The stars were closer here.
They shimmered so vividly that I could almost touch them, feel the hum of their warmth against my skin. But the sky was wrong. It wasn't the dark velvet of night I knew it was pale silver, endless and heavy, like the surface of a dream that hadn't decided if it was real.
Aster's hand gripped his sword tightly beside me. The air around him pulsed faintly with mana dense, refined, dangerous. Even here, in this place of divine quiet, he looked untouchable.
But his eyes betrayed him.
They weren't calm. They were afraid.
"What did you call this place?" I asked quietly, my voice almost swallowed by the stillness.
He didn't answer right away. His gaze was locked on the horizon, where a massive gate of starlit stone rose among drifting clouds. Each pillar bore runes older than the Empire itself glowing faintly, as if aware of our intrusion.
"The Celestial Realm," he said finally. "It's where the gods fell after the First War. A place mortals were never meant to see again."
His words sank like stones in my chest. "And yet we're here."
"Yes," he murmured. "Which means the stars weren't just calling you they were summoning us both."
The silence stretched between us.
I could hear my heartbeat in the void.
Something about this place it felt… familiar. The scent of starlight, the echo of distant chimes, even the way the air shimmered when I moved. My body remembered what my mind could not.
I took a few steps forward. The ground wasn't solid stone but rather fragments of light like walking on frozen moonbeams. My reflection shimmered faintly below me, broken by ripples that weren't water.
"Do you remember anything?" I asked him.
Aster's jaw clenched. "Fragments," he admitted. "A battlefield. You bleeding, but smiling. A promise I never kept."
He turned to me, eyes darkened by regret. "And the moment I lost you."
Something twisted in my chest, sharp and aching.
Every word felt like déjà vu.
I wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that whatever happened before, it didn't matter now but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Because part of me remembered too.
The warmth of his hand. The sound of his voice. The pain of being left behind.
Before I could respond, the air around us trembled. The starlight above flickered, coalescing into a figure. At first, it looked like mist but then a face emerged from the light.
A man cloaked in silver robes, eyes glowing with galaxies.
"Children of the lost star," his voice resonated like an echo through time. "You have crossed the veil once more."
Aster immediately stepped forward, protective as always. "Who are you?"
"I am the Keeper of the Celestial Gate," the being replied. "Guardian of memories long forsaken. You are not meant to be here… yet fate has pulled your threads together again."
His gaze shifted to me and lingered.
"You," he said softly, "carry the mark of Lumis, the Fallen Star."
"The… what?" I stammered.
"Once, you were light itself. The spark that defied the heavens for love."
His tone carried neither warmth nor judgment only sorrow. "You broke divine law when you bound your soul to a mortal prince."
Aster's grip on his sword tightened. "That's enough."
But the Keeper only smiled sadly. "And now, the cycle repeats. The world below still burns with your choices. Tell me, Erian of Thalos do you still wish to defy fate?"
The question lingered in the air, shimmering like a blade made of light.
I looked at Aster.
His expression was unreadable, but in his eyes I saw the truth. The fear, the longing, the love he tried to bury beneath duty and blood.
And I realized something then.
I had already chosen. Long before this life.
Long before the stars fell.
I took a deep breath. "If fate means losing him again," I said, my voice steady, "then yes. I'll defy it."
The air trembled.
The Keeper's form flickered, fading slowly into starlight. "Then you must seek the Astral Sigil," he whispered. "It lies within the heart of the Empire the place where gods and mortals meet. But beware… for those who chase destiny often find despair."
And with that, the silver mist scattered.
We were alone again.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy it was full of tension, charged and fragile.
Aster sheathed his sword, his hand brushing briefly against mine.
"You really meant it," he murmured.
"I did."
For a heartbeat, the prince's cold façade cracked. His eyes softened, and the distance between us seemed to disappear.
Then, quietly, he said, "Then I'll defy it with you."
The stars above us flared again two lights intertwining.
And for the first time, I felt it clearly.
The pull between us wasn't just emotion. It was destiny, written in starlight.