Selenne.
His gaze shifted upward again, as if the stars might reappear just to confirm what he already knew.
"…That's when I knew," he murmured, the words slow, quiet, weighted with finality, "she was the Selenne from the novel."
It had to be.
Even before the name. Even before Gerald's voice softened in that rare way that meant something still mattered to him.
The details were too precise. Too sharp.
A girl born in the fog, cradled by starlight before she ever knew how to wield it. A nameless child who stepped into power not by will—but by resonance. Who didn't force the light to obey, but invited it. Who listened.
And then… there was the starlight itself.
Lucavion had read Shattered Innocence four times. Each time more carefully than the last. And he knew this much:
There weren't many starlight cultivators in the world, after all.
"Isn't that, right?"
The words left his lips like mist, drifting toward a sky that had already swallowed its stars.
