The palace was loud during the day.

  At night, it remembered it was made of stone.

  The King preferred that version.

  No courtiers. No advisors pretending confidence. Just empty corridors and the faint sound of wind slipping through places architects never meant to exist. Even the guards spoke softer after midnight, like the darkness had authority they respected more than his.

  He stopped near a balcony that overlooked the lower city.

  Lights scattered across the streets — uneven, imperfect, alive. Nothing like the sky. The sky was always organized. Always deliberate.

  Too deliberate.

  “You’re awake again.”

  The voice came from behind.

  The King didn’t turn. “You shouldn’t be walking yet.”

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  The astrologer leaned against the wall, still pale but stubbornly standing. “I already rested. Twice.”

  “That isn’t how time works.”

  “For me it is now.”

  The King finally faced him. Up close, the man looked exhausted in a way sleep wouldn’t fix. His eyes weren’t wide with fear anymore. They were focused, like someone trying to remember a dream before it faded.

  “What changed tonight?” the King asked.

  The astrologer frowned slightly. “A decision didn’t happen.”

  “…Explain.”

  “You were supposed to ask me a question before I spoke.” He hesitated. “You didn’t. Everything after that shifted.”

  The King was quiet.

  Small change. Different outcome.

  “So the stars adjust,” he said. “But they aren’t perfect.”

  “No,” the astrologer said softly. “They’re searching.”

  Wind pushed across the balcony. For a moment neither of them spoke.

  “Do I die?” the King asked plainly.

  The astrologer closed his eyes — not dramatic, just tired.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Then after a pause:

  “Many times.”

  The King’s expression didn’t change, but the crown felt heavier.

  “And yet,” the astrologer continued, “this is the first time you asked that question.”

  The city lights flickered below as someone extinguished a lantern.

  The King looked back at the sky.

  “So this version matters.”

  “I think,” the astrologer said carefully, “this is the one where you start interfering.”

  The King rested a hand lightly against the cold stone railing.

  Above them, the stars held their places perfectly.

  Too perfectly.

  “Good,” he said.

  For the first time, his voice carried something almost human.

  “Then let them adjust to me for a while.”