But I can’t go to her. Not yet.
Tendrils of darkness snake across the ground through the jungle, parting around Elyssara’s light like wary beasts.
The pale-blue light of the Caelorian’s armor curves through the night sky in an arc.
Between them, Morrathys. He’s surrounded.
His face is pale, sweat sheening his temples, the shadows that keep the soldiers at bay are trembling with strain. Losing power.
He’s burning out.
He stands directly atop the opening covered with a wooden door that keeps the bunkers hidden from the naked eye.
The Caelorians try to approach, weapons wielded, strategy forming.
But Morrathys lashes out, shadows whipping at the soldiers, sending them scampering back.
“We take them by surprise,” I command, dropping into a low crouch.
Teddy does the same, and Lesara begins to spin her whipstone in silent swings.
“Stay here,” she murmurs to Elyssara, and her command ignites a wildfire of rage on Elyssara’s face.
“I don’t fucking hide,” Elyssara bites back, her tone venomous.
I ignore the exchange. I have to. I know Elyssara’s confused. I know she’s balancing the desperation to be held by her mother and the ache of being abandoned. But now is not the time.
We begin to approach, weapons drawn, ready to kill.
But Elyssara doesn’t wait.
She rewrites the story.
Her Lightborne magic floods her veins, turning her skin translucent.
Her face looks serene, peaceful in her power.
“I’m done,” she whispers—to herself, to her mother, I’m not sure.
No hiding.
No safety.
No protection.
Only facing it all.
She casts her magic out in streams of glistening gold.
Less emotional, less chaotic than before.
This time, her aim is true. Picking off soldiers with haunting precision, transforming their bodies into golden motes in a heartbeat.
Teddy and I stalk forward, our blades finding necks, whispering through ribs, driving sharp ends up into organs—cleaning up the soldiers my Starbound hasn’t reached yet.
Lesara wields her whipstones—they wrap around necks and thud into skulls with a sickening squelch that sounds as sweet as a fucking melody.
Until the final wet crack of bone rumbles through the night, and in its wake, is Death.
