Chapter 209: DIVA
It was during the Festival of Lumina in the grand capital of Astrael, where mages and nobles gathered to celebrate the alignment of the twin moons. Igaris had attended out of formality, as the Supreme Mages were expected to show their presence during great events. He stood at the edge of the grand marble balcony, gazing at the moonlit city below, when he felt it — that same pulse in his soul he had carried for centuries, but now stronger.
His eyes shifted, scanning the crowd. And then he saw her.
A woman walking through the moonlit plaza, her steps graceful and silent. She was unlike anyone else in the city — wearing a simple white dress, her silver hair flowing down her back, and her eyes... they were the same violet as his own. For a moment, it felt as though the crowd ceased to exist. The festival music faded, the noise of celebration vanished, and only she remained in his vision.
Igaris felt something break within him — the icy wall he had built over centuries of solitude and battle. His heart, long untouched, stirred.
And when she looked up at him, it was not with awe or fear, but with the faintest smile.
As if she had been waiting for him all along.
Her name was Diva.
A mysterious songstress who, despite the lavish crowd and jeweled gowns surrounding her, carried herself with the quiet grace of someone untouched by the world’s chaos.
When Igaris stepped down from the marble balcony and approached her, the grand hall seemed to shift. The chatter of nobles dulled to hushed murmurs, and the soft rustle of silk gowns paused. Eyes followed the Supreme Mage — the strongest man in the world — as he crossed the polished floor toward a woman none of them recognized.
The female guests were stunned, some exchanging incredulous looks, others frozen in disbelief. To be noticed by Igaris was an honor beyond compare, yet here he was, walking past them all without a glance, stopping only before this unknown beauty.
She turned to him, her silver-blue eyes calm, a faint smile curving her lips.
"Are you enjoying the gathering, my lord?" she asked, her voice low and melodious, as though every syllable carried a trace of music.
"I am now," Igaris replied, his tone steady but his gaze sharp, studying her as if she were a riddle he had long sought to solve. "I do not recall seeing you at any court or academy. Who are you?"
"Someone who wanders where the wind takes her," she said softly. "A name is of little importance to most... but you may call me Diva."
"Diva," he repeated, testing the sound of it. "Your voice, even in simple words, carries weight. Are you a mage?"
"A mage?" She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "No. I only carry stories in my songs. But perhaps stories are a kind of magic in their own way."
"Stories can shape kings and topple empires," Igaris said, leaning slightly closer. "That is magic enough."
For the first time, she laughed — a quiet, gentle sound that seemed to reach places in him no spell ever had. "And yet, you speak as if you have lived those stories yourself."
"Perhaps I have," he answered, and for a moment, neither spoke.
The music in the hall shifted, signaling the next performance. Diva excused herself with a slight bow of her head, stepping onto the stage.
The moment she began to sing, the hall fell utterly silent. Her voice rose, soft at first, carrying a melody unlike any music heard in the Empire. It was sorrowful yet beautiful, like the sound of moonlight dripping into an empty lake. Each note pressed against Igaris’ chest, and by the time the refrain came, his heart felt clamped, unable to beat freely.
It was not mere singing. It was magic — not the kind cast with incantations, but something deeper, older, primal.
When her final note faded, the audience erupted into thunderous applause, yet Igaris barely heard it. His gaze remained fixed on her, and in that moment, he knew.
Diva was no ordinary woman.
She was connected to the dreams. To the calling he had felt for centuries.
And she was here, in front of him, for a reason.
The hall was still buzzing from her performance, but Igaris had already vanished from the crowd.
He found her alone on the terrace, leaning against the carved stone railing. The moonlight painted her hair silver and made her seem even less of this world. She didn’t turn when he approached — as though she had sensed him coming long before he arrived.
"I imagine you are here to ask about the song," she said softly.
Igaris stopped a step behind her. "It was no ordinary song."
Her lips curved faintly. "And you are no ordinary mage."
He frowned. "You speak as if you know me."
"I do." She finally looked at him, her gaze unflinching. "I have seen you before... not in this life, but in another. Long ago, before you were born."
Something cold and electric stirred in his chest. "What are you saying?"
Her eyes softened, but her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Do you still dream, Igaris? Of the woman with white wings... and the one with golden hair?"
He froze. Those dreams were secrets he had never spoken aloud — visions that had haunted him for two centuries. "How do you know that?"
"Because I was there," she replied, stepping closer. The faint scent of some unfamiliar flower clung to her. "I remember them too. And I remember... you."
Igaris’ pulse quickened, though not from desire. There was a weight to her words, a truth his instincts recognized but his mind resisted. "If what you say is true... then tell me. Who are you really?"
She smiled — not with mirth, but with something almost sorrowful. "I am the last note of a song that began before time. And I have been waiting for its final verse."
Igaris’ eyes never left hers. He searched her face as if peeling away invisible veils, each layer holding the answer he longed for. But no matter how deep he looked, the truth remained hidden in shadows.
Diva’s lips curved in a faint, almost melancholic smile. A soft sigh escaped her, carrying the weight of centuries.
"It seems the Primordial Treasure truly bound you in this Dream Realm after all," she murmured, her voice like velvet yet carrying a strange sorrow. "You have forgotten... everything. Even me... my fated husband."
Her words hit him like a ripple in still water, distorting his composure.
"Primordial Treasure? Fated husband?" Igaris echoed, his tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. The titles felt alien, yet something deep inside him stirred at the sound. "I don’t recall such things... and I would remember a woman like you."
Diva’s eyes shimmered, the faintest light dancing in their depths. She tilted her head, studying him as though memorizing his face all over again.
"You would... if not for that cursed Treasure," she said softly. "But I will not let it keep you from me and my sisters.."
"And who exactly are you?" he pressed, his voice low, intense.
She took a single graceful step forward, closing the space between them. Her scent—like fresh rain over a moonlit garden—washed over him.
"I am Dream Goddess Diva," she replied, her tone carrying a quiet majesty. "And you... you are not the man the world calls now. You are Igaris Vance, The Emperor of Overlord’s Empire. The Fated one I was destined to marry."
Before he could speak, she lifted a hand, the tips of her fingers brushing against his forehead. The touch was light, almost trembling, yet it sent a shock through his body—like an ancient lock being tested for the first time in millennia.
Her brows furrowed, and a bead of sweat traced down her temple. It was clear the effort was immense, yet she didn’t pull away.
"I will awaken what is yours. You need to return to the reality," she whispered, determination replacing her earlier gentleness.
Then... she began to sing.
It was not the song from before. This was deeper—older. A melody woven from threads of sorrow and longing so pure it seemed to bypass the ears entirely, resonating instead in the marrow of his bones. Each note was a soft blade, slicing through the haze in his mind.
The room around them wavered, colors bleeding into one another. Somewhere, distant and half-forgotten, visions threatened to surface—battles under a blackened sky, a woman’s laugh in the heart of a storm, the weight of a crown upon his brow.
And still, she sang.
Even the gods, had they been listening, might have paused.
The final notes of her song hung in the air like fading starlight, trembling on the edge of silence.
Igaris swayed slightly, a pressure building inside his skull—hot and sharp, like molten gold trying to burn its way free. His breath came uneven, and the dreamlike space around them shivered as if a storm was forming within his very soul.
Visions struck without warning.
Colossal Airships clashing against each other under a blood-red sky.
A sea of kneeling warriors chanting his name.
A throne of black stone, its surface carved with runes older than the world itself.
Evernight and Shirley standing at his side, their hands resting on his shoulder, eyes alight with pride and something far more dangerous: love.