According to history books, the current year is 1004 of the Modern Era—an age born from the smoldering ashes of the Mythic Era, which ended with the Great Purges of the Damned. These purges, led by the Church of the Sun King and the Holy Moon, brought an end to an age of shadows and wonders.
It was in the wake of this sacred crusade that the Church crowned the very first Emperor: Ansel the First.
> "This world knows no magic… It runs on what they call potions, divided into three categories: basic, secondary… and superior."
So thought Claus, seated in a large armchair before his desk.
An imposing grimoire lay open in front of him, filled with detailed illustrations of steam-powered vehicles—machines worthy of the Victorian age.
> "A world standing at the crossroads of the mechanical age… where science and potions have replaced magic, and where the incomprehensible becomes fascinating."
He remained still, deep in thought, completely absorbed by all he had just discovered. Time slipped by unnoticed. Meanwhile, the sun was beginning its slow descent beyond the horizon.
Claus stood, gently pushed open the window, and stepped closer to admire the sky.
What he saw left him speechless.
A moon. Massive. A pale golden yellow. But… broken.
Its edges appeared shattered, as if the celestial body had imploded. Thousands of lunar fragments floated in the night sky, suspended like pieces of a shattered mirror. It was all he could see—majestic and wounded. A moon missing nearly a quarter of its form.
Claus froze. Mesmerized.
A soft breeze brushed his face as he slowly raised a hand, as if to touch the fractured moon.
He felt a strange sensation…
As though it were watching him in return.
---
One week later, Claus had begun to grow accustomed to life at the manor.
Living like an aristocrat wasn't as unpleasant as he'd imagined—especially at tea time. There was one infusion he particularly enjoyed: lemon. Its scent vaguely reminded him of Sandra.
He didn't know why… but it calmed his mind.
He stood on a vast balcony, eyes fixed on the distant hill that hid the Empire's capital from view.
> "I can't wait three months… I need to find out what happened to me.
And Sandra… I'll have to leave."
"Geoffrey mustn't know…"
He turned around just as the great gate at the edge of the estate slowly opened.
A small black moped entered the grounds, riding up the stone path lined with hundreds of black roses, all perfectly maintained by the gardener.
The moped stopped in front of the manor, where Geoffrey was waiting patiently.
The driver stepped off and opened the vehicle's side door, revealing a young woman. She wore a sumptuous black dress, finely embroidered, and her skin was delicately pale. A wide-brimmed hat, adorned with a thin veil, obscured her face.
She extended her hand to Geoffrey, who kissed it with unusual gentleness, whispering a few words to her.
Claus, still on the balcony, watched silently.
Her hair shimmered under the sunlight.
The young woman then raised her head—looking directly in his direction—before following Geoffrey inside without a word.
Shortly after, Claus heard a soft female voice at his door.
"Sir Claus, you are expected in the great hall."
It was one of the maids. Without delay, Claus stepped out of his room and followed her in silence.
Every step he took tightened something in his chest. An odd, inexplicable feeling crept over him.
And the closer he got to the grand staircase, the more oppressive the sensation became…
As though something—or someone—was slowly wrapping cold fingers around his heart.
At the bottom of the stairs, he saw her.
She was standing beside Geoffrey, waiting.
Claus approached slowly, wordlessly.
He didn't dare speak. His heart pounded violently, ready to burst.
And when she removed her hat—
He understood nothing.
> "Sandra."