The gates of the Royal Academy loomed behind them — tall, silver, and carved with runes that shimmered faintly in the morning fog.
By the time the first light of dawn broke across the horizon, Erian and Aster had already crossed into the outer forests.
Neither spoke for a long time.
The only sound was the crunch of wet soil beneath their boots and the soft rustle of leaves still heavy with rain.
Erian's breath came out in misty clouds. "They'll notice soon," he said quietly. "When they do, they'll send patrols."
Aster adjusted the strap of his satchel. "Let them. By the time they find the trail, we'll already be gone."
"You sound confident."
"I have to." Aster's tone was flat, but his eyes flicked toward Erian briefly — enough to soften the words. "If I let myself doubt, we're both dead."
Erian smiled faintly. "That's reassuring."
They walked in silence again, the tension easing slightly as the forest thickened around them. The sunlight filtered through the canopy in scattered gold patches, painting the air with dust and warmth.
After a while, Erian asked, "Why the Starforge Ruins? There are safer places to hide."
Aster hesitated before answering. "Because the seal inside you isn't something that can be hidden."
Erian frowned. "You make it sound like it's alive."
"It is." Aster's voice was low. "The seal isn't just a mark. It's a link — between your soul and the astral plane. The ruins were built by the first Celestial Scholars to study that connection. If there's any place that can suppress it, it's there."
Erian looked down at his wrist. The faint light pulsed again beneath his skin, gentle but constant — like a second heartbeat. "And if it can't be suppressed?"
"Then we find a way to control it before it controls you."
The words lingered, heavy but certain.
Erian studied him for a moment. The prince's cloak was damp, his hair slightly disheveled from the rain. For once, he didn't look untouchable — he looked like someone who had chosen to step down from his throne and walk through mud beside him.
"Why are you really doing this?" Erian asked quietly.
Aster didn't look at him. "Because I owe you a debt."
"A debt?"
"You saved my life that night in the observatory."
Erian shook his head. "I didn't even know what I was doing."
"But you still did it," Aster said, his tone unreadable. "And now we're both tied to something neither of us can run from."
Erian was silent for a long time, then said softly, "That doesn't sound like a debt. That sounds like fate."
Aster's jaw tightened. "I don't believe in fate."
"Then what do you believe in?"
Aster looked at him finally. "Choice."
The answer was sharp, but the way he said it wasn't cold — it was weary, as if it came from years of trying to defy a destiny that refused to change.
They reached a ridge overlooking the plains below. From there, Erian could see the faint glimmer of the city in the distance — spires of white marble and the golden dome of the palace shining faintly through the morning haze.
It was beautiful. And it already felt like another world.
He turned away. "They'll call us traitors."
"They already did," Aster said simply.
Erian gave a small laugh. "You're awfully calm about all this."
"Calm is the only thing I have left," Aster said. "If I lose that, I lose control."
Erian hesitated. "Control of what?"
Aster didn't answer.
Before Erian could ask again, a sudden tremor shook the ground. Birds scattered from the trees, their cries echoing through the forest. A faint ripple of light passed beneath the soil — like a current of raw mana flowing deep underground.
Aster's expression darkened instantly. "They've begun tracking us."
"Already?"
He nodded. "The Council must've activated a scrying spell on the leyline. They'll try to isolate our location using mana resonance."
Erian gritted his teeth. "Can we outrun that?"
"Not on foot."
Aster knelt, pulling a small crystal shard from his pouch — smooth, translucent, and faintly pulsing with starlight. He pressed it into the ground, murmuring an incantation.
A faint circle of light expanded around them, spreading outward like ripples on water. The tremor subsided, and for a brief moment, the forest grew silent again.
Erian stared. "What did you do?"
"I bent the leyline current," Aster said, standing. "They'll trace our signal toward the mountains instead."
"You can do that?"
He gave a faint smirk. "You think I'm heir to the empire because of politics?"
Erian blinked — unsure whether to be impressed or terrified.
They walked again, this time along a narrow path cutting through the forest. The air was colder now, the scent of pine thick around them.
Hours passed before Aster spoke again. "When we reach the ruins, stay close to me. The seals there aren't… friendly."
Erian arched an eyebrow. "Unfriendly seals. Wonderful."
"I'm serious. The place reacts to bloodlines. And yours—"
"—is a mess?"
"—is unpredictable," Aster corrected, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "You talk too much for someone carrying a celestial curse."
"Maybe that's how I stay sane."
"Then don't stop."
The sincerity in his tone caught Erian off guard. For a heartbeat, it felt as though Aster was no longer speaking to him as a prince — but as someone who understood what it meant to hold too much inside.
The wind carried their silence after that, soft and unspoken.
By the time dusk began to fall, they reached the edge of the old northern road. The stones were cracked, overgrown with moss and vines, leading toward a set of ancient arches half-buried in earth. Beyond them, the land seemed darker — the sky tinged violet, and faint motes of light drifted in the air like fireflies.
"The border of the Starforge," Aster murmured. "Once we cross, there's no turning back."
Erian took a step forward. "Then let's go."
Aster's hand caught his arm gently. "Wait."
Erian looked at him questioningly.
Aster hesitated — then reached up, brushing a wet strand of hair from Erian's forehead. "You're trembling."
"I'm not," Erian said, though his voice betrayed him.
"Liar," Aster said softly, almost smiling.
For a moment, their eyes met — and the distance between them vanished. The air seemed to hum again, faint threads of light weaving between their bodies. The same resonance as the seal, but gentler now — almost warm.
"Whatever happens after this," Aster said quietly, "don't lose that fear. It means you're still human."
Erian held his gaze. "And you?"
"I lost mine a long time ago."
He turned and walked ahead, cloak fluttering behind him.
Erian followed, one step at a time, into the violet twilight — unaware that in the darkness beyond the arches, something was already waiting for them.
Something ancient. Something awake.
---
The ruins were silent — far too silent for a place once said to have sung with celestial light.
Every step they took echoed faintly, swallowed by mist and shadow. Cracked pillars rose like broken ribs from the earth, etched with runes that no longer glowed.
Erian shivered. "I thought this place would feel… sacred."
Aster's voice was low. "It used to. Now it's just a grave."
He moved ahead, brushing his fingers across one of the fallen stones. A faint trace of light responded to his touch — silver lines crawling through the cracks like veins, pulsing weakly before fading again.
Erian watched him, hesitant. "You've been here before, haven't you?"
Aster didn't answer immediately. "Once," he said at last. "With my father. He said this place was a warning — that power without will becomes hunger."
"That sounds like something a king would say," Erian murmured.
Aster gave a small, humorless smile. "He wasn't wrong."
The wind shifted, carrying the faint sound of metal scraping stone. Both froze.
Aster raised a hand, signaling Erian to stay still. His eyes darted toward the source — a shadow moving along one of the archways.
It wasn't human.
The creature that emerged was tall, gaunt, and half-shrouded in tattered cloth. Its face was nothing but a hollow mask of silver, its limbs thin as branches.
Erian felt a chill crawl up his spine. "What is that—"
"Residual construct," Aster said sharply. "A guardian left behind to protect the ruins."
"It doesn't look friendly."
"They never are."
The creature turned toward them, the empty sockets of its mask glowing faintly blue. Then it let out a distorted sound — like glass cracking underwater — and lunged.
Aster reacted first, summoning a circle of light beneath his feet. Chains of starlight erupted from the ground, intercepting the creature's strike. The impact shook the air, the force throwing dust and shards of stone in every direction.
Erian stumbled back, heart racing. "You could've warned me!"
"I just did!" Aster snapped, forcing his hand forward. The chains tightened, pulling the creature to the ground — but the construct twisted unnaturally, breaking free in a burst of mana.
It lunged again, faster this time.
Aster barely had time to react before a blast of raw light cut through the air — Erian's hand glowing with the same golden pulse that had marked him since the seal awakened.
The beam struck the construct's chest. For a moment, it froze mid-motion — then disintegrated into dust and fading sparks.
Erian stared at his trembling hand. "I… I didn't mean to—"
Aster caught his wrist. "Don't move."
Erian blinked. "What—"
"Look."
The mark beneath his skin was burning brighter now, gold bleeding into silver, the lines spreading up his arm like molten veins.
Aster's expression hardened. "You overreacted. The seal responded instinctively."
"So I'm a danger even to myself," Erian muttered, shaking. "That's just perfect."
Aster's grip softened. "Not a danger. A conduit."
Erian frowned. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"It means you're not powerless."
Something in his tone made Erian pause. The prince's usual detachment was gone, replaced by something raw — almost fragile.
"Why do you sound like you're talking about yourself?"
Aster looked away. "Because I am."
They stood there for a moment, the silence between them heavy but strangely grounding.
Then Aster released his wrist and stepped toward the center of the chamber. "Come. The inner sanctum is ahead. Whatever's left of the Starforge's core might react to your seal."
Erian followed, though unease gnawed at his chest. The deeper they went, the stronger the air seemed to hum — a vibration that resonated not just through stone, but through their bones.
At the heart of the ruins stood a great circular dais, carved with interlocking sigils. In the center lay a floating shard of crystal, fractured but still glowing faintly — the same hue as Erian's mark.
"It's still alive…" Aster whispered. "After all these years."
"What is it?"
"The Heart of the Forge," Aster said. "A fragment of the first astral nexus. It channels the essence of the stars directly into the mortal plane."
Erian took a hesitant step closer. "And you think it can suppress the seal?"
"Not suppress," Aster corrected quietly. "Balance."
He reached out a hand — but before his fingers touched the crystal, a blinding surge of energy exploded outward.
Aster was thrown back, hitting the ground hard. Erian shouted his name, rushing forward — but the light was already wrapping around him.
He gasped as the air itself seemed to fold inward, the world spinning in a cascade of memories not his own — visions of a battlefield under a violet sky, stars falling like rain, and a figure standing alone at the center of it all.
The same golden eyes. The same voice whispering through the storm.
"You are the echo of what was lost."
The vision shattered.
Erian fell to his knees, gasping, the glow on his skin flickering like dying fire.
Aster was beside him in an instant, gripping his shoulders. "Erian! Talk to me—what did you see?"
Erian's lips trembled. "I… I saw you."
Aster froze. "…Me?"
"You were standing in the ruins. But older. Different. The world was burning, and you—" He broke off, clutching his chest. "You weren't human."
Aster's eyes darkened. "…So it's begun."
Erian looked up, confusion and fear tangled in his expression. "What do you mean 'begun'?"
"The seal isn't connecting you to the astral plane," Aster said, voice low. "It's connecting you to me. To what I used to be."
The words hung between them — impossible, heavy, and terrifyingly intimate.
Erian's heartbeat thundered in his ears. "Then… what are you?"
Aster's gaze met his. "A remnant of the Starbound King."
Silence. Only the faint hum of the crystal remained — steady, ancient, and watching.
Erian tried to stand, but his legs gave out. Aster caught him again, steadying him.
"Don't," Aster said softly. "You're still linked. The energy backlash could kill you."
"Then why—why help me?" Erian whispered. "If I'm the reason all this is waking up again?"
Aster looked at him, the faintest trace of sorrow in his eyes. "Because it isn't your fault. It's mine."
The light of the Heart flared once more — and for a moment, both of their reflections shimmered in its surface: two souls bound by a destiny neither asked for.
Outside, the first storm clouds gathered, swirling above the ruined sky.
And deep within the forge, something began to stir — the echo of a king, long dead, opening its eyes again.
---