The war was over.
But peace—true peace wasn't born in silence. It came in the echo of chaos, in the breath after battle, in the rebuilding of broken things.
Kael stood on the edge of the shattered cliff where the capital once stood. The sky above was clear now, rippling with quiet auroras. The stars were different. Brighter. Closer. Listening.
He could feel them.
Not as distant celestial bodies, but as sentient sparks, each one resonating with the aftermath of his battle with the Child of Silence.
The entity within him stirred, but it no longer felt foreign. Its voice was now his voice—a harmony of wills forged through trials, fire, and trust.
"They remember."
The voice was gentle.
"What we chose to be. What we refused to become."
Behind him, Lyra approached, her armor scorched, her braid half-undone. But her smile… that was whole.
"They're calling you the Starborn," she said. "Some even say you've replaced the gods."
Kael exhaled. "If that's true… then the gods were never enough."
She chuckled softly, then turned serious. "Do you feel it? Something's not settled."
He nodded.
The Abyss.
Though the Heralds were gone, and the Child redeemed, the wound in reality that allowed them in hadn't sealed. It pulsed at the far edge of the world—a gate of void, whispering still.
"They weren't the source," Kael said. "Just the messengers."
Lyra tensed. "Then what is?"
Kael turned his gaze to the sky. The stars shimmered… but one didn't.
A single dark star.
Unmoving.
Watching.
The entity within whispered with something new—fear.
"That star… it remembers before creation."
Kael stepped forward, lifting his hand. Celestial light coiled around his fingers like threads of fate. He closed his eyes—and listened.
He heard it.
A low voice, ancient and immense.
"You have awakened. I see you now, Kael."
His eyes snapped open.
The others looked at him, worried. Waiting.
"The real war…" Kael said quietly, "hasn't even begun."
And far above, the dark star pulsed once—ominous and deliberate.