The first golden ray of dawn kissed the palace towers when Veylen, the kingdom's Grand Astrologer, arrived at the gates. His robes were damp with dew and sweat from his hurried journey, his silver hair tied hastily behind his back. He barely paused to greet the guards as he swept through the marble halls toward the royal court.
Inside the grand courtroom, a heavy silence hung in the air, despite the murmurs that stirred like nervous wind through dry leaves. The court officials had gathered earlier than usual, seated stiffly in their ornate chairs, their brows furrowed with unease. Whispers flew between them—low, hushed, uncertain.
"The North Star…" "The devils… the temple…" "What should we do?" "Where is Veylen?"
A tremor of hope shivered through the crowd as the heavy doors creaked open and Veylen stepped inside.
"Welcome back, Grand Astrologer Veylen," the court said in near-unison, their voices lifting faintly as if they dared to believe his presence alone could steady the chaos that brewed over their kingdom.
Veylen gave a quick, apologetic bow, his eyes scanning the room. "My apologies… I'm late." He took a breath. "Where is His Majesty?"
"His Majesty will be here shortly," replied Prime Minister Zusak, his voice tight, his fingers twitching around the scroll he held.
The room grew still again. Moments stretched like drawn strings. And then—
The towering double doors groaned open once more, and King Arthro entered.
Every court member shot to their feet. "Long live Your Majesty!"
"Sit," the king said sharply, his tone clipped with the weight of many sleepless nights. His crown rested heavy on his brow, darker shadows beneath his eyes than usual. Without wasting a heartbeat, his sharp gaze found Veylen. "Grand Astrologer, I assume you already know why you've been summoned."
"I do, Your Majesty," Veylen replied, bowing his head. "A calamity has descended upon the kingdom. I felt the shift in the stars. I did not waste a moment to come."
The court held its breath.
But Veylen knew more than he let on. He had seen it in the sky last night, before the first light of dawn smeared the darkness—the North Star, the eternal watcher, was dimming. Fading.
And if it disappeared completely…
There would be no turning back. No redemption. Only darkness.
But he couldn't reveal that yet. Not until he was certain. Not until he'd traced the celestial map again, under sacred conditions, in alignment with the temple's divine seal.
King Arthro narrowed his eyes. "Speak freely. I assure you, your thoughts are safe here."
A long pause stretched between them. Veylen hesitated. He couldn't lie—but truth, untempered, could set fire to the room. Still, he had to give them something.
"Your Majesty," he began slowly, "the calamity that shakes our lands… the dark omens, the dead rising in the north, and the devils near the border… they are not random. They are bound to something greater."
He raised his eyes, meeting the king's.
"To the fate of our kingdom. To the stars."
Murmurs rippled through the room. One councilman gasped softly. Another crossed himself.
"And the woman," Veylen continued, "the veiled figure who descended upon the Temple of Moonpetals during the Choosing of the Maidens ceremony… Her arrival was not coincidence."
"You speak of the goddess?" Prime Minister Zusak asked, frowning. "The one who sealed the devils?"
"If she is a goddess, or something more… or less… I cannot say yet," Veylen admitted. "But her appearance is tied to the vanishing of the North Star. Her arrival is both omen and key. I believe… she is the pivot on which our kingdom's fate now turns."
"And what do you intend to do?" King Arthro asked, his voice low, unreadable.
"I must meet her," Veylen said. "With your permission, I need to go to the Temple of Moonpetals. I must read the signs there, under the goddess's presence. Only then can I interpret the true meaning of the star's dimming. If I wait too long, the star may vanish entirely. And if it does…" He stopped himself.
The silence that followed was as thick as fog.
King Arthro leaned back on his throne, his jaw tight. For a long while, he said nothing. Then, he grunted.
"Let it be," he said at last, waving a hand. "The palace will provide you an escort to the temple. Speak with the High Priestess. Do what you must."
Veylen bowed, the weight in his chest slightly lifted—but only slightly.
Because he knew something none of them yet did. The North Star had governed the balance of light and shadow in their realm since time immemorial. Its disappearance wasn't just a sign of calamity. It was the harbinger of rebirth or ruin.
And the woman at the temple… whoever she truly was… had a starbound aura Veylen had not seen in over a hundred years.
He would need to face her with caution.
Because sometimes, stars dim not because they die…
…but because something far more powerful is hiding behind them.
---
"Grand Astrologer, what brings you to the Moonpetals Temple?" asked the High Priest, his voice echoing through the marble corridor like a cautious whisper. He stepped forward, eyes narrowed beneath the weight of centuries carved into his brow.
"I came to meet the goddess," Veylen answered, steady but low, hands folded neatly behind his back.
The priest's robes rustled as he turned slightly, barring the arched doorway with his staff. "She isn't meeting anyone," he said sharply. "And nor is she speaking."
Veylen gave a faint smile, unreadable. "Don't worry. She is expecting me."
Before another word could pass between them, a slow, ancient creak groaned through the air—the doors behind the priest yawned open by themselves. A cold, dry wind slipped from within.
The priest's face twitched. He hesitated. Then nodded grimly. "Very well. You may go… but do not cross the line." His eyes met Veylen's with solemn warning. "We don't want to anger the goddess. Not in times like these."
Veylen gave a short bow and stepped forward. Each movement was composed, yet inside, his heartbeat struck louder than the temple gongs. As his foot crossed the threshold, the heavy doors slammed shut behind him with finality.
Darkness welcomed him—not pitch, but shadowed in silver and silence. Pale moonlight filtered through lattice windows shaped like lotus petals, splashing patterns across the marble floor. Incense smoke swirled in the air like slow-moving ghosts.
And there—standing in the center of the sanctum.
She.
Clad in a white dress that shimmered like snow under starlight. A thin veil concealed her face, but something beneath it gleamed—not gold, not flesh. Her presence radiated neither warmth nor cold, but something deeper. Unsettling. Divine… or devilish. Veylen couldn't tell. His skin prickled. His breath caught.
It was her. The figure from his vision. Standing atop ruins in his dream, surrounded by ash and a broken sky.
He lowered himself slightly, right hand placed across his chest in reverence. "My apologies for requesting a sudden appearance," he began. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Veylen, Grand Astrologer of the royal court."
She did not speak.
Only silence. The kind that holds breath just before a storm.
Veylen continued, voice firmer now. "As you may already know, the kingdom is in grave danger. The northern star is fading. I've traced every path across the constellations, and they all lead to you. Your fate… is bound to this calamity."
He waited.
Then, at last, her voice rang out.
"You are quite capable, Grand Astrologer."
It was not just a voice. It was a melody—like wind brushing over untouched lakewater, like the rustle of trees that knew the secrets of gods. Veylen stiffened. He had heard chants, songs, prayers—but nothing sounded like this.
"You must know," she said, "this catastrophe isn't solely tied to me. The kingdom is rotting from within."
Veylen met her veiled face. "It's true. The way King Arthro seized the throne… the way nobles feast while the poor starve… the corruption, the greed—it is spreading like mold over stone." His throat tightened. "But if nothing is done, the kingdom will fall into ruin. Devils will rule. Humanity will… vanish."
His knees bent without thinking. He dropped down, hands clasped.
"Please," he begged, voice low and trembling, "goddess of Moonpetals, save us."
The room chilled. Not with cold, but with a terrible stillness—as if the universe itself leaned in to listen.
The goddess did not answer.
But Veylen felt something. A surge. Not anger. Not mercy. But a flame cloaked in frost. Revenge… thick and hungry, curling from her like a second skin. Or was it an illusion? Was he imagining it?
Continue in next chapter-