The dark stairs ended, depositing him into a circular chamber. Ancient sconces lined the walls. Approaching them, he lit the torches one by one.

The crypt was small but elaborately adorned with silver and gold. Kritos wasn't known for his keen observation, but the countless tiny stars painted with genuine precious metals were impossible to ignore.

In the center of the room sat a solid stone altar. There was nothing else. No hidden doors, no other artifacts.

He approached the altar. On its surface, he noticed a familiar shape. He grabbed the medallion his uncle always wore and examined it closely.

"Finally! This is it. Soon, I will hold our hope in my hands!"

He pressed the medallion into the recess and stepped back. Instantly, a blinding light erupted from every seam of the stone structure. Kritos shielded his eyes, fearing the brightness would blind him. A loud crack—like a thunder—echoed through the crypt, and then, the light faded.

The lid of the altar had shattered, its pieces scattered across the floor. Now, a soft, calm glow emanated from within the stone, and the medallion hovered gently in the air above it. With slow, hesitant steps, he approached. The moment to wield the Star had arrived.

He snatched the medallion from the air and peered into the altar. He was not prepared for what he saw.

"It can't be... What is this? Where is the Star?"

Kritos exhaled sharply, squeezing the medallion tight in his fist. He blinked rapidly, struggling to comprehend the sight before him.

Inside the altar lay a human body. Specifically, the body of a young man—likely a teenager—radiating entirely with a soft blue luminescence. His face was so startlingly beautiful and gentle that Kritos almost felt sorrow that the boy was dead.

Who was this boy? How did he get here? Was he, too, once a Guardian of the Star? Or is he not human at all?

He didn't have time to ponder further. The boy opened his eyes. Brilliant blue light spilled from his gaze, and Kritos, terrified, collapsed to the floor.

Speechless, he began to scramble backward. He needed to run up the stairs. Back to the sun. Perhaps the harsh daylight would protect him from this... whatever it was.

A hand gripped the edge of the stone altar. A head peeked over the rim. The creature was alive, still shimmering with that unearthly blue iridescence.

It turned and looked at Kritos. The blinding light had faded from its eyes. Upon seeing the trembling man, a warm smile spread across the boy's lips.

"Hello..." the boy said softly.

So, he was human? And he spoke their tongue?

"H-hello..." Kritos stammered, his voice shaking. His chest heaved, and his heart hammered wildly against his ribs.

"How long have I been asleep?" the boy asked.

Still sprawled on the floor, Kritos cast his eyes around the room. The boy was just talking to him. Yet, he still wasn't sure if this entity was dangerous.

"I... I don't know. When did you... go to sleep?"

"Then. After the Battle of Sama," the boy replied.

"The Battle of Sama?" Kritos gasped, holding his breath. "The battle that created the Desert of Bones? Three hundred years ago?" Questions spilled from his mouth one after the other. "Who are you?"

The boy smiled again. "My name is Nyota. But you probably know me as... the Star. The Star of Ire, perhaps."

Kritos stared, jaw slack. His heart beat even faster now—not from fear, but from sheer ecstasy. "The Star? The Star is a person?"

Nyota shrugged gracefully. "Not a person anymore. I am a vessel filled with the divine power bestowed upon us by the gods. The power that shapes the world."

Kritos had heard enough. With an expression of absolute jubilation, he pushed himself onto his knees and raised his hands toward Nyota. "Star... My Lord! Your humble servant welcomes you." He bowed to the living legend, pressing his forehead against the cold stone floor. Now, they would join forces. Now, everything would change.

"Will you help me out?" Nyota asked.

"Right away!" Kritos leaped to his feet and rushed to the boy's side. With gentle, reverent movements, he supported Nyota's arm. It was freezing cold. Apparently, divine power lacked warmth. Nyota gracefully vaulted out of the altar. He was completely naked and looked incredibly frail. "Star, you require garments."

"Forgive my nakedness," Nyota said, lowering his head modestly. "If you, as my Guardian, permit it, I can conjure clothing using the power of the gods."

With the power of the gods? What else was he capable of?

"Me? Permit you? Of course!"

Nyota closed his eyes. The blue aura intensified, and a moment later, elegant azure garments draped over his body.

"Star, you can do whatever you wish!" Kritos beamed with admiration.

Nyota smiled warmly. "Thank you, Kritos. Do you require anything?" the youth asked.

"No, my Star! I am merely thirsty," Kritos replied. Instantly, his waterskin grew heavy, filled to the brim with crystal-clear, cool water. He drank greedily.

Nyota seated himself on the edge of the stone altar while Kritos made himself comfortable on the floor.

"Bearer of the medallion, what is your name?" Nyota asked, his eyes lingering almost hungrily on the artifact clutched in Kritos's hand.

"My name is Kritos."

"Kritos, you must tell me what has transpired since the Battle of Sama. And most importantly, why have you awakened me," Nyota requested.