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Chapter 519: The Secret within the Stars

Roland watched Yorko bow his way out of the room, still practically vibrating with excitement, and shook his head with a smile.

He didn’t mind helping the people who had helped Prince Roland—provided they had no bad intentions. That bar was low, but Yorko cleared it.

“Where is Wendy right now?” He turned to Nightingale.

“Probably on top of the tower, practicing her ability. Do you want me to summon her?”

“Yes—and get Sylvie, Lightning, and Maggie as well.” Roland glanced toward the window. “We’re going to visit the astrologers. We’ll be flying there.”

Nightingale’s eyes lit up. “I understand.”

It was the safest mode of transport in an unsettled city. A hydrogen balloon was nearly impossible to threaten from the ground, and no one who wanted to reach Roland could do so while he was airborne.

He’d learned from a carrier pigeon that Kyle was already on his way, so he’d postponed his visit to the Alchemist Workshop. The Astrology Association—King’s City’s other main academic institution—had waited long enough.

He also had a specific question that needed answering.


The Astrology Association occupied a mountain in the northern outer city, second in height only to the palace’s twin towers. Seen from above, the Astrology Hall was a hexagonal stone tower with a flat roof, broad at the base and narrowing toward the top—its silhouette precisely, almost aggressively symmetrical.

Roland knew what that symmetry meant.

Without advanced surveying and positioning instruments, constructing a large stone structure to that level of precision was extraordinarily difficult—more difficult, in some ways, than building a great city wall. Someone had spent considerable effort on this building for a reason.

The guards had arrived ahead of them and ringed the tower. As the hydrogen balloon vented air and settled onto the roof, Brian, Sean, and Alva Taber came forward to meet them.

“Your Majesty, the area is completely sealed—not a rat will get through!”

“We’ve also confiscated all the astrologers’ God’s Stones of Retaliation. Miss Sylvie can use her ability freely.”

“Good work. Stay alert.” Roland’s gaze moved to the row of men in gray robes standing behind the guards. They were all past thirty, and they kept glancing at the hydrogen balloon with wide, rattled eyes—still shaken by someone arriving from the sky.

He turned to Alva. “Who leads this association? Have him come forward.”

Alva consulted briefly with two elderly robed figures, and one of them made his careful way over. “Your Majesty, this is King’s City’s Chief Astrologer—Astrologer of Dispersion Star.”

The old man pressed his hand to his chest and bowed. “Your Majesty Roland Wimbledon, your honored presence makes all the stars shine brighter.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. “Why not your real name?”

“It’s a tradition of the Association,” Alva said quickly. “Every astrologer dreams of naming himself after a star image. Only those who discover new ones may take such a name.”

“So you discovered the Dispersion Star?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The old man straightened slightly with pride. “It forms a ring with three Dark Stars—representing death and rebirth.”

“And the others?” Roland nodded toward the men in gray.

“These eight are the star-image masters of the station—each has made at least one discovery.” Dispersion Star described them one by one. “They can interpret anything from stellar movement to the meaning of dusk and dawn. As can I, of course.”

“I’m not here to have my fortune told.”

The old man paused, thrown. “Then… Your Majesty, may I ask why you’ve come?”

“To study the stars.” Roland shrugged. “Let’s take this indoors. Bring every diagram of every star image the Association has ever documented—I assume you keep records? Mark the brightest stars and connect them with lines. The standard method.”


Stacks of parchment covered the table in the hall, some yellowed with age.

Roland set a clean sheet in front of him and drew two shapes from memory: a wide-bowled spoon, and an hourglass. He connected the bright stars within each image with careful lines.

“Your Majesty, what are these?” the Chief Astrologer asked.

“Two star images.” Roland held up the paper. “Have you seen anything like these?”

The astrologers passed the paper among themselves and shook their heads—all of them.

“Then search every parchment on this table,” Roland said. “Everyone take a stack. Look at every single one. I’m looking for shapes similar to these.”

While they worked, he turned the question over in his mind.

Am I on a different side of the same planet?

A sun and moon are not remarkable—the universe contains billions of fixed star systems, and in an infinitely large universe the conditions for another could exist. But the biological similarities are harder to explain. Evolution proceeds by random accident; the same environment can produce wildly different organisms. I don’t think the demonic beasts or the demons evolved from any natural world I know. So where does that leave me?

This was the point of the star images. Fixed stars endured for billions of years; their positions barely shifted across any span of human history. They had been used to navigate and to assign symbolic meaning since the first people looked up. Roland carried two constellations in his memory—the Big Dipper and Orion. If he could match them against this world’s star charts, he could begin to determine his actual position.

An hour passed. No one found either constellation.

He asked Dispersion Star about the most famous star images of this world. None of them matched anything he knew. The Zodiac signs—every one of them unknown here. And the bright stars in these charts were significantly denser than in the constellations he remembered, suggesting a position closer to the galaxy’s center, where fixed stars clustered more tightly together.

If that’s right, then I am not on Earth. Not even in the same region of the galaxy.

The answer settled over him with a muted, flat weight—not shock, because he’d been holding the possibility at arm’s length for a long time. But it settled nonetheless.

He exhaled, and looked around the hall. “How many members does the Astrology Association have?”

“Nine astrologers, one hundred and fifty-six apprentices, sixty-seven laborers and masons,” Dispersion Star replied.

“I plan to close the Astrological Station. Pack your things and come with me to the City of Neverwinter.”

The room changed. Alva’s voice went high. “Your Majesty, how—how could you—”

“I don’t believe in astrology,” Roland said plainly. “I believe in individual choice. And I’m the King of Graycastle. I can close this station if I wish. In the Western Region you’ll learn what the stars actually are—and you’ll find they aren’t pathways for fate.”

“With respect, Your Majesty.” The Chief Astrologer rose from his seat, slowly, and his voice steadied. “You cannot do this. It is the duty of this station to observe the night sky without interruption—that order was passed down from your own ancestors.”

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