TRUTH
After leaving the Virgo Hall, Ethan returned to his room, his mind filled with questions. The statue of Virgo—the spitting image of his sister—kept replaying in his thoughts. How was it possible? Was it just a coincidence, or was there something more?
He sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on him. His acceptance into the academy, his unusual powers, and now this—his sister’s face immortalized in stone.
Orion was already asleep, snoring softly, while Callan had left earlier to explore more of the academy. Ethan sighed and lay back, trying to calm his restless mind. Eventually, exhaustion won, and he drifted into sleep.
But his dreams were anything but peaceful.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his room. Instead, he was standing in the middle of an endless cosmic expanse, stars swirling around him like a vast celestial ocean. It was breathtaking, but also terrifying—he had never felt so small before.
Then, he saw her.
She was seated on a throne, composed of shifting constellations and woven from the very fabric of the universe itself. She was radiant, her form both familiar and otherworldly.
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat.
“Who… who are you?” he asked, his voice trembling.
She looked at him, her glowing eyes filled with both warmth and something ancient. “I am your sister, Ethan,” she said. “But before that… I was much more.”
He swallowed hard, struggling to understand what she meant.
She extended a hand toward him. “Come closer.”
As if compelled by some unseen force, Ethan stepped forward. She reached out, placing a single fingertip on his forehead.
And suddenly, the universe around him shattered—his consciousness plunging backward, further and further, until he was no longer Ethan, no longer in the present.
He was at the beginning of time.
Before time, before space, before existence itself, there was only The Old One—a divine being, a star of unfathomable beauty, radiating with all colors of the universe. It burned with cosmic energy beyond comprehension, its presence the only thing in the infinite void.
But all things, no matter how eternal they seem, must change.
In a moment both tragic and wondrous, The Old One could no longer contain its own brilliance. It shattered, breaking apart into twelve celestial fragments—each glowing with a distinct essence, each carrying a different piece of its former self.
From these fragments, the Twelve were born.
Each took their place among the stars, forming the Twelve Constellations that would become the foundation of existence. They were not just rulers of their realms; they were their realms—each an embodiment of cosmic power, unique and eternal.
? Virgo, the Weaver of Fate, sat upon a star of wisdom, watching over the threads of destiny.
? Leo, the Burning Heart, ruled over a sun-like star, his flames untamed.
? Taurus, the Unshakable, rested on a world of mountains, strength flowing through his veins.
? Scorpio, the Shadowborn, commanded the dark and mysterious tides of an obsidian moon.
? Aquarius, the Visionary, floated upon a world of pure energy, seeking knowledge beyond the stars.
? …And so on, each of the Twelve embodying their own essence, existing in perfect harmony.
For a time, they were content—drifting among the cosmos, basking in the grandeur of their own existence.
But eternity is a long time, and even gods can grow restless.
-The Creation of Earth
One day, a thought was born among them. A question: What if we were not alone?
They had witnessed the vast emptiness of space, the unshaped chaos that stretched between them. And so, in their boredom and curiosity, they sought to create something new.
Pooling their divine essence, the Twelve took fragments of their own stars and combined them into a single world—a young, fragile creation, unlike anything before it.
Earth.
Unlike its celestial parents, Earth was not embodied by a singular divine being. It had no physical form, no consciousness of its own. It was young—the last-born of the Twelve’s creations. But it was also hungry for life, for purpose.
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And so, Earth did something no other constellation had done before.
It shared its power.
Whereas the Twelve held their divinity within themselves, Earth let its energy flow, embedding fragments of the cosmic gifts it had received from its creators into its very essence.
? From the firmness of Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn, Earth formed the soil, the mountains, and the stone. It wove the foundation of the world, creating stability and endurance.
? From the depths of Pisces, Cancer, and Scorpio, it summoned the oceans, the rivers, and the tides. It gave motion to stillness, shaping emotion and intuition.
? From the fury of Leo, Aries, and Sagittarius, it ignited flames, volcanoes, and the heat of the sun. It granted passion, courage, and strength.
? From the winds of Aquarius, Gemini, and Libra, it breathed air, thought, and communication. It gave intellect, adaptability, and vision.
But Earth was not satisfied with merely shaping the world—it longed for something more.
It yearned for life.
And so, from the fused blessings of the Twelve, humans were born.
They were different from their creators—mortal, fragile, fleeting. But they carried within them a spark of the constellations, a fragment of divinity. They were not gods, but they were of the gods.
Each human carried the essence of the stars, their souls forever tied to the Twelve who had unknowingly granted them the gift of power.
For a time, there was balance.
But balance never lasts forever…
-The Great Conflict and the Fall of the Old World
For a time, the Twelve lived in harmony, watching over Earth and their mortal children, each constellation nurturing those who carried their blessing. But power is never without cost.
As humanity grew, so did their connection to the stars. The mortals, born with fragments of cosmic essence, learned to wield their gifts—some more than others. Civilizations rose under the guidance of the constellations, temples were built, and the Twelve became objects of worship.
But as their influence over the mortal world grew, so did the tension among the gods themselves.
-The Cosmic Bond
Among the Twelve, Virgo and Leo stood apart.
They were opposites in nature—one the embodiment of mastery and wisdom, the other of raw strength and passion. And yet, a deep bond connected them, forged in the birth of creation.
? Leo was the burning heart, the spark of ambition, the force that pushed humanity forward, igniting their spirits with courage and strength. He was a warrior, a protector, a king in his own right.
? Virgo was the guiding mind, the architect of fate, the weaver of possibilities. She saw the patterns of the universe, the structures of magic, and sought to shape them with precision.
Together, they were order and chaos, fire and reason, passion and discipline.
Virgo often tempered Leo’s impulsiveness, while Leo broke the cold calculations of Virgo with warmth and emotion. Though they clashed, they understood one another in ways the other constellations did not.
Some say they were more than allies. Some whispered that theirs was a bond deeper than time itself.
But what is creation without destruction?
-The War of the Stars
The balance shattered when one of the Twelve betrayed the others.
Some say it was Scorpio, lurking in the shadows, whispering secrets of rebellion. Others blame Aquarius, who sought to reshape the universe with knowledge forbidden even to the gods.
Regardless of who cast the first stone, the war that followed would tear the heavens apart.
For the first time, the gods turned against gods.
? Leo, ever the warrior, led the charge against those who sought to undo their creation.
? Virgo, torn between wisdom and loyalty, tried to prevent disaster, but even she could not halt destiny.
The sky burned with divine power. The stars themselves trembled as the Twelve clashed, their battle shaking the foundations of the cosmos.
But the worst was yet to come.
-The Fall of Leo
In the final battle, Leo fell.
The mighty lion, once the heart of the constellations, was betrayed. His star, once the brightest in the sky, was dimmed, its light scattered across the void.
With his fall, the celestial war ended, but the cost was unimaginable.
? The Twelve were no longer the same—scattered, weakened, divided.
? The Old World collapsed, its magic fractured. The civilizations of old, built in harmony with the stars, crumbled into ruin.
? And humanity, once blessed by all Twelve, became fragmented, their powers fading, their connection to the gods severed.
Virgo was never the same after Leo’s fall.
Some say she mourned him. Others say she tried to restore what was lost, weaving destiny itself to bring balance once more. But the damage was done.
The war had changed everything.
The new world that emerged from the ashes was weaker, crueler, and ruled by mortals who had forgotten the true nature of the stars. The constellations still existed, but their presence was a mere shadow of what it once was.
-The Prophecy of the Lion’s Return
But some still whisper of a prophecy.
That one day, a child of the fallen star will rise.
That the heart of Leo will burn once more.
And that when he does, the Twelve will regain their full power.
Ethan jolted awake, his breath heavy as if he had just surfaced from the depths of the ocean. His body felt weightless, yet his mind was burdened by the visions he had just witnessed. The cosmos, the Old One, the birth of the twelve constellations, and the betrayal that led to Leo’s fall—all of it burned into his memory like a brand. He sat up in bed, his hands gripping the sheets as he tried to make sense of it all.
“What… was that?” he muttered to himself. His heart pounded, and a strange warmth pulsed in his chest—his Leo power stirring restlessly.
Ethan swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the cold stone floor. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the enchanted lamps, but in his mind, he still saw the vastness of space, the brilliance of the celestial beings, and the betrayal that led to Leo’s downfall.
“She was there… My sister… but she was more than just my sister,” he whispered. He had always known Sophia was special, but now he realized she was something far beyond what he could comprehend.
The revelation that the world had been shaped by celestial forces, that the constellations themselves had once been beings with wills and conflicts, sent shivers down his spine. But what shook him the most was the role of the Leo star—the great betrayal that had turned the world against those who bore its sign.
“If they knew what I was…” Ethan clenched his fists. The weight of the truth pressed down on him. He had spent his life hiding, suppressing, blending in. But for how long could he keep pretending? And why had he been shown this vision now?
A knock at the door broke his thoughts.
“Ethan, you awake?” Orion’s voice came from the other side.
Ethan took a deep breath, shaking off his daze. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m up.”
“Come on, we gotta get to morning assembly. Callan’s already waiting.”
Ethan exhaled, pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions. For now, he had to keep moving, act normal, and figure out what to do with the knowledge he had gained. But one thing was certain—his world had just changed forever.
Deep within the grand temple of the House of Scorpio, where shadows danced against ancient stone walls and incense filled the air with a thick, intoxicating scent, a secret meeting was taking place.
A lone figure knelt before an obsidian altar, his hands raised toward the massive, coiled statue of a scorpion with glowing red eyes. High Priest Xelvar, draped in dark ceremonial robes embroidered with silver constellations, whispered sacred words in a forgotten tongue. The air around him crackled with latent energy as if something unseen lurked just beyond the veil of reality.
A shadow shifted near the altar, stepping forward from the darkness. The figure, cloaked in royal blue with the insignia of the king’s court embroidered in gold, inclined his head slightly. Lord Varian, the king’s most trusted adviser, regarded the high priest with calculating eyes.
“The stars have spoken,” Xelvar murmured, his voice smooth like venom sliding from a blade. “The time is upon us. Power must be taken, not given. And sacrifices must be made.”
Varian folded his arms. “You speak of sacrifices, yet we already hold the highest favor in the king’s court. What more do you seek, Xelvar?”
The priest smirked, turning toward the adviser. “Control. Dominion over the weak houses. The time of balance is over. Scorpio does not share power—it claims it.” His fingers traced the sigils on the altar, and the red glow in the scorpion’s eyes pulsed brighter.
Varian remained silent for a moment, considering the weight of the words. The House of Scorpio had always thrived in the dark, dealing in secrets, poisons, and forbidden knowledge. Their influence over the court was undeniable, but Xelvar was speaking of something far greater—a shift in power that could reshape the entire kingdom.
“What do you propose?” Varian finally asked.
Xelvar’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “A blood offering. A grand ritual under the next eclipse. The king’s enemies and those unworthy of their stars will be purged. And in return, our celestial patron will bless us with strength unseen in centuries.”
Varian’s expression remained unreadable, but deep within, he understood the implication. A shift in power was coming, and those who did not align with the strong would be crushed beneath them.
“I will ensure the king does not interfere,” Varian said at last. “But see to it that your ritual does not draw unnecessary eyes. The academy must not suspect a thing.”
Xelvar let out a low chuckle. “Oh, Lord Varian, you need not worry. The academy will be the least of our concerns when Scorpio ascends.”
The flames around the altar flared, casting wicked shadows on the walls. The pact was sealed.
