The capital was nothing like I imagined.
When the carriage rolled past the city gates, sunlight burst across a thousand rooftops, glinting off towers wrapped in crystal runes. Azure banners danced in the wind. The streets pulsed with color, vendors shouting, children chasing luminous orbs, knights patrolling with armor that shimmered faintly like starlight itself.
For a moment, I forgot how heavy my chest felt.
The sight was… alive.
"This is the heart of the empire," said Liora, the maid assigned to travel with me. Her voice was quiet, yet filled with pride. "Everything the Duke ever dreamed of serving."
I leaned forward, watching the sprawling plaza ahead. At its center stood a monument carved from silver stone, a woman holding a sword toward the heavens, stars spiraling above her.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"Saint Lyra," Liora replied. "They say she was the first to form a Pact with the stars. The founder of the Order of Solarius."
The name made my pulse quicken.
Solarius, the same order mentioned in the old book from the library.
The same symbol etched faintly at the edge of my mark.
I turned my gaze away. "Beautiful story."
Liora smiled. "Every story in this city starts with her."
By afternoon, we reached the Academy of Arcanis, the empire's most prestigious magic institution. The gates were enormous, woven from living metal, veins of blue light running through them like flowing rivers.
Dozens of students entered with their crests shining proudly. Mages, nobles, scholars… every one of them seemed to belong there.
And me?
I was a Thalos without magic.
The thought gnawed at me as I stepped out of the carriage. My uniform felt tighter than before, as if the air itself refused to welcome me.
An older man in white robes approached, carrying a crystal tablet. "Erian Thalos, I presume?"
"Yes."
He scanned the tablet and nodded. "Dormitory C, room 7. Orientation begins at dusk. Attendance is mandatory."
His tone was curt, but not unkind. Just distant.
Liora bowed before stepping back into the carriage. "Good luck, Young Master."
I wanted to thank her, but the words caught in my throat. When the carriage rolled away, I was alone again, surrounded by hundreds, yet utterly alone.
Inside the Academy, the world smelled of parchment, incense, and starlight-infused ink.
Lecture halls towered high like cathedrals, runes etched into every column. Floating lamps followed students as they walked, responding to their mana signatures. I could feel them flicker uncertainly when they hovered near me, confused, as if searching for a signal that wasn't there.
No magic.
No resonance.
It was like walking through a song I couldn't hear.
I reached my assigned room, a small chamber with a narrow bed and a window overlooking the courtyard. The view was breathtaking, golden trees swaying under silver clouds.
I unpacked slowly, setting the old book of Solarius on the desk.
As I did, a faint warmth stirred in my chest again.
The mark beneath my shirt pulsed once, soft, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat.
Then, for the briefest moment, I heard a whisper.
"You found the light, but not the truth."
I froze, staring at the empty air. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of leaves outside.
But I knew that voice. I had heard it before, in the darkness between death and rebirth.
Aster.
The evening bell rang, a deep hum that echoed across the entire campus.
Students began to gather in the great courtyard for orientation. I followed, blending into the crowd as best I could.
The Headmaster stood upon a raised platform, his robes woven with constellations that shifted subtly with each breath. His eyes glowed faintly, like two captured stars.
"Welcome to the Academy of Arcanis," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly. "Here, your worth is not your birthright, but the strength of your will. Magic, knowledge, or faith, whatever path you take, it must burn bright enough to reach the heavens."
The crowd erupted into applause.
But his gaze, when it swept across the students, stopped on me for a fraction of a second longer than it should have.
A flicker of recognition. Or perhaps warning.
After the ceremony, I lingered near the fountain at the courtyard's edge.
The water shimmered with faint starlight, casting soft reflections against my hands.
Somewhere deep within me, something stirred, an echo of power, faint but familiar.
I placed my palm on the surface, and for a moment, the ripples froze.
Then light bloomed beneath the water, forming the same pattern as the mark on my chest.
It was gone in an instant, leaving only stillness behind.
But when I looked up, someone was standing at the far end of the courtyard, a girl in silver uniform, her hair as white as the moon, watching me quietly.
Our eyes met.
And the mark on my chest burned again.
She stood perfectly still, as though the entire courtyard had frozen around her.
The silver threads of her uniform shimmered faintly under the lamplight, and her eyes, pale gold, like the dawn reflected on snow, studied me without a single blink. There was something in that gaze that felt… ancient.
When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, almost too calm.
"You shouldn't touch the fountain."
I blinked, pulling my hand away. "Why not?"
"Because it reacts only to star-bonded bloodlines." She stepped closer, her boots barely making a sound on the marble. "And as far as the registry is concerned, you're not one of them."
Her words were simple, but there was an edge in them, sharp, like a blade hidden behind silk.
I straightened. "Maybe the registry is wrong."
She tilted her head, a faint, almost amused curve forming at her lips. "Or maybe you are."
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The faint hum of mana drifted through the air between us, and the starlight from the fountain cast tiny constellations across her face.
Then, she extended her hand.
"Lyra Vale."
I hesitated before taking it. "Erian Thalos."
The instant our palms met, the world shifted.
Light flared, brief but blinding, bursting between our hands. I felt something like static crawl up my arm, but it wasn't painful. It was warm, familiar, alive.
Lyra's eyes widened. "What was that?"
"I… don't know," I lied.
But deep inside, I did know. That same pulse. That same warmth that whispered my name in the dark.
Aster's power.
She looked at me for a moment longer, as if trying to read something behind my eyes, then released my hand. "You should be careful," she said finally. "This academy isn't kind to anomalies."
And before I could answer, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, silver hair vanishing among the flickering starlight like a ghost swallowed by the night.
Later that night, I sat by my dorm window, watching the lights of Azure flicker in the distance.
The city truly lived up to its name. Every rooftop glowed faintly with starlight conduits, channeling celestial energy into the air. It was beautiful… and terrifying.
Because every flicker reminded me of what I had lost.
The mark on my chest pulsed faintly beneath the fabric.
My connection to Aster had not vanished. It had changed. Hidden, perhaps, waiting.
I closed my eyes.
"You shouldn't have touched the fountain."
Her words replayed in my mind, soft yet unshakable.
Lyra Vale.
That name echoed strangely in me, like a melody I had heard once long ago.
Somewhere across the city, the same girl stood on a balcony overlooking the Academy courtyard.
Her hand still tingled from their brief contact.
Behind her, a tall figure cloaked in blue shadows spoke quietly. "You felt it too."
Lyra didn't turn around. "Yes."
"The anomaly?"
"No," she said softly. "Something older."
The man was silent for a moment, then his voice dropped low. "The stars will move again, Lyra. And when they do, the balance must not be broken."
"I know," she whispered. Her fingers tightened on the railing. "But if he truly carries that mark… then we're already too late."
The starlight above them dimmed, as if the heavens themselves were listening.
Erian couldn't sleep that night.
He kept seeing her eyes, her hand, and that single flash of light between them.
When he finally rose and glanced outside, he realized the stars over the Academy had shifted ever so slightly, just enough to form a new constellation.
One he had never seen before.
It shimmered faintly above his window like a silent promise.
Aster's voice brushed against his thoughts, soft and distant:
"The light finds its echo."