"But that's all rumor, right? There's no proof. I mean… no one's ever made a Ten-Star spell. Not since—"
"Lysandra the First Flame," Selphine supplied.
He nodded. "Right. The founder of the Empire. The flame that burned down the Old Kingdoms. That was—what—over a thousand years ago?"
"A thousand and seventy-three," Selphine corrected automatically. "She was the first. The only. Ten-Star confirmed by Ascension."
"And if the Empire's never produced another one since," Aurelian added, "why would it suddenly happen now?"
He didn't mean it as an insult. Just the quiet voice of reason that lingered behind every legend.
But Elara… felt her breath settle.
Not with disbelief.
With awe.
'Master always spoke of him as if he weren't quite human.'
Not with fear. Not with worship. But with that strange edge in her voice—the one that hovered between admiration and memory, like she had once stood beneath his shadow and still hadn't quite left.
