Regulus waited in silence at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, where moonlight spilled like silver ink across the worn stone floor. His arms rested lightly on the cold railing, fingers curled loosely as if trying to grasp the stars themselves. Above him, the night sky stretched wide and endless, constellations blinking like secrets only he could read. He had always loved the stars — their quiet, constant glow, the way they watched without judgment. Up here, beneath their gaze, he felt like he could breathe.

Then came the sound — soft, measured footsteps echoing behind him, like a heartbeat he knew by memory alone. Regulus did not startle. Instead, he turned, slow and fluid, like the turning of the Earth toward the sun.