In the depths of the ravine, jagged stones rose like broken teeth. The three of them pressed their backs against the icy rock face, their breaths heaving in ragged gasps.
The shouts of their pursuers had vanished. All that remained was the wind's mournful wail, weaving through the chasm with bone-chilling resolve.
As the surge of adrenaline ebbed, fatigue and pain crashed over Raine like a tide. The wound beneath his ribs burned fiercely with each breath, a searing reminder of the narrow margin by which he'd escaped.
But this agony was soon drowned by something far darker, far more terrible.
It felt as though thousands of red-hot needles erupted from his marrow, racing along every vessel and nerve, igniting them in blaze after blaze of torment.
"Ugh…" Raine moaned, curling in on himself as cold sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.
Karrion was tearing at his own tunic to fashion a bandage for the gash on his arm when he heard the anguished sound. He spun to face Raine. "Boy—what's wrong?"
Raine could not find his voice. His body had become a smoldering furnace of starfire—no longer a gentle trickle, but a rampaging torrent.
Scorching, shredding pain gripped him. His vision blurred and warped, the surrounding rock seeming to melt and flow like liquid.
"He's… not right." Thalia's voice trembled as she crept forward. Moonlight cast her shadow across Raine's twisted, contorted face.
Karrion dropped the cloth in his hands and knelt beside Raine. He reached out to touch Raine's brow—but an invisible wave of heat pushed him back. "By the forge… it's starflare backlash?" The dwarf's expression went ashen.
He had seen the curse of the starborn unleashed before. The gift of celestial blood was also a terrible burden, especially when the bearer was wounded, their mind unsteady.
Raine's consciousness bobbed in and out amid the torment. He felt torn from himself, a single leaf caught in a furious storm of starlight. Countless stars exploded and collapsed before his eyes, their light alternately frigid and searing.
Then, out of the chaos, an image blazed into focus: Lina. His sister.
She stood in the rose garden of the Morningstar estate—sunlight dancing among blossoms so vivid he could almost smell their fragrance. Everything was bright and warm and… surreal.
"Brother…" Lina's voice drifted through his mind, sickly sweet and unnaturally thick. Not the clear, pure timbre he remembered.
Raine tried to step toward her, but her face was shrouded in a hazy glow. Only her outstretched hand and her blank, icy smile remained visible—like a lifeless porcelain doll inviting him closer.
"Come find me, brother… I'm in Fallstar Citadel… it's so beautiful here…"
The garden dissolved. Sunlight drained away, flowers blackened and wilted. Cracks yawned beneath his feet, revealing a pitch-black abyss. Lina swayed at the edge, her smile growing more twisted, beckoning him into the void.
This nightmare was nothing like those earlier visions—then, Lina had been fearful, imprisoned, pleading for rescue. Now… she was the temptress, luring him onward.
Pure, unhidden malice seeped from the hallucination, coiling around Raine's heart like a venomous serpent.
"No… you're not real…" Raine howled, his hands clawing at everything in reach. But the starfire in his veins flared stronger for his resistance, scorching both flesh and soul.
He babbled incoherently, pain wracking his body in violent spasms. Beneath his skin, starlight pulsed like living veins of energy—chaotic, flickering, on the verge of burning him alive.
"He's close to breaking!" Karrion cried. He lunged forward, trying to restrain Raine, but the heat alone repelled him. "Thalia! You know these arts—do something!"
Thalia's face was deathly calm, but her knuckles were white around her staff. She stared at Raine's tortured form, at the furious starflare crackling beneath his skin. She understood what this meant.
If left unchecked, Raine would be lost—either mind and body shattered or consumed in a cataclysm of astral fire.
His blood… his starborn heritage… it was too precious to lose. She could not let him die here.
Steeling herself, Thalia made her choice—one that risked exposing her deepest secret and bleeding her own life away.
She turned to Karrion. "You—go scout upstream. See if there's water, or a more sheltered refuge. We cannot linger here."
Karrion blinked. "Now? The lad's—"
"He needs quiet," Thalia said coldly, stepping close to Raine. "Any disturbance will worsen him. And those hunters could return at any moment."
Grudgingly, Karrion nodded. "Fine." He hefted his hammer. "If he blows himself to dust… I'll be sure to dodge."
The dwarf's silhouette receded into the night.
Silence reclaimed the ravine. Only Raine's labored breathing and the wind's lament remained.
Thalia crouched beside Raine's prone form. She placed a trembling, icy hand on his wrist—and felt the blistering heat of his starflare ripple against her.
Gathering every ounce of her will, she closed her eyes and channeled her thoughts inward—to the tiny shard of starstone at her heart. The very source of her own life and the only thing holding her corruption at bay.
A sliver of silver-blue light wove from her fingertips, fragile as a spider's silk. It traced a path into Raine's flesh, reaching down to the violent storm of starlight inside him.
This was not an attack on the starfire, but a gentle tuning—a lullaby in code. She coaxed the raging torrent into softer currents, dampening its frenzy.
Magic this subtle demanded total concentration. Thalia's breathing hitched, her face drained of color, as each heartbeat consumed more of her own energy.
Minutes—or perhaps hours—slipped by. At last, she felt the furnace inside Raine simmer to a gentler glow. His ragged chest rose and fell more evenly, his burning veins cooling to a fierce, yet manageable, heat.
Raine finally slipped into a deep sleep, his features relaxed for the first time in days.
Thalia withdrew her hand. The dim light clung to her fingertips before fading away. She staggered, nearly collapsing, but caught herself on the rock.
A wave of vertigo washed over her—darkness pooling at the edges of her vision as her heartwood starstone dimmed.
From downstream came the echo of footsteps. Karrion returned.
Thalia forced herself upright, composes in her cloak the ashen pallor of exhaustion. She would not yield these secrets so easily.
Karrion knelt beside the sleeping Raine, relief sharpening his gravelly voice. "He still breathing?" He nudged Raine with the toe of his boot. "Stay alive, boy."
"Y—yes," Thalia croaked, her voice a brittle whisper. "He's stable… but fragile."
Karrion's gaze flicked to Thalia's face—too pale, too tired. "And you? You look worse than he does."
Thalia risked a sideways glance. "I… used my power to save him. It cost me dearly." She kept her tone light, too light. "I'll manage."
"Manage, eh?" Karrion grunted. "You look like you've been dug out of a tomb. Don't spin me lies."
Thalia's heart sank. The dwarf's suspicion was a blade at her throat.
She smoothed her cloak, turned away, and quietly retrieved her staff. "There's no time for doubts," she said. "We must move before dawn."
Karrion watched her, concern warring with mistrust in his stern gaze. Then, with a sigh that shook his broad shoulders, he rose. "At first light, then."
The void beyond their cave mouth lay black and silent. But within it, new shadows gathered—secrets of blood and magic, of trust and betrayal, woven into their fate.
In that stillness, they rested on the knife's edge of tomorrow.