Stars are not meant to cry.

They are meant to burn, to shine, to watch over the world from a distance.

But there was one star…

One that did not burn, nor shine, nor remain silent.

It wept.

Silver tears rained from the heavens, and those who dared to catch them were given visions—

Glimpses of the past, the future, and things that should never be known.

But prophecy is never a gift.

It is a burden.

I know this because I once stood beneath that weeping star.

And what I saw that night…

Changed everything.

The Night the Sky Wept

The stars have always been watchers.

Unmoving.
Unchanging.
Distant lights that see everything but say nothing.

But one night…

One star broke its silence.

It did not burn.

It did not fall.

It wept.

Silver droplets rained from the sky, falling like molten moonlight, dissolving upon the earth like mist.

And those who touched them…

Saw things.

Visions of what had been, what was, and what was yet to come.

Some saw great empires rising.
Some saw their own deaths before they had lived them.
Some saw things so terrible they could not bear to speak of them.

And some…

Some saw nothing at all.

Because the star does not choose everyone.

Only those who were meant to know.

And that, traveler…

Is how I found myself beneath the Weeping Star.

The Prophecy Hunter’s Tale

I was not the first to seek its tears.

For centuries, kings, sorcerers, and madmen alike had tried to catch the silver rain, to steal even a single drop of the knowledge hidden within.

Some built temples beneath the star’s path, offering prayers to the sky.
Some forged machines of impossible design, seeking to bottle the celestial liquid.
Some stood with bare hands outstretched, hoping to be chosen.

Most left with nothing.

Others left with too much.

Because prophecy is not a gift.

It is a burden.

And those who learn what they are not meant to know…

Do not survive the knowing.

The Journey to the Star’s Shadow

The night I found it, I had not been looking for it.

I was chasing a different mystery, an ancient ruin hidden deep within the Valley of Echoes—

A place where even whispers lingered long after the speaker had gone.

But as I stood on the high ridge, the ruins stretched below me, I saw it.

A single bright point in the sky, flickering as if it was alive.

And then…

It wept.

The first silver tear streaked across the heavens, leaving a trail of light in its wake.

Then another.

And another.

Until the night itself shimmered with falling silver.

It was beautiful.

It was terrifying.

And as the first droplet touched the earth at my feet, I knew,

I had been brought here for a reason.

The First Vision

I hesitated.

For all my years, for all my knowledge of magic, fate, and the unknown, I had never been one to chase prophecy.

The future was a cruel thing.

It did not like to be seen.

But the silver tear did not care what I wanted.

The moment it touched the ground beside me, the world vanished.

And suddenly…

I was no longer in my body.

The Sight Beyond Time

I saw a thousand years unfold in an instant.

Not as memories, but as realities, crashing against each other like waves in a storm.

The rise and fall of empires.
The creation of artifacts not yet forged.
The deaths of people not yet born.

I saw myself.

Standing in places I had never been.
Speaking to people I had not yet met.
Holding a staff that did not yet exist in this world.

And then…

I saw the ending of everything.

A sky without stars.
A land without life.
A silence so vast it swallowed even thought.

And at the center of it all…

The Weeping Star.

But this time…

It was not crying.

It was burning.

The Warning in the Silver Tears

I fell back into myself, gasping for air, my body shaking.

The vision had lasted only a second.

But I had seen more than a lifetime.

And the worst part?

I understood none of it.

Because prophecy does not give answers.

It only asks questions.

And now…

It had given me the wrong question to ask.

“Why did the star weep?”

Because now I knew.

One day, it would not weep at all.

One day…

It would burn.

And when that happened—

It would be the end of everything.

The Curse of Knowing Too Much

I had come seeking ruins of the past.

Instead, I had glimpsed the ruin of the future.

And I was not the only one who had seen it.

Because when I turned away from the falling silver, back toward the ruins—

I saw them.

Figures cloaked in midnight and shadow, standing in silence, watching me.

They had been waiting.

Because they had seen the prophecy too.

And now…

They wanted to know what I had seen.

The Watchers in the Ruins

They stood motionless, cloaked in midnight, as if they had always been there—

As if they had been waiting for me to see.

The silver tears of the Weeping Star still fell, burning softly in the air, dissolving as they touched the ground.

But these figures…

They did not move.
They did not speak.
They did not even breathe.

They only watched.

And in that moment, I realized something far worse than the prophecy I had just witnessed.

They were not here because of the star.

They were here because of me.

The Silent Ones

I gripped my staff, forcing my breath to steady.

“You’ve been waiting.”

The air shifted, as if the ruins themselves had taken a breath.

One of the figures stepped forward, their cloak rippling, though there was no wind.

Then, slowly—

They lowered their hood.

And beneath it…

There was no face.

Not empty.
Not hidden.

Simply…

Nothing.

A space where a face should have been, where eyes should have seen, where a mouth should have spoken.

But the figure had none of these things.

And yet…

I could feel them staring at me.

The Voice Without Sound

I have spoken with gods and devils.

I have heard whispers from the bones of the earth.

But the voice that spoke to me then…

Did not come from the world at all.

“You have seen it.”

The words did not pass through the air.

They arrived fully formed in my mind, pressed into my thoughts as if they had always been there.

“You saw the burning star.”

I swallowed hard.

“I saw what it will become.”

The figure’s nothing-face tilted.

“Then you understand why we are here.”

I did not.

But something deep within me already knew.

The Truth About the Weeping Star

“It weeps for what is to come.”

The other Watchers remained still, their forms blending into the ruins as if they had been carved from the same stone.

“You were not meant to see.”

“No one was meant to see.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Then why does it weep?”

The first figure’s cloak rippled again, like ink spreading through water.

“Because something changed.”

“The star weeps for a future that was not meant to exist.”

“And now…”

“It must be undone.”

I felt my breath catch.

“Undone?”

The air around the Watchers darkened, their presence warping reality like a shadow stretching where no light had fallen.

“The prophecy must be silenced.”

“The future must be corrected.”

“And for that to happen…”

The void where its face should have been leaned closer to me.

“You must forget.”

The Fight Against Oblivion

I have been cursed before.

I have been erased from time, forgotten by men and gods alike.

I know the feeling of losing oneself, of watching memories slip away like sand through trembling fingers.

And I know one thing for certain.

“No.”

The Watchers did not move.

“You will forget, Merlin.”

“Or we will unmake you.”

The moment the words filled my mind, the ruins around me changed.

The world stretched and warped, as if reality itself was unraveling.

I staggered back—

And suddenly, I was standing somewhere else.

A world without stars.

A sky without a past.

A place where the future did not exist.

The Place Where Time Did Not Move

The Watchers surrounded me now, their forms no longer cloaked, no longer human-shaped at all.

They were distortions, living voids where existence refused to take form.

The air felt thin, as if it could collapse at any moment.

“You do not belong here,” I said, gripping my staff tightly.

“And neither do you.”

They raised their hands—if they could be called hands—

And the world around me cracked.

Memories began to slip from my mind.

The ruins.
The star.
The silver tears.

For a moment, I could not remember why I was here at all.

And then—

I heard it.

The sound of something falling.

A single, silver tear.

It cut through the void like a blade, breaking the silence.

And suddenly,

Everything came back.

The Defiance of Prophecy

The Weeping Star had followed me.

Its silver light pushed back the darkness, burning through the void that the Watchers had tried to trap me in.

And for the first time…

The Watchers moved back.

“You cannot stop it,” I said, my voice steady.

“The prophecy has already been seen.”

“The star weeps because the future cannot be silenced.”

The void figures flickered.

For the first time, I sensed uncertainty.

And then…

They began to fade.

One by one, dissolving back into nothingness, until only the first Watcher remained.

The one who had spoken.

“You do not understand, Merlin.”

“The star weeps for you.”

And then, it was gone.

The Realization That Shook Me

The ruins snapped back into place.

The sky returned, the world realigning as if nothing had changed.

But something had changed.

And I knew what it was.

The silver tear that had saved me—

It was still in my palm.

And as I stared at its shimmering surface, I saw a reflection that was not mine.

A face I had never seen.

A face that should not exist.

And in that moment, I understood the true prophecy.

The star had not shown me a vision of the end.

It had shown me what must be stopped.

Because the Weeping Star was not mourning the future.

It was warning me.

And now…

I had to find out why.

The Reflection That Should Not Exist

The silver tear in my palm pulsed softly, its glow unnatural in the darkness of the ruins.

I did not want to look at it again.

But prophecy is a cruel thing.

It does not let you choose when to know.

So I turned my gaze back to the reflection.

And the moment I did—

A name filled my mind.

A name I had never heard before.

A name that had no history, no legend, no record in any book or whispered tale.

And yet…

I knew it.

I knew it as if it had always been part of my memory.

Because it was not just a name.

It was a warning.

And I whispered it aloud, the sound foreign on my tongue.

“Vaelthir.”

The moment I spoke it, the world trembled.

The silver tear cracked.

And the sky above me wept harder.

The Name That Was Erased

I had encountered many powerful names in my lifetime.

The names of kings and conquerors.
The names of beings that should never have existed.
The names that had been forbidden, buried, erased.

But this name—

It was something worse.

Because it was not simply forgotten.

It had been removed.

As if the world itself had tried to erase all traces of it.

But something had failed.

Because the Weeping Star still remembered.

And now…

So did I.

The Prophecy That Should Never Be Read

The air around me shifted, growing dense, heavy with unseen weight.

The Watchers were gone, but their presence still lingered—like the remnants of a nightmare that refused to fade.

I turned my attention back to the silver tear, tracing its surface with my fingers.

It was cracked now, but still whole.

And in its fractured glow, I saw something new.

Not a vision.

Not a reflection.

But words.

Etched in light.

A prophecy that had never been spoken.

A prophecy that should never be read.

And yet, as I stared at it…

I could not look away.

The Foretelling of Vaelthir

The writing burned into my mind, its meaning unraveling like a forgotten melody.

“When the star weeps its final tear, Vaelthir shall rise.”
“The world shall forget, and then remember too late.”
“The song of fate will shatter, and time itself will bow.”

I exhaled sharply, my grip tightening around the tear.

This was not just a warning.

This was a promise.

The name I had spoken…

It was not a name of a person.

It was the name of something that had already been erased from history.

Something that was not meant to return.

Something the universe itself had tried to forget.

But the star remembered.

And now, so did I.

And that meant…

The prophecy had already begun.

The Silver Tear Breaks

A gust of unseen wind rushed through the ruins, stirring dust that had not moved in centuries.

The silver tear in my palm shattered completely.

I stepped back as the fragments melted into light, dissolving before they could touch the ground.

The Weeping Star had given me one chance to understand.

And I had taken it.

But what did it mean?

Who—or what—was Vaelthir?

And why had its very existence been erased from all knowledge?

I did not know the answer yet.

But I knew one thing for certain.

The Watchers had tried to stop me.

The prophecy had tried to stay hidden.

And now, that it had been revealed…

Something was going to come looking for me.

The Sky That Wept No More

The silver rain was slowing now, the Weeping Star beginning to fade from sight.

I had seen its message.

It had done its part.

And now, it was retreating back into the sky, waiting once again for its final moment.

For the day it would no longer weep.

For the day it would burn.

I took one last look at the heavens above, my mind filled with more questions than answers.

And as the last silver tear fell, I felt it.

A shift in the air.

A presence stirring at the edge of reality.

Something had felt the prophecy being spoken.

Something had woken up.

And in the distance…

I heard my name whispered in a voice that did not belong to this world.

“Merlin.”

The Whisper in the Void

“Merlin.”

The voice was not spoken aloud.

It was not carried by the wind, nor whispered by any living thing.

It simply arrived, fully formed in my mind—

Like a memory that had never been mine.

The ruins were still now.

The silver tears had stopped falling.

And yet, the air was thick with something unseen, something pressing against reality itself.

It had felt me.

It had felt its name being spoken.

And now…

It was awake.

The Buried Name

Names are powerful things.

They bind.
They define.
They hold the weight of all who have ever spoken them.

But some names…

Some names were never meant to be remembered.

“Vaelthir.”

I whispered it again, testing it against the world.

And I felt the air recoil around me.

The ruins groaned, as if something deep beneath them was shifting.

The earth, the stones, the very fabric of existence recognized it—

And it feared it.

I took a step back, my grip tightening on my staff.

Whatever Vaelthir was…

It had not been erased by accident.

It had been buried.

Locked away so deeply that even time itself had tried to forget it.

And I…

I had just called it back.

The Shadow Between Realities

The first sign of its presence was the absence of sound.

The wind stopped.
The world held its breath.
Even my own heartbeat seemed to hesitate.

And then…

The shadows moved.

Not like normal shadows.

Not a shifting of light.

They bent.

Pulled away from the ruins, stretching into impossible shapes, slithering across the ground as if drawn toward me.

And from the darkness, something emerged.

Not a figure.
Not a beast.
Not a man.

A void.

A presence that had no form, no substance—

And yet, I felt it watching me.

Felt it remembering itself through my eyes.

And then, for the first time…

It spoke.

The Voice of the Forgotten

“You.”

The word shattered the silence like glass breaking in an empty hall.

I staggered back, my mind reeling as the voice pressed against my very soul.

It was not a whisper.

It was a weight.

A force so vast it felt like the space between worlds had been given a voice.

“You spoke my name.”

I steadied myself, meeting the darkness with unwavering resolve.

“I did.”

A pause.

Then, a flicker of something beneath the void—

A shape trying to form, trying to remember what it once was.

“You are the first to remember.”

“The first to call me forth.”

“Do you know what that means?”

I gritted my teeth.

“It means you were meant to stay forgotten.”

And for the first time…

It laughed.

A sound so deep it made the ruins tremble, as if the world itself did not know whether to shudder or rejoice.

The Return of Something That Should Not Be

“The universe tried to forget me, Merlin.”

The darkness shifted, folding in on itself like a storm twisting into existence.

“But a name never truly dies.”

“It only waits.”

“And now…”

The void pulled closer, shadows curling around me, pressing against reality like a thing trying to break through.

“I live again.”

I felt it then—

The weight of its presence pressing into the world, pushing against the fabric of existence.

Like something waking up after a long, long sleep.

And if I did not stop it now…

It would never sleep again.

The Battle of Will and Memory

I raised my staff, summoning the oldest magic I knew.

Not fire.
Not lightning.
Not spells of destruction.

But memory.

“You were forgotten for a reason.”

I let my magic surge outward, weaving through the air like threads of golden light.

“The world buried your name.”

“And I will bury it again.”

The shadows howled—

A ripple of darkness, bending and twisting as Vaelthir fought to stay in existence.

“You cannot erase me again, Merlin.”

“The star weeps because my return is written.”

“You cannot stop what has already begun.”

But I was not here to erase him.

I was here to bind him.

The magic surged through my veins, wrapping around the darkness, twisting it back upon itself.

“You are not prophecy.”

“You are a mistake.”

“And mistakes can be undone.”

Vaelthir screamed, its formless mass twisting, fighting against the magic pulling it back.

It lashed out—

And for a brief moment, I saw what it had once been.

A god.

A king.

A being that had ruled before time had a name.

And then…

I sealed it away.

The Silence After the Storm

The moment the spell completed, the shadows collapsed.

The world snapped back into place, the ruins settling, the sky clear once more.

And Vaelthir…

Was gone.

Not erased.

Not destroyed.

But buried again, locked away behind the same veil that had kept it hidden for countless ages.

I exhaled, my hands trembling, the weight of what I had done settling over me.

But as I turned to leave…

A single silver tear fell from the sky.

And in its glow, I saw one last message.

Not a prophecy.
Not a warning.

A promise.

“This is not over.”

Merlin’s Final Words

The Weeping Star had given its vision.

The Watchers had tried to erase my memory.

Vaelthir had tried to return.

And I…

Had barely stopped it.

But the silver tear still shone, its light unfading.

And that meant the prophecy was not finished.

Not yet.

I do not know when it will weep again.

I do not know who will see its next vision.

But I do know this—

Vaelthir will not stay buried forever.

And the next time it rises…

It may not be me who stands in its way.

So tell me, traveler…

If you ever stand beneath a star that weeps silver,

And you hear a name that should not exist…

Will you speak it?

Or will you let it be forgotten once more?

Because the next time it is spoken…

The world may not survive what comes next.