Stars are liars. They promise guidance but bury their secrets in blood. In the slums of Higaru, Shiro Artatani carves stars into rotting wood not for beauty, but for the last lullaby his mother might have whispered before the Temple’s chains went quiet. Each groove pulses with juniper dye and a vow older than language: Rewrite the sky. When King Ryo the Butcher, whose crown is forged from the bones of villages he froze for “being Quaint”, drags the gutter rat before his obsidian throne, the carvings awaken something that should’ve stayed buried a prophecy that could shatter the very stars he reigns over. An eclipse vision bleeds coordinates onto every page, each one a coordiante to a constellation. holding the key to Ryo's downfall... or Nyxara's rise? Kuro Oji, the silver streaked prince, would rather burn his father’s throne than inherit its rot. Armed with sarcasm sharp enough to flay nobles, ink stolen from royal archives, and a crow that pilfers jewels for sport, he sabotages every star chart the Temple worships. But when he unearths why his mother’s gaze, once blazing like Polaris, turned to absence, his rebellion becomes lethal. A Vow made: tear Ryo’s empire apart, stone by blood soaked stone, until Ryo is ash and he is Free. Thrown together by a splintered plank of Cassiopeia’s throne, its jagged edges still frozen from Kuro’s ice and Shiro’s blade, they forge an alliance as fragile as starlight and twice as sharp. Shiro carves and Kuro well lets say armed with more than just Sarcasm. Together, they unravel a truth that could drown the kingdom in ice: Nyxara, the frostbound demon whispered in lullabies and nightmares, stirs. But does she rise for conquest? For alliance? Or simply to let the world ice until memory itself shatters? But the Temple hunts. Akuma, the Butcher’s hound, starves slums to ash for whispers of their names. Frost creeps like living chains. And hidden in every star Shiro carves lies a secret: the last eclipse isn’t an ending, it’s a doorway. One that opens only when the Twin Stars bleed, when the crown cracks, and when the frost remembers who first dared to name the stars.
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