I force my gaze upward, as a blinding spark ignites behind my eyes—the one Gift I’ve never used, preserved through all the pain and struggle. I had a special weapon. I was like the Lady of Death. The Bloomblade. The lightning flower. I was the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
The Deceiver.
Let him think I’m naive.
Let him think I’m stupid.
Let him think he can have it.
Lunaris’ words flash in my mind:The power within you remains protected.
“See… this power,” I manage, cocking an eyebrow as my body trembles violently, “was protected by a spell. Only those pure of heart… pure intentions… can wield it.”
The Siphon jerks back, sludge quivering, retching.
“You. Are. Not. Pure. Of. Heart.” I mutter between breaths, a smile curved on my lips.
As the last drop of power leaves me, something inside him ruptures.
The Siphon contorts between sludge and Charlie, unable to decide. It shrieks so loud the ground shakes.
Then it jolts violently, limbs locking midair. Sludge suspends as if paused in time.
A crack splinters through the air, sharp and electric. Charlie’s chest arches, a fissure of pure amethyst light tearing down his body as the sludge fractures like shattered glass.
“Wha—”
The sound dies in his throat as a shockwave of light bursts outward. Shadow flees from the light, afraid to be touched. Rays of bright white split him open violently until he is nothing but a trembling column of searing brilliance, held together only by falling sludge.
The power screams free.
And the silence that follows weighs more than the sun itself.
Charlie stands frozen, powerless.
A single blink—and the world changes. The blinding light collapses into the gem with a sharp inhale of reality, and my Star Gifts funnel back into me.
The light vanishes, leaving only scorched earth and a hot haze.
Smoke lingers, a ghost of what once was.
Charlie is gone.
Where flesh once stood, stone is replaced—cold, veined and eerily perfect. His features frozen in shock and hunger, limbs mid-reach, like the unworthy in the mountain.
Another vessel rejected.
The gem gleams untouched, pulsing quietly beside his petrified form, as though this outcome was always meant to be—power returned to where it belongs.
The sun warms us like it’s finally been let out of its cage, spilling across the clearing in buttery streaks that glint off Charlie’s freshly marbled frame. Birds stir in the treetops, singing as though taking their very first breaths, and in that fragile chorus I know—
Nyxos is back in his prison.
We beat it.
We beat him.
I try to breathe, but the air catches in my chest like a splinter. A sharp inhale sends pain jolting through my ribs, and I wince, but before I can sway, Ryder’s arms are around me, steadying, anchoring.
