The echo of the dragons did not completely disappear.
Even after the hall returned to its stone form,
and after the pillars settled back into place,
the air remained tense… like a string that was not allowed to relax.
No one spoke.
Not because they had nothing to say…
but because words felt like a primitive tool compared to what they had witnessed.
The golden light that had filled the hall moments ago began to fade gradually,
until it became nothing more than a lingering glow clinging to the edges of the mirror.
Then—
The light changed.
It did not go out.
It cooled.
It first appeared as a pale thread,
then slowly expanded…
until it covered the hall in a white color without spirit.
It was not a comforting light.
It was the kind that reveals everything…
without giving any warmth.
One of the guards felt his skin become more sensitive,
as if the light itself were touching him.
Several people's breaths froze without them noticing.
Navara whispered,
"This light…"
But she did not finish.
Because she could not find a word that suited it.
The whiteness was not heavenly,
nor sacred,
nor even cold in the usual sense.
It was… terrifyingly neutral.
As if the hall was now being displayed before an eye that knew neither mercy nor cruelty.
It simply… saw.
The mirror lifted something upward.
A point.
So small that some thought it was an illusion.
Far away…
yet no one could look away from it.
Takara said in a low voice,
"…A star?"
No one answered.
Because the star moved.
No one saw when it began to fall.
There was no path to follow.
Only—
They suddenly realized it had become closer.
Then closer.
Then closer.
Without any acceleration the mind could understand.
As if distance itself were folding.
One of the scribes felt sudden dizziness
and grabbed the edge of the platform.
He whispered,
"This… is impossible."
There was no clear fear in his voice…
only the confusion of a mind colliding with something it could not explain.
The star turned into a meteor.
It cut through the whiteness without sound.
No friction.
No fire.
Just a white line… approaching.
It came closer—
Then—
It stopped.
No slowing.
No shaking.
No resistance.
It stopped… the way a thought stops when it is rejected.
At that moment, something happened that not everyone noticed immediately.
Navara's hair… which had been moving slightly because of a faint air current…
kept flowing forward.
But the air stopped.
There was nothing pushing it anymore.
She slowly raised her hand…
and let the strand of hair fall.
It did not fall.
It remained suspended.
As if the concept of "down" was no longer valid here.
The hall grew cold.
But it was not the cold of temperature.
It was the cold of meaning.
Even the white light became sharp,
visible yet painful to look at for long.
One guard opened his mouth to speak…
but the sound was delayed.
Delayed by a small fraction of a second.
As if time needed an extra moment to decide to let it pass.
Anata whispered,
"This is not…"
And stopped.
Because finishing the sentence felt like a risk.
Farin looked at the suspended meteor.
For a long time.
Longer than others were used to seeing him look at anything.
When he finally spoke…
his voice was low.
Not from hesitation.
But from the weight of knowledge.
"The fallen… star."
The words fell slowly.
Like stones into still water.
Then came the silence.
Not the silence that follows a question…
but the silence that follows a judgment.
No one asked what it meant.
No one dared.
Because the way he spoke the two words…
made them sound like something written long ago.
Zamasa swallowed.
He tried to smile…
but the muscles of his face did not respond immediately.
He finally said,
"We have seen dragons wrapping around worlds…
and witnessed symbols that have not appeared for thousands of years…"
He stopped.
Then added in a lower voice,
"But this?
This does not look like a symbol."
No one disagreed.
The star carried none of the majesty of dragons.
It did not suggest power.
It did not look like the birth of something great.
Instead…
It looked like a mistake.
Something that entered this world without permission.
Navara stepped closer.
Very slowly.
As if fast movement might break it… or break them with it.
She whispered,
"I have never felt… that the sky could make a mistake."
Farin replied without looking at her,
"The sky does not make mistakes."
A moment passed.
Then he said,
"But sometimes… something appears that was never meant to exist."
The scribe's fingers trembled as he wrote.
The pen suddenly stopped.
He looked at Farin with hesitation.
"Sir… under which classification—?"
"No classification."
The reply was firm.
"Leave the line empty."
The man's eyes widened.
An empty line…
in the clan records that had never left an event without explanation?
Everyone looked back at the meteor.
It did not move.
It did not dim.
It did not approach.
Its presence alone was an invisible pressure.
Like a thought that could neither be ignored… nor understood.
A second passed.
Or maybe a minute.
Time here was no longer a reliable measure.
Then—
It went out.
No fading.
No trace.
It was there…
and then it was not.
Someone inhaled sharply, as if he had forgotten how to do it.
Anata's shoulders trembled slightly before she regained her steadiness.
But nothing was the same anymore.
The hall itself seemed… cautious.
As if the stones had realized they had witnessed something that stone should not see.
Zamasa finally said,
"If this is an omen…
it is not the kind that comes before glory."
Farin did not answer.
He kept looking at the place where the star had been.
Then he said calmly,
"Some signs do not come to bring good news."
He slowly raised his eyes.
"They come to remind us…
that reality is wider than we believe."
Somewhere inside the hall…
an infant suddenly cried.
A short cry.
Sharp.
Then silence.
The elders exchanged looks.
None of them said it out loud…
but the thought passed between them all:
A generation where dragons appear…
followed by a star that existence itself rejects?
This is not a twist of luck.
This is…
the beginning of something no one will understand yet.