance, he frantically slammed the Code Red into his personal communicator, blasting an emergency alert across the Aetheria palace's security system, aimed specifically at Aslan.

He reached the child, now clearly a little girl. His hand shot out to touch her, then froze. He was terrified of hurting her fragile body. In his sudden, raw panic, he dropped all formality and did the only thing he could think to do: he screamed his husband’s name, the sound of his grief and fear tearing across the peaceful garden.

"ASLAN!"

Marquess Aslan, who had just received the emergency distress signal alongside that guttural, panicked shout from his lover, dropped the documents in his hand without a glance. He exploded out of his study window. In a flash of raw power, two massive white wings burst from his back, beating the air furiously as he rocketed toward his lover's location.

From above, Aslan spotted Lev instantly. A desperate figure clutching a small, bloodied object. Still fifteen feet from the ground, he harshly tucked his wings, braking his flight and dropping hard. He didn’t want the powerful wind of his landing to blast away his lover or the tiny thing he held.

"What's—" Aslan started, but the question was violently cut short.

"Aslan, it's a child, a young girl, she's soaked in blood! There are too many wounds, Aslan, what do we do?" Lev’s hands were shaking violently, his whole body trembled with shock as he looked up at his husband.

Without wasting a word, Aslan scooped up Lev, who was still tenderly clutching the little girl to his chest. Aslan’s white wings erupted again, driving them upward back toward the palace. Mid-flight, he barked urgent instructions into his communicator to the guards and servants racing toward the distress coordinates.

"Go back to the palace immediately! Prepare the palace infirmary! Call for the Grand Chirurgeon! I want everyone and everything ready by the time I land!" He instructed, and then flew on, hard and fast, without looking back.