However, she went about it the wrong way.
Anastaria threw tantrums. Had breakdowns. Shut people out. As a kid, she didn't know how to express the way she felt—only how to react to it. And that caused a slow but steady rift between her and her siblings.
She had three older brothers—Cassian, Darian, and Lucien—from eldest to youngest.
Cassian was five years older.
Darian, three.
Lucien? Just one year ahead.
Back when they were younger, all three of them used to dote on her. She was the baby of the family—well, half the baby. She and Elaira were the same age, after all. But even as twins, their experiences couldn't have been more different.
At the time, not even their parents could fully understand why Anastaria acted out the way she did. They tried to be patient. They always treated both daughters equally, loved them fiercely, and defended Anastaria from public slander.
But while the parents endured, the brothers slowly drifted.
They stopped trying.
Stopped showing up.
And instead… they poured all their affection into Elaira.
In response, Anastaria pulled away too—emotionally, then entirely. She stopped trying to connect with them and became indifferent. Cold, even. Especially with Lucien, the one who used to follow her around like a shadow.
It hurt. But she would never admit that.
Elaira, on the other hand, was everything Anastaria wasn't. Quiet, gentle, sweet. She took more after their mother, while Anastaria was the spitting image of their father.
Elaira had snow-white hair and pale gold eyes—the exact colors their mother was known for.
Anastaria had jet-black hair and deep violet eyes, just like their father.
A perfect contrast. Two halves of a prophecy no one asked to be born into.
The brothers were a mix of both parents:
Cassian, the eldest, inherited their mother's white hair and their father's violet eyes.
Darian had their father's black hair and their mother's golden eyes.
Lucien, the youngest of the three, had black hair… and one eye of each. One gold, one violet.
And yet, somehow, even though Anastaria and her brothers shared so much…
She was the only one left standing on the outside, looking in.
Her parents, Edrien and Liora Noir, had tried—truly—to keep their children close. They poured their energy into preventing the emotional drift between their daughters, trying to soften the growing tension before it hardened into silence.
But some things can't be undone.
And by the time they realized how deep the cracks ran, it was already too late.
Anastaria was seen by many as selfish, strong-headed, and prideful—a sharp contrast to her twin, Elaira, who was gentle, soft-spoken, and graceful in every way Anastaria wasn't.
Their father, Edrien, was a cold and disciplined man. Stern, composed, and rarely affectionate—but he loved his children deeply, even if he never quite figured out how to show it.
Their mother, Liora, was his opposite in every way: warm, patient, endlessly nurturing. She was the emotional heart of the family, always trying to make everyone feel seen, even when they didn't want to be.
Their sons—Cassian, Darian, and Lucien—each took after their parents in their own way:
Cassian, the eldest, was calm and calculating. The silent protector. The type of brother who didn't need to raise his voice to be obeyed.
Darian, the middle child, was charming and silver-tongued—easy to love, hard to trust. There was a dangerous edge behind his smile, one only those closest to him noticed.
Lucien, the youngest of the three, was emotionally layered and almost impossible to read. He said little, revealed even less—but his silence was never empty.
Of all her brothers, Lucien had been the closest to Anastaria.
The one who used to sit with her when she was angry. The one who never looked at her like she was broken.
But even that bond had faded, piece by piece.
And once it was gone… she never let herself get close again.
Anastaria barely remembered anything from the book. She never even made it past chapter twelve—most of what she knew came from her best friend's late-night ranting about how "everyone in Veltharia is hot, overpowered, and emotionally damaged."
One thing was clear though: this wasn't a normal world.
Here, strength wasn't optional. If you couldn't cultivate, you were basically one bad day away from dying in a gutter.
They called it Veyra—a spiritual force locked inside every living thing.
The strong forged it into power. The weak… just hoped not to get crushed under someone else's foot.
The magic system in this world was simple in theory, brutal in practice.
There were six elemental affinities a person could be born with—fire, water, earth, thunder, light, and shadow. Each came with its own unique abilities and cultivation paths. Some could burn cities to the ground with a flick of their hand. Others could heal wounds, call down lightning, or vanish into the dark like mist.
It all depended on your affinity… and how far you could climb.
According to the prophecy, Elaira had been born with the rare light attribute—a gift often associated with divine blessing. Even as a child, her cultivation had progressed quickly. And now, at only eighteen, she was already in Realm five: Mortem Veil.
But Anastaria?
She had yet to even begin.
Despite being the same age, she had never been able to access her spiritual core. Not even once. Her parents had brought in doctors, healers, and spiritualists from every nation they could reach. All of them had come to the same conclusion:
"She will never be able to cultivate in this life."
The words had been a death sentence.
With every year, Anastaria's resentment toward Elaira grew. She hated how easily things came to her sister—how everyone treated her like the fulfillment of the prophecy, while Anastaria stood in her shadow, forgotten. A complex began to fester. One made of shame, jealousy, and quiet despair.
Twelve realms stood between mortals and the eternal.
And Anastaria… couldn't even step onto the path.
Realm 1 – Ignis
Ignis Ignite
Ignis Veil
Ignis Crest
Ignis Eclipse
Ignis Ascend
Realm 2 – Vita
Vita Ignite
Vita Veil
Vita Crest
Vita Eclipse
Vita Ascend
Realm 3 – Ferros
Ferros Ignite
Ferros Veil
Ferros Crest
Ferros Eclipse
Ferros Ascend
Realm 4 – Umbra
Umbra Ignite
Umbra Veil
Umbra Crest
Umbra Eclipse
Umbra Ascend
Realm 5 – Mortem
Mortem Ignite
Mortem Veil
Mortem Crest
Mortem Eclipse
Mortem Ascend
Realm 6 – Aeris
Aeris Ignite
Aeris Veil
Aeris Crest
Aeris Eclipse
Aeris Ascend
Realm 7 – Lumen
Lumen Ignite
Lumen Veil
Lumen Crest
Lumen Eclipse
Lumen Ascend
Realm 8 – Astra
Astra Ignite
Astra Veil
Astra Crest
Astra Eclipse
Astra Ascend
Realm 9 – Orion
Orion Ignite
Orion Veil
Orion Crest
Orion Eclipse
Orion Ascend
Realm 10 – Dominus
Dominus Ignite
Dominus Veil
Dominus Crest
Dominus Eclipse
Dominus Ascend
Realm 11 – Vespera
Vespera Ignite
Vespera Veil
Vespera Crest
Vespera Eclipse
Vespera Ascend
Realm 12 – Eterna
Eterna Ignite
Eterna Veil
Eterna Crest
Eterna Eclipse
Eterna Ascend
This, she remembered.
It was the part that fascinated her most—the magic. The system of power that shaped everything in the novel. Cultivation wasn't just about getting stronger. It was a hierarchy. A ladder carved into the bones of the world. The higher your realm, the more reality bent in your favor.
Twelve realms. Each one harder to reach than the last.
Each one with five inner stages: Ignite, Veil, Crest, Eclipse, and Ascend.
At the first realm—Ignis—you could barely control your essence. It was like learning how to breathe fire without burning your lungs.
By the third or fourth realm, cultivators could manipulate weapons, elements, or light with a thought.
By the ninth, it was said they could command storms, tear stone with their voice, or warp time in short bursts.
And at the twelfth realm… Eterna?
You stopped aging.
You became ageless.
Eternal.
You became immortal. Illness couldn't touch you. Time bowed to you.
And death? It had to work for it.
Not many had ever reached Eterna Ascend, at least not from what Anastaria knew.
Most cultivators hit a breaking point where their own power tested their mind.
But if someone did make it to Eterna…
They weren't human anymore.