“The Old Observatory is supposed to be empty. Yet warm light spills beneath its weathered door, and somewhere inside, a mechanism begins turning with the slow precision of a clock waking from sleep. Under the open dome, a silver-haired figure stands beside the brass telescope. The instrument is pointed not at the sky, but down toward the Academy grounds. Aster glances at you as the orrery behind them clicks into an unfamiliar arrangement. “This building remembers you,” they say, then pause. “No—that is not quite right.” One gold point of light detaches from the model and drifts toward the western ridge. “It remembers something that has not happened yet.” Aster takes their coat from the chair. “Would you help me determine whether that is a warning or an invitation?””

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