Chapter 20
Back within the walls of Sanctum Astrae, silence did not bring peace.
Astern sat by the training field as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting amber light over the marble coliseum. He could still feel the tether he'd used to extract the guardian's corrupted core. The bond hadn't faded—it lingered in his chest like a second heartbeat.
Kaela was already back to sparring with anyone foolish enough to take her on. She moved like fire dancing through dry grass, always smiling, always one strike ahead.
Lunaria, meanwhile, had returned to the archives.
"I don't like it," she muttered as they walked past the library's shifting gates. "That core—its structure didn't match any celestial guardian I've studied."
Astern glanced at her. "You think it was something else?"
"I think it was made, not born."
---
Professor Elien summoned them all that evening. Not in a hall or classroom—but in the Observatory Chamber beneath the celestial tower.
When they arrived, Nysera was already present.
The air in the chamber buzzed with ancient resonance. Astral diagrams floated above them, constellations twisted into complex formations.
Elien gestured toward the central podium. "Astern, approach."
He obeyed.
A single sigil hovered above the stone—crimson with streaks of gold.
"This was left behind by the guardian you tethered. Burned into the ether of the forest."
Kaela narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't look like a protective sigil."
Elien nodded. "It's not. It's a summoning mark. One used by the ghoul armies before the fall of the Sixth Moon."
Gasps spread around the chamber.
Nysera's voice cut in coldly. "They're testing the veils again."
"Indeed," Elien said. "And they used that guardian to anchor their sigil. Which means…"
"They knew we'd come," Astern finished.
---
After the meeting, Astern walked alone beneath the starlit arches near the dorm towers. Thoughts clashed in his mind—memories, questions, warnings.
Then a soft voice called his name.
Not aloud.
Not from a person.
From within.
He froze. Closed his eyes. Listened.
The name echoed again. "Astern…"
He spun around, summoning aura—but saw no one.
Then a figure stepped from the shadows: the same ghoul shade he had seen in his dreams. Its body was loose flame and bone, eyes like slits in time.
"You burn brighter than we expected," it said.
Astern tensed. "You're not real."
"I'm not here," it replied. "But I am real. And you will see me soon."
Astern lunged—but the figure dissolved like smoke.
In its place, a feather drifted down.
Black. Glowing faintly.
He caught it.
The moment he touched it, the world vanished.
---
He stood in a ruined cathedral—not real, but etched in memory.
A throne of ash loomed ahead. And upon it… the Ghoul King.
His voice split the world in two.
"You carry my sin. My song. My sorrow."
"I carry nothing of yours," Astern growled.
"But you will," the king said. "You are the wound made flesh. And the flame is coming."
The vision shattered.
---
Astern gasped awake, feather still in hand.
From the rooftop above, Nysera landed without a sound. Her eyes scanned him, then the feather.
"Next time," she said calmly, "don't answer when the void calls."
Astern looked up at her.
"I didn't."
She raised an eyebrow.
"It knew me anyway."