A fallen star. The embodiment of descent. The embodiment of something once brilliant, now plummeting. The embodiment of light breaking apart as it crashes through the atmosphere, burning, unraveling, unable to stop its inevitable fall. Something that was once high above, untouchable, only to be brought down by fate, by force, by something far greater than itself.

Soobin had fallen, but before the fall, there had been fire.

The war had begun as a whisper, rumors of rebellion spreading through the outer colonies, dissent growing like cracks in a once-immovable empire. At first, they were small, insignificant. But like embers catching the wind, the flames of war spread faster than anyone could control.

The palace had burned first and Soobin had stood at the heart of it, his golden armor reflecting the inferno around him. The great spires of the Celestial Citadel, once shining with ethereal light, crumbled under the weight of destruction. The halls he had walked since childhood, the murals depicting his ancestors' victories, were shattered, their stories lost to the blaze.

The air had been thick with the stench of blood and smoke. He had fought of course he had fought, his sword cutting through the enemy, his power rippling through the battlefield like the force of a dying star. His golden markings had burned bright, his energy overwhelming, but even he had limits. And when the traitors turned their strongest weapons against him, when the sky itself seemed to split apart with the force of the attack, he had no choice but to run.

The escape had been chaos. His ship had barely made it past the atmosphere before an explosion sent it spiraling out of control. Flames swallowed the control panels, alarms screamed in his ears, and all he could do was brace for the inevitable as the universe turned against him.

And then, he fell.

He hadn't drifted gently. He hadn't descended with grace. He had been ripped from the sky, torn from the place he once belonged. His body had been weightless, soaring through the void, until gravity claimed him, dragged him down, fast and unforgiving. The air around him ignited, turning him into a streak of fire against the night, a meteor spiraling toward a world unknown.

And then, the impact.

The earth had trembled beneath the force of his arrival, trees shuddering as the crater formed around his broken body. Smoke rose from the ruined ground, the air thick with the scent of burnt metal and scorched earth. His limbs were heavy, the ache settling deep into his bones. His once-glowing markings had dimmed, his strength barely a flicker of what it had been.

He didn't move. He couldn't. The fall had stolen everything from him, the air in his lungs, the energy in his veins, the will to rise again. He had fallen too hard, too fast. And now, he lay among the wreckage, the cold ground pressing against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the universe he once called home.

Somewhere beyond the treetops, the sky remained untouched. The stars still shone, distant and indifferent. As if they had already forgotten him, but he was not alone.

A presence lingered nearby. A heartbeat steady and strong, footsteps crunching against the charred earth. Someone had witnessed the fall, had followed the trail of destruction to the place where the prince, where the fallen star, now lay.

Soobin forced his eyes open. His vision was blurred, his head spinning. The figure before him was shadowed against the moonlight, their face unreadable. His lips parted, his voice hoarse, and weak. "Who... are you...?"

His body betrayed him. A sharp pain surged through his chest, and he barely bit back a cry as his muscles spasmed from exhaustion. His breath came out ragged, his fingers twitching against the dirt. His entire body felt foreign, unfamiliar. Weak.

"Gaah..." He hated it. The helplessness, the vulnerability. He was a prince, a warrior, a ruler of worlds, or at least, he had been. Now, he was nothing more than a ruin. And the only one who had found him... was you.