....
After the Astral Sanctum incident, the academy felt different to Lucien. Every glance from professors, every murmur in the hallways, carried an unspoken warning: He is the one who could change everything.
Caelum didn't leave his side, either. At first, it was subtle—sharing meals, sitting near him in classes. But soon, Lucien realized Caelum was orchestrating moments where they would be alone.
One night, they met on the rooftops, beneath the silver glow of the twin moons.
"I can teach you," Caelum whispered, voice barely carrying over the wind. "About your magic, I mean."
Lucien blinked. "You mean… stellar magic?"
Caelum nodded. "I don't know its full limits, but together… maybe we can control it."
Lucien hesitated. "I'm scared."
Caelum stepped closer, his hand brushing Lucien's shoulder. "Good. Fear is natural. But I'll be here. Always."
The stars overhead shimmered, as if acknowledging the promise. For the first time, Lucien felt like he belonged—not to the academy, not to anyone, but to him.
.....
Weeks passed, and Lucien's control grew. He could summon shimmering constellations into his palm, shape them into shields, even create brief light bursts to dazzle others.
But not everyone admired his progress.
Enter Kieran Thalor, the top shadow-mage prodigy. Black-haired, cold-eyed, and supremely arrogant, Kieran considered Lucien an abomination.
"You're weak," Kieran sneered one afternoon in the training grounds. "The last starborn? Please. Stars don't speak to fools."
Lucien clenched his fists, trying to ignore the burn of humiliation.
Caelum stepped in, golden aura flaring. "Leave him alone."
Kieran smirked, but his eyes flicked to Lucien—curiosity replacing disdain. "Interesting," he muttered, "the prince protects a child of stars. We'll see how long that lasts."
The tension set the stage for rivalry that would stretch beyond the academy walls.
Training continued nightly in secret. In the Astral Sanctum, Caelum guided Lucien through the smallest of spells—drawing constellations with fingertips, bending starlight like water, learning to channel it without fear.
One evening, their hands lingered over the same symbol. Fingers brushed.
Lucien froze.
Caelum leaned closer. "It's okay," he murmured. "Trust me."
The air between them shimmered—stars responding to emotion, not just magic. Lucien's pulse raced. Their eyes locked.
"You feel it too," Caelum whispered.
Lucien's lips parted, but no words came. His heart pounded like drums of war.
Caelum's thumb brushed over Lucien's knuckles. "You're extraordinary," he said, soft, intimate, the kind of words that made the world feel smaller and larger all at once.
Lucien's breath hitched. "I… don't deserve—"
"You do," Caelum interrupted, eyes shining like dawn. "All of it. Every star, every spell, every moment with me."
Lucien's chest tightened. The constellations around them pulsed with a brilliance that made their shadows dance.
And for the first time, Lucien wanted to believe he was worth something beyond fear and prophecy.
But destiny never waits for love.
One morning, the academy awoke to a warning: the Shadow Veil had breached the northern border.
Rumors spread of a dark cabal intent on capturing starborn magic for war. Lucien's name was whispered like a curse and a hope all at once.
Kieran confronted Lucien again, this time with a mix of fear and envy. "You don't understand what's coming," he said, voice low, dangerous. "You'll bring ruin."
Caelum's hand on Lucien's shoulder was grounding. "Then we face it together," he said.
The stars pulsed fiercely overhead, reacting to danger as well as emotion. Lucien felt it—a shiver of both fear and power, an echo of destiny weaving their fates tightly together.
That night, as the twin moons rose, Lucien and Caelum stood side by side on the highest tower, gazing out toward the distant shadows creeping over the cliffs.
Lucien whispered, almost to himself: "I don't want to lose you."He has nothing or anybody,he doesn't want to lose this one just as they are finding out themselves what they are to each other.
Caelum caught his hand, holding it like a lifeline. "You won't. I promise."
And in that moment, under the gaze of both the moons and the stars, something unbreakable sparked between them—a bond neither prophecy nor enemy could undo.