Silence.
A profound silence settled over the garden.
Not the silence of peace.
Not the silence of fear.
But the silence that appeared when reality itself seemed uncertain about what should happen next.
Above Rosenfeld Estate—
Eighty-eight constellations illuminated the heavens.
Their celestial patterns stretched endlessly across the night sky.
Ancient symbols.
Ancient paths.
Ancient possibilities.
Each one represented a different destiny.
Each one represented a different truth.
And all eighty-eight now revolved around a single person.
Kel Rosenfeld.
Standing alone at the center of the awakening circle.
The miniature constellations slowly orbited around him.
Like stars around a sun.
Like loyal subjects around an emperor.
Like possibilities waiting for a decision.
Around him—
The ritual formation continued glowing.
The priests maintained their positions.
The attendants continued channeling energy.
The stars remained connected.
Everything had reached the final stage.
The moment of choice.
The Priest of Dawn finally spoke.
"Choose carefully."
His voice carried gravity.
Because this moment would shape Kel's future.
The Priestess of Fate nodded.
"Listen to your heart."
Another priest added.
"The constellation that resonates most strongly with you should become your path."
Others offered similar advice.
Careful.
Measured.
Wise.
Yet Kel paid surprisingly little attention.
Instead—
His gaze remained fixed upon the floating constellations.
Studying them.
Observing them.
Thinking.
Inside his mind—
Sairen quietly spoke.
"They're waiting for your choice."
Kel looked toward a miniature celestial crown floating nearby.
Then toward a celestial sword.
Then a dragon.
Then a scholar.
Then a star.
Eighty-eight possibilities.
"Sairen."
"Hm?"
"Why did they answer?"
The Guardian immediately understood.
He wasn't asking her.
He was asking them.
The constellations themselves.
Kel slowly closed his eyes.
Then silently projected the question.
"Why did you choose me?"
The question drifted into the celestial sea.
Toward eighty-eight waiting stars.
Toward eighty-eight waiting destinies.
No answer came.
As expected.
The stars remained silent.
No voice echoed.
No divine revelation appeared.
No heavenly wisdom descended.
Only silence.
Kel slowly opened his eyes.
"As expected."
Inside his mind—
Sairen chuckled.
"Did you actually expect them to answer?"
"Not really."
And then—
Something happened.
Something nobody expected.
Not the priests.
Not the attendants.
Not Duke Aktaris.
Not Sairen.
Nobody.
Because every person present shared the same assumption.
Kel would choose.
Perhaps a powerful constellation.
Perhaps a rare one.
Perhaps one aligned with rulership.
Or knowledge.
Or dragons.
But he would choose.
That was how awakenings worked.
That was how they had always worked.
Yet Kel suddenly raised one hand.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Halfway toward the sky.
And the moment he did—
The miniature constellations followed.
All eighty-eight.
Gasps erupted across the garden.
The celestial manifestations rose together.
Moving according to his gesture.
According to his will.
Not pulling him.
Following him.
The distinction terrified several priests.
Because constellations guided people.
People did not guide constellations.
Yet that was exactly what was happening.
The stars followed Kel.
Like obedient children.
Like pieces upon a board.
Like extensions of his will.
Inside his mind—
Even Sairen became silent again.
"Interesting."
Kel stared upward.
Then—
He snapped his fingers.
A simple gesture.
Nothing more.
And everything changed.
The eighty-eight miniature constellations shattered.
Not violently.
Beautifully.
They dissolved into countless particles of starlight.
Silver.
Gold.
Blue.
Crimson.
White.
The particles ascended into the heavens.
Returning to the sky itself.
Everyone stared upward.
Unable to understand.
Unable to speak.
And then—
The celestial patterns above became brighter.
Brighter.
And brighter.
Until the entire night sky transformed.
Stars burned like divine fire.
The heavens appeared alive.
Endless rivers of starlight stretched across eternity.
The entire world seemed illuminated.
For one breathtaking moment—
The sky itself resembled a divine painting.
A masterpiece created by gods.
Then—
The constellations began dispersing.
One after another.
The patterns broke apart.
The connected stars separated.
The celestial symbols vanished.
Every constellation disappeared.
The crown.
The sword.
The dragon.
The tower.
The phoenix.
The sea serpent.
All of them.
Gone.
The heavens returned to normal.
Ordinary stars.
Ordinary darkness.
Ordinary night.
As though nothing had happened.
Silence dominated the garden.
Nobody understood.
Nobody.
Finally—
One priest managed to speak.
His voice sounded strangely hollow.
"Why?"
Kel looked toward him.
The priest continued.
"Why did you not choose a constellation?"
The question echoed across the garden.
Others immediately wanted the same answer.
Because they understood what had just happened.
Kel had rejected all eighty-eight.
All of them.
Something never recorded in history.
Something perhaps never attempted before.
The young heir remained silent for several moments.
Thinking.
Then finally answered.
"All eighty-eight answered my will."
The priests nodded.
That much was obvious.
Kel continued.
"If all answered me..."
His gaze drifted toward the sky.
"Then it means I can walk any path."
A brief pause.
"I can become a ruler."
Another pause.
"A scholar."
"A warrior."
"A destroyer."
"A creator."
"A protector."
"A lover."
His voice remained calm.
"If every path is available..."
He looked toward the gathered priests.
"Why should I bind myself to only one?"
Silence.
Several priests frowned.
Not because the reasoning was foolish.
Because it made sense.
Dangerous sense.
The kind of logic that shattered traditions.
Kel continued.
"If I choose one constellation."
"It will increase my aptitude in areas aligned with that constellation."
Heads slowly nodded.
Correct.
That was exactly how it worked.
Then Kel asked:
"What about everything else?"
The question struck harder than expected.
Nobody immediately answered.
Because there wasn't a perfect answer.
Kel continued.
"If I select one path."
"I become stronger within that path."
His eyes remained fixed upon the stars.
"But weaker relative to the possibilities I abandon."
The garden became silent again.
Inside his mind—
Sairen quietly listened.
For once—
Without interruption.
Kel continued speaking.
"If all eighty-eight answered me..."
"Then perhaps I am capable of becoming more than any one of them individually."
The words felt absurd.
Yet somehow—
Nobody laughed.
Because tonight had already become absurd.
The impossible had happened repeatedly.
What was one more impossibility?
Kel slowly lowered his hand.
Then continued.
"If I choose from predetermined options..."
"My path becomes predictable."
"Predictable challenges."
"Predictable growth."
"Predictable rewards."
His voice became quieter.
"But predictable paths rarely reward true effort."
The priests listened carefully.
Even the attendants.
Even Duke Aktaris.
Even Helena.
Because they sensed something important emerging.
Kel continued.
"The purpose of a constellation is to help someone surpass their limits."
His gaze drifted toward the empty sky.
"If a constellation cannot challenge me..."
"Cannot push me beyond my limits..."
"Cannot force me to grow..."
"Then why should I choose it?"
The question lingered.
Heavy.
Profound.
Dangerous.
And for a long time—
Nobody spoke.
Because nobody possessed an answer.
Eventually—
The Priestess of Fate slowly closed her eyes.
A realization forming.
Then another priest understood.
Then another.
And another.
Until the Twelve Priests gradually reached the same conclusion.
One so unbelievable that none wanted to say it aloud.
Yet it explained everything.
The eighty-eight constellations answered Kel.
Not because he aligned with them.
But because something beyond them aligned with him.
Not a constellation.
Not a path.
Not a star.
But the thing that held the stars.
The endless darkness.
The infinite space.
The canvas upon which constellations existed.
The sky itself.
The possibility that contained all possibilities.
The Priestess of Stars slowly whispered:
"The heavens..."
Another priest completed the thought.
"Not the stars."
"The sky."
Silence followed.
Because if that theory was correct—
Then the reason the miniature constellations obeyed Kel became obvious.
The stars existed within the sky.
The constellations existed within the canvas.
And for a brief moment tonight—
It had appeared as though Kel held that canvas in his hand.
Inside his mind—
Sairen finally spoke.
Softly.
With genuine wonder.
"Kel."
"Hm?"
"I think you just rejected destiny itself."
Kel looked upward.
Toward the ordinary night sky.
Then quietly replied.
"No."
A faint smile appeared.
"I simply chose to write my own."
And above the world—
Beyond the visible stars—
Something ancient seemed to watch.
Silently.
Patiently.
As though waiting to see whether the boy who rejected eighty-eight destinies could truly create a path that belonged only to himself.