Morning arrived quietly over Rosenfeld Estate.
Snow still covered the vast northern lands beyond the estate walls, transforming forests, roads, and distant mountains into an endless sea of white.
The sky remained overcast.
Cold winds swept across the battlements.
Dragon banners fluttered proudly above the ancient stronghold.
Inside the estate, however, warmth prevailed.
Servants moved through corridors carrying tea and documents.
Knights exchanged morning reports.
Administrators began another day of managing the North.
And somewhere amidst all this activity—
Kel walked alone.
Today was different.
Tomorrow night he would awaken his constellation.
The Twelve Priests were already arriving from across the continent.
The preparations had begun.
The estate itself seemed subtly aware that something important approached.
Yet Kel remained unusually calm.
At least outwardly.
Dressed in simple noble attire beneath a dark winter cloak, he walked through a long corridor lined with portraits of former Rosenfeld rulers.
The faces of generations watched silently as he passed.
Warriors.
Dukes.
Conquerors.
Protectors.
Each had left their mark upon the North.
Each had walked their own path beneath the stars.
And now—
Kel was approaching his own.
Eventually he arrived before two enormous doors.
Ancient oak reinforced with enchanted steel.
Dragon carvings covered every inch of their surface.
The doors to the Rosenfeld Grand Library.
One of the largest private libraries in the Empire.
Perhaps the largest outside the Imperial Archives themselves.
The guards stationed nearby immediately bowed.
"Young Master."
Kel nodded.
The doors slowly opened.
And the scent of old books greeted him.
The library resembled a cathedral.
Towering shelves stretched toward the ceiling.
Endless rows of books filled the vast chamber.
Golden morning light filtered through stained-glass windows depicting constellations, dragons, and heroes of old.
Countless ladders connected higher shelves.
Ancient chandeliers floated overhead using enchantments.
The entire place felt sacred.
Not because of religion.
But because of knowledge.
Thousands of years of collected wisdom rested here.
The accumulated knowledge of generations.
And Kel loved places like this.
Inside his mind—
Sairen spoke.
"Every time you enter a library, your mood improves."
Kel walked calmly between towering shelves.
"Knowledge rarely betrays people."
The Guardian laughed softly.
"That sounds like something an old scholar would say."
"Perhaps."
"You're fifteen."
"Technically."
That earned another laugh from Sairen.
Kel eventually reached a particular section.
History.
Constellations.
Ancient Epochs.
His fingers brushed across countless titles.
Some familiar.
Some obscure.
Then he stopped.
A thick leather-bound book rested upon a shelf.
Its cover was worn by age.
Gold lettering decorated the front.
Chronicles of Constellations: The Beginning
Kel pulled the book free.
A thin cloud of dust drifted through the air.
The book was old.
Very old.
Likely copied from texts dating back centuries.
Perhaps even older.
He carried it toward a secluded reading area near one of the massive windows.
Snow fell gently beyond the glass.
A large wooden table sat beneath warm sunlight.
Kel settled into a chair.
Placed the book before him.
And opened the first page.
The ancient parchment crackled softly.
Elegant handwriting filled each page.
The words themselves seemed almost alive.
Carefully preserved through generations.
Kel began reading.
"Before the First Epoch there was silence."
"Before magic there was ignorance."
"Before the stars awakened, humanity wandered without direction."
His eyes moved slowly across the page.
Absorbing every detail.
Every line.
Every hidden implication.
Inside his mind—
Sairen observed quietly.
Then finally asked:
"Do you actually expect to learn something new?"
Kel turned another page.
"History always hides things."
The Guardian hummed thoughtfully.
"Fair answer."
The book continued.
It described ancient civilizations.
The collapse of forgotten kingdoms.
The disappearance of knowledge.
And humanity's gradual recovery.
Many details matched what Kel already knew from Destiny.
Yet some differed.
Subtly.
Interestingly.
"History is written by survivors."
Kel thought quietly.
"Not necessarily by witnesses."
Immediately—
Sairen laughed.
"Now that sounds like an old scholar."
Another page.
Another chapter.
More details emerged.
Descriptions of the Night of Awakening.
The first appearance of the constellations.
The panic.
The wonder.
The fear.
One passage particularly caught his attention.
"The stars did not descend."
"Nor did they rise."
"Rather, humanity finally learned how to see what had always existed."
Kel paused.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Interesting."
Inside his mind—
Sairen noticed immediately.
"Something?"
Kel tapped a finger against the page.
"This sentence."
"What about it?"
"Most modern teachings describe the constellations as appearing."
He looked at the ancient text again.
"This author believes they were always present."
The Guardian became quiet.
A moment later she replied.
"That theory isn't impossible."
Kel nodded slightly.
Because he thought the same.
The stars themselves might not have changed.
Humanity might have.
Another passage drew his attention.
"The constellations do not choose strength."
"Nor intelligence."
"Nor talent."
"They answer understanding."
Kel stared at the sentence.
Longer than before.
"Understanding..."
That single word carried enormous meaning.
Most people believed constellations rewarded potential.
Or greatness.
Or destiny.
Yet this author suggested something else entirely.
Understanding.
Alignment.
Resonance.
Inside his mind—
Sairen spoke quietly.
"That sounds closer to the truth."
Kel nodded.
For once.
The Guardian seemed serious.
Then another passage appeared.
One that immediately caught both their attention.
"Among the eighty-eight paths, some shine brighter than others."
"Not because they are superior."
"But because more people walk them."
"The rarest constellations are not the weakest."
"They are simply lonely."
The room became silent.
Even the crackling fireplace nearby seemed distant.
Kel reread the passage.
Twice.
Three times.
"The rarest constellations are lonely..."
A strange thought surfaced.
Then disappeared.
Before he could fully grasp it.
Inside his mind—
Sairen unexpectedly spoke.
Softly.
"That sounds familiar."
Kel didn't answer.
Because he understood what she meant.
The Dragon Emperor.
The last dragon.
A path no one else walked.
A power no one else possessed.
A lonely existence.
The thought lingered.
Then faded.
Hours gradually passed.
The sun shifted higher.
The library remained silent.
Only the turning of pages broke the stillness.
Kel continued reading.
Learning.
Questioning.
Thinking.
Not because he lacked knowledge.
But because knowledge never truly ended.
Every answer created new questions.
Every truth revealed deeper mysteries.
Eventually—
He reached the final chapter.
A passage written in noticeably different handwriting.
As though added by another author centuries later.
The words were simple.
Yet strangely powerful.
"Do not ask which constellation will answer you."
"Ask instead which truth within yourself cannot be denied."
"For the stars merely reflect what already exists."
Kel slowly closed the book.
Silence filled the reading area.
Snow continued falling beyond the window.
The library remained unchanged.
Yet something about that final sentence lingered.
Inside his mind—
Sairen finally spoke.
"So?"
Kel leaned back in his chair.
His eyes drifted toward the sky visible beyond the stained glass.
Toward the hidden stars beyond daylight.
Tomorrow night.
The awakening.
The constellations.
The future.
Then he quietly replied.
"I think most people ask the wrong question."
"And the right one?"
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Not which constellation will choose me."
"But which part of myself the stars will recognize."
For several moments—
Even Sairen remained silent.
Then the ancient Guardian laughed softly.
Not mockingly.
Not teasingly.
Almost proudly.
"Good."
"Now you're finally thinking like someone about to touch the heavens."
Outside—
Snow continued falling across the North.
And somewhere far beyond mortal sight—
Eighty-eight constellations continued their eternal dance.
Waiting.
Watching.
For the night when Kel Rosenfeld would finally stand beneath them and discover which truth within his soul could no longer remain hidden