The world reassembled around us in fragments of light and air.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the northern courtyard of the Academy the same marble floor, the same cool wind brushing past the banners. Only this time, the stars above looked closer, as if watching in silence.
Aster stood beside me, breathing hard, his hand still gripping the hilt of his sword.
We were back but something had changed.
The faint glow on the back of my right hand pulsed softly, a silver sigil swirling like liquid starlight beneath my skin. I tried to cover it with my sleeve, but the light bled through the fabric, refusing to be hidden.
"Erian…" Aster's voice was quiet, careful. "You're glowing."
I managed a weak laugh. "Not exactly what I wanted people to notice."
He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the mark. The warmth of his hand brushed against mine unintentional, yet grounding. "It's the same sigil the Keeper mentioned," he murmured. "The mark of Lumis."
"And what does it mean?" I asked.
He hesitated, eyes darkening. "It means you're no longer just a reborn soul, Erian. You're something the world isn't ready to remember."
Before I could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed through the courtyard.
Professor Kael appeared at the edge of the colonnade, his long coat fluttering in the wind. His eyes widened slightly when he saw us and then his expression shifted into something unreadable.
"You've been missing for hours," he said calmly. "And yet… the stars above shifted during that time. Care to explain?"
Aster shot me a warning glance.
I swallowed hard. "We uh might have accidentally crossed into the Celestial Realm."
Kael didn't look surprised. If anything, his shoulders sagged slightly, as if confirming a suspicion he'd dreaded. "Then it begins," he muttered under his breath. "The seal has broken."
"Seal?" I echoed.
He nodded slowly. "The Celestial Sigil isn't just a mark, Erian. It's a key. A connection between mortal and divine realms. Long ago, it was bound to ensure that the Fallen Star would never awaken again."
Aster's gaze sharpened. "And now?"
Kael looked at me directly. "Now, it's awake through him."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The night air seemed to tighten, as if the very sky was listening.
Aster's hand found its way to my shoulder, firm and protective. "If anyone learns what he carries, the Church will come for him."
Kael nodded grimly. "Not just the Church. The entire Empire."
I could feel their words settling like lead in my chest. My rebirth had already made me an anomaly… but now, I was something far more dangerous.
"So what do we do?" I asked quietly.
Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You'll have to leave the Academy for now. Hide until the Emperor's attention turns elsewhere."
Aster's jaw tightened. "He won't go alone."
"Of course not," Kael replied, his eyes flicking between us knowingly. "But if you travel together, you must be careful. Your bond is what keeps the Sigil stable but it's also what will draw others to you."
My bond.
The word lingered, heavy with meaning neither of us dared speak aloud.
Aster gave a curt nod. "Then we'll leave before dawn."
Kael reached into his cloak and handed me a small crystal pale blue, glowing faintly with runic light. "This will mask your aura for a short time. Use it wisely."
I took it, the crystal warm against my palm. "Thank you, Professor."
He smiled faintly, though there was no joy in it. "Don't thank me, Erian. Just survive."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving us alone once more beneath the watchful stars.
For a long time, neither of us spoke. The wind whispered through the courtyard, carrying with it the faint hum of distant bells the curfew warning.
Finally, I said softly, "Leaving the Academy… are you sure about this?"
Aster turned to me, eyes steady and resolute. "The last time I hesitated, I lost you. This time, I won't make that mistake again."
The weight of his words hit deeper than I expected. My heart thudded once, hard. I wanted to say something anything but my throat refused to cooperate.
Instead, he stepped closer until the distance between us dissolved into the faint warmth of shared breath.
"Get some rest," he murmured. "We move at dawn."
I nodded, but even as I turned to leave, I couldn't help glancing back.
Aster stood beneath the starlight, his expression unreadable yet somehow, I knew.
He was watching over me.
And as the mark on my hand pulsed softly in answer, I realized something quietly terrifying.
The stars weren't done with us yet.