Days passed. Harold's body recovered, but something was missing.Even after Esseria's intervention, he could no longer sense the little girl's presence. Her laughter, her scent, the warm ripple of her heart—it was all gone, as if erased from the world.
Three days of emptiness dragged on, heavy as stone.
Then, on the fourth day, his heart quickened. A rhythm, faint yet undeniable, pulsed through the forest. It was her.
Harold leapt to his feet, joy surging within him. Against his better judgment, he rushed toward the barrier.
But he stopped short, trembling.The promise…
If he crossed, he would endanger her life again. His mother's wrath was not what he feared—it was the certainty that the girl would vanish, erased forever.
So he held back. He remained hidden in the shadows, watching as she called his name and searched for him until dusk painted the woods.
That day, Harold learned the meaning of sorrow. Tears welled unbidden, though he did not understand why. Yet still he whispered gratitude to the heavens—for even if she could not see him, he could see her.
It was enough.Or so he told himself.
Five years passed.
On the eve of his tenth birthday, the heavens themselves stirred. The Celestial Archive, the realm of countless records kept by the gods, opened for him.
A single thread of starlight descended, settling upon the back of Harold's small hand. In that instant, a melody welled up from deep within his chest—the lullaby of his mother, now woven with the song of the stars.
The starlight seeped into his soul, awakening something long slumbering.
A gentle voice, vast and eternal, whispered:"You are the bridge between stars and dreams."
Books fluttered open, pages writing themselves as prophecy spilled into being. Harold lifted his hand, tracing a shape in the air. A glowing sigil, a crimson star-mark, appeared and hung suspended above him.
His body was bathed in brilliance. Golden hair shimmered, his boyish roundness sharpened into the graceful strength of youth. He was no longer merely a child.
He was divine.
Harold's dual heritage—the Star's chronicler from his father, the Prophet of Dreams from his mother—awakened within him. Yet even with his newfound power, mysteries remained, waiting for him to uncover them one by one.
The gods are eternal. Their lives do not wither with time, nor do they crumble into death. But even for them, one law is absolute:
They may not love humans.
To guide them or to destroy them—that is the burden of divinity. But never to love.
Esseria feared for her son. Harold had grown, and the dangerous curiosity of his childhood should have faded. She prayed it had. She prayed he would turn his gaze to divine duties, to his destined path, and someday to a goddess's embrace.
But in her heart, she knew. Her son's longing would not simply vanish.
She remembered that desperate moment, when Harold's heart had nearly stopped beating. The small human girl had cradled him in her arms. It was her unknown energy—her stubborn will—that pulled Harold back from the brink.
If she had destroyed the girl, as she first intended, Harold might have shattered beyond repair.
So instead, she gave the child a gift: the dormant power of dream-seeing. A seed that would awaken only if the girl herself grew strong enough to bear it.
But if Harold meets her again… if his obsession deepens even after becoming a god… then fate itself will not forgive them.
When Harold accepted his awakening, he did so solemnly. The divine light swirled around him, his heart steady and resolute.
And yet, one thought lingered:
"She will not recognize me now. The days of our laughter in the forest are gone. She has forgotten me, and we will never play as we once did."
A single tear slipped from his eyes. In its clear depths, he glimpsed her face.
An illusion? A dream?
No—she was laughing. He could feel her joy, bright and wild.
But it hurt. For while his heart ached with longing, her spirit was light, almost carefree. She must have moved on. Perhaps she had found new friends, a happier life.
Still, as the vision faded, he saw her walking toward the forest.
Lily… You're searching for me, aren't you? You haven't forgotten after all.
He could not let her see him. Not now. But if all he could do was watch, then he would watch until his heart broke.
Harold's new powers allowed him to veil his presence from even his mother's divine senses. Quietly, he approached the barrier. His pulse thundered in his ears, every step echoing with memories of games, laughter, and rain-soaked adventures.
He was no longer a child chasing a forbidden friendship. He was a god now, awakened to power and burden both.
But some things never change.
If Lily was in danger, he would protect her—even at the cost of his own life.
Because without her, he would already be gone.