Snow fell thicker than ash as Aster's convoy advanced through the Northern Expanse.
The land had not healed since the cataclysm—a vast plain of frozen glass where the Veil once tore open.
Yet beneath that silence, something ancient pulsed again.
The wind itself hummed like a living thing.
"Your Majesty," Lyra called from her steed beside him, breath clouding in the cold. "The readings are spiking. Whatever lies ahead isn't human."
Aster's gaze swept the horizon. The faint glow of the Northern Temple Ruins shimmered faintly under the moonlight. "Then we're close."
The captain of the royal guard, Sir Daren, rode forward. "Permission to advance the vanguard, sire?"
"No," Aster replied calmly. "If this is what I think it is, steel won't protect us."
They dismounted at the edge of the ruined steps. The once-grand temple was buried under frost, its pillars cracked, its carvings whispering forgotten prayers.
Yet the air was thick with resonance—each breath vibrating like a heartbeat through the stone.
Lyra raised her staff, weaving a detection spell. Threads of light crawled across the ground. "There's something below us. Deep beneath the altar."
Aster stepped forward, his boots crunching against ice. He placed the starlight crystal atop the frozen altar.
The crystal pulsed—once, twice—and then burst into a column of silver flame.
The ground shuddered.
The ice split apart.
From the fissure rose a low, rumbling growl—ancient, heavy, not of mortal lungs.
Shapes began forming within the mist: winged figures carved of obsidian, eyes gleaming with blue fire.
The Guardians of the Veil.
Lyra gasped. "Impossible… They were sealed centuries ago!"
The nearest guardian turned its gaze toward Aster, voice resonating like thunder.
"Who calls upon the blood of the heavens?"
Aster met its burning stare. "Aster Caelum, heir of the Azure Crown. I seek the one who carries the light of the stars."
The guardian's expression twisted. "The Starborn has awakened. The balance trembles once more."
Aster took a step closer. "Then tell me where he is."
The ground beneath them rumbled again. The guardians' eyes flared brighter, wings unfolding with a rush of wind.
"The Starborn walks between life and death. But his return breaks the law of the heavens. To reach him, you must pay the same price he once paid."
Lyra whispered urgently, "Sire—this is a trap. They'll demand your life!"
Aster's jaw clenched. "Then so be it. The stars took him from me once. They won't take him again."
He drew his sword—not in defiance, but as an offering. The silver blade caught the starlight, gleaming like a shard of the sky itself.
The guardians lowered their heads, their voices merging into one great chant.
"The mortal heart seeks the celestial soul."
"So shall the worlds tremble once more."
Light exploded outward, engulfing the ruins.
Lyra shielded her eyes as frost turned into molten gold, and the entire valley was swallowed in brilliance.
When the light faded, Aster was gone.
Only the crystal remained—hovering above the altar, pulsing with two heartbeats instead of one.
Deep within the Veil, in the space between dreams and time, Erian stood alone in a field of stars.
He had not known how he came to be here—only that the stars whispered his name again and again.
Then he felt it.
A warmth cutting through the void. A pulse—familiar, steady, alive.
He turned slowly, eyes widening.
A figure emerged from the light, cloaked in silver flame, gaze unwavering even in the endless dark.
"Aster…"
A faint smile curved the prince's lips. "You really thought I'd let you go twice?"
Erian's breath trembled. "You can't be here. The Veil—"
"Let it break," Aster said softly, stepping closer. "Let the stars judge me if they must. I came for you."
Their hands met—warm against the endless cold.
And as they touched, the Veil itself began to pulse with color, threads of starlight weaving around them like living constellations.
The heavens above the mortal world ignited once more.
For the first time in a century, the aurora of the Starborn Requiem shone over the empire.