Page 18 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

“Do not repeat Tharion’s mistake. He thought me easy prey.

And now he is dead.” Noctis’s challenging posture betrayed no worry, despite Vultaron seeing through his facade.

“You know I am not helpless. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have waited to confront us until a night when Chaos is raging.

Although you may no longer wish to serve me, you do not want to make me your enemy.

Leave now, and we can forget about this. ”

“A generous offer.” Vultaron cocked his head, that taunting smile still on his face.

He was toying with us, I realized with rising horror, confident he could finish us off anytime he liked.

“Unfortunately, you are right. You are still the Adept of Chaos. And as long as you live, its power will always be drawn to you, despite your unworthiness.”

A bolt of lightning struck worryingly close, the renewed release of Chaos sizzling in the air.

Shimmering threads of it encircled the two men facing off in the pouring rain.

I could not predict who it would favor more in a fight—the fallen god who had commanded it for centuries, or his acolyte, who wielded a weapon blessed with the same power.

“And you want to kill me now, hoping the magic will pass to Asiza or Galator?” Noctis let a few strands of magic dance lazily around his fingers.

“So eager to serve someone else?” His eyes flicked to me, a stark despair showing in them for a moment before reverting to smug condescension.

“Rest assured, I was a more lenient master than both the high priestess and the Butcher of Kirai would be. ”

Curse it, he was faking it. The small amount of magic he wielded was probably the total extent of his abilities right now. I knew that overly self-assured smile too well to believe anything else. I groped frantically around in the mud, searching for the lost lyr -stone.

“You always said it yourself, my lord,” Vultaron answered, his dagger glowing brighter and brighter as he channeled more magic into it. “Chaos is a fickle mistress.”

There! A faint glimmer of red on the ground.

“Who knows whom she will favor?” The Chiasma raised his weapon high above his head. Chaos flooded toward him, the dagger shining as brightly as a star. “I will take my chances.”

I lunged for the lyr -stone, reaching for the small reserve of magic within it the moment I felt it in my grasp.

A tiny fireball shot from my fingers toward Vultaron, only to be extinguished with a hiss as the Chiasma countered my attack with his own magic.

I hadn’t expected anything else. This was merely a diversion.

Vultaron’s victorious glee turned into furious anger as Noctis slammed into him from the side, his hands closing around the dagger in the acolyte’s grasp.

Flickering sparks of Chaos magic danced through the air as the two men struggled over the dagger, neither gaining the upper hand at first. But all too soon, Noctis was on the defensive, his strength still too diminished to match the Elvish Chiasma.

“Use your powers, curse it,” he snapped at me, his face a strained mask, as Vultaron slowly forced him to his knees.

I clasped the empty Fire stone between my fingers, my feet slipping in the mud as I desperately tried to rise. “I can’t!”

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Vultaron pressed Noctis down inch by inch, the dagger’s blade dangerously close to his throat.

“She was not only sent into exile. Her powers were stripped from her, surely as punishment for her disloyalty. She is as mortal as you.” A gleeful smile spread across his lips as he hissed the next words. “And she will die like you.”

“No!” Noctis roared, magic surging toward him in a crashing wave.

Lightning exploded from above, casting the grappling foes into stark relief.

For a horrifying moment, it seemed the power would consume them both, their skin glowing as if lit from within.

With a cackling laugh, Vultaron raised his hands toward the sky, letting the magic rage through him.

Then the Elf screamed. Flames tinged with green and purple erupted from his mouth and eyes, engulfing his entire body in a blazing inferno that reduced him to ashes.

Despite the gruesome sight, my eyes remained fixed on Noctis. What if the same happened to him? The mere thought barely allowed me to draw breath.

His hands still clasped the dagger as he turned to face me, his hair flowing around him in an intangible wind. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a smile brightening his face, brimming with unexpected, iridescent joy.

I stared at him, my heart aching. How many years had passed since I had seen him like this? Shining with power and a nearly innocent delight at wielding it?

A sudden groan escaped Noctis, breaking the moment.

Sparks of Chaos magic flickered over his skin, his face contorting in pain.

Ice trickled down my spine. It was too much.

While the lyr -stone in the dagger allowed him to harness the power of Chaos being drawn to him, his mortal body was too frail to channel so much magic. He could not control it for long.

“Noctis!” I cried out, struggling to my feet. “You have to let go of it. ”

His full lips drew back into a snarl as he shook his head. His outstretched hands, still holding the dagger, visibly trembled.

“Belekoroz!” I pleaded, hesitating to touch him, fearing it would make things worse. “Please.”

He stared down at me, those beautiful eyes lost in flames, a dark abyss illuminated by bursts of lightning that threatened to pull me under. “Baradaz,” he said with a breathless laugh. “This is glorious.”

He was drunk on the power. If I couldn’t find a way to bring him back, the storm would consume him. His veins already glowed beneath his skin. I was running out of time.

Before I could make up my mind on what to do, a dark shadow lunged out of the rain with a shrill howl.

Sharp claws sank deep into Noctis’s forearm, Bane hissing and spitting so wildly he appeared twice his size.

The cat’s attack made Noctis drop the dagger, dissipating the magic.

He staggered, and as I instinctively reached out for him, we both tumbled to the muddy ground, landing on our knees.

I couldn’t tell who was supporting whom, his arms encircling me, his breaths as ragged as mine.

The rain poured down relentlessly, dripping from our hair and clothes in steady rivulets.

But I hardly noticed. His proximity, the sheer presence of his larger frame against mine, clouded my senses.

The smell of lavender from the soap I used in my washing drifted into my nose, but beneath, there was a scent I knew only too well.

Cold and spicy, with a hint of ashes and lightning. Darkness and Chaos. Him.

I should have moved away. I shouldn’t have wanted to bury my face against his neck and breathe him in deeply. And I definitely shouldn’t have wanted to pretend that it had all just been a bad dream.

The war. Everything that had happened. Everything he had done.

Don’t, the last remnants of my good sense warned me. Hold on to at least that much of your dignity. You are only going to get yourself hurt. Again.

“What were you thinking?” I moved back to scrutinize his face, seeking refuge in anger, which felt like my sole remaining defense. “You were supposed to rest in bed.”

Noctis blinked down at me as if he did not understand my words.

Then, the relief on his face transformed into pissed-off annoyance at my tone.

“I was trying to save your life,” he snapped.

“Thank you very much.” He glared at me. “Besides, what were you thinking, hiding the fact that you lost your powers from me?”

I met his anger without flinching. “Like you hid the fact that your whole group of little dark disciples is after you?”

Noctis scoffed. “I had no idea they were. There’s a reason I stayed far away from the Chiasma after I was sentenced.

They cannot be trusted.” He glanced away.

“My meeting with Tharion was not exactly planned.” Before I could probe deeper, his gaze met mine again.

“Why did you risk your life to save me?”

I knew his words were meant to keep me from asking any more questions. My lips curled into a challenging smile. “You once said ending your existence would be my privilege alone. Surely you don’t expect me to leave that task to some third-rate servant of Chaos.”

Noctis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he watched me, head slightly tilted as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “And when,” he asked, amusement dancing in his dark eyes, “do you plan to kill me? Just so I can prepare myself.”

I glared at him, not liking his smug tone. He mistook my willingness to engage in a fight with one of the Chiasma as a sign that I was softening toward him. Which I was not. Not in the slightest. Despite still leaning into his embrace .

I pushed against his chest, trying to wriggle free, only to cry out as sharp pain shot through my wrist.

Long, elegant fingers closed firmly around my arm, preventing me from getting up. Noctis cradled my injured wrist, his touch sending an unsettling warmth through me. “What happened to your hand?” he asked softly.

“I fell on it when he threw me against the barn,” I muttered, averting my gaze. His proximity was almost unbearable. “It’s agony. I don’t think I can use it.”

An anxious meow signaled Bane’s arrival. The cat pressed against me, providing a welcome distraction.

“Well done,” I praised him, patting his silky black fur and putting some distance between myself and Noctis.

“That’s debatable,” Noctis grumbled, rubbing his scratched forearm. When he tried to stand, he swayed on his feet.

Blessed lyr , he was still unwell and should be in bed, not out in the rain fighting dark acolytes to save me. I rose to my feet and slipped under his arm, steadying him while suppressing the wave of nausea that hit me with the abrupt motion. “We have to get you back inside.”

Noctis just nodded, his face paler than ever. He was worse off than I had thought.

“Leave it,” he said as I moved to pick up the Chaosdagger on the ground, now black and lifeless.

“We’ll fetch it later, when we can ensure we won’t inadvertently activate it.

” His eyes fell on the burnt spot on the ground that was all that remained of Vultaron.

“I told him not to touch you,” he commented, a vindictive smile playing on his lips.

As we made our way back to the house, his arm tightened around me, a thrilling heat spreading through my body at his fierce protectiveness.

I glanced up at him. His jaw was set with grim determination.

The way he had dispatched his former servant without hesitation to save me, the satisfaction in his voice as he spoke of Vultaron’s demise—it all awakened a part of me I had thought long buried.

His ruthlessness was dangerously alluring, a magnetic pull I had always found hard to resist.

At the door, I hesitated, my hand lingering on the handle. “Noctis,” I said softly, “thank you for coming to my aid.”

Noctis looked down at me, his obsidian eyes burning with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“He hurt you. I would kill him a thousand times over for that insolence.” Pale fingers reached out to catch a strand of my hair in an achingly familiar gesture.

“No one will ever be permitted to hurt you while I still live.”