The first week of college brought with it a symphony of unfamiliar sounds, new routines, and the slow settling of independence. Kael stood outside his dormitory, eyes fixed on the horizon that held the distant memory of Ayame's last hug. The city buzzed around him, but it felt more like background noise to a story he hadn't finished reading. With each passing day, he felt the urge to reach out—but something always stopped him. Pride? Fear? Maybe it was the unspoken promise they had made.
In the Kingdom of Eryndor, Ayame moved through the towering halls of the Academy of Celestial Arts. Magic pulsed in the air like a living thing—its presence as real and heavy as gravity. She had discovered, to her disbelief, that the hidden legacy her grandmother whispered about was no bedtime story. The stardust in her veins was more than metaphorical—it was power.
"Focus, Ayame," her mentor, Liora, said as Ayame tried to summon a simple light orb. Her fingers tingled, and a soft glow appeared, then fizzled.
"I'm trying. It's just... everything here feels like a dream."
Liora placed a hand on her shoulder. "Because your heart is torn between two worlds. You must choose where your loyalty lies."
Meanwhile, Kael discovered a curious bookstore tucked in the corner of his campus. It was old, dust gathering on shelves that seemed older than the building itself. A book called *The Astral Veil* practically leaped off the shelf at him. When he opened it, he was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu.
Words shimmered and reformed:
**"The one bound by stardust and sorrow shall find their way across realms."**
He blinked. The message vanished.
Late that night, as Ayame stood beneath the twin moons of Eryndor, she saw a falling star split into two streaks across the sky. Her fingers curled around the pendant Kael gave her on graduation night. Magic hummed, tugging her heart across space and memory.
In Kael's world, thunder cracked—though the sky was clear. He looked up, confused, and noticed the lights flickering in his room. The pendant in his drawer pulsed.
Neither of them noticed the faint silver threads that shimmered into existence, connecting their worlds again. Faint, nearly invisible—but real.
Back in Eryndor, the Headmistress frowned over an ancient prophecy scroll.
**"If the threads are seen too soon, the Veil will tear... and the Rift will awaken."**
But someone else was watching the same threads, from the shadows of the palace tower.
Someone who should've been long dead.
And as Ayame stepped into her dorm, a shadow followed—its eyes glowing with a strange blue fire.