The night after the vision, the empire's skies refused to sleep.
Clouds shimmered with faint veins of silver, and constellations trembled—like a heart skipping beats.
By dawn, every astrologer in the realm claimed the same thing: the heavens had changed.
Aster stood atop the palace balcony, the starlight crystal still glowing faintly in his palm.
He hadn't slept. He couldn't. Every pulse of that crystal felt like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
Lyra approached quietly. "It's spreading, Your Majesty. The light has appeared in five provinces. The people are calling it 'The Starborn Dawn.'"
Aster turned his gaze toward the horizon. Even in daylight, faint trails of gold and blue still danced in the sky.
"They think it's a blessing," he murmured. "But we both know better."
Lyra hesitated. "Do you believe this is… him?"
He didn't answer immediately. His thumb brushed the edge of the crystal. "Elior never did anything without purpose. If this is his doing, then it's a warning."
A knock came at the chamber doors. A messenger entered, pale and trembling.
"Your Majesty! Reports from the northern border—the priests of Solarius have begun gathering again. They claim the Starborn phenomenon fulfills their 'Prophecy of the Returning Light.' They're calling for the revival of the ancient rites."
Aster's jaw tightened. "The same rites that almost tore the Veil apart."
"Yes, sire," the messenger whispered.
The room grew tense. Lyra's eyes flickered with worry. "If the Order of Solarius rises again, they'll try to finish what they started—opening the Veil permanently."
Aster closed his hand around the crystal. Its light pulsed, as though responding to the danger.
He spoke lowly, to himself. "So this is what you wanted me to see, Elior… the world isn't ready yet."
Far from the capital, in the ruins of the old temple where the first rift once opened, something stirred beneath the cracked stone.
The air shimmered, warping with residual magic.
And then—a breath. Soft, uncertain, like someone waking from a long dream.
A faint, translucent figure rose from the dust, its outline barely human at first. Starlight wove through the air, shaping limbs, a face… eyes that flickered with dim blue light.
The figure blinked, disoriented. His voice was a whisper.
"...Aster?"
The sound of his own name startled him. He touched his chest—no heartbeat. Only warmth, faint and shifting. He remembered nothing but a promise, and a man standing beneath the stars.
Then he heard it—soft chanting echoing from the distance.
Dozens of voices repeating a name in reverence.
"The Starborn has awakened."
The translucent figure's head lifted. The world around him trembled with divine resonance.
And as he took his first step into the living world, a thousand stars flickered in the heavens above—as if exhaling after a long silence.
At the palace, Lyra burst into the observatory, breathless. "Your Majesty, the seers confirm it—the northern lights are moving south. Whatever appeared there… it's alive."
Aster turned sharply. The crystal in his hand began to glow brighter, pulsing in rhythm with his own heart.
He didn't need confirmation. He already knew.
"Prepare the royal guard," he ordered. "And summon the mage division. We're heading north."
Lyra blinked. "Now? Without reconnaissance?"
His gaze hardened. "He's calling me."
Lyra froze at the quiet certainty in his voice. She knew that tone. Once, it had driven a prince into the heart of the Veil itself.
And now, it burned again—tempered by years of rule, but still unbroken.
As Aster walked toward the gates, the light from the crystal flared one last time, casting a beam toward the sky.
Somewhere far beyond mortal reach, stars shifted—aligning themselves into a single, perfect constellation.
It resembled a hand reaching out, fingers extended.
And above the empire, a new prophecy was whispered:
"When the stars remember their names, heaven and earth will no longer stand apart."