A full year had passed since the sky fell silent.
The empire rebuilt itself, stone by stone, under the twin suns that never again shone as bright. The Veil had sealed, but the wound it left behind could still be felt—like a heartbeat beneath the soil, faint and steady.
Aster ruled from the rebuilt Citadel of Solis, though his throne felt emptier than ever. He had restored peace, united the fractured Houses, even rekindled trade with the distant lunar realms.
But no victory tasted right.
Every night, when the stars rose, he still looked for one that no longer shone.
"Your Majesty," said Lyra, the court mage, breaking his thoughts. "The readings are… unusual again."
Aster turned from the balcony, eyes sharp. "Show me."
Lyra placed the starlight crystal on the table. Within it, threads of light twisted in patterns—symbols that only Elior once could read. But tonight, they formed words.
One word.
"Erian."
Aster froze. The sound of his name felt like the echo of a forgotten promise. His voice came low. "Is this a trick?"
Lyra shook her head. "The Veil has stirred again. But it's not breaking—this is… something else. It's calling."
Aster's pulse quickened. For a moment, he almost dared to believe. But belief was dangerous. Hope could destroy him more than grief ever could.
Still, when night came, he climbed to the observatory alone.
The stars were restless—shifting, swirling, aligning into shapes that defied the constellations he knew. A faint hum filled the air, like a distant heartbeat echoing from the heavens.
He whispered to the wind, "Elior… is that you?"
At first, there was only silence.
Then—light.
A single point in the sky flared brighter than the rest. It pulsed once, twice, and then burst outward in a spiral of silver and gold. From it descended a trail of stardust, thin as mist, falling directly toward the observatory tower.
Aster raised his hand as it touched the balcony floor. The dust swirled, coalescing into the faint outline of a figure—vague, translucent, but unmistakable.
"Elior?" His breath caught.
The apparition smiled faintly, his voice carried through light. "You kept your promise."
Aster stepped forward, trembling. "I thought you were gone."
"I am," Elior said softly, "and yet… not completely. The Veil remembers me, and through it, I remember you."
The stars above shimmered in response, like listening.
Aster's throat tightened. "I tried everything. Every ritual, every forbidden path. But the heavens wouldn't let me reach you."
Elior's expression was calm, serene. "You weren't meant to. The worlds needed time to heal. But now… they're ready to open again."
"What are you saying?"
"The balance between realms is stable enough for a crossing. Briefly. If the mortal heart calls to the celestial one… the gate will answer."
Aster's breath hitched. "Then I can bring you back?"
Elior's eyes dimmed slightly. "Not without consequence. If you open the Veil, it will demand an exchange. Life for light. The one who enters may not return."
Aster clenched his fists. "Then I'll cross it myself."
"No," Elior whispered. "You belong to this world now. You're its ruler, its protector. I became the bridge so you wouldn't have to."
Aster took a shaky step closer. "And what about you? Are you content being nothing but a memory in the stars?"
Elior smiled—sad, radiant. "If my memory still reaches you… then I am more alive than I deserve to be."
The light around him flickered.
Aster's heart broke anew. "Don't fade."
"I can't stay," Elior said, his voice faint. "But I can give you something before I go."
He reached out, fingers brushing through air, and a small crystal of starlight formed between them—bright and trembling. "This carries my essence. If ever the Veil begins to fracture again, use it to call me. I will come."
Aster took it reverently, his hand closing around the warmth. "I'll wait for you," he whispered.
Elior's gaze softened. "You already have."
The wind rose, scattering stardust through the air. The vision began to dissolve, the shape of Elior's body unraveling into ribbons of light.
Aster's voice broke. "Elior!"
The last of the starlight drifted away, and with it, a whisper reached his ears—
"Until the stars remember us."
Then silence returned.
Lyra found him hours later, standing beneath the quiet sky, the crystal clutched tightly in his palm.
The court mage hesitated. "Was it truly him?"
Aster didn't answer. He only looked at the faint glow between his fingers, a single tear tracing down his cheek.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a vow.
"If heaven dares to forget him again… I will make the stars remember."