Ayame let out a long sigh as she finally drifted back down to solid ground, the celestial gas finally fading from her bloodstream—or whatever passed for a bloodstream in this pocket dimension. Kael landed beside her with a soft thud, hair sticking out in every direction like he'd just been struck by lightning.
"Okay," he muttered, brushing a croissant crumb off his collar, "I think I've officially lost my fear of space. My fear of floating into a frosting-covered abyss, though? That's new."
Ayame doubled over with laughter. "You... you tried to swim through the air, Kael! Like some pastry-powered jellyfish!"
Kael shrugged. "Desperate times."
Ahead of them, the glyph-lined corridor stretched forward like a funnel of silver ink. Each glowing rune pulsed with a rhythm that felt... familiar. Like the heartbeat of an old friend they hadn't seen in years. With each step, the air shimmered more intensely, as though anticipation was baked into the atmosphere.
"Where do you think it leads?" Ayame asked.
Kael tilted his head. "Hopefully not another dessert-based death trial."
They stepped forward together, their silhouettes elongating with the shifting light. Then, the corridor widened, revealing a vast hall lined with shelves—rows upon rows of celestial tomes, glowing scrolls, and floating parchments. It looked like a library stitched together from dreams.
Hovering near the center was a small creature—part owl, part fox, with glimmering sapphire eyes and a bushy tail that shimmered like a galaxy. It wore a tiny pair of reading glasses and looked up with clear disapproval.
"You're late," it said, in a voice surprisingly deep for something the size of a backpack.
Ayame blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Chapter Nine," the creature replied, tapping a floating scroll. "This is when you were supposed to arrive. You've been delayed. Let me guess—Flan of Foresight?"
Kael groaned. "Don't get me started."
The creature huffed. "Name's Quillo. Keeper of Records. I've been waiting here to brief you. Sit down, listen up, and no eating any scrolls. Last Chosen Ones got curious and thought the Prophecy of Ashes was a sushi roll."
Ayame smirked. "Noted."
Quillo fluttered to a podium. "You two have now passed your first test, however ridiculous it may have seemed. But the path ahead requires more than love and humor. The Star Keys are locked in realms tied to your inner truths—places molded by your emotions, regrets, hopes."
He waved a paw, and a nearby scroll unrolled in the air. It displayed a map of realms: *The Valley of Forgotten Names*, *The Mirror Lake of Memory*, *The Rift of Reunions*, and others, some of which shimmered and shifted with unrevealed names.
"One of these holds the first Star Key," Quillo said. "But here's the catch: you don't choose it. It chooses you."
Suddenly, one of the map's symbols—a swirling galaxy over *The Rift of Reunions*—glowed and began to expand.
Ayame stepped closer, her breath hitching. "That place… it feels familiar."
Kael nodded slowly. "Me too. Weird deja vu."
"It's because that realm mirrors lost connections," Quillo said softly. "And I suspect the magic that separated you a year ago? It left... scars."
Ayame and Kael exchanged a glance.
"What do we do there?" Ayame asked.
"You relive what separated you," Quillo answered. "And if you don't overcome it, you'll remain in a loop of regret... forever."
Kael clenched his jaw. "Sounds cheerful."
Quillo squinted. "Oh, and one more thing—your former selves? They may not want to let go so easily."
Before either of them could ask what that meant, the ground beneath them rippled again, and the hall twisted. In a flash of silver light, they were gone.
They found themselves standing in the middle of a train station.
It was familiar—eerily so. The dull clatter of old vending machines, the flickering overhead lights, and the scent of cheap cocoa and damp air.
Ayame spun around slowly. "Kael… this is the station. The one from a year ago."
The place where they'd parted ways.
Where she'd disappeared after whispering goodbye.
And then... from the shadows, came another Ayame.
Not dressed in celestial robes or adventure gear.
But in her high school uniform.
She didn't look up. She just sat on the bench. Crying.
Kael stepped forward instinctively—then froze.
Because another *him* was standing a few feet away.
Watching her.
Back then, he hadn't known what to say.
He still didn't.
Ayame reached out toward the version of herself—only for her hand to pass through. "They're memories... shadows."
"No," said a voice behind them.
It was *their* voice.
But older. Heavier. Warmer.
"You're standing in the exact moment that bent your stars apart. And now, you'll have to bend them back."
They turned—and saw two glowing figures stepping from the fog.
Both versions of themselves. But not just reflections.
Twisted, glowing echoes.
And they weren't smiling.