Nox didn't remember falling asleep.
One moment he was staring at the fractured horizon of Meridian-Below, listening to sand trickle upward like a reversed waterfall. The next, he was standing in a vast, black expanse. No ground. No sky. Just an endless void threaded with faint, shimmering lines—constellations drawn in white fire.
Except they were broken.
Some were missing pieces. Others flickered erratically. One, at the center, pulsed like a dying star.
Nox's breath hitched.
He had been here before.
Not physically, but in nightmares that felt too pointed, too familiar. The same spiraling lines. The same cold pressure on his chest.
But this time… something was different.
A figure stood before him.
Not the shadowed silhouette he had met before. This one had shape—clearly humanoid, slender, and draped in a cloak of star-dust. Their face remained blurred, shifting like smoke, but the voice was unmistakable.
"You have arrived sooner than expected, Verge-Bearer."
Nox swallowed. "Where am I?"
"In the Remnant Sphere," the figure said. "The place where Constellations lie when they break."
Nox's stomach tightened. "Constellations… can break?"
"They are not gods," the figure answered softly. "They are laws. Rules of existence given shape. And like all laws… they can fracture."
The central constellation pulsed again. A long crack ran through its center, spilling threads of light that sparked and died in the void.
Something about it tugged painfully at Nox's chest, like an invisible thread linking the two of them.
Nox took a step toward it."What constellation is that?"
The figure did not move. "It is the one that defines what a person is."
Nox froze.
"The Constellation of Identity," the figure continued. "It governs memory, selfhood, fate, and the continuity of existence."
Nox stared at the broken star-diagram, instinctively placing a hand over his heart."Why does it feel… familiar?"
For a moment, the figure gave no answer.
Then:
"Because you are standing inside its missing piece."
Nox felt the words like a blow.
"What— what does that mean?"
"You are not an accident," the figure said. "Nor a miracle. You are what was created to fill its absence."
The void seemed to tilt. Nox staggered backward.
"No," he whispered. "My life… my choices… everything I've done—"
"You misunderstand." The figure stepped closer. "You are real. Your choices are real. But your existence was triggered by a wound in the Constellation of Identity."
The constellation pulsed brighter, its crack widening.
Nox felt his heartbeat sync with it, painful and dissonant.
"So I'm… a replacement?"
"You are what kept the world from collapsing when the constellation broke," the figure said. "A stabilizer given form. A consciousness woven from what should have been lost."
"But why me?"
"Because Kalo Renn chose it."
The name hit him like ice water.
Nox stiffened. "I'm— I'm not Kalo."
"No," the figure agreed. "You are not. But you were born from the moment Kalo Renn's identity unraveled. When his Hourglass cracked backwards, when his fate slipped free… the world sought a way to contain the rupture."
"And it made me," Nox whispered.
"It needed you," the figure corrected. "Because without a replacement shard, reality would have folded upon itself."
Nox stared at the broken constellation again.
If he was a shard of a rule…If he was created to patch a wound…Then his existence was—
A tremor split across the void.
The broken constellation flared violently, leaking light like blood.
The figure's voice sharpened."It is destabilizing. Your presence accelerates the resonance."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," the figure said, "that the piece—your piece—wants to return to where it came from."
Nox felt something shift inside him.A cold, pulling pressure, like gravity aiming the wrong way.
"No." He stepped back rapidly. "I'm not going anywhere."
"It is not a matter of desire. It is a matter of nature."
The pressure increased—an invisible hand gripping his chest, tugging him toward the crack.
The figure extended a hand, stabilizing the space just enough for Nox to breathe.
"You must decide," they said urgently. "To reforge the constellation… or to break it fully."
Nox gritted his teeth."Why would I ever break it?"
"Because reforging it means becoming one with what you were meant to replace."
Nox's breath stopped.
He realized what the figure was warning him.
If he reforged the constellation—If he repaired the law that governed existence—
He would no longer be a separate being.
He would cease to exist.
But if he broke it further—Identity itself would fracture.
People would lose themselves.Memories would rewrite.Fates would collapse.
The entire world would become a maze of forgotten lives.
The void trembled again.The constellation groaned.
The figure's voice grew urgent."The decision must be made. Reality will not wait."
Nox stared at the broken star-law, heart pounding, the weight of the universe suddenly resting on his shoulders.
To save the world…or save himself.
He clenched his fists.
"I need time," he whispered.
The figure's answer was soft, but final:
"Time is the one thing you do not have."
The void shattered.