The next morning, the sun rose behind a curtain of silver fog. It cast the Black Bulls' hideout in soft, hazy light—turning the world ghostlike, almost serene.
But Astra's mood was far from calm.
She stood at the edge of the lake near the forest, arms folded across her chest, the hem of her coat brushing the dew-damp grass. Her grimoire hovered beside her, motionless. Even the magic inside seemed to wait in silence.
Behind her, footsteps crunched softly.
"Didn't expect you to be out here this early," came Noelle's voice.
Astra didn't turn. "Didn't sleep much."
Noelle walked to her side, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "The letter."
Astra nodded. "Selene's reach is longer than I thought."
They stood there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder. The lake rippled quietly before them, disturbed only by the occasional breeze or the hop of a frog along the shore.
Then Noelle asked, "What exactly is the Eclipse?"
Astra's eyes stayed fixed on the water. "It's more than a coven. It's a **belief**. One born from ancient times—back when the balance of mana wasn't just elemental, but cosmic. The Eclipse witches believe all creation is borrowed, and that real power comes not from nurturing life, but from unraveling it."
Noelle frowned. "That sounds... apocalyptic."
"It is," Astra said simply. "They worship the event horizon of stars—the space where light dies and gravity reigns. To them, every death is a sacred offering. Every soul torn from its body, a key to understanding the Void."
"You escaped that?"
"I ran from it," Astra corrected. "I was young enough to be forgotten. Or so I thought."
She turned her head slightly toward Noelle, her violet eyes duller today, filled with stormy introspection.
"They raised me to believe love was weakness. That trust was a trap. That to give mercy was to forfeit power."
"And yet here you are," Noelle said softly. "Fighting beside people. Saving lives. Smiling."
Astra didn't smile now.
"I thought I severed every connection to them. But last night's letter proves otherwise."
---
Later that day, Yami called a meeting.
The entire squad crowded into the common hall—some still yawning, others snacking or arguing over who'd stolen Magna's coffee pot.
Astra sat near the back, quiet and tense. Noelle was beside her, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Yami stood before them with his usual blend of laziness and menace, arms folded as smoke coiled from his cigarette.
"We've got a problem," he said. "A series of disappearances across border towns. Villagers vanish overnight. No bodies. No witnesses. Just traces of dark magic—complex sigils, memory fractures, and some nasty soulbinding echoes."
"That sounds like necromancy," Vanessa said, brows knitted.
"It's worse," Yami grunted. "The runes match something we haven't seen since the war against the old covens. Something Astra confirmed."
All eyes shifted toward her.
Asta leaned forward, eyes wide. "Wait... like a cult?"
"Witch cult," Yami said. "The Eclipse."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then murmurs rose—some fearful, others confused.
Finral muttered, "Didn't they vanish a decade ago?"
"They don't vanish," Astra said quietly. "They slither underground and wait for the stars to align."
She stood slowly. Her voice was calm, but every word was etched in steel.
"Their return isn't random. They're building toward something. Every ritual, every tethered soul—it's part of a larger rite. Something old. Something forbidden."
Yami dropped his cigarette into a nearby ashtray.
"That's why I'm sending Astra and Noelle on recon."
Astra blinked. "Noelle?"
"She's seen Eclipse magic now. Fought beside you. That makes her uniquely qualified."
Noelle straightened. "I'm not afraid of shadows."
"You should be," Astra said quietly.
Yami added, "You're not going in alone. Zora will trail from afar, and Finral's your exit ticket if things go sideways."
Finral winced. "As usual."
---
By nightfall, Astra and Noelle were packed and mounted on brooms, riding hard toward the border town of Drosen—a quiet village known for its gemstone mines and holy springs. It had been reduced to silence three days ago.
The sky above them turned black and starlit, each star glimmering like a whisper Astra didn't want to hear. Noelle kept glancing sideways at her.
"You okay?" she asked over the wind.
Astra nodded. "I will be."
They landed just outside the town's boundary. The village itself looked peaceful—almost too much so. The windows were unbroken. Lanterns still burned. The fountains flowed with clean water.
And yet, the **air** was wrong.
Thick. Humming. Tasting faintly of blood and candlewax.
Astra drew her grimoire, eyes narrowed. "There's no mana flow."
Noelle frowned. "But the springs—"
"Still flowing. But the people are gone. Their mana… harvested."
Noelle's spine stiffened.
As they moved deeper into the village, their boots clicked against cobblestones littered with stray items—dolls, dinner plates, overturned stools. Everything abandoned in an instant.
Astra approached the village chapel. Its doors hung open, swaying slightly in a breeze that didn't exist.
Inside, the altar had been defiled.
The symbol of the Clover Kingdom had been scrawled over in dark sigils—swirling patterns that shimmered with latent violet magic.
"Don't touch anything," Astra warned.
Noelle's eyes widened. "This isn't just Eclipse. This is advanced ritual binding."
"I know," Astra said, stepping forward. "And I know who wrote it."
A sharp breeze rose, stirring the torches. Then, from behind the altar, a figure stepped out—shrouded in silver mist.
She wore robes of deep indigo, her hair like black silk streaked with silver, and her smile—
—was Astra's smile, turned cruel.
"Hello, little star," Selene whispered. "Did you miss me?"