. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

That night, Aster held up her pendant, letting the moonlight reflect off its surface as she tried to decipher its meaning. She clutched it close, tracing her fingers over the inscription:

“Once the moon and stars combine, Realms unite and stars align.”

It was almost the same as what the mirror had said.

Her brows furrowed as she thought back to earlier that day in class. The moment had been fleeting, but it stuck with her. She had turned to Ranley, hoping for some kind of recognition—some hint that he knew something she didn’t. But his expression had been blank, his usual easygoing demeanor unchanged. His expression told her he was just as clueless.

‘Dawn’s promise?’ she whispered. ‘What does that mean?’

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The night faded into morning.

It was Wednesday, and the first subject of the day was history. For the past weeks, they had studied everything about Crescentis, but today’s lesson turned to the downfall of the Crescentis–Helios alliance.

Professor Lily adjusted her glasses. “Turn to page seventy.”

Flavia was the first to raise her hand, eager to show off. Clearing her throat, she recited with an air of self-importance:

「 The kingdoms of Crescentis and Helios once pursued peace through a formal treaty, strengthened by shared trade routes and cultural exchange. Talks of forming a great empire—two kingdoms joined under one banner—were openly discussed among rulers and nobles. Such an alliance promised stability, prosperity, and lasting security for both realms. This vision collapsed with the betrayal of Duke Lucian of Helios, known as the Great Light Mage. He was accused of conspiring with dark mages and enabling their infiltration into Helios. At the time, the royal family of Crescentis was in Helios on official visit. When the dark mages were discovered to have originated from Crescentis territory, Helios accused Crescentis of complicity.

In response, Helios severed ties and withdrew from all diplomatic agreements. Duke Lucian was declared a traitor and fugitive, though he was never captured, and his fate remains uncertain.

Some scholars argue that Helios acted with caution and in the interest of self-preservation. Others contend that the decision was rash, as no evidence directly linked Crescentis to the infiltration. They note that the vision of empire dissolved before it could be tested, replaced instead by suspicion and enmity. 

Since that time, the two kingdoms have remained divided, their relations marked by caution and distrust.”」

“This was exactly what I was talking about in the library when we first met. Remember?” Katharina whispered to Aster.

Aster paused, then nodded. Her eyes lit with interest; she had always been curious about Helios, and perhaps this lesson would give her answers.

Finishing her recitation, Flavia straightened with a smug smile, clearly pleased with herself.

Professor Lily nodded. “Now, who would like to offer their interpretation of this historical event? Anyone?”

The room was silent. Then her eyes swept across the class and landed on Randall.

“Lord Randall Aurelius, what about you? What are your thoughts on the severed ties between the two kingdoms?”

Randall leaned back in his chair, his tone calm but firm. “Blaming the duke alone is convenient, but Helios had every reason to act in self-preservation. A treaty without trust is just a waiting game for betrayal. Cutting ties was the logical choice—and that goes the same for Crescentis. However, it was unfair for Crescentis to be blamed when it was clear the duke was behind it. The duke was Helian, not Crescentian. Why blame our kingdom simply because the royal family happened to be there at the time? That’s circumstantial evidence, nothing more.”

A few students murmured in agreement, praising how intelligent Randall was.

“Very well reasoned,” the professor said approvingly. Then her eyes shifted. “What about you, Miss Winslow? Do you agree with Lord Randall’s stance?”

Aster flinched. This was the first time in a long while she had to face Randall, not in casual conversation but in formal discussion. She hesitated, glancing at her book, while Flavia’s group snickered, certain she was at a loss again.

But then she spoke, voice steady though quiet at first. “Uhh… Some of his points make sense,” she admitted slowly. “But something doesn’t add up. The history books say Duke Lucian was a traitor… but based on what? He was never caught. There was no trial. We never even heard his side. What if he was framed by the dark mages instead of working with them? The book jumps straight to a conclusion but doesn’t show us the foundation for it. If the assumption is just ‘the duke was guilty,’ then isn’t everything else built on that assumption… not on proof?”

Silence fell over the room.

A murmur spread among the students as they exchanged glances. Seated beside Aster, Katharina smirked slightly, proud of her friend for challenging Randall’s reasoning. Wren shared the same reaction.

Randall’s expression shifted—still calm, but more attentive. “Whether the duke was truly a traitor or not is irrelevant. The main issue was Crescentis severing ties with Helios in response to mistrust. Like I said, Helios acted out of self-preservation, and Crescentis did the same. My stance is simple: if it was right for Crescentis to cut ties, then yes—it was. Why risk their stability for a kingdom already compromised? A traitor in Helios, especially one so high-ranking, was reason enough.”

Aster didn’t flinch. “But your stance assumes the duke was guilty. That isn’t irrelevant—it’s the core of the issue. If he wasn’t, then Crescentis abandoned an ally based on a lie. If the dark mages orchestrated it, wouldn’t the real responsibility lie in defeating them? If Crescentis valued Helios, shouldn’t they have worked together to uncover the truth? Walking away only proves they never cared.”

Randall’s gaze remained steady. “Crescentis severed ties over a false assumption? You make it sound like they acted irrationally. But let’s not forget—it was Helios who first withdrew from the alliance. Crescentis only responded in turn.”

“And what drove Helios to that?” Aster pressed. “They had reason to believe that Crescentis had already shifted its stance. If one side pulls away in anticipation of betrayal, and the other side takes that as confirmation of their own suspicions, it becomes a cycle of distrust. Just like you said.”

Randall’s eyes sharpened. “So you’re suggesting Crescentis should have jeopardized its own people for the sake of another kingdom’s internal affairs?”

“Jeopardized what exactly? By eliminating the dark mages? Wouldn’t that have benefited Crescentis as well? Even now, we don’t know if dark mages are still lurking in the shadows. And Duke Lucian… he was a renowned Light Mage. Would he really be so reckless as to throw away his reputation to aid those who practice forbidden magic?”

Randall’s mind raced through her words. She had a point. But—

“Red herring,” he said smoothly. “You’re diverting the argument with speculation instead of focusing on known facts. That’s an entirely different topic.”

Wren and Katharina exchanged nervous glances.

Aster’s voice sharpened. “How is it irrelevant? Even if that’s what the book implies, perspective may shape how history is remembered, but it doesn’t alter what actually happened. The truth exists regardless of how either side sees it. If Crescentis and Helios were both misled by incomplete information, then the fact remains—they didn’t act on truth, but on manipulated circumstances. Shouldn’t that be questioned?”

Randall exhaled. “You’re trapping me in semantics.”

“How is it semantics when we both understand what we’re talking about?” Aster shot back.

Randall paused before answering. “You argue as if truth is absolute, but in reality, people only act based on the information available to them. Their version of the truth is shaped by that.”

Aster held his gaze. “Then we agree on that much. People’s perspectives can be flawed because they lack all the facts. But that doesn’t mean truth itself is relative… it just means people are fallible. A misunderstanding doesn’t change reality. It only means the truth was obscured. If we accept history without questioning it, we’re just memorizing words, not understanding them. How can we claim to know the truth if it’s incomplete?”

Her words struck like a stone in water, ripples spreading across the class.

“But without evidence, it remains speculation,” Randall countered, unwavering.

Aster’s reply was immediate. “Exactly. Without proof, it’s just speculation. So why are you so convinced that Duke Lucian was a traitor? Where’s the solid evidence? And what about the Crescentis royal family? What were they doing in Helios at the time of the attack? Doesn’t that suggest they were involved?” 

She leaned forward slightly. 

“If they were truly innocent, why cut ties so abruptly instead of demanding an investigation? Wouldn’t a true ally have fought to uncover the truth rather than withdrawing in silence?”

Katharina, sitting between them, held her breath.

Randall’s lips pressed together. He didn’t answer at once, and in that pause, the weight of Aster’s words seemed to hang over the room. For a moment, it felt less like a debate and more like a crack opening in something carefully kept hidden.

But then, just as quickly, he countered, his voice quieter.

“How do you know they didn’t fight the dark mages?”

Aster’s eyes locked onto Randall’s as she leaned even more forward, so close she nearly brushed against Katharina, who sat between them.

“How do you know they did?” she shot back. “It’s not written in the history books. By your logic, that makes it nothing more than speculation.”

The room fell into stunned silence. No one had expected the debate to take this turn.

Randall’s expression hardened, but beneath the calm surface flickered something strained—like a truth pressing at the edge of his control.

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Because I know.”

Aster froze. “What?” she breathed, but Randall had already lowered his gaze, shadowed by something unspoken.

Behind Randall, Wren studied him with quiet concern, sensing the sudden shift beneath his calm exterior. Even Katharina, who had been holding her breath, remained utterly still.

A heavy silence pressed over the room.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Professor Lily said at last, her voice breaking the tension. “We’re straying into circles. Still—an impressive exchange.  Lord Aurelius, your logic is precise. Miss Winslow, your willingness to challenge conventional thought is commendable.”

Ranley let out a laugh. “That was a good one, Miss Aster.” He looked genuinely amused, perhaps even pleased that someone had finally left Randall speechless.

Aster blinked, startled by Ranley’s unexpected praise. Only then did she realize how far forward she had been leaning; she quickly drew back in her seat, finally giving Katharina space to breathe.

‘What did I—? ‘ Her thoughts scattered. ‘I got carried away…’

Flavia scoffed. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “History books don’t lie. That’s why it’s called history.”

Naturally, most students sided with Randall.

Isadora rolled her eyes. “What a waste of time. Questioning history won’t change it.”

Flavia smirked, looking toward Aster. “How dare you question the royal family of Crescentis? Do you think you’re smarter than the scholars who wrote history? It almost sounds like you’re siding with the traitor. And if you love Helios so much, why don’t you go live there?” Her lips curved in mock sympathy. “Oh, right—you’d need money for that.”

A ripple of laughter broke across the class while others exchanged uncertain glances.

Aster remained silent, unfazed by the insult.

Then Randall slowly turned toward her.

For the first time in a long while, someone had challenged him—not just intellectually, but in a way that made him think.

No.

Not just think.

Something in Aster’s words had stirred something deeper.

Something that made him remember.

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