The dreams began after Seren's test.
At first, they were flashes flickers of gold, wings of fire, voices speaking in languages I couldn't understand.
But then they started to remember me.
Every time I closed my eyes, the same vision unfolded a burning city under a black sun, and a figure standing at its heart.
He looked like me.
Not exactly his eyes were older, his expression colder, his power unrestrained but it was me.
He stood among ruins, light spilling from his hands like blood. When he turned, the stars behind him died one by one.
And then, always, he whispered:
"You are the end I never finished."
I woke each time with my throat raw from screaming.
Aster was always there. Sitting near the door, half-asleep in his chair, eyes snapping open the moment I moved.
"It's the same dream again," he said softly, handing me water.
I nodded. "He's getting closer."
Aster's jaw tightened. "Describe him."
"I can't. He looks like me but not. Like a version of me that never stopped burning."
His eyes darkened. "The Black Sun's memory. Every vessel carries echoes of the last. It's how the curse continues."
"Curse?"
He hesitated. "A story the Council buried. The Black Sun wasn't born from creation it was a punishment. A god who defied the stars, cursed to return again and again in mortal form until balance is restored."
I stared at him. "You knew this?"
"I suspected."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to make you afraid."
Too late for that.
Before I could speak, the air shimmered faint, silver light gathering by the window. Seren stepped through the barrier, silent as a shadow.
Aster was on his feet in an instant. "You were ordered to knock."
Seren smiled faintly. "You were ordered to sleep."
He glanced at me, and his smile faded. "You saw him, didn't you?"
I swallowed. "…You know who he is?"
"Of course." Seren stepped closer, eyes gleaming. "He's the first vessel. The original bearer of the Black Sun. The one who tore heaven open. You carry his echoes his will."
My skin went cold. "His will?"
"Yes," Seren said. "And if you listen closely enough, you'll realize it isn't just memory. It's a call to finish what he began."
Aster moved between us, his voice sharp. "That's enough."
But Seren didn't stop. "Tell me, Erian when you dream, does he ask you to destroy… or to save?"
I couldn't answer. Because I didn't know.
Seren smiled not cruelly, but with something like sorrow. "That's what terrifies them. Not that you'll lose control. But that you'll choose to."
He turned away, his coat brushing the air. "The past remembers, little star. And it's remembering through you."
When he was gone, silence filled the room again thick and suffocating.
Aster's hands were clenched tight at his sides. "He's trying to turn you against yourself."
I met his gaze. "What if he doesn't have to?"
He froze.
Because deep down, part of me already knew the figure in my dreams wasn't just memory.
He was waiting.
And with each dream, I was becoming more like him.
That night, I didn't sleep.
The stars outside flickered faintly not white, but gold, as if the heavens themselves were beginning to remember too.
And beneath my skin, the mark pulsed once bright enough to light the room.