Chapter 7 the Star that cannot be hidden
1125 Words
The palace of Astrad had not yet recovered from the unrest beneath its surface when something older than kings arrived.
She came without announcement. Without procession. Yet the moment she stepped through the gates, the air itself seemed to bow.
The High Priestess of Astrad. Bent with age, wrapped in robes the color of faded starlight. Eyes clouded, yet seeing far more than any in the palace.
Word spread like wildfire. Within moments, the grand hall was summoned. Cabinet members and Princes of Astrad. The King, the Queen, Princess Annalise, nobles and witnesses. And among them was Talia.
She stood quietly, observing as the hall filled with murmurs and restless curiosity.
At the center, the priestess stood still. Like time had passed around her.
King Thoa rose from his throne.
“You come unannounced,” he said carefully. “This must be important.”
The old woman did not bow. Did not greet. Instead she lifted her face slightly.
“The stars have spoken.”
Silence fell instantly. Even the air held its breath. Her voice, though aged, carried unnaturally far
“Every night, a star shines in crystal blue.”
A faint murmur rippled through the crowd.
“Brighter than all others.”
Her hand lifted weakly as though pointing to something far beyond the ceiling.
“It does not stand alone. It is surrounded by four. One from the north, one from the south, one from the east and one from the west.”
The tension tightened.
“The star first appeared…”
A long pause.
“Two nights before the Red Moon ceremony.”
Now, the murmurs grew louder. Whispers. Calculations. Nobles leaned toward one another. Princes exchanged glances. Cabinet members frowned in thought.
Talia blinked slowly. And they expect me to understand this…? She rolled her eyes slightly. This had nothing to do with her. Or so she thought.
“It must be connected to something significant,” one of the ministers muttered.
“Two days before the Red Moon…” another repeated.
“What happened that day?”
Silence stretched until—
“I know.”
A voice cut through. All heads turned. A man stepped forward from the crowd, eyes wide with realization.
“That was the day…”
He pointed. Not at the priestess but toward the princes.
“That was the day of Prince Pyrrhos’ twenty-second birthday. And his initiation at the Labyrinth.”
Silence.
Then the old priestess pointed her hands to Pyrrhos. “The prophecy of the promised Immortal King— it’s him.”
Voices clashed over one another. Shocks and disbelief. The weight of it all crashed down at once. The prophecy, the star, the timing. Everything pointed to one person.
Talia’s breath caught. Her eyes instinctively searched for him.
Pyrrhos stood among them silent. If he had registered this situation in his head earlier on, he definitely would have disappeared few seconds ago to escape this moment.
As though none of it touched him, as though the storm forming around his name meant nothing, he turned and walked away.
No word. No reaction. Just silence.
The crowd parted instinctively. No one dared stop him. No one dared call his name. And just like that, he was gone back to the eastern wing, back to isolation, back to himself.
But the palace did not return to silence. The news spread fast like fire through dry land.
“The Immortal King…”
“Prince Pyrrhos…”
“The prophecy is awakening…”
Within the chaos, Queen Aria sat frozen. Her composure—cracking.
“No…” she whispered under her breath.
Panic flickered in her eyes. This was not part of her control. Not part of her design.
Across from her, Crown Prince Emerald stood still but his expression had darkened. Troubled. Calculating.
And at the center—King Thoa. The man who had built his kingdom on power and decisions. Now sat in silence, his jaw tight, his fingers curling slightly against the arm of his throne.
Regret.
Bitter.
Unforgiving.
He bit down on it hard. Because for the first time, the consequences of his choices were no longer distant.
They were here.
---
The eastern wing felt different now. Quiet and heavy. As though the walls themselves had heard the prophecy and were waiting.
Talia didn’t think. She ran past corridors, past guards, past the weight of everything she did not yet understand, until she reached his door. She stopped.
Her hand hovered for a moment, then she pushed it open slightly.
Pyrrhos sat on the edge of his bed, still. Silent and alone. For the first time, he did not look untouchable. He looked burdened.
“Can I come in?” she asked softly.
He didn’t look at her immediately. But after a moment he nodded.
That was enough.
Talia stepped inside carefully, her movements slow, almost cautious—like she was entering a space that did not belong to her.
She walked toward him. Then sat beside him, not too close, not too far.
Silence followed, but it wasn’t the suffocating kind. It was calm. For once there was no arguments, no fear, no sharp words. Just presence.
Time passed. Neither of them spoke. Yet somehow it felt like something was being said.
Talia glanced at him. His expression was unreadable but softer and less guarded.
She exhaled quietly. Maybe this is enough, she thought. After a while, she shifted slightly.
“I should go—”
Her words didn’t finish. His hand caught her wrist.
“Stay.”
Her breath hitched slightly.
“Lie with me.”
Talia hesitated. Her eyes dropped briefly to the bed. Then back to him. He wasn’t commanding, no, not today, not cold. Just… asking.
She nodded. Slowly.
They lay down beside each other, facing one another. Close but not overwhelming.
For a moment, neither moved. Just breathing.
The world outside, the prophecy, the palace, the chaos faded until it was just them.
Pyrrhos lifted his hand slowly. Carefully as though unsure—and brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek.
Talia’s breath softened. Her lips parted slightly, her thoughts drifting somewhere unfamiliar.
What would it feel like…?
The question lingered. And then he moved closer. Slow, uncertain, like a man who had never allowed himself this before.
Their foreheads nearly touched. A breath apart. Then their lips met. Soft, not forceful, not consuming. Just real.
Talia’s eyes fluttered shut, and for that moment, there was no fear, no hatred or prophecy. Just warmth, closeness and something fragile, dangerously new.
When they pulled back slightly, neither spoke. Neither rushed to move away.
Both of them knew something had changed and whatever that might come next, would be something they might not be able to avoid.
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