The wind inside the Celestial Hall was unnaturally still.
Aster stood before the mirror of starlight — a towering gate made of pure cosmic energy, its surface rippling like liquid glass. Every time he exhaled, the reflection twisted, showing glimpses of countless worlds hidden between light and shadow.
Lyra stood behind him, clutching the scrolls she had spent the night deciphering.
"You're really going through with this?"
"I have no choice," Aster replied, his voice low but steady. "The Veil is the only place that remembers what the stars have forgotten."
She frowned. "You know what happens to mortals who cross into the Veil. Even divine blood fades there."
He gave her a faint smile. "Good thing I'm neither."
The mirror pulsed. Lines of ancient script carved themselves across its surface — the language of the Starbeasts.
Aster pressed his palm against it, and for a moment, his reflection split into two: one radiant and calm, the other shadowed and broken.
The gate opened.
Aster stepped through, and the world fell silent.
The Veil was not darkness. It was color beyond comprehension — threads of light weaving in endless patterns, forming galaxies that shimmered like dew on glass. Every step he took sent ripples through the void, bending stars into spirals that whispered his name.
Then he heard it.
A heartbeat. Slow, immense, ancient.
He followed the sound until the light around him parted, revealing a colossal figure — a Starbeast unlike any other. Its form was made of pure constellations, eyes like supernovas burning across infinity.
"You return," the creature said, its voice echoing through both matter and soul. "The child of the sun and the void."
Aster bowed his head slightly. "I seek truth."
The Starbeast's gaze pierced through him. "Truth is not free. You carry the mark of creation and destruction both. Why do you wish to remember what even gods chose to forget?"
Aster hesitated — then spoke. "Because someone is trying to rewrite the heavens. And if I don't stop them, everything — every soul under the stars — will burn."
The Starbeast's mane of light flared. "You speak of the Eclipse."
Aster's breath caught. "So it's real."
"It is not merely real," the creature rumbled. "It is inevitable. When starlight forgets humility, shadow rises to consume it. That is the law."
Aster clenched his fists. "Then tell me how to stop it."
The Starbeast lowered its head, eyes dimming. "To stop it, you must embrace what you fear most. The light within you is not yours alone. It was borrowed from something greater — something ancient. Return it, and you may yet change the fate of the sky."
Aster's expression hardened. "And if I don't?"
"Then you will become the eclipse."
The words struck him like lightning. The Veil trembled, reacting to his pulse. Stars folded inward, collapsing around him in a surge of heat and gravity. For a moment, Aster saw himself reflected in the cosmic glass — his starlight flickering like a dying sun.
He turned sharply. "Then I'll change the law."
The Starbeast laughed — a sound like collapsing worlds. "Mortals and emperors alike have tried. None have succeeded."
"Then I'll be the first."
Aster spread his hand, releasing a burst of silver fire that cut through the Veil. The creature reared back, momentarily blinded by the brilliance.
When the light faded, Aster was gone.
Back in the mortal realm, Lyra stood in the imperial archives, her fingers tracing over a cracked mosaic buried beneath layers of dust.
She had been following fragments of prophecy, and what she uncovered chilled her to the bone.
The mosaic depicted a man crowned with stars — his eyes radiant, his heart pierced by a sword of light. Beneath him, the world burned under a black sun.
Words were carved beneath it, in the tongue of the old priests:
"When the Starlight Emperor reaches his peak, the heavens will break. His light will open the gate, and his heart will summon the eclipse."
Lyra stumbled back, whispering, "No… that's not possible."
But even as she spoke, the light from the mosaic began to pulse — faintly, rhythmically — in time with a heartbeat she knew all too well.
Aster's.
In the sky above the empire, the moon shuddered.
Its glow turned crimson, and the first shadow of the coming eclipse bled across the night.
Far away, hidden beneath the desert temple, Seraphine felt it too.
She smiled as the Eclipse Engine awakened, its golden veins glowing brighter than ever.
"The heart has begun to open," she whispered. "And the emperor's fall begins with his love."