The night above the Imperial Academy burned with the shimmer of a thousand stars, each one whispering fragments of a story long forgotten.
And among those fragments, one name echoed mine.
I stood alone in the northern courtyard, the marble beneath my boots still warm from the day's light. The air carried the faint hum of magic familiar, yet restless. My hands trembled slightly, not from cold, but from the faint pull I felt beneath my skin.
The starlight.
It was calling again.
Ever since the ritual in the Moonlit Hall, that voice soft, mournful, and hauntingly familiar had been whispering through my dreams. I couldn't understand the words, but I knew what they meant.
They were his words.
Lucien's no… Aster's.
Footsteps broke through the silence. Measured, calm, and unbearably recognizable.
"You shouldn't be out here this late," Aster's voice carried across the courtyard. Even wrapped in shadows, his tone still carried the authority of a prince. Yet tonight, there was something softer beneath it like moonlight breaking through a storm.
I turned toward him. "Couldn't sleep," I admitted. "The stars… they won't stop whispering."
His silver hair caught the faint glow of the sky, and for a moment, he looked like he didn't belong in this world too ethereal, too distant. But then his gaze met mine, sharp and human, and the illusion broke.
"Do they… speak to you?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Yes," I whispered. "Sometimes they call my name. Sometimes yours."
That startled him. The mask he always wore a shield of composure and coldness faltered for the briefest heartbeat. "Mine?" he repeated, almost disbelieving.
I nodded. "I think… they remember us. From before."
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unsaid truths and the quiet hum of fate.
Then Aster sighed, lowering his gaze. "You talk as if the stars themselves hold our memories."
"Maybe they do," I said, smiling faintly. "In this world, anything can hold a soul an object, a song, even light."
He looked at me again. Something unspoken lingered in his eyes. Something fragile.
"Erian," he said quietly, "if what you're saying is true… then maybe I don't want to remember."
His words stung more than I expected. I wanted to ask why why someone like him, powerful yet hollow, would fear remembrance but before I could, the ground beneath us pulsed.
The stars flared.
A circle of silver light burst beneath my feet, glowing like liquid mercury. My vision blurred, and pain seared through my chest. Aster was the first to reach me, grabbing my shoulders as I staggered forward.
"Erian!" His voice cracked with panic something I'd never heard from him before.
"I I don't know what's happening!" I gasped.
The light spread, tendrils of energy twisting upward. I saw flashes memories that weren't mine. A battlefield drenched in gold. A throne made of broken wings. A promise whispered beneath a collapsing sky.
And then… his voice.
Aster, when the stars fall, promise me you'll remember the light we once shared.
The world went still.
When I opened my eyes, Aster was staring at me as though he'd seen a ghost. His hands trembled slightly against my shoulders, and his eyes glowed faintly not with magic, but recognition.
"You… said those words," he breathed. "Long ago."
"I… did?" My voice was barely a whisper.
He nodded, slowly. "You were there. In another life. I saw it your face, your hand reaching for mine as the world burned."
The stars above us flared once more, as if affirming his words.
Something inside me broke no, opened.
It wasn't just reincarnation.
It was reunion.
I reached for him, but before I could speak, the alarm bells of the academy rang out sharp and urgent.
"An intruder?" I muttered, still dizzy.
Aster's expression hardened instantly. The warmth vanished, replaced by the cold composure of a prince. "Stay here," he ordered.
But the silver sigil still pulsed beneath me, refusing to fade. I looked down and realized the light wasn't coming from the ground.
It was coming from me.
"Aster!" I called out, panic lacing my tone. "I can't stop it!"
He turned back just as my magic surged. The light exploded outward like shattered glass, flooding the courtyard with brilliance.
When the radiance faded, I was no longer standing on marble.
Instead, I stood beneath a sky that wasn't the Empire's a sky filled with constellations I'd never seen before.
Aster was beside me, sword drawn, his expression torn between awe and fear.
"Where are we?" I asked.
He looked at the horizon, where a silver palace floated among the stars.
"The Celestial Realm," he whispered. "The place where the gods buried our sins."
And then, almost to himself, he added
"We shouldn't be here, Erian. Not again."