Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

After finishing their hearty breakfast, the group readied themselves for departure. Their laughter and small chatter carried faintly through the villa halls as they gathered outside, where a long silver limousine awaited them. The polished surface gleamed under the morning sun, catching glimmers of gold as it moved, and on its door was proudly emblazoned the crest of the Leclair family—a radiant pair of angelic wings encircling a shining star.

One by one, they stepped inside, the plush interior swallowing them in comfort. The seats were lined with soft white leather, faintly perfumed with a hint of jasmine, while crystal compartments held refreshments should they wish. The engine purred to life, smooth and almost imperceptible, and with a gentle lurch, the limousine rolled forward, gliding across the pristine roads of Angel’s City.

The city itself was a marvel of architecture and nature intertwined. Towering spires of pale stone rose skyward, their tips kissed by the morning light, while gardens bloomed in carefully maintained terraces along the streets. Water ran freely through canals and fountains, sparkling like veins of silver weaving through the metropolis. From the tinted windows, the group could see citizens bustling about in elegance, their lives woven seamlessly into the city’s harmony.

Their destination lay ahead—the very heart of Angel’s City.

Surrounded by cascading man-made waterfalls that tumbled gracefully from towering cliffs, mist rising like silver veils in the air, stood the Leclair family’s main estate. The mansion itself was colossal, a marvel of artistry and grandeur. Pale white stone walls rose into towers and domes, their surfaces etched with intricate angelic patterns that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Balconies curved outward, draped in flowering vines, while crystal windows glinted like jewels embedded in the structure.

The surrounding landscape only heightened its majesty. Lush gardens spread outward in every direction, lined with marble paths and dotted with statues of angels wielding swords or harps. The distant roar of waterfalls echoed in harmony with the soft songs of birds, creating an atmosphere that was both awe-inspiring and serene.

The limousine slowed as it approached the grand gates wrought of shining silver. Beyond them, the mansion loomed like the palace of a celestial monarch. Even those who had seen it before couldn’t help but feel a twinge of reverence.

They had arrived at the Leclair family’s main house—the very heart of power within Angel’s City.

Lux led the way through the grand entrance, his steps confident yet casual, as though the opulent surroundings were second nature to him. The massive double doors swung open silently, revealing a sweeping hall with high vaulted ceilings painted in soft celestial murals. Golden chandeliers hung like radiant suns above, scattering their light across polished marble floors that gleamed like liquid silver.

”Come along,” Lux said, though his words were mostly directed at Nero. The others—Adam, Blake, Azalea, Elreth, and Khione—walked without the same wide-eyed wonder. They had been here before; to them, this majesty was familiar. But for Nero, every hallway was a discovery, every archway and sculpture an invitation to linger.

Statues of angels lined the corridors, their expressions serene yet commanding, wings unfurled as if to guard the family’s domain. Fountains whispered softly in the background, their crystal-clear waters catching the shifting hues of light that poured through tall stained-glass windows. Paintings of Leclair ancestors adorned the walls, each figure draped in garments of silver and white, their gazes steady, dignified, eternal.

Lux’s voice carried with an easy pride as he explained certain corners of the estate—the music hall with its vast harp centerpiece, the garden atrium where roses bloomed year-round under controlled enchantments, the library said to house rare manuscripts preserved from ancient times. Nero followed closely, absorbing everything, each detail imprinting itself into memory.

It was during this tour that they encountered her—Lux’s mother.

She appeared from a side hall with the grace of someone who had long commanded attention without needing to demand it. Her silver hair cascaded in soft waves, shimmering faintly under the light, and her ice-blue eyes held both warmth and scrutiny. Lux bore her features so strongly that for a fleeting moment, Nero imagined he was staring at a refined, older reflection of his friend.

The others greeted her warmly, as though welcoming not a matriarch, but a familiar figure they respected deeply. Adam bowed his head politely, Elreth offered a dignified nod, Azalea curtsied ever so slightly, while Khione’s greeting was curt yet respectful. Even Blake, usually lazy, managed to muster a half-decent bow before yawning.

Her gaze finally settled on Nero. She studied him with quiet intensity, her eyes sharp yet not unkind. For a brief heartbeat, the atmosphere grew heavy—until she gave a small approving nod, her lips curving faintly into a smile.

”Take care of Lux,” she said, her voice calm, melodic yet carrying the undeniable weight of a command.

”Yes, ma’am,” Nero replied earnestly, dipping his head.

What followed was a scene that had the others barely suppressing their laughter. Before his mother, the usually composed and confident Lux became almost docile, his posture straighter, his responses clipped, respectful. He resembled a well-trained noble son rather than the carefree host they all knew.

Adam elbowed Blake, who smirked knowingly. Elreth’s lips twitched, while Azalea covered her amusement with a delicate cough. Even Khione allowed the smallest flicker of a smile.

Lux caught on to their teasing glances, his silver eyes narrowing, but that only made the quiet chuckles ripple louder among the group.

For once, it wasn’t Blake being the target of everyone’s fun—this time, Lux himself was the one on the receiving end.

After settling their luggage in their respective rooms, the group gathered once more. Dressed in light, casual wear, they boarded another sleek car that purred softly as it rolled out of the Leclair mansion’s gates. The road curved lazily toward the coast, and before long, the salty scent of the sea began to drift in through the open windows. The horizon widened, and the sound of crashing waves grew louder until the endless stretch of blue revealed itself.

The beach was pristine, golden sand stretching beneath a sky as clear as crystal, the waves glimmering under the afternoon sun. Once they arrived, none wasted much time—each began shedding their outer clothes, laughter and teasing remarks carried away by the sea breeze.

The girls were the first to catch everyone’s eyes.

Khione, true to her icy elegance, wore a pristine white bikini. Against her porcelain skin, the color was striking, highlighting every curve of her slender, graceful figure. She looked sculpted—delicate, refined, as though carved by the hands of an artist who sought perfection. A small beauty mark near the top of her right breast added a subtle, disarming charm to her otherwise aloof presence. For a moment, Nero could do nothing but stare, breath caught in his throat, struck silent by how utterly beautiful she looked.

Elreth, on the other hand, was fire incarnate. She had chosen a deep red bikini that clung perfectly to her toned figure, her vibrant hair blazing under the sun. If Khione was elegance, Elreth was raw allure, confidence woven into her every movement. She caught Nero’s glance at least once, and her lips curled into a smirk, as if daring him to compare her against the Ice Queen.

Azalea was no less captivating, her green lace bikini complementing both her eyes and the subtle golden hue of her skin. Where Khione was serene and Elreth fiery, Azalea radiated a playful, mischievous beauty—graceful and dangerous all at once. Adam’s eyes lingered on her longer than intended, a spark of something unreadable flashing across his face before he clicked his tongue sharply.

”Tch. Ugly as ever,” he muttered under his breath.

Azalea snapped her gaze toward him, sharp as daggers. ”Excuse me?!”

And just like that, the two began hurling insults at each other, their bickering rising above the sound of the waves, as though the ocean itself was their audience.

Meanwhile, the boys prepared themselves, slipping off their shirts to reveal the results of their training. Each wore swimming trunks of their own choosing—Lux in pure white, his silver hair and chiseled frame making him look like he had stepped straight out of a painting; Nero in dark blue, the color mirroring the depth of his crimson eyes; Blake in gray, his body lean and toned despite his lazy nature; and Adam in vibrant orange, his short but muscular build exuding raw strength.

For all their differences, each carried the kind of physical presence expected of scions of the Seven Families. Lux’s physique was defined yet elegant, Adam’s compact body was dense with power, and even Blake’s seemingly lazy exterior masked wiry strength. Yet Nero drew the most eyes—not merely for his six-pack abs and balanced frame, but for the mysterious tattoo etched across his skin.

A strange, glowing blue pattern stretched from his upper back, curling like ancient runes, climbing toward the right side of his neck. Under the sunlight, it almost seemed to shimmer faintly, as though alive, carrying with it an aura of mystery that none dared question out loud.

The beach, the laughter, the waves—everything seemed to pause for a moment around him.