My family situation was more than complicated,
I was born to a throne, but never meant to sit on it. They called me "Prince Alistair", yet even then, whispers of the king's illegitimate son being a better-fitted heir followed me like a curse.
But my father, King Arthur, hasn't always been like this. When I was younger, and perhaps more innocent and cheerful, he treasured me with all his heart. From spoiling me with gifts to giving me land, he showered me with love.
However, one day, perhaps he grew tired of me; he changed forever. He was no longer the father I once knew. Neither was he the father who loved me. Nor was he the man my mother once loved.
That day, His Highness came home, bringing another woman and her son into the palace, claiming them to be his real wife and son, and that he had married the wrong woman.
I still remember the day we were cast out. The gates slammed behind us. The marble roads that once bowed to our carriage now spat mud. Father's new wife smiling through the rain; her son's quiet laughter as he waved goodbye—I remembered everything.
Still, my mother, Lady Elysia, remained strong. For the first few months, she worked hard to provide and care for me. I could feel her love for me when she stayed up to play cars with me.
But even she had her limits.
Just like Father, one day, the light left her eyes.
And she was never the same again.
She was a whole different person.
Every time she looked at me, I think she saw the life she lost. Her hands trembled not from weakness—but from everything she wanted to destroy. And that something was me.
I endured.
I thought that after a few days, she would become the Mother I always knew again.
But I was wrong.
Love can't patch madness.
And one night, when her beatings and screams turned into words I couldn't unhear—"You should have never been born!!"—I ran. I ran until my feet bled and my energy ran dry. I ran until the world went quiet and the storm within me didn't feel like guilt anymore. I ran until my voice broke.
That's when I found them. No, or maybe, they found me.
The Sinclaire family.
The streets called them demons in suits, the mafia that owned the city when the world turned dark. But in truth, they were kind. They found me in a dark alley, half-dead, clutching a rusted knife. Their leader, Boss Sinclaire, didn't ask me any questions. He only said this: "You have the eyes of someone who's already died once."
He took me in.
And his wife, Lily, bandaged my wounds and fed me warm food. The first I have had in months. They didn't ask for loyalty. They gave it first.
Their son, Ryan, was disabled. He couldn't work. But even then, he was kind. He would watch the rain from his window and tell me stories of the outside world. Ryan loved me like his own brother.
And over time, the Sinclaire family became my home.
They taught me many things: patience, discipline, and control.
However, they were too kind.
Slowly, they began losing money. And that was why I became an assassin. To protect them, as well as support them for all those years they have been taking care of me. Boss Sinclaire was too old. Ryan was too fragile. Lily begged me not to go—but it was only my duty as an outsider to repay the kindness they have shown me over these years.
And so, I became the sword they never wanted to draw. And in time, that sword earned a name—Starlight.
They said I shone brightest in the dark. But they were wrong. In truth, I only knew how to survive there.
Still…those years were the happiest I'd ever known.
Boss's quiet approval.
Lily's gentle scolding when I came back injured.
Ryan's laughter echoing through the mansion halls.
And for the first time, I thought maybe the world wasn't so cruel after all.
But fate…fate has a twisted sense of humour.]
Back in the alley, pain sharpened every breath. I clenched the pendant around my neck, one that I would never forget.
I thought of Boss Sinclaire and Lily—the parents who raised me.
Who loved me when others turned their backs.
I whispered an apology.
Memories flooded.
The first time Boss Sinclaire taught me to hold a blade.
The promise to Lily to control.
The countless nights Ryan taught me to sharpen a knife.
The faces fading into silence.
And betrayal.
Moonlight.
My rival.
I thought what we had was friendly rivalry.
I guess that was a one-sided opinion.
I drew in my final breath.
I closed my eyes.
This was the end,
Thought of Boss…and Lily…
The darkness took me.
Cold.
Endless.
But even in that void, I still had a spark of hope.
Because even in death,
The stars still shine.
~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in the quiet home of Alison…
The evening was a gentle one. A kettle whistled softly in the kitchen, the rain tapping against the windowpanes. It was an evening like every other, except it was not.
Alison sat cross-legged on the couch, her damp hair wrapped in a towel from a recent shower, as she watched the news intently. The day had been long, and she had just begun to relax, the rhythmic voice of the newscaster fading into the background.
"We interrupt our regular program for a breaking news report…"
Her gaze drifted lazily towards the screen.
"A body was found just a few hours ago in a back alley near Shibuya District Eleven. Authorities have identified the deceased as a male student from Oakwood Institute."
The casual smile on her face began to falter. She rose to her feet. Something in the newscast's voice made her heart quicken. A woman's sixth sense, they say.
"Authorities confirmed the victim as Alistair Sinclaire, aged sixteen this year—"
The world stopped.
Her breathing hitched.
The mug in her hands slipped and shattered on the floor, porcelain fragments scattering across the room like pieces of her sanity. Hot tea seeped into the carpet, like spreading blood beneath her bare feet.
"They found him wearing his high school uniform. Police suspect someone attacked him when he left school this evening…"
Her hands trembled, her mind unable to process the name that was called by the newscaster. The name Alistair Nightfall echoed in her head again and again.
Her voice broke. "No…no, this can't be…he—he just texted me this evening about the date…"
Her knees gave way, and she collapsed beside the couch, heart pounding against her ribcage. The image of a cordoned-off alleyway flickered before her eyes—dark, the flash of camera lights, a white sheet covering a motionless body.
"The cause of death is currently under investigation—"
"Stop," She whispered, voice cracking. "Stop it…he's not…"
She clutched her chest as if she could hold her heart together before it shattered completely. The tears came soundlessly at first—small, shaking breaths that turned into sobs,
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance. The rain intensified, tapping against the windows like a quiet applause for a tragedy no one had asked for.
Her phone lay by the sofa, screen lighting up once—a message she had meant to send him that evening still unsent.
"Don't forget, you promised me tomorrow."
The TV droned on, mercilessly objective, the words of strangers dissecting the death of someone she had once loved. Someone who had smiled and waved goodbye to her in the fading light of after school.
Tomorrow, his seat would be empty forever.
And in that small, cosy room, Alison sank into the silence—her world collapsing around her with only the soft hum of the television to bear witness.