A moment passed. Both of them were frozen, equally confused, staring at each other like two people who had just walked into the wrong room at the same time.
"Uh… hi?"
He blinked slowly.
Auriel blinked back.
Then came the high-pitched squeak of pure panic.
"Heeeeh?!"
CRACK!
BUFF!
Auriel shot straight upward in a blaze of radiant light, head first, smashing clean through the roof like a living comet.
Wooden beams exploded outward in a shower of splinters and dust. A hole the size of a wagon wheel opened to the sky as her glowing trail streaked upward and vanished.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
Beams groaned and cracked overhead. Wood splintered with sharp pops. Dust rained down in thick curtains.
Arion blinked again, still half-asleep, brain sluggish from the food coma. Sunlight poured straight through the brand-new skylight where his roof used to be.
He had the distinct, sinking feeling that someone had just removed half his cabin in the most dramatic way imaginable.
"What the hell…"
A faint glittering trail of golden motes still hung in the air like spilled star-sand, slowly drifting down.
He stared at the ragged hole above him.
"Please tell me this is just another one of my dreams where women fall through the roof."
A cracked support beam finally gave up and slammed onto the floor inches from his bed with a deafening thud.
"…Shit. It's not a dream."
His mind was still catching up, but the reality finally slammed home.
"GAH! My roof!" he shouted, hands flying to his hair as he scrambled upright.
Then, he heard a tiny, mortified mumble.
"..."
Then again, quieter, sheepish—like a small animal trying to apologise without being noticed.
"s…"
"What!?" Arion spun around, eyes squinting as he scanned the cabin, half expecting someone to be playing a prank on him.
Then it came again, barely audible.
"…Sorry."
He bent his neck upward. A face framed by flowing white hair peered down through the hole, skin so pale it glowed. Her expression was pure panic mixed with embarrassment.
"You… do you have a habit of sneaking into people's cabins and blowing holes in their roofs?"
"No…" she squeaked. "Wait—there was one time back home…"
Arion just stared, completely baffled.
These chicks are crazy…
"Ah—but don't worry! I-I can fix it!"
Before he could even protest, she floated down through the hole, picked up a split plank like it weighed nothing, and floated straight back up again.
What kind of lunatic world did I get dropped into?
He followed her with his eyes, jaw slack.
Is she… gliding? Is she some kind of fairy?
She hovered just below the ceiling, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration as she tried to slot the plank back into place like it was the world's most stubborn puzzle piece.
It's like resistance and gravity just decided to take the day off…
"…um, I'm not sure that's how you do—"
"No, it's fine! I'll fix it my sta—I mean, citizen of Dawn!" the strange woman blurted out, eyes darting everywhere at once.
She forced the plank harder. Less fixing, more ordering the wood to obey.
"It's! Easy! Watch!"
Crack. Crack-crack.
"Lady, don't—" he tried to warn her, but it was already too late.
Cracks spider-webbed through the rest of the support beam. To his horror, more of the roof gave way and crashed straight down into the crude hearth.
WHUMP!
Ash exploded everywhere in a choking grey cloud.
"Gah—!" Arion waved his arms wildly, coughing as his eyes streamed.
Something soft bumped the tip of his nose.
Through the swirling haze, a pair of radiant eyes hovered inches from his own. Her nose was barely a finger's width away.
"Are you hurt?"
"Perfectly fine—cough! Just inhaling half a chimney's worth of ash."
"Ah!"
Her entire body flared with soft golden light. In seconds the shimmering radiance fused with the air itself, disintegrating every speck of ash and dust until the cabin was clean again.
As the air cleared, he finally saw her properly for the first time.
She stood only a few inches shorter than him. Poised. Skin glowing like polished white marble, smooth and flawless. Long, beautiful lashes framed eyes that were pure white orbs swirling with living stardust, as though entire constellations burned quietly inside them. Her hair fell like spun starlight, shifting and gleaming with every tiny movement.
Wow.
No. Don't. Don't fall for that face… She's dangerous.
"May I—" she started, hands fidgeting nervously at her sides.
"Sorry?"
"May I know your name?"
"Uh. Arion…"
"Arion…" she repeated softly, as if tasting the word on her tongue. Then she straightened with sudden formality and gave a perfect bow.
"In my name, Auriel, First Daughter of Eosander, I apologise for my actions that have befallen you today."
An awkward pause.
"Uh, yeah… sure."
She lifted her head. With a hopeful little smile she extended her hand.
"L-let us be friends."
Arion stared in pure disbelief. He blinked twice. Slowly.
She's serious…
"Sorry… no idea who you are, not that I care. But I have to say… this is not the best first impression…"
Her hand retracted sheepishly. Disappointment flashed across her face for a split second before confusion took over.
He watched her stand there, eyes staring into space. Then her whole expression froze—like a machine that had just short-circuited.
"Eh?"
"What?"
"You… you don't know who I am?"
"Uh…" Arion muttered as he narrowed his eyes, looking up towards the ceiling that now didn't exist.
"Ah!"
Then his gaze dropped back to Auriel and he clicked his fingers. "Home invader? Roof destroyer? Fairy? Creepy woman who watches men sleep?"
Colour bloomed bright across her cheeks.
"Wha—I-I-I-I! It wasn't like that—" she stuttered, hands waving in front of her.
"Lady—Auriel, you broke into my lovely cabin, watched me sleep for who-knows-how-long, drooled on my sheets, then blasted a hole in my roof. Then somehow made that hole even bigger."
Every word landed like a moral slap. She looked away, utterly mortified.
Yet somewhere deep inside her chest, a tiny piece of her felt strangely lightened by the fact he truly had no idea who she was.
Then her eyes narrowed.
Until they widened again. Her glare snapped back to him like a whip.
"You!" she snapped, jabbing a finger straight into his chest.
"You're the suspicious one, mister!" she declared, clearly deflecting her own crimes.
"…Excuse me?"
She darted to the desk, snatched the open journal, and thrust it right into his face.
"What do you make of this! Temple ruins? You've been to the secret forbidden temple! Skulking around, have we?"
"Reading strangers' diaries too, huh?"
"Spill it, A-Arion!"
He stared at her flatly. "That journal isn't mine. It belonged to the previous tenant of this lovely cabin you've now massacred."
Her glare wavered. Then horror flooded her face as her eyes widened.
"Wait a minute… the meat—"
"You ate him?!"
"What—NO! You—ugh." He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands.
Physics give me strength…
"I found him dead inside the temple. Decomposing for at least a few months… I think."
Arion's eyes narrowed, still stuck on the time distortion. Then he glared right back at her.
"You flew through the wooden roof like it was made from cheap plastic. Why don't you have a look yourself? He at least deserves to be given to his family for a proper burial."
"Oh… aha…" Her smile turned painfully sheepish. "About that—I may or may not have destroyed the temple…?"
"YOU WHAT?!"
Great… I'm hosting a home intruder AND an insanely powerful flying woman…
"Haha…," she said with the weakest smile he had ever seen.
Silence stretched between them, awkward and still smoky.
Then a quiet air of melancholy settled over the room.
"You should still find his family," Auriel said softly. "He was likely a Freeblade. The Guild will know his kin."
Her voice dropped even lower. "For the Fathers' and… Mothers' sake."
Both of them felt an uncomfortable tug at the same hidden string in their hearts.
For once, he couldn't argue.
"Then… if you're not from Dawn," she ventured carefully, "where did you fall—uh, come from?"
Her curiosity burned bright now. Her eyes darted around the cabin as if hunting for any clue she might have missed.
Broken in, harassed. Now I'm being interrogated. She's just missing the gun at this point…
Arion sighed.
I can't tell her everything… gotta tell her a realistic story. Well, technically it isn't a lie, just the truth wrapped in a much… bigger truth.
"I don't remember much—well, anything really. In the beginning I was falling. I broke through the clouds, a whole world unfolded before my eyes. And when I hit the ground an explosion of light filled my vision. Then I woke up."
"And now here I am," he finished, spreading his arms wide.
Yet he would never know the impact those simple words would have.
The journal slipped from her fingers and dropped to the wooden floor with a soft thud as she stepped closer.
"So, was that a good enough answer—"
Her hands suddenly cupped his face, eyes wide with pure wonder.
"Fallen Star," she whispered, voice trembling with awe as she stared into his eyes.
"Um…" he managed, completely surprised.
"Mother was right. It's real."
Her grip tightened—a metal vice wrapped in silk. His cheeks squished together.
"Mmph!"
He started to feel lighter.
What the hell is with this situation!
What would Mum say…
…
"If she seems too easy, then it is. Get out of there as fast as you can."
"Then what if you can't run away?"
"Uh… well you're fucked I guess."
…
Damnit!
"UH—Guh, l-ladshy! Can yoush not ashcend back to heaven whilsh gripping my fashe!?" he tried to say, mouth squished between her hands.
The two of them were already floating a few inches off the ground without her even realising it.
Until she snapped out of her daze.
"Eh!? Ah—I'm sorry!" Auriel yelped and let go instantly.
He dropped hard enough to rattle the table. "Next time you grab a man's face, maybe warn him first?"
He sighed and rubbed his sore cheeks.
"Right," he muttered. "You've had your fun, Lady Ceiling Destruction, but I've got work to do."
Auriel blinked, landing softly from her spontaneous hovering "Work?"
He pointed at the splintered roof and the daylight spearing through. "Yeah. Repairs. You know—when someone blows a hole through your house, someone else has to fix it. Preferably me."
"I-I can—"
"No," he said firmly, pointing again. "You've helped enough."
Her mouth snapped shut. Pride stiffened her shoulders. A quiet "oh" escaped, faint as a sigh.
Silence stretched between them once more. She glanced at the ruined beams, at the splinters glittering like fallen starlight across the floor.
Her right arm pulsed. A faint glow from her bracelet flickered—a signal from home.
She lowered her arm with a quiet sigh. "This… was not how I intended to meet you," she said softly.
He snorted. "Really? Because it's been very unforgettable, Miss Auriel."
He turned back to his new home-repair project.
"Oh, and when you say it like that, a man might misunderstand. It sounds like this was pre-planned or something."
A slight flush bloomed across her pale cheeks. She fiddled with her hands as if trying to steady herself.
"You… wouldn't understand, even if I did tell you," she whispered to herself.
"What?" he replied, turning his head toward the silent murmur.
"Then I will… allow you to resume your duties!"
He glanced at her for a moment with one eyebrow raised, then turned back.
"Appreciate the permission," he said dryly.
She turned toward the door, bowed—perfectly composed except for the faint tremor of embarrassment—and glided out. Light trailed after her like a fading memory.
Arion stared at the ruined roof, picked up a piece of splintered wood from the floor, and muttered, "What a day."
He'd barely lifted the first beam before the porch creaked again.
He froze.
No way.
A soft thump followed.
He turned. "That was fast."
Auriel stood there again, radiant as if nothing had happened. But her expression had changed—the smile gone, replaced by calm command.
"You again," he said. "Missed the roof already?"
"No." Her voice cut sharper than before. "I came to warn you."
That tone wiped the smirk clean off his face.
Her eyes shifted toward the black scar where frost still clung stubbornly to the ground.
"The Opening that formed here—it's unstable. I can feel it pulsing. If left alone, it may open further. You must stay away from it."
Arion leaned on the wooden beam. "Pretty sure I was planning on that."
"I'll order an Arbiter of Dawn to contain it," she continued. "Until then, do not approach it. Not even out of curiosity."
He raised an eyebrow. "You say that like I'm the kind of guy who'd poke dangerous cosmic anomalies with a stick."
"Yes," she said simply.
He blinked, then shrugged. "…Fair."
The faintest smile flickered across her face—gone almost as soon as it appeared. Then she drew herself up again, every inch the commander wrapped in starlight.
"Good. Then this is farewell. For now."
"Sure."
She turned to leave. Light gathered at her feet. But she hesitated at the threshold, voice softening one last time.
"Try not to die, Arion. I'm not done with you yet."
"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled, swatting his hand to shoo her away.
"And, Arion—never speak of the Ruined Temple. Even I may not be able to protect you."
Before he could answer, she was already gone. The air folded where she had stood; motes of light drifted like quiet afterthoughts.
Arion stared at the empty space, jaw tightening.
The hell is that supposed to mean?
Wind moved through the broken roof, scattering sawdust like falling stars. He exhaled through his nose and muttered, "What a deranged encounter that was. Definitely takes first place."
He eyed the wooden beam, the hole, the glittering mess.
"…Wait. Maybe I shouldn't jinx it."