A feeling of weightlessness swept over Auren before he could react—his breath caught, his balance gone. His limbs drifted as if suspended underwater, but there was no water. Just a vast, black expanse stretching in every direction.
Then, one by one, the stars began to appear.
Faint at first. Distant.
But soon the sky was full of them—pinpricks of light blinking into place like eyes opening for the first time in millennia.
"W-what the hell's going on…?" Auren breathed.
He twisted midair, trying to find a surface, a wall, anything. Then—he touched down. His foot pressed against something solid that wasn't there. A floor that reflected no light, cast no shadow, and made no sound when he stood upon it.
And then he saw it.
A massive stone table, white and smooth like bone bleached by starlight. Twelve throne-like seats circled it, perfectly spaced. The Table itself didn't just sit—it drifted closer, as if pulled by recognition.
Like a dog returning to its master.
Auren took a step back on instinct.
The Table stopped.
Silence. No wind. No warmth.
He hesitated, then slowly walked forward and lowered himself into the central throne—not one of the twelve, but the empty seat just beyond the circle.
He didn't know why he did it.
It just felt… right.
Suddenly—two figures appeared from the abyss.
No flash. No sound. Just there, where there had been nothing.
The first was a young man, early twenties maybe. Dirty blonde hair, cut in a messy bowl. His clothes were too mundane for this place—just a white button-up and worn jeans. He looked around cautiously, lips pressed tight, eyes scanning for exits that didn't exist.
The second was a girl, maybe twenty as well, though her sharp gaze made her feel older. Her violet eyes were framed by silver-white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a dark academy uniform—military in shape, elegant in detail. She looked like someone used to being in control.
"Where are we?" she asked, narrowing her eyes."Did you bring us here?"
Auren tensed. Shit. What do I even say…?
He sat straighter, forcing calm into his voice.
"Sorry. I was… testing something," he said, voice casual. "Please, take a seat—if you'd like."
The man raised a brow.
"And who exactly are you?" he asked, cautious, but not hostile. "Some kind of mage?"
Auren hesitated again. I shouldn't tell them my real name… just in case.
Then a word echoed in his head. Not a memory, not a thought—just a presence.
Ophiuchus.
"You can call me Ophiuchus," he said, the name tasting strange in his mouth. "And you?"
The girl flinched slightly.
"Wait… isn't that the forgotten constellation?" she said, a flicker of surprise in her voice. "Are you trying to say you're that Ophiuchus?"
Auren didn't answer. He just looked at her—expression unreadable. Not confirmation. Not denial.
The silence stretched.
Then the man stepped forward, brushing past her without hesitation.
"If we're picking constellations, then fine," he said bluntly."You can call me Aries."
He took the seat directly opposite Auren.
The stone beneath him pulsed faint green.
The girl lingered a moment longer, eyes shifting between them. Then she drew a slow breath, as if weighing something unseen.
"This feels like a setup," she muttered. "But… whatever this is, I'm not sitting on the sidelines."
She stepped to the seat to Aries's right and placed her hand on its armrest.
It flared with cold white light.
"Libra," she said, quietly. "I'll take Libra."
The light from Libra's seat dimmed, settling into a low, steady glow like a watchful eye.
The table pulsed once beneath their feet. Not visually. Not audibly. But something in the air shifted—like a breath had been held and finally released.
Twelve seats.
Three taken.
The rest sat in silence, patient as stones.
No one spoke for a while.
Libra sat perfectly still, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her gaze flicked from the other thrones to the stars overhead—then back to Auren, studying him like a puzzle she half-remembered solving in a dream.
"So?" she finally said. "What happens now?"
Auren rested his arms on the table. He didn't move like a god. Not yet. He moved like someone pretending not to be overwhelmed.
"Nothing. Unless you want it to."
"You mean we can just… leave?" Aries asked, arms crossed. "Just like that?"
"If you'd like."
"And then what? We forget this place? Pretend it didn't happen?"
"You won't forget," Auren said. "No one ever does."
Libra leaned back in her chair.
"And you? What are you supposed to be? The judge? A puppet? A god?"
"Neither," Auren said. "Just someone who… opened the wrong door."
It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the truth either.
"You speak like you've done this before," she said.
"I haven't."
"Then how did you know our names?"
"I didn't."
That one hit. Aries raised a brow, and Libra sat up straighter.
"Then what's with the constellation act?" Aries asked.
Auren tapped the table. "The names are for your protection. The ones you leave behind… don't belong here."
"And the ones we take?" Libra asked.
"The Table remembers them. It recognizes them. Eventually… so will the stars."
They sat with that for a while.
No one moved.
Far above, the constellations shimmered again—faint threads of light twisting into new shapes. Libra watched them, quietly.
"Are we alone in this?" she asked. "The three of us?"
"For now," Auren said.
"How many more seats will be filled?"
"That depends," he said. "On who chooses to sit."
A low, subtle sound echoed across the void. Not from the Table—but from the sky. A soft, vibrating hum, like the tuning of a string far too large to be seen.
Aries shifted. "...The hell was that?"
Auren didn't answer.
He didn't know.
Libra rose from her chair again. "If this place is real… if we're going to return… then I want to know something."
She placed a hand on the edge of the table, the white light of her seat gently reflecting off her knuckles.
"What are we becoming?"
"That's not for me to say," Auren said.
"Then who decides?"
"You do."
Aries let out a dry breath. "Cryptic as hell," he muttered. "But I'll bite."
He stood.
"Whatever this place is… I'll come back. But not because you asked me to."
He nodded toward Auren.
"Because I want to see what happens next."
Libra followed his lead, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeves.
"You said this place listens, remembers. Then remember this."
She looked directly at Auren.
"We're not here to be worshipped. Or used. Or ruled."
"That's good," Auren said. "I'm not here to do any of those things."
He closed his eyes and pictured the door again.
The stars below their feet shimmered. Ripples spread out across the black floor like water breaking under something enormous.
And then, slowly, the stone door began to rise.
Massive.
Quiet.
Waiting.
As it cracked open, a white light bled through the center, stretching across the floor like fog.
Libra turned toward it.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked without looking back.
"If you'd like," Auren said.
"We'll see," Aries muttered.
The light swallowed them both.
Now Auren sat alone.
The hum of the void remained, steady and slow, like a heartbeat that belonged to the world itself.
Three seats glowed.
Nine waited.
He didn't move. He didn't speak.
But under the skin of his left palm—
a shape began to itch.
A circle.
An eye. Still closed.
He stepped into the light.
The world faded to black
And when he awoke— no time had past, and his cheeks where stained red with blood.