The night was silent, yet the air trembled with unseen power.
Inside the highest chamber of the Celestial Palace, Aster stood before the mirror of stars once more. His reflection no longer looked entirely human. Threads of starlight crawled beneath his skin, forming faint constellations across his chest and neck. His heartbeat echoed like a drum against the walls of eternity.
Kael stood beside him, tense and silent.
"You've been suppressing it," Kael said. "But the starlight inside you is no longer dormant."
Aster's voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed exhaustion. "If I don't control it, it will consume me."
Kael stepped closer. "You cannot win by restraint alone. That light was forged to command the heavens, not obey your will."
"I know," Aster said softly. "But if I let it free, there won't be a world left to rule."
Kael lowered his head. "Then you're fighting a battle no emperor has ever won."
Aster turned toward the window. Outside, the moon had darkened further, the shadow of the coming eclipse spreading like ink across the sky.
He whispered, "Then I'll be the first."
Far below, in the heart of the palace, Lyra descended the spiral stairway beneath the Astral Sanctum. Her lantern flickered as she entered a sealed corridor — a place untouched for centuries.
She pushed open a massive door carved with ancient symbols.
Beyond it lay a chamber filled with crystal pillars and glowing runes. In the center rested a floating sphere of light — pure, radiant, alive.
Lyra approached cautiously. The air vibrated around it like the breath of a sleeping god.
A whisper reached her ears.
"You seek to end what cannot end."
She froze. The voice was neither male nor female — more like thought itself speaking through her blood.
"Who's there?" she demanded.
The light pulsed. "I am the last echo of the First Light. The one who once loved the stars and was betrayed by them."
Lyra's eyes widened. "You mean… you're the origin of the Starlight bloodline."
The light dimmed. "That blood is my sorrow. I gave it to the mortal I loved, and through it, cursed every emperor that came after."
Lyra took a step back, realizing what it meant. "Then Aster—"
"He is the last. The blood within him will either restore the heavens… or end them."
Her voice trembled. "How can I stop the Eclipse?"
"To end the eclipse, the source must return to the origin. The heart of the Emperor must break willingly."
Lyra's breath caught. "You're saying… he has to die."
The light shuddered, flickering faintly. "Not die. Surrender. Only then will the blood of constellations sleep."
The chamber went still. Lyra stood frozen, torn between duty and fear.
She whispered, "How am I supposed to tell him that?"
Back above, Aster stood at the edge of the balcony overlooking the empire. The wind howled through the spires, carrying faint sparks of silver dust that danced around him.
He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he saw himself reflected in the stars — but the image was wrong. The reflection's eyes were void, empty of light.
His hand trembled.
He whispered, "So this is my shadow."
From the reflection, a voice answered — his own, yet not.
"You cannot escape what you are."
Aster stepped back, his pulse quickening. "You're the corruption."
The shadow smiled. "I am the part you buried when you chose mercy over power. I am the emperor the stars wanted, not the one you became."
The reflection stepped out of the mirror, solidifying into a figure identical to him — perfect, flawless, yet radiating darkness.
"You can't win this," Aster said.
The shadow tilted its head. "I already have."
It raised its hand, and the palace trembled. Every flame in the hall bent toward him, devoured by his gravity. Aster drew his sword, the blade igniting in silver light.
Their clash shattered the air.
Each strike was mirrored perfectly — light against shadow, creation against destruction. Every impact tore through the palace walls, sending shards of starlight scattering across the sky.
At last, Aster's blade locked with his shadow's.
"You are weak," the shadow hissed. "You love too much to rule."
"And you," Aster replied, voice cold and steady, "love nothing at all."
He twisted the blade, shattering the reflection's form into fragments of dark light. The energy exploded outward, flinging him to his knees.
When the dust settled, the mirror was gone — and so was his reflection.
Aster's breathing was heavy. His veins glowed faintly with both gold and black. For the first time, the starlight within him didn't feel alive. It felt hungry.
He whispered to the empty air, "If this is the price of light… then I'll pay it."
The moon above turned half red.
And the eclipse began.