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Chapter 17 - CHAPTE 16: CONSTELLATIONS AND CONFESSION

Chapter 16: Constellations and Confessions

The observatory crowned the palace like a forgotten secret—round, silent, and humming with the kind of ancient magic that even the stars had learned to respect. Elaine pushed the heavy door open, balancing a flickering candle in one hand and an empty cake plate in the other. The hallway behind her still glowed faintly from Caius's sparkles, as if the palace itself hadn't quite recovered from his magical mishap.

She needed space. Air. Sanity. In that order.

The moment she stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. The observatory was timeless. Above her, the glass dome shimmered with runes woven into constellations that didn't match any known sky chart. Starlight filtered in despite the early dusk, ignoring celestial schedules. Up here, the rules bent—memories, time, even light itself curved around the room like it was the center of some long-forgotten spell.

Elaine exhaled and dropped onto a cushioned bench near the telescope, the tension in her shoulders finally beginning to ease.

"Why is romance always a triangle?" she muttered. "Why not a straight line? Dot A meets Dot B. No detours. No glitter explosions. Just… clarity."

The stars above blinked, indifferent.

She poked at the last smear of frosting on her plate. "Figures. Even dessert has more direction than my love life."

Then something shimmered near the base of the telescope. Not gold like before—this was silver, soft and rhythmic, pulsing like a heartbeat woven from moonlight.

Elaine stood.

Another flare?

But this didn't feel like a memory. It felt older. More alive.

Drawn in, she stepped forward—and the silver light reached out, wrapping around her hand like fog. The world shifted.

She wasn't in the present anymore.

The observatory blurred and reformed into a different moment. Same space, different time. She stood near the telescope, watching a younger version of herself—wrapped in emerald velvet—speaking softly to a boy with tired eyes and ink-stained fingers.

"I won't remember you," he said. His voice cracked, young and certain and already grieving.

"You will," her younger self whispered. "The stars will whisper it back. I'll return, even if it takes lifetimes."

Elaine's breath caught.

She recognized that boy.

Not Caius.

Not Lior.

Someone else. Familiar… and wrong. Too young. Too fragile to be part of the love triangle she'd grown used to navigating.

Then the vision shattered like glass, and the present returned.

A breeze stirred the candle flame. She wasn't alone anymore.

Lior stood at the threshold, his expression unreadable.

Elaine turned. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said, stepping inside. His voice was quieter than usual, like he didn't want to disturb the memory still clinging to the air. "That wasn't Caius."

"No," she said, her voice dry. "It wasn't you either."

Lior's brow furrowed. "Then who?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't know. But something's waking up."

As if in response, a faint sound echoed up the tower—a child's laugh. Sweet. Unsettling. Like a lullaby sung backward.

Lior's posture stiffened. "That's… new."

"It started after Caius unconsciously broke a spell," Elaine murmured. "I thought it was just memory bleed. But what if it's something—or someone—coming through?"

They both looked up at the runes on the ceiling. One had begun to glow faintly red, pulsing like a warning.

Lior took a step closer. "Then we figure it out. Together. No forgetting. No resets."

Elaine smiled despite the chill in her spine. "Even if Caius turns into a glitter bomb again?"

He smirked. "Even then."

She stepped into his arms. No dramatic speeches. Just warmth, solid and real. When he kissed her, it wasn't rushed or magical—it was steady. Earned. A choice, not fate.

They stayed like that a moment, tucked between stars and echoes.

When they pulled apart, Elaine leaned against him. "We're finally getting forward."

Lior brushed his lips against her hair. "And this time, we keep our pens."

But down below, in the palace's forgotten wing, the childlike voice giggled again—closer now.

And the red rune blinked faster.

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