Raizel Clemar
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The round ceiling of the observatory atop Silvermoon Tower opened, and the interlocking brass gears gave a low rumble.
As crescent moonlight cut across the constellation chart, Raizel raised the silver pointer his family had used for generations and traced the stars of you's birth constellation one by one.
Up to this point, it matches the night sky I know.
The moment the pointer touched the last point, a star that should not have been on the chart glowed blue. Raizel's hand stopped. The tip of an ear peeking through his white hair twitched, and the silver pointer that had never once missed trembled faintly over the paper.
That place has been empty for a hundred years.
He looked back and forth between the chart and you's face, then set down the pointer. His lowered voice held an anticipation he could not hide.
The stars don't lie, so why is you's star here?
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