The news of Solis's collapse spread like wildfire.
By dawn, every temple bell across the empire rang—not in prayer, but in alarm.
The priests declared it a divine punishment. The Council of Faith issued a decree: the Heart of Solis had been corrupted by "forbidden love and blasphemous power."
They named Elior Thalos the heretic who defied the heavens.
They named Aster Caelum, crown prince of the Azure Empire, as the fallen heir who betrayed the will of the gods.
But the people whispered something different.
They said two stars had risen in the sky that night.
Two suns—one gold, one silver—burning side by side.
And from that moment, the empire's faith began to crack.
Inside the palace, tension choked the air. The marble halls glimmered with holy wards, and guards whispered of rebellion. The throne room, once majestic, felt like a battlefield waiting to ignite.
Aster entered with steady steps, his cloak torn but his head unbowed. Every noble eye followed him—some in awe, others in fear. Behind him, cloaked in the faint shimmer of starlight, walked Elior.
The high priest Orion stood before the throne, flanked by robed acolytes. His voice carried through the chamber. "Your Highness, you stand accused of breaking the sacred order. You brought ruin to Solis. You consorted with a vessel of corruption."
Aster's expression was unreadable. "You mean him?"
He stepped aside just enough for Elior to be seen.
Gasps rippled through the room. The faint light around Elior's body pulsed—neither divine nor human. His eyes shimmered like dawn reflecting off water, calm yet piercing.
"Elior Thalos," Orion declared, "you are charged with heresy against the gods. The punishment is death."
Aster's voice was cold steel. "Try it."
The chamber erupted with whispers. The nobles recoiled; the priests raised their wards. Light gathered at Orion's fingertips—divine fire poised to strike.
But then Elior raised his hand.
The entire room froze as the golden fire turned silver, folding back into the air like silk. His magic didn't resist; it redirected. He looked at Orion with quiet sadness.
"The gods you worship," Elior said softly, "were never meant to be obeyed. They were meant to be understood."
Orion's face twisted. "Blasphemy!"
"No," Aster said, stepping forward. "Truth."
He ascended the dais, one hand still clasped around Elior's. The crown atop the throne glimmered faintly, as though recognizing him. But instead of claiming it, Aster turned and faced the court.
"The Heart is gone," he said. "The old faith has fallen. If we keep worshiping ashes, this empire will burn itself to nothing. So hear me, lords of Azure—your future is not written in temples or prophecies."
He drew his sword and drove it into the marble floor, the sound echoing like thunder.
"Your future begins with choice."
The air trembled. The wards flickered. And for the first time in a thousand years, divine magic bowed to mortal will.
Elior's voice followed, soft but sure. "If we must rebuild the world, then let it be one where light belongs to everyone."
Silence filled the chamber.
Then, slowly, one by one, the younger knights knelt. The guards lowered their blades. Even some of the priests began to waver, their faith crumbling beneath the weight of what they had just witnessed.
Orion trembled, eyes wide. "You cannot rewrite fate."
Aster's gaze met his. "We already did."
Outside the palace, clouds parted. The twin suns rose together in the sky, their light blending into a single radiant hue.
From that day, songs spread across the empire.
Not of gods, nor kings—but of two souls who burned brighter than destiny itself.
The people called it The Era of Starlight.
That night, Aster stood on the balcony overlooking the city. The new light painted the horizon in gold and silver. Elior joined him, silent for a moment.
"They'll still come for us," Elior murmured.
Aster smiled faintly. "Then let them. I have no intention of kneeling again."
He turned to Elior, his voice softer. "You changed everything."
Elior looked up, meeting his gaze. "So did you."
Their hands brushed, and for a fleeting moment, all the chaos of the world seemed to fade. Above them, the two suns crossed paths—just for an instant—before parting once more.
"Then this," Elior whispered, "is our beginning."
Aster's answer was simple. "And our crown."