Chapter 287: Vaeghar The Devourer

I once mentioned that the

Noctveil Wilds

was a region perfectly suited to be a prison, thanks to its strange and merciless geography — with the tall peaks of the

Crown of Thorns

walling this place off from one side, and the savage depths of the

Lake of Grief

swallowing any escapees from the other.

But even then, if, by some miracle, you ever managed to flee this hellhole alive...

Then you’d either land in the territory of the

Night’s Witch

Selene Valkryn or the

Dawn’s Scourge

Arthur Theosbane, making them the two wardens of this prison.

And this wasn’t by coincidence.

The locations of Selene’s and my father’s Sanctuaries were deliberate. They were strategically built around this region to keep it sealed.

To keep whatever lurked inside from ever walking free.

So then... what exactly was trapped in here?

The answer was, of course, a

Demonic

Spirit Beast — one of the Spirit King’s Princes, known as Vaeghar the Moon Eater.

And who was Vaeghar?

Glad you asked.

Let me tell you his story.

You see, Vaeghar was born in a distant world.

He was blessed... or cursed... with the power to

read

the stars. Basically, he could predict the future with

uncanny

precision.

He could also see the strings of fate themselves, a talent once believed to belong only to the gods.

From an early age, he was not just brilliant, but startlingly perceptive as well.

...But for all his intellect, he was still only a child when he foresaw the end of his world.

He saw the oceans evaporate, the forests wilt into ash, and his people slaughtered until nothing remained... not even the moon in their sky.

He saw his kingdom collapse.

He saw himself standing alone in the ruins of his fallen home.

There was no one else left.

Everyone but him had died.

Everyone but him had met an end so gruesome it shook him to his very core.

Terrified, he tried to change that future.

He warned his people. He pleaded with the king, begged the Elders, even prayed to the gods. But no one listened.

Some called him delusional. Others called him dangerous.

And the very few who did believe him feared the doom he spoke of more than they trusted the boy delivering the warning.

So Vaeghar chose to act alone.

He studied the stars with greater fervor and learned to unravel the threads of fate that bound his world together.

In simple terms, he taught himself to influence causality. He learned to bend fate itself. Just slightly, at first.

He created tiny miracles, like redirecting a storm, averting a famine, or saving a life that should’ve died.

And it worked.

For a time, he thought he could challenge destiny.

Little by little, he clawed his way up in society and eventually earned the crown of his kingdom.

He married the princess and became the king.

Everything was going well for a while.

But then soon, he realized something dreadful:

No matter what he did, the end...

didn’t

... change.

Sure, he could change the little things.

But what was supposed to happen, would always find a way of happening.

Fate would

always

run its course.

Destiny would

always

find a way to sneak up in the end.

The storms he redirected would come back eventually.

The famines he averted would strike elsewhere.

And the lives he saved... would

always

die in other ways, rendering his efforts useless in the grand scheme of things.

Moreover, he started having more visions that showed the end of his world.

Every new vision showed the same fire, the same silence, and the same ruins.

And every time, he told himself that if he changed just one more thing, perhaps this time would be different.

...But it never was.

Slowly, he grew desperate. And a desperate king is never a good thing.

He began making reckless choices — bold, desperate, and damning decisions.

He started abusing his power in pursuit of a future that refused to shift.

But every attempt to save the world only pushed it closer to the end he couldn’t change.

If he tried to stop a calamity, a worse crisis followed.

If he tried to cease a war, a rebellion ignited.

If he rescued one person, someone more important would be lost.

It was as if the world itself was mocking him, twisting his good intentions into cruel inevitabilities.

Still, he couldn’t stop.

How could he? What other options did he even have?

So... he

didn’t

stop!

...Not until his own people began to fear him.

The very people who once relied on him, who praised him, who swore loyalty to him were now turning

against

him.

They said what Vaeghar was doing was wrong.

That he was defying the will of the heavens.

That by meddling with fate, he was unweaving the order of creation and angering the gods.

Temples burned his name from their walls. Scholars called him an omen. His name became synonymous with destruction.

Still, he kept trying!

Because he had

seen

the end, over and over again, and he refused to surrender to it!

He convinced himself he was doing this for them — for his people.

For his world!

But the more he tried to save it, the faster it died.

Everything was unraveling right before his eyes... and so was he.

In the end, it was his own people who rose against him.

...What followed was a world war.

They called it the Reclamation of Fate.

Entire nations unified against him. The sky was filled with the smoke of burning towers and the endless screams of the dying.

Vaeghar obviously fought back, but not out of hatred. Not even because he wanted to preserve his power.

No, he fought back because he

refused

to accept that everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed, had led him here.

He couldn’t accept that he had failed.

But fate does not care about the feelings of mortals.

And so... Vaeghar fell.

Broken, bleeding, surrounded by the remains of the kingdom he had tried to save, and betrayed by the very people he sought to protect... he fell.

That was when

’He’

appeared.

The one who called himself the

Emperor of Corruption

, a benevolent god who was no god at all.

Vaeghar didn’t know it back then, but this being of unimaginable power was the Spirit King himself.

He looked down at Vaeghar... and offered him his hand.

"You wished to save your world," the False God said. "Let me give you the power to do so. Let me unbind you from the strings of fate that failed you."

Vaeghar did not refuse.

With his final breath and a trembling hand, he reached out and accepted the False God’s offer.

And as soon as he did... he was reborn.

From the brink of death, Vaeghar rose to life once again and went on an unending rampage.

He slew

anyone

who opposed him. He obliterated

anything

that stood between him and his goal.

He killed and killed and killed.

He consumed the oceans.

He consumed the forests.

He consumed the very people who had once begged him for salvation and then betrayed him.

He kept consuming

everything

until there was no one left to fear him!

No one left to oppose him!

...No one left at all.

No... one...?

There was...

There was no one left... at all...

By the time Vaeghar came to his senses, it was already too late.

He found himself standing in the ruins of what was once his home, utterly alone.

In the end, he had become the very apocalypse he once feared.

He had fulfilled the prophecy he had spent his life trying to prevent.

The grief broke him.

In his anguish, he lifted his eyes to the moon — the last unbroken thing in his sky. The only thing that had witnessed his fall.

And he could not bear to gaze at it any longer.

The moon had always been the symbol of hope in his world.

Hope that he no longer had left.

So... he consumed the moon as well.

And thus was born Vaeghar the Moon Eater — the Eighth Prince of the Spirit King’s endless court, devourer of fate and dreams alike.

Even now, they say that if you speak his name, you can hear him begging the stars to tell him how to undo what he’s done... before he devours

you

as well.

But the stars never answer him.

Because they, too, are afraid of him.

•••

"But most of it is obviously fiction," I said, shrugging. "We don’t exactly have a way to fact-check a

Demonic

creature’s backstory. And it’s not like anyone else survived from his world to write the Moon Eater’s biography."

In the cackling light of the campfire, no one spoke.

"Anyway," I continued, "when the Spirit King sent his army to conquer Earth, Vaeghar was one of the Demon Princes who tried to invade. The Monarchs — who were much younger back then — fought back. Aywin Von Zynx, Alexia’s grandfather, supported them. So did my father, who was only a young Duke at the time. Instructor Selene’s mother, Duchess Sofia Zen Valkryn, was also part of that battle, and she died valiantly. And there was another young man who played a crucial role in the incident — the man you now know as Duke Arminius Kurtz Absberg."

Ray’s eyes flicked toward me for an unnoticeable moment.

But aside from that tiny acknowledgement, no one reacted.

So I kept speaking. "They fought and killed all the Demon Princes... all except one — Vaeghar the Devourer. Him... they couldn’t kill. So they sealed him. My father extracted a bit of

Will

from every Monarch, and Sofia Valkryn forged five physical shackles from that combined

Will

. Those shackles were then used to bind Vaeghar on top of a caldera here in the

Noctveil

Wilds

."

At this point, my companions were staring at me as though I’d just grown a second head.

Finally, Alexia blurted out, "What the fuck? My father never told me any of this!"

"Well, duh," I said matter-of-factly. "You’re not even his heiress. He can’t just trust you with critical information."

"I don’t believe it!" Lily shook her head, looking more like she was arguing with herself than with me. "It sounds like a bedtime story! It even has that misguided prophecy ending! And why are seers always shown to be so dumb in these kinds of stories?"

Vince, sitting beside her, shrugged. "Well, you know how that poem goes."

Now all of us were staring at

him

.

He frowned back at us. "What? I’m talking about

that

poem."

"What poem?" Michael asked, voicing everyone’s confusion.

Vince made a vague gesture. "

That

poem about seers and prophets, you know?"

"Dude, we have no idea what you’re talking about," I said.

His frown deepened into a scowl.

Thankfully, before he could rupture a blood vessel, Ray chimed in:

"The prophet spoke of fire, and cities turned to ash.

The seer saw darkness, and light began to clash.

The soothsayer sang of storms, and winds tore through the land.

The last oracle stayed silent, with fate held in their hand."

"Yes!

That

!" Vince jumped up and jabbed a finger at Ray. "That! It’s a famous southern poem. It means if you see a fate, it’s already too late to change it. And if you try to change it, if you even

speak

it aloud, you’ll only hasten its arrival. You’ll manifest it."

"That’s just not true," Lily countered with a shake of her head. "I saw you die, like, twice while we were running from that fog monster. But because I called it out, you’re alive."

Vince paled. "Wait. Die as in...

dead-dead

?"

"We are digressing," Ray said, making a surprisingly sensible remark for once. "The point is — Samael’s story just

can’t

be real. And who was that Spirit Lord or whatever? Is he going to appear in some of your other stories as well? Wait... is he your fictional universe’s big bad guy?"

"Actually," I laughed, "yes. Yes, he is."

Everyone chuckled.

Everyone except Michael and Juliana.

Michael because he already had a vague idea about the Spirit King.

And Juliana because she had overheard my conversation with Rexerd, and she knew that everything I had told them was far from a joke.