Liora's POV
The battle lasts three seconds before everything goes wrong.
My light and Ashuron's shadows collide with Malachar's dark magic in an explosion that shakes the entire ruins. Walls crack. The ceiling groans. Ghost children scream and scatter like frightened birds.
But Malachar just laughs.
"Is that all?" He doesn't even look winded. "Three hundred years, brother, and you're still weak. Still needing someone else to fight your battles."
Before Ashuron can respond, Celeste moves. She's fast—faster than any human should be. Her cracked, glowing hands grab my shoulders, and agony floods through me.
She's draining my light. Stealing it like water through a sieve.
"Finally," she gasps, and her voice sounds ecstatic and insane. "Finally, I get what should have been mine from the beginning."
"Liora!" Ashuron roars, but Malachar blocks his path with a wall of living darkness.
I try to fight back, try to pull my power away from Celeste, but she's like a black hole. Everything I have is being sucked into her cracking skin.
Through the bond, I feel Ashuron's panic. His rage. His desperate need to reach me.
And then I feel something else—his curse reactivating.
Without my light flowing into him constantly, the chains are reforming. Invisible but real. I sense them wrapping around his chest, his throat, starting to choke him.
"No," I gasp. "No, let me go! You're killing him!"
"Good!" Celeste shrieks. "Let the monster die! Let everything die except me!"
But as she drains more of my light, her own body starts crumbling faster. Cracks spread across her face. Her hands are turning to ash.
She's dying. We're all dying.
The ghost child suddenly appears between us, her small hand passing through Celeste's chest.
"Stop," the ghost whispers. "Please stop. This isn't what the light is for."
Celeste screams and releases me, stumbling backward. "Get away from me! You're dead! You're all dead!"
I collapse, my power nearly drained. Across the room, Ashuron drops to his knees, the invisible chains visible now as black marks around his neck.
Malachar watches it all with detached interest. "Fascinating. The bond is even more restrictive than I thought. You can't survive without each other." His smile is cruel. "This makes killing you both so much easier."
He raises his hand, darkness gathering like a storm.
That's when the floor beneath us cracks open.
Light—pure, ancient, terrible light—explodes upward from the depths. Not my light. Something older. Something that's been sleeping for three centuries.
The Lost Star Court is fully awake now.
And it's not happy.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Malachar shouts, his composure finally breaking. "The Court was sealed! It can't activate without the proper ritual!"
"You broke the rules," the ghost child says calmly. "You brought violence and death magic into sacred ground. The Court is defending itself."
The light doesn't care who it hits. It slams into all of us—me, Ashuron, Celeste, Malachar, the hunters. Everyone screams as it judges us, weighs us, measures our worth.
I feel it rifling through my soul like pages in a book. Every memory. Every choice. Every secret.
Then, just as suddenly, it releases us.
The hunters are unconscious. Celeste is thrown against the wall, barely breathing. Malachar is on his knees, his dark magic stripped away, leaving him looking almost... human.
But Ashuron and I are still standing.
The Court's light wraps around us both—not attacking, but examining. Through the bond, I feel what it's doing. It's reading our soul-marks. Testing our connection.
And then a voice speaks. Not out loud. Inside our heads.
"The prophecy lives. The balance may be restored. But the price must be paid."
"What price?" I demand, my voice shaking.
"To claim the throne and free the trapped souls, one must give what they value most. Power, life, or love. Choose."
The light fades, sinking back into the ground. The cracks seal. Everything goes quiet except for our ragged breathing.
Ashuron looks at me with haunted golden eyes. "Did you hear that?"
"Yes." My voice comes out barely a whisper.
Power, life, or love. The Court wants one of those sacrificed.
If I give up my power, I can't save the ghosts. Can't stop Malachar. Can't protect anyone.
If I give up my life, I die. Simple as that.
If I give up love—
I look at Ashuron, and through the bond, I feel what that would mean. Severing our connection. Breaking the soul-bond. Choosing to never feel this closeness again, to walk away from the first person who's understood me, who's fought for me, who's made me feel something other than fear.
"We need to leave," Ashuron says roughly, grabbing my hand. "Now, before Malachar recovers."
He pulls me toward a side door, and we run. Behind us, I hear Malachar stirring, cursing. Hear Celeste sobbing in pain.
We race through broken corridors, Ashuron's shadows hiding our trail. My legs are shaking. My power is nearly gone. I'm running on pure adrenaline.
Finally, we burst out into a small courtyard. The moon is high overhead, painting everything silver.
"We need to keep moving," Ashuron says, but his voice sounds strained. Through the bond, I feel his curse flaring again, the chains tightening.
I grab his arm and pour what little light I have left into him. The chains loosen. He gasps in relief.
"Thank you," he breathes.
"Don't thank me." I'm crying and I don't know why. "This is my fault. I freed you. I activated the bond. I brought you into this mess."
"Liora—"
"The Court wants me to choose! Power, life, or love!" The words explode out of me. "How am I supposed to choose? How am I supposed to sacrifice something when I barely have anything left?"
Ashuron cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "Then don't choose. We'll find another way."
"There is no other way! The vision was clear—"
"Visions lie." His golden eyes are fierce. "Prophecies lie. The gods lie. The only truth is what we make, little star. And I refuse to let you sacrifice yourself for some ancient magic that's been sleeping while people suffered."
"But the ghosts—"
"Have been dead for three centuries. They can wait a little longer while we figure out how to save them without killing you."
I want to believe him. Want to think there's a solution where everyone lives and nobody suffers.
But the mark on my chest is burning. Pulsing. Demanding a choice.
"Ashuron," I whisper. "What if there is no other way? What if the only way to save everyone is to give up what I just found?"
His jaw tightens. "Then we'll let the world burn before I let you go."
The words should scare me. Should make me realize he's selfish, that he'd choose me over hundreds of innocent souls.
Instead, they make me feel precious. Protected. Loved.
"That's not the hero thing to do," I say softly.
"I told you I'm not a hero." He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "I'm a monster who spent three centuries alone. And now that I finally have something worth living for, I'm not giving it up. Not for prophecies. Not for courts. Not for anyone."
Through the bond, I feel his absolute certainty. His refusal to lose me.
And I feel something else—something that makes my blood run cold.
The curse is changing. Mutating. Instead of just draining Ashuron, it's starting to reach for me through the bond. Like it's trying to claim both of us.
"Ashuron," I gasp. "Something's wrong. The curse—"
He feels it too. His eyes go wide with horror.
"It's adapting," he breathes. "It's using the soul-bond as a bridge. If I can't break free from it, it'll consume you too."
"What do we do?"
Before he can answer, a shadow moves behind him.
Malachar steps out of the darkness, and this time, he's not alone. He's dragging someone—a young woman with dark hair and terrified eyes.
"Kira!" I scream. My friend from the kitchens. The one who used to sneak me extra food. The one who knew my secret and never told.
"Hello again," Malachar says pleasantly. "I believe you care about this human, yes? She was quite informative when properly motivated."
Kira's face is bruised. Her dress is torn. She's been tortured.
"Let her go!" I shout.
"Gladly. In exchange for something simple." Malachar's smile is poisonous. "Come with me willingly to the Lost Star Court. Make your choice and claim the throne. Free the ghosts. And I'll let this girl live."
"Don't do it!" Kira cries out. "He's lying! He'll kill me anyway!"
"Perhaps." Malachar shrugs. "But if you refuse, I'll definitely kill her. Very slowly. While you watch."
Ashuron's shadows are rising, ready to attack. But Malachar holds a blade of pure darkness against Kira's throat.
"One step, brother, and she dies."
We're trapped. If we attack, Kira dies. If we run, Kira dies. If I refuse—
The mark on my chest burns brighter.
Choose, it whispers. Power, life, or love. The price must be paid.
I look at Ashuron. At Kira. At the ruins surrounding us.
Everyone I care about will suffer if I don't choose. But choosing means giving up something I can't bear to lose.
"I'll do it," I hear myself say. "I'll go to the Court. I'll make my choice."
"Liora, no—" Ashuron starts.
"Let Kira go first," I continue, ignoring him. "Prove you'll keep your word."
Malachar considers for a moment. Then he shoves Kira forward. She stumbles toward us, sobbing.
"Run," I tell her. "Get out of Starfall. Don't look back."
She hesitates, but Ashuron's shadows push her gently toward the exit. She disappears into the night.
"Good choice," Malachar says. "Now come. The throne is waiting."
I start walking toward him, but Ashuron grabs my wrist.
"I'm coming with you," he says fiercely.
"The bond won't let you stay away anyway," I point out.
His grip tightens. "That's not why. I'm coming because you're not facing this alone."
Through the bond, I feel his determination. His love. His absolute refusal to let me sacrifice myself.
And I realize something terrifying.
When the Court makes me choose—power, life, or love—
I already know which one I'll pick.