Beyond Worlds, Beneath the Star God

The stars above Galtoth shimmered with unfamiliar patterns.

To most, it was just a celestial shift. A rare astral fluctuation. But Kun knew better.

The Starfire within him pulsed with unease—like a buried instinct warning of a storm long forgotten.

They stood atop a high ridge at the edge of the known world, where the forest of ash gave way to steep cliffs and windswept plains. In the far distance, barely visible through the veil of clouds, floated a structure no map dared to include.

The Skygrave.

It hovered, chained to the mountains by pillars of light, levitating over nothing.

Orlan squinted through his spyglass. "Still there. Just like the myths say."

Elira crossed her arms. "I always thought the Skygrave was a ruin from a war long before our time. Abandoned. Empty."

"No," Orlan said, lowering the lens. "Not abandoned. Sealed."

Kun said nothing.

The flames inside him were growing louder. Not violent—but drawn, as if whatever waited inside the Skygrave had been calling for centuries, waiting for a Starborn to hear it again.

From behind them, footsteps crunched on stone.

A new voice: smooth, amused.

"You always go where the world tells you not to."

The three turned—blades half-drawn—before relaxing.

Standing on the slope was a tall woman clad in black-leather armor marked with silver moons, her hair short and silvery, eyes bright with mirth and danger.

Rhea Solari, a shadow-runner of the Eastern Moons. Bounty hunter. Spy. Sometimes thief. Former friend of Elira.

And, once, Kael's ally.

"I heard you blew up the Mawhold," she said casually, tossing a small fruit into her mouth. "Didn't expect you to survive it. Much less look… shiny."

Her gaze drifted over Kun's glowing aura.

"Who sent you?" Kun asked calmly.

She smirked. "The sky."

Orlan groaned. "Cryptic as ever."

Rhea's tone dropped. "I'm serious. Something's waking inside the Skygrave. The stars above it have stopped moving."

She looked directly at Kun.

"You're not the only Starborn anymore."

Silence.

Then the air shook—gently, like the exhale of something massive.

Above the distant mountains, the clouds parted for the first time in generations.

And there it was.

The Forgotten Sky.

A swirling dome of colorless light suspended above the Skygrave, layered like shattered glass turned sideways. Symbols rotated within it—Celestoran runes, fragmented equations of space and soul.

Elira gasped. "It's… alive."

Kun stared upward, his voice soft. "No. It's remembering."

Suddenly, the flame inside him surged.

> "Find the Lock."

The whisper wasn't his.

Orlan staggered. "Did—did you all hear that?"

Rhea nodded. "Loud and clear. Not creepy at all."

Kun clenched his fists. "The Skygrave isn't just ruins. It's the origin point."

Orlan looked stunned. "You mean…"

"Yes," Kun said.

> "The Celestora didn't build the Starfire to defend themselves. They built it to seal the Forgotten Sky."

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Scene Transition – Night Campfire

That night, under the warped constellations, the four of them sat around the fire.

Rhea shared what she knew:

> "Kael has already sent a strike team to the Skygrave. They're trying to reactivate the Core Sigil—the last known interface between our world and whatever lies in the Sky above. If they unlock it first… they'll bring back the other half of the Starfire."

Elira narrowed her eyes. "Other half?"

Rhea nodded. "They called it the Noctis Flame. Not gold like yours, Kun. But black. Cold. The flame that forgets."

Orlan whispered, "Darkfire…"

Kun said nothing.

But inside, he knew: if the Noctis Flame returned—if Kael claimed it—the balance of the realms would collapse.

This wasn't about revenge anymore.

It was about which flame would define reality.