Night fell slowly over the vast plains leading to the edge of the empire. The sky stretched out like a canvas of deep violet, dotted with pinpricks of light. In the distance, the faint red glow of a fortress city pulsed, like a stubborn flame refusing to be extinguished in the darkness.
Erian and Aster walked in near silence. The night wind carried the scent of metal and dust, a sign they were nearing territory guarded by the Order of Solarius—an organization that once served the stars, but had twisted into an iron fist, crushing anyone who defied the "Official Light of the Empire."
Aster led the way, eyes fixed on the horizon. Every movement was wary, as if every shadow held a threat.
"How much further?" Erian asked, voice low.
"If we keep moving, we'll reach the Lysandria River before dawn. Across it, there are ruins of an old observatory. We can rest there."
"Observatory?"
Aster nodded. "Where the first star-gazers mapped the heavens. Before Solarius took over, the star-keepers gathered there to interpret the signs of the world."
Erian looked up at the sky. "Funny. Now they call it heresy."
Aster offered a thin smile. "The world's always afraid of light it can't control."
Their footsteps were swallowed by the rustling grass. In the distance, the call of a night bird echoed, then faded. Every so often, Erian felt like something was following them—not human, but something older, more subtle than a simple threat.
He quickened his pace to match Aster's. "You sure nothing's following us?"
Aster turned, eyes sharp. "There is. But they're not close enough to attack yet."
Erian stared, surprised. "You're telling me this now?"
"If I'd said something earlier, you wouldn't be calm," Aster replied flatly, though his tone was gentle. "They're just scouts. The Solarius always send Wraithlights first, before the main force."
"Wraithlights?"
"Shadows summoned from their holy light. Not fully alive, but they can sense the starlight in someone's body. Means they already know which way we're headed."
Erian swallowed. "You sound awfully calm."
Aster glanced at him. "Because I used to be one of them."
The words hung in the air between them, freezing it for a moment. Erian stopped walking. "You… were part of the Order?"
Aster stopped too, gazing at the sky before answering. "Years ago. Before I knew what light they were really worshipping. I thought I was helping maintain balance. But I was just helping them imprison the stars."
"I never would've guessed—"
"No one does," Aster cut in softly. "I left them after I found out the truth about the Heart Below. And ever since, they've hunted me like I'm a creature of darkness."
Erian looked at him for a long moment, then said quietly, "You don't have to explain to me. I don't care who you used to be."
Aster returned his gaze, as if trying to gauge Erian's sincerity. Then, his lips curved slightly. "You always talk like someone who doesn't realize how dangerous the world is."
"And you always talk like someone who's forgotten what it's like to trust anyone."
Aster stifled a small laugh. "Maybe we're both too stubborn."
"Yeah," Erian agreed. "But at least we're walking in the same direction."
Aster didn't reply, but his steps grew lighter. Something shifted in the air between them—not just wariness, but a small, hard-to-explain warmth.
A few hours later, they reached the banks of the Lysandria River. The water shimmered, reflecting the starlight. Across the way, the ruins of the observatory loomed, silhouettes of an old building swallowed by time.
Aster stopped at the water's edge and knelt, touching the surface of the river. "There's still some old magic here," he murmured. "The current doesn't just carry water, but echoes of the sky."
Erian knelt beside him. "I can feel it," he said softly. "Cold but calming. Like the breath of the world."
Aster turned, gazing at Erian's face illuminated by the starlight. "That's because you hear it with your heart, not with magic. That's what makes you different."
Erian returned his gaze. "You compliment me too often, you know?"
Aster smiled faintly. "Maybe. But this time, I mean it."
Silence descended again. Only the sound of the flowing water could be heard. Erian looked at their reflections in the river's surface, two figures side-by-side under the vast sky. For a moment, the world felt peaceful again—until the wind changed.
A rustling sound came from behind the trees. Aster immediately stood, eyes flashing. "They're here."
From the darkness, white light ignited—not from torches, but from shadowy figures that looked like humans made of light. Their eyes were empty, only leaving behind a dazzling light that pulsed gently.
Erian took a step back. "Those… Wraithlights?"
Aster nodded. "Yeah. Don't use your magic. They'll track the source."
"What should I do?"
"Trust me."
Aster closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The air around him vibrated subtly, not because of great power, but because of harmony. The starlight in the sky seemed to bow, as if recognizing the call.
Erian could see faint patterns on the ground around Aster—not magic circles, but ancient star patterns reflecting soft light toward the water.
As the Wraithlights approached, their light began to flicker, then slowly fade. As if the river's current swallowed them one by one until only ripples remained.
Erian stared in disbelief. "You called on the star-current to drown them?"
Aster lowered his hands slowly. "I only borrowed the water's voice. The world still remembers how to soothe light that's lost its way."
Erian was silent for a long time before finally saying, "You sound like someone who talks to God."
Aster smiled slightly. "Or maybe just someone who's listened to the world cry for too long."
He gazed toward the observatory across the river. "We need to cross before dawn. After this, Solarius won't send shadows anymore. They'll come themselves."
Erian looked at the sky one last time. The stars seemed to spin faster that night, as if aware of something that was about to change.
"Then," he said softly, "we don't have time to be afraid."
Aster looked at him, their eyes meeting in the moonlight. "No. But we have time to endure."
They both stepped into the cold water, slowly crossing the river toward the other side of the world—where the truth they sought waited, along with danger that grew ever closer.
The old building stood between cliffs and forest, mostly swallowed by moss and roots that crawled like veins, trying to protect the remnants of the past. The roof of its dome had partially collapsed, but inside, a large stone circle was still visible, which may have once been used to observe the stars.
As soon as they entered, the air inside felt different. Cold, but not an empty cold. There was a scent of dust mixed with old candle wax, as if the place still held traces of prayers and whispers from those who had once gazed at the sky beneath this dome.
Erian walked slowly across the cracked marble floor, while Aster lit a small fire in the corner of the room using scraps of wood and a bit of heat magic from his protective stone.
"This place is still intact," Erian said, looking up at the ceiling. Above, the stars were clearly visible through the cracks in the dome. "Like the world refuses to let it disappear."
Aster gazed toward the dome, eyes reflective. "This observatory was built before Solarius existed. Back then, light was considered something sacred because it brought balance, not power. But now, they've turned it into a tool."
Erian knelt beside the fire, warming his hands. "You sound like someone who used to believe in them."
Aster was silent for a long time before finally answering. "I did believe."
He sat across from Erian, the firelight casting shadows on his face, which looked softer tonight. "I was a teenager back then. A crown prince, but without direction. They came and talked about light, about the stars that could guide humanity toward truth. I was captivated."
"What made you leave them?"
"Because I saw that what they called truth was just a mask. They called it holy light, but what they worshipped was only power born from fear."
Erian stared at him intently. "You killed for them, didn't you?"
Aster didn't answer right away. His eyes lowered, fingers gripping his knees softly. "Yes. Many."
The air between them felt heavy. Erian didn't know what to say. He could see that behind Aster's composure, there was something far darker than what appeared on the surface.
But instead of fear, Erian felt… pity.
"Then," he said slowly, "you're not running away. You're atoning."
Aster looked up. "You always talk as if everyone deserves to be forgiven."
"Because I know what it's like to regret," Erian replied honestly. "I lost everything in my past life. I don't want to see anyone else bury themselves under the same weight."
The fire between them flickered gently. Silence descended again, but this time, it wasn't because of distance, but because of a closeness too deep to be spoken.
After a few moments, Aster said softly, "Erian, if one day you had to choose between the light and me, what would you choose?"
The question was so sudden, but Erian didn't avert his gaze. "I don't believe in choices made from fear. So I'd choose not to leave anyone behind."
Aster smiled faintly, almost sadly. "You speak as if the world will give you time to think."
"Then I'll make that time," Erian retorted firmly. "You think I'm just following the light by chance? No. I'm following it because I know, at the end, there's someone looking in the same direction."
Aster stared at Erian for a long time, then sighed softly. "You make impossible things sound simple."
"And you make simple things feel like miracles," Erian replied without thinking.
The words hung in the air. Aster's face changed slightly, his eyes staring at the fire before finally saying softly, "You know, in the ancient traditions of the star-keepers, there's a belief that when two souls look at the sky together and breathe in the same rhythm, the light between them will be bound forever."
Erian raised his face. "Is that what they call a Starlight Bond?"
Aster nodded. "Yes. But that bond doesn't always bring happiness. Sometimes, the light that binds can also burn."
Erian was silent. He looked at the fire, then at Aster. "Then let me burn with you."
The words came out on their own, without planning. But as soon as they were spoken, they both knew there was no turning back.
Aster looked at him for a long, long time, then stood. He walked closer, steps slow but firm. He knelt in front of Erian, close enough that their breaths almost touched.
"Don't talk so easily about destruction," he said gently but firmly. "You don't know what it means to lose something."
Erian returned his gaze, not backing down even a little. "Maybe not yet. But I know what it means to live without something you want to protect. And I don't want to go back there."
A long silence. Only the sound of the fire and the rustling night wind.
Aster reached out his hand slowly, touching the side of Erian's face. His fingers were cold, but the touch brought a warmth that was more real than the fire. "You always remind me that I'm still alive."
"And you always remind me that light doesn't have to be dazzling to be beautiful," Erian replied softly.
Aster lowered his hand, looking deeply into Erian's eyes. "Then stay by my side. Whatever happens."
"I promise."
And that night, under the dome of the open sky, two small lights found each other in the middle of a dark world. There was no magic, no holy oath—only two hearts that chose to keep believing.
But far beyond, in the high towers of the Empire, a man in white robes gazed at the same stars through a crystal prism in his hand. His lips curved thinly, eyes flashing with artificial light.
"Stars that refuse to submit," he said softly. "Let's see how long you can shine before you fade."