The moment the crimson light faded, silence devoured the empire.
The air grew still, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then, a new light rose — black and radiant, swallowing the stars above. The moon no longer reflected the heavens; it was the heavens, inverted and awake.
From the top of the palace, Aster stood beneath it, his silver hair drifting in the dark wind. The marks of starlight along his arms pulsed like living constellations, but the color had changed — no longer silver, but obsidian streaked with gold.
His gaze was distant. Detached.
He could feel every heartbeat in the empire. Every prayer. Every whisper of fear.
"Is this what it feels like to become divine?" he murmured.
The voice of the cosmos answered — not in sound, but in vibration.
"You were never meant to be divine. You were meant to break what is divine."
A faint smile curved his lips. "Then let the gods fear me."
The ground split open beneath him. Beams of dark light erupted toward the sky, forming a vast sigil that reached the clouds. The power of the Black Sun awakened — and every creature that had ever felt starlight screamed.
Deep within the sanctum tunnels, Lyra reached the end of the passage. Her clothes were torn, her hands bleeding from scraping against the stone, but she didn't stop. The closer she came to the throne hall, the stronger the pull became.
The crystal shard in her palm glowed fiercely. It wasn't merely resonating — it was begging to return to Aster.
"Hold on," she whispered. "Don't disappear yet."
The walls trembled as she emerged into the great hall, now shrouded in black radiance. The once-silver banners hung like burnt silk.
Aster stood at the center, surrounded by a circle of light and shadow that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Aster," she called, her voice breaking.
He turned.
For a heartbeat, she saw him — the prince she knew, the one who had smiled under the starlight, who had once promised to fight the world for her.
But then his eyes shifted — gold ringed with black — and his expression turned unreadable.
"Lyra," he said softly. "You shouldn't have come."
"You said that before," she whispered, stepping forward. "And every time, I came anyway."
The sigil at his feet flared. The air grew heavy, pressing against her chest.
"You don't understand," he said. "The starlight isn't inside me anymore. I am inside it."
"I don't care." Her voice cracked, tears glinting in the dim light. "If the starlight consumes you, then it'll have to take me too."
He frowned, his jaw tightening. "You're a fool."
"Maybe," she said. "But I'm your fool."
For the first time, his expression faltered. The black veins of light across his skin flickered — unstable. The sigil around him began to waver.
"Don't do this," he warned. "If you touch me now—"
She stepped closer, ignoring the force that pushed against her. "I'll remind you what you are."
Her hand reached for his cheek, trembling. "You're not a god. You're not a curse. You're the man who once looked at the stars and said they were lonely."
Aster's breath hitched. The light around him roared, then collapsed inward. He fell to one knee, clutching his chest as the darkness screamed through him.
Lyra knelt beside him, pressing her forehead against his. "Come back to me."
His hand rose weakly, fingers brushing her wrist. "Lyra…"
For a brief moment, the black light dimmed — revealing a faint trace of silver beneath.
But before it could fade completely, a spear of golden light pierced through the shattered wall.
Both turned in shock.
Standing in the light was Erian Thalos.
His robes were torn, his eyes glowing with twin starlit sigils.
"Step away from him," Erian said, his voice calm but sharp as glass.
Lyra froze. "Erian, wait—"
"No." His gaze locked on Aster, and the floor cracked beneath his feet. "He's not the same anymore. That's not the prince we knew."
Aster rose slowly, his expression unreadable. "So the heir of the fallen stars finally shows himself."
Erian's hands shimmered with energy — blue and white, pure as the original constellations. "You've become something that shouldn't exist."
Aster smirked faintly. "And yet, I do."
The air trembled between them, light and shadow colliding in unseen waves.
Lyra stepped back as the pressure grew unbearable.
"Stop!" she shouted. "You'll destroy everything!"
Neither of them moved.
The Black Sun pulsed above, its reflection glinting in both their eyes — two destinies colliding, both bound by the same starlight.
And when they moved, the world itself seemed to fracture.
Far across the empire, in the depths of the Solarius Vault, the ancient priest awoke from centuries of slumber.
He opened his golden eyes, whispering into the void.
"The prophecy begins anew. The stars have chosen their end."