The stars had always been distant companions — beautiful, unreachable, and constant.
But on the seventh night after the siege, they moved.
Not in orbit.
Not in time.
They shifted in memory.
Isen felt it in her sleep — a ripple across her thoughts, like a hand brushing silk through her mind.
She dreamed of a voice she had never heard.
She dreamed of a name never spoken.
And when she woke, she whispered it aloud.
"The Ninth."
---
The City of Stars had begun rebuilding. Slowly. Carefully. The Flame Pools still burned, and the stone towers were rising again — but something had changed.
The Children weren't just recovering.
They were evolving.
Nima no longer feared her light. It pulsed steadily when she moved, responding to her will.
Kaela had forged a new blade — one not of steel, but pure fused flame and stardust.
And Darian? He had grown quiet, withdrawn, as though he too had heard something he couldn't yet speak.
Everyone felt it.
