Messier 31,

The Andromeda galaxy.

In the large and vast galaxy that reside closest to the Milky Way, the Planet of Beta slept under a night unlike Earth's. A colossal blue moon loomed in the heavens, its glow spilling across the atmosphere, staining the world in cold, dreamlike light.

The winds whispered across vast, shimmering plains of silver grass, bending like waves beneath the moon's pull.

On the horizon, a grand estate rose out of the dark like a relic of power — a sprawling mansion carved from black stone and reinforced with spires of crystalline steel. Its windows burned faintly, a lone beacon in the sea of shadow.

Inside, silence reigned.

The echo of polished shoes tapped down the marble hallway as a tall man entered a study. His silver hair caught the blue glow filtering through tall windows, and a black mask still covered half his face. His attire was sharp.. tuxedo fitted to perfection, the last remnant of the night's earlier charade.

It was Castor. And he was back home from the party on earth.

He closed the door softly behind him, striding toward a wide oak table littered with scattered documents and starmaps. With a sigh, he reached up and slipped the mask free, placing it onto the polished surface.

His jaw clenched, his breath heavy.. not from exhaustion, but from thoughts gnawing at him. Restless, he tapped a finger against the table in a steady rhythm, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable. It was as if he was anticipating something very important.

Then…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

His wristwatch pulsed. Castor's eyes flicked down. Swiftly, he pressed the surface, then pulled out a small comm-piece and slipped it into his ear.

His tone was low, authoritative. "Report."

The voice on the other end came instantly, strained with urgency.

"Sir, we might have a problem."

Castor's brow furrowed, the rhythm of his tapping hand freezing. "What happened?" he asked.

The reply was hesitant, a man weighing every word. "It's the girl, sir. She… failed. They managed to stop her before she could escape."

Castor's jaw tightened, teeth gritting audibly. His hand curled into a fist, veins rising against his pale skin. He forced himself to exhale slowly, voice even but edged like steel.

"I see. Make sure she's safe. We'll try again another day."

The voice faltered again, this time laden with dread. "Sir… that's the problem. We can't try again."

A flash of urgency crossed Castor's eyes. His voice sharpened like a blade. "Why not?" he asked sharply.

The comm crackled, carrying the answer that Castor did not want to hear.

"She was taken away, sir. Transferred to another facility… on some distant planet."

For the first time in a long while, Castor's composure slipped. His hand slammed onto the table, rattling the mask. His voice dropped lower, dangerous.

"What planet?" he demanded.

"I… I don't know, sir. The director took complete control of the operation. None of us were told. But…" The voice stuttered. "My best guess is that she was moved to an unregistered world. A planet not even you are aware of."

Castor's eyes glowed faintly, the blue moon's reflection shimmering in them as his anger boiled. He rarely lost his composure, but this was different.

The plan he'd been working on for months had just been foiled in one evening.

His fist remained clenched until his knuckles whitened. Finally, after a long silence, he forced himself to speak.

"I'm going to confront Richard about this. In the meantime, keep digging for anything. Any trace or pattern that could tell us where she might be." he ordered. "And report back to me the moment you find a lead."

"Understood, sir." The voice steadied itself, loyal despite the fear. "I'll do my best."

After that, the transmission cut. The silence that followed was deafening. Castor lowered himself slowly into the leather chair behind the desk, leaning back as his mind churned. His fingers pressed against his temples.

"That fox," he muttered to himself as his mind began to wander in different thoughts. "What is he planning this time?"

The words hung in the dim air. And then…

From the corner of the room, where shadow bled unnaturally thick, a masculine tone, deep and sharp, broke through:

"Do you require some assistance, General?"

Castor didn't flinch. He merely lifted his gaze. He was clearly not surprised by this voice.

And standing across the table was a man who hadn't been there before. He was the owner of the voice.

His arrival was silent, sudden, as though he had stepped out of the darkness itself.

His figure was tall, clad in black armor polished to a sinister gleam, a long sword strapped across his back. His hair, midnight black, cascaded to his shoulders. His gaze was piercing, cold, the kind only forged through centuries of war.

Castor studied him for a heartbeat, then allowed a faint chuckle. "General? Last I checked, Phastos, you're the one in command of the Queen's army."

The man, Phastos, advanced a step, his presence heavy, his voice unwavering. "I was. But now, the Queen has tasked me with retrieving her grandchildren. And if there are… obstacles to this task, I believe I should be aware. So I may report directly to Her Highness. Perhaps even seek her assist…"

"No!" Castor's voice cut sharp and immediate, harsher than intended. His eyes burned as he rose slightly from his chair. "My sister has enough on her plate holding a kingdom together. Burdening her with this will only weaken her focus. She cannot know."

Phastos narrowed his eyes. "So there are indeed obstacles afterall."

Castor sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. "Yes, there are. But you cannot tell Callisto. Not yet."

Phastos eyed him for a while before responding. "Alright. I won't tell the queen. You have my word." he assured. "But I must know what these obstacles are."

Castor hesitated a bit before finally answering. "The boy's location is one I am aware of. And he's also under close monitoring." he said, before letting a sigh. "But he's still not ready. He needs time to grow stronger and understand his true capabilities."

Phastos raised a brow. "And the girl?"

For the first time, Castor hesitated. His voice grew low, almost weary.

"The girl… already holds unmatched strength. But I've just received word that she's been taken. Hidden in a place even I cannot trace."

Phastos's expression hardened. "So what is the plan?" he asked.

Castor leaned back again, the shadows swallowing his features, his voice heavy with reluctant admission.

"Until I discover where she's being held… there is no plan. We simply wait. And hope for the universe to give us a way."

Phastos's gaze lingered on him, unreadable, before he spoke in that calm, battle-scarred tone.

"Then let us hope, as you say, for a miracle… or perhaps, another hand to move the board."

The blue moonlight framed them both, casting their figures in silver shadow… two titans caught in the web of a mystery much greater than either could admit aloud.

But that was only just the beginning of the many mysteries and dead ends to come.