The Thirteenth Star's eye blinked.
A beam of green light glanced down, slicing through the distant town of Fellspire. Screams echoed across the hills as buildings dissolved into ash, souls spiraling into the Star's hungering pupil. Ethan watched from the cemetery ridge, his void-blackened hands trembling.
"It's eating the world," Mara said, her voice hollow.
"Starting with the weak," Jarek coughed, slumped against Liora's shattered grave. Blood seeped from his shoulder where Mara's bolt still lodged. "You've got hours, Duskheir. Maybe less."
Ethan's veins writhed, sigils flickering like dying stars. The codex's power was a fading ember; the void, a wildfire.
The Keeper materialized, perched on a tombstone like a carrion bird.
"Such a delicate balance. Pity you'll break before the fun begins."
Mara lunged, dagger flashing, but passed through him like smoke.
"Temper, temper," he chided. "Unless you'd rather die here, I suggest you listen. The Order's offering a deal."
Jarek laughed bitterly.
"They want the Duskheir's corpse. Yours too, sister."
"Wrong," the Keeper purred. "They want a weapon. And our dear Ethan is so very… sharp."
The Order's camp stank of blood and burnt sage. Soldiers parted as Mara dragged Jarek through the tents, Ethan staggering behind. The commander awaited in a black pavilion, her face hidden behind a mirrored mask.
"The Thirteenth Star cannot be destroyed," she said, voice metallic. "But it can be redirected. To another realm. Another… vessel."
Ethan's void-touched hand crackled.
"You want me to open a gate."
"A door," the commander corrected. "Using your… unique gifts. The Star devours worlds. Let it devour itself."
Mara stepped forward.
"And if it kills him?"
The commander tilted her head.
"A noble death."
The Keeper's laughter hissed through the tent.
"Oh, it'll be messy. But what's one life against infinity?"
Ethan met Mara's gaze. Her jaw tightened.
Don't you dare.
They fled at dusk.
"The Order's plan is suicide," Mara snapped, binding Ethan's cracking sigils with wolfsbane-soaked cloth. "You'd just be their puppet."
"I'm already a puppet," Ethan muttered.
The void had reached his collarbone, curls spidering toward his heart.
Jarek limped behind, hammer gone, face pale.
"There's another way. Liora's journals. She knew how to bind the Star, not feed it."
Mara froze. "Where?"
"Burned. With the rest of her sins."
The Keeper flickered into step beside them. "Lies. The journals are buried where her heart stopped. In the true grave."
Ethan's locket burned against his chest.
The Veyra crypt lay beneath the estate, sealed by a door of star-forged iron. Jarek's borrowed axe sparked as he struck.
"Hurry," Mara urged.
The Star's beam had moved closer, devouring the forest.
The door fell. Inside, Liora's coffin glowed, etched with the same symbols as the codex. Ethan pried it open.
No bones. Only journals… and a dagger made of blackened starlight.
"Hello, grandson," Liora's voice whispered from the blade. "I left this for you. The true pact."
The Keeper's static-edged form darkened.
"Put it down."
Ethan gripped the dagger. Memories flooded him—Liora's final moments, her bargain with the Keeper, the lie that started it all.
"You," Ethan snarled, turning on the Keeper. "You didn't save her. You stole her. Made her the first anchor."
"And you'll be the last," the Keeper hissed. "Now bleed."
Shadows erupted, swallowing the crypt.