The sky had never been so silent.
Even the stars seemed to hesitate, their light trembling above the wounded empire.
From every corner of the capital, people looked upward — priests, soldiers, and children alike — as constellations shifted into new shapes across the heavens.
Some wept. Some prayed.
All felt the same pull in their hearts.
The world was about to change.
Erian stood alone at the highest tower of the fallen palace.
The wind tore at his robes, carrying ash and the faint scent of burnt starlight.
In his hand, the black feather glowed softly, now streaked with silver.
He could still feel Aster's warmth inside it — faint, like a heartbeat caught between worlds.
Lyra approached quietly, her steps hesitant. She was exhausted, pale, her eyes red from sleepless nights.
She stopped a few meters behind him, watching the light in his hand.
"Is it really him?" she asked.
Erian nodded slowly. "What's left of him, yes."
Lyra exhaled shakily. "Then the legends were true. The Blood of Constellations can't vanish — it transforms."
Erian turned slightly. His expression was calm, but grief lingered in his gaze. "Transform into what?"
Before she could answer, the sky itself replied.
A pillar of light descended from the heavens — vast and blinding, connecting the stars to the heart of the empire.
The ground trembled beneath them.
From the light emerged shapes — circles of ancient symbols spinning like gears of fate.
"The Crown of Unity…" Lyra whispered. "It's choosing."
Erian stared at the glowing sigil forming in the sky — two arcs of opposite light converging into one. His heart pounded. "It's choosing between us."
Lyra took a step back. "Erian, if the Crown calls, one must ascend. One must—"
"I know." His grip tightened around the feather. "It's what he meant."
The wind roared as energy surged around him, lifting him from the ground.
The feather dissolved into streaks of silver, wrapping around his body.
Every pulse of light tore through him — pain, memory, love — all merging into one unbearable brilliance.
He heard Aster's voice then, soft and distant.
"If the stars choose me, live. If they choose you, remember."
Tears stung his eyes as he looked up at the light. "Then remember with me."
He stretched out his arms, letting the starlight engulf him completely.
In the celestial plane, two lights approached one another — one dark as night, one bright as dawn.
They circled endlessly, neither overpowering the other.
When they touched, the void screamed — not in pain, but in release.
And from that collision, a crown of pure radiance was born — forged of both shadow and flame, of love and sacrifice.
Back on earth, the storm of light began to fade.
The people shielded their eyes as the sky cleared, revealing new constellations — shapes that had never existed before.
At the heart of the light stood Erian.
But he was changed.
His hair shimmered between silver and black, and his eyes reflected twin stars — gold and blue, fused in harmony.
Aster's mark burned faintly over his heart.
The wind carried whispers through the city.
"The new heir…"
"No… the Starbound King."
Erian raised his gaze toward the horizon. The ache in his chest had not faded, but within it burned something new — peace.
He could feel Aster, not beside him, but within him. Not gone. Never gone.
Lyra approached slowly, tears shining in her eyes. "Erian… are you still—"
"Yes." His voice was calm, clear. "And so is he."
She nodded, understanding what he couldn't say. "Then the prophecy is complete."
He looked toward the sky, where the new constellation shone brightest — two stars intertwined, orbiting one another in endless motion.
"No," he murmured. "It's just beginning."
Far beyond mortal sight, in the endless veil of the cosmos, a figure watched from within the starlight — smiling faintly.
Aster's voice echoed through the stars, a whisper that only Erian could hear.
"You kept your promise."
And the heavens — for the first time in centuries — felt alive again.