The world did not stay silent after the Heart awakened.
By dawn, the air around the Starforge had turned thin and electric. The mist that once hung peacefully over the valley now shimmered in fractured hues — silver, gold, and violet, like the sky itself was bleeding light.
Erian stood at the edge of the ruins, clutching his left arm. The mark beneath his skin still pulsed faintly, as though it had found its rhythm with something unseen above.
He could feel it — the hum of a thousand voices at the edge of his consciousness. Soft, fragmented, and pleading.
"Erian."
Aster's voice cut through the haze. He stood a few paces away, cloak drawn tight against the cold wind. There was something sharper in his tone now — not anger, but focus. A kind of tension that made the air heavier.
"You're hearing them, aren't you?"
Erian nodded slowly. "They won't stop whispering. It's like they're calling my name, but… it's not mine they want."
Aster approached, eyes narrowing. "They sense the link. The astral storm is forming — it's drawn to imbalance."
"Imbalance?"
"Between us."
The word struck like a stone. Erian turned toward him, uncertain. "You mean… the connection?"
Aster's jaw tightened. "The Starforge reawakened it. The moment the Heart recognized your seal, the astral plane responded. It's trying to correct what was severed long ago."
"And what exactly was severed?"
Aster hesitated. For a long moment, he said nothing — only the faint hum of the wind filled the space between them. Then, quietly, "My soul."
Erian blinked. "What?"
"When the Starbound King fell, his essence fragmented. What you carry isn't just a seal. It's a shard of that essence — one that never should have awakened."
Erian stared at him, words failing. "You're saying… I'm carrying a part of you?"
Aster's eyes flicked to him, unreadable. "A part that once belonged to something older, and far more dangerous."
The wind howled suddenly, kicking up dust and light. For a heartbeat, the sky flashed — not with lightning, but with streaks of gold that twisted like veins across the clouds.
Erian instinctively stepped back. "Is that—"
"The storm," Aster said grimly. "It's begun sooner than I thought."
The ground trembled underfoot. From the shattered edges of the ruins, faint figures began to form — silhouettes made of shimmering light and dust, flickering in and out of existence like echoes of the dead.
Erian's breath hitched. "Are those spirits?"
"No." Aster's eyes glowed faintly silver. "They're memories. Fragments left behind when the forge collapsed."
"Then why do they look so… real?"
"Because the storm is giving them form."
One of the figures turned its hollow gaze toward Erian, and he felt a cold wave crash through his chest. Its voice came like broken glass.
"Return what was taken."
Erian stumbled back, clutching his head as the whisper grew louder — hundreds of overlapping voices clawing through his mind.
Aster grabbed his arm, pulling him close. "Erian! Focus on me!"
"I—can't—"
"You can. Listen." His voice cut through the noise, steady and fierce. "You're not alone. The storm feeds on fear — if you let it take hold, it'll use the link to consume you."
Erian forced his eyes open. The glow in Aster's gaze anchored him — cold, bright, and unyielding. Slowly, the whispering began to fade, leaving only the echo of his own heartbeat.
The figures dissolved one by one, their shapes scattering into light.
Erian slumped to his knees, shaking. "I thought I was going to—"
"You won't," Aster said quietly, kneeling beside him. "Not while I'm here."
Erian looked up at him — at the faint cracks of light beneath Aster's skin, the subtle tremor in his fingers. For the first time, he realized Aster wasn't unshaken either.
"You're… afraid too," Erian murmured.
Aster didn't deny it. "The last time the Starforge stirred, it swallowed half a continent. I'd be a fool not to be."
He stood, offering a hand. "We can't stay here. The storm's expanding — it'll draw attention."
"From who?"
"From the Order," Aster said, glancing toward the horizon where the clouds bled red light. "And from something far worse."
Erian hesitated, then took his hand. The moment their fingers touched, a faint pulse of energy passed between them — subtle, but unmistakable.
Aster froze, then sighed. "It's stabilizing again. For now."
Erian frowned. "You say that like it's temporary."
"It is." Aster's voice softened, almost weary. "Until we find the core that broke us apart."
"The core?"
"You'll understand soon," he said, turning toward the rising wind. "But before that… we'll have to survive the storm."
The sky thundered, a single streak of gold tearing the clouds open. Light poured down in spirals, wrapping the ruins like a cage.
And above them, a single star flickered into being — burning too bright, too close, and far too hungry.
---
The light fractured around them.
The ruins of the Starforge glowed like glass, each shard reflecting fragments of the sky above. The storm had grown — no longer a whisper, but a roar that twisted air and magic into a spiral of gold and violet.
Aster's hand slipped from Erian's grasp. For a moment, Erian thought the wind had torn them apart, but it wasn't the wind. It was Aster himself.
The prince stood motionless in the center of the storm, his cloak whipping behind him as threads of light crawled beneath his skin. His eyes glowed brighter than before, pure silver burning through the mist.
"Aster?" Erian called out, his voice lost in the thunder.
The prince didn't answer. The markings along his neck pulsed in rhythm with the storm, and for a fleeting second, Erian saw it — the shadow of something vast and ancient behind him. A shape that didn't belong to this world.
Erian stepped forward, shielding his face from the wind. "Aster, listen to me! You need to fight it!"
Aster turned his head slightly. When he spoke, his voice sounded doubled, like another presence was echoing through him.
"It's too late. The seal has cracked. The fragment inside me remembers."
Erian's pulse quickened. "Remembers what?"
"The stars. The fall. The promise that bound us all."
Aster's steps were unsteady as he walked forward, light spilling from his fingertips. "When the Heart was shattered, I was split apart — one half chained to the void, the other cursed to remember everything."
Erian stared at him, eyes wide. "You're not making sense."
"I am not supposed to," Aster said, his expression distant. "The memories are not mine alone. They belong to the Starbound King."
The wind howled louder, tearing through stone and earth. Above them, the sky opened further, and the world itself seemed to tremble under the weight of power returning to life.
Erian could barely stay on his feet. Every instinct told him to run, but something deeper pulled him closer. He could feel the same hum within his own veins — faint, but resonant.
If he didn't reach Aster now, the storm would swallow him whole.
Erian forced his body forward, step by step, until he stood just an arm's length away. "Aster, you said it yourself — imbalance draws the storm. Then let me balance it."
"You can't," Aster said sharply. "You'll be destroyed."
"Maybe," Erian said quietly, "but so will you."
He reached out, pressing a hand to Aster's chest. The touch burned, but Erian didn't pull away. The pulse of the storm shifted around them, threads of gold and blue intertwining like veins of light.
Erian closed his eyes and let his thoughts spill freely into the link.
He saw flashes — broken stars, chains of light, two figures standing beneath a shattered sky. He didn't understand any of it, yet it felt painfully familiar, as if his soul recognized the echoes of something lost.
Then, through the chaos, a voice reached him. Not Aster's voice, but a softer one buried deep within his own mind.
"If he falls again, so will you. The stars do not forgive repetition."
Erian gasped and opened his eyes. The glow around Aster was fading slightly, his breathing uneven. The storm trembled, losing its shape for a heartbeat.
"Stay with me," Erian whispered, pressing his forehead against Aster's. "You told me I wasn't alone. That goes both ways."
For the first time since the storm began, Aster's hand twitched. His fingers brushed against Erian's arm — tentative, like a man waking from a long nightmare.
"Erian," he breathed, voice breaking through the distortion. "You're not supposed to be here."
Erian smiled faintly. "Neither are you."
Light erupted between them. It wasn't violent this time, but warm — like the world itself exhaled after holding its breath too long. The threads of magic that surrounded them unraveled, dissolving into soft, drifting embers.
When the glow faded, they were on their knees in the ruins, breathing hard. The sky above had returned to a muted silver-gray. The storm was gone.
Erian's palm still glowed faintly where he had touched Aster's chest. The mark was different now — a pattern of interlocking lines, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat.
"What did I do?" he whispered.
Aster looked at the mark, then at him. "You stabilized it. You used your bond to merge the fragments, even for a moment."
"That sounds… dangerous."
"It is," Aster admitted softly. "But it also means the link is real."
Erian exhaled, exhaustion catching up with him. "Then what now?"
Aster's expression softened. "Now, we wait for the world to notice what we've done."
They sat there in silence for a long while, surrounded by drifting ash and fading light. Neither spoke. The storm had ended, but something irreversible had begun — a bond not of fate, but of choice.
Erian closed his eyes, the faint rhythm of starlight still echoing beneath his skin. For the first time since his reincarnation, he didn't feel alone.
And yet, deep inside, the whisper of that other voice lingered.
"The stars do not forgive repetition."
---