By Vedant Anshuman Singh
Pluto was always the one in the background. He had never asked for it, but it was the way things turned out. Born on a planet named after the god of the Sun, Solarius, he was supposed to be destined for greatness. But Solarius, like the Sun itself, only shone for his firstborn, Etherius, the one who had all the gifts: strength, intelligence, charisma. Etherius was everything that Pluto wasn’t. And when you’re born under the weight of something as imposing as the Sun, it’s hard not to be cast into shadow.
Now, Solarius wasn’t an unkind father. But he was distant, wrapped up in his duties as the god of the sun, and Etherius, as the heir, was the constant focus. The planet of Solarius was full of people who adored Etherius. And why wouldn’t they? He led every battle, defeated every foe, and made his father proud. The people of Astralium, the kingdom of Solarius, had their faith in him. And when the kingdom was under threat, it was Etherius who stood on the front lines, wielding a blade as if it was an extension of his own body.
Then there was Pluto.
Pluto was born weak. His health was fragile as a child, his body failing to keep up with the expectations of his family and his kingdom. He couldn’t keep up with Etherius’s strength. He couldn’t fight, and his father, the mighty Solarius, told him time and time again that he would never be allowed to wield a weapon. He wasn’t strong enough, not good enough. He was told that it was better that way, that it was safer for him. But no matter how much Solarius tried to hide it with gentle words, Pluto could feel it. The disappointment was suffocating.
At first, he tried to push through it. He tried to be the one who helped, the one who would get attention by being kind, by showing care. He would try to save the villagers when Astralium was attacked, even though he knew it was useless. He wasn’t strong enough. The Eight Celestials, warriors who protected Astralium, led by Etherius, would rush in to save the day, while Pluto could only watch. He would try, of course. He would rush to help, but he was always too slow. Too weak. In the end, someone else always did the saving.
And it was then that Pluto’s jealousy began to take root.
There was Seleme. She was the goddess of the Moon, the one who was so beautiful and radiant that she seemed to outshine the stars themselves. And she was Etherius’s friend. In fact, she seemed to gravitate toward Etherius as if the Sun itself had pulled her in. They would laugh, share moments together, and when the battles were won, she would look at Etherius with admiration. And Pluto stood by, invisible.
Seleme had always been kind to him. She’d talk to him sometimes, laugh at his jokes, and in those small moments, he felt something that had long been missing, acknowledgment. But it was never enough. She was drawn to Etherius, and no matter how much Pluto wanted to change it, he couldn’t. The cold, ugly feeling of being overlooked crept into his heart. It hurt more than anything.
It wasn’t that he hated Etherius. No, not at all. He simply couldn’t escape the knowledge that he was never going to be enough. That he was always going to be in his shadow.
One day, when the kingdom was once again attacked, it was no ordinary assault. It was the army of Void, a force of the celestial undead, the souls of gods long gone, led by the King of the Celestial Underworld himself. Their very presence felt like death itself had come to claim the kingdom. The people of Astralium scrambled, but there was nothing they could do. And once again, it was Etherius and the Eight Celestials who fought valiantly, winning the day as they always did. Pluto, feeling utterly useless, saw the children of the village caught in the chaos. They were scared, and he couldn’t stand it. They had always laughed with him, trusted him. So, against his better judgment, he ran toward them.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t save them. Void’s army was too strong. They tore through the village with merciless precision, and Pluto, powerless as always, could do nothing but watch. The children, his friends, died, and with their deaths came the full weight of the blame. The kingdom turned on him. His father turned on him. They blamed him for everything. He had failed. He wasn’t strong enough.
In the darkest moment, the one he had tried so hard to avoid, Pluto finally snapped. His anger, his frustration, and his years of feeling invisible built up to a breaking point. He picked up a sword, a weapon that had always been denied to him, and in a moment of wild fury, he killed one of Solarius’s guards. The weight of it hit him in an instant, but his rage didn’t stop there. He turned the blade toward his father, the very father who had abandoned him, who had made him feel small all his life. He raised it.
But as he stood there, trembling, the bond he still had with Solarius, despite everything, stopped him. He couldn’t do it. No matter how much he hated his father, no matter how much he burned with anger, there was something deep inside that couldn’t sever that tie. And so, the blade dropped, useless at his feet.
By Vedant Anshuman Singh
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