Page 13

Kieran

I feel her before I see her. The pull is visceral, a hook beneath my ribs that's been empty for centuries suddenly filled again.

When I land, the corrupted ground cracks beneath my feet, power rolling off me in waves that send the shadow creatures scattering.

They remember what I am, even if she doesn't.

Little star.

The sight of her steals the breath I don't need.

She's grown so much, but something in her face still echoes the child I knew—the same determined set of her jaw even in unconsciousness.

Her wings, gods, her wings, shimmer between shadow and light, so similar to how Solveig's did.

The corruption spreading across her skin makes my ancient heart stutter.

"I'm here," I manage, though the words feel clumsy in this form. "You're safe now, little star."

Malrik's sharp intake of breath draws my attention.

He's grown too, no longer the solemn child who used to pepper me with questions about Absentia's history.

The corruption that drove him from his realm has left its mark—not on his body, but in the silver of his eyes—no longer the questioning gaze of a boy, but the blade-edge of a man who's lost too much.

"Kieran," he breathes. "The Dragon of the Void."

The chaos mage beside him radiates wild, unstable power—energy that crackles like a storm barely contained. But there's something in his gaze when he looks at Kaia, something that makes the ancient thing inside me stir with both approval and warning.

Shadows cluster close to her, moving with military precision, far too organized for shadow constructs.

There's something in their movements, in the way they orbit her, that echoes a kind of discipline I haven't seen in centuries.

One directs the others like a commander.

Another scribes strange symbols in the air—shadowy script, new and unknown, but deliberate.

It feels like the beginning of a language born from darkness itself.

"The corruption's spreading fast," I say, pushing back centuries of memory. "We need to get her to the sanctuary."

"You have a sanctuary in this realm?" one of the berserker twins asks, flame wreathing his form while his brother watches with frost in his hair. Neither of which should be possible.

"I have many things in this realm." The corruption recoils from my touch, but not fast enough. Another shadow forms, this one carrying the essence of a healer I once knew. "Including ways to slow this poison."

The strange wisp that's been drifting through the corruption pauses near us, its touch leaving brief flares of cleansing light. Something about its power feels familiar, though I can't place why. It hovers near Kaia's head, almost like it's trying to comfort her .

"We need to move," Malrik says, and I notice he hasn't let go of her hand. The realization hits me like ice water, the possessive way he holds her, the tender concern in his silver eyes.

No. This cannot be.

Ancient instinct flares, fierce and territorial. She is mine. The thought rises unbidden, primal and absolute. The dragon within me stirs, threatening to shatter this human form I wear. I force it down, but the rage lingers, cold and sharp beneath my skin.

I gather her into my arms carefully, her wings folding naturally against my chest. The chaos mage moves closer, his face fierce. Something in his protective stance, the desperate worry in his eyes, triggers another wave of cold fury. His gaze lingers on her face with unmistakable devotion.

Two of them? The dragon rumbles beneath my skin, demanding retribution.

The twins flank us, their power humming just beneath their skin.

As we move through the corrupted landscape, something extraordinary happens.

New shadows begin to form around her, pulling themselves from the very fabric of this realm.

They coalesce slowly, each one distinct.

More shadows find their way to her as we continue on, each one a soul I thought lost forever.

I hold her close and try not to think about the last time I saw her, or the night everything changed, when Solveig's desperate magic tore through time itself.

The night I failed to protect them both.

Solveig died for this future, and yet—watching Kaia fade beneath the same sky—I wonder if we were ever meant to win.

Not this time, I promise silently as another shadow joins her growing legion. This time will be different .

But the way Malrik and the chaos mage move in perfect sync beside me, their concern for her evident in every step, it makes my blood run cold.

They move like extensions of one another, both orbiting her even as she lies unconscious in my arms. It is more than friendship or loyalty.

The looks they exchange, the way they position themselves, they both claim her in their own way.

The dragon's rage builds. Mine. The word pulses with each step.

The sanctuary can't come soon enough.

"Are we there yet?" the chaos mage groans, breaking the silence. "Because if we have to keep trekking through this nightmare wasteland much longer, I might start questioning my life choices."

I don't respond. His magic is wild, unpredictable, but his concern for Kaia is real. I can feel it in the way his energy shifts every time she makes the faintest sound.

"You already question your life choices," Malrik mutters, adjusting his grip on Kaia's hand. He hasn't let go of her since we started moving. The possessiveness of the gesture makes my jaw clench.

The chaos mage flashes a grin, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Fair point. But seriously, any glowing gates, magic doorways, dramatic beams of light ahead? Or are we just walking until our legs give out?"

"Not much farther," I say. The words carry more weight than just distance.

Malrik exhales, his silver eyes flicking toward me. "How bad has it gotten?"

I shift Kaia's weight, ensuring her wings remain tucked safely against her back. "Worse. The corruption spreads faster than it should. The wards hold, but they weaken every time I pull from Absentia. "

Malrik nods grimly. "Same as before, then."

"Not exactly." I glance at the growing shadows forming around Kaia, following us like silent sentinels. "The souls are moving toward her. Not just fallen warriors—lost ones. That has to mean something."

The chaos mage scoffs. "Still waiting for someone to explain that one to me."

"It's complicated," Malrik says, his voice tight. "But if they're returning, it means she's more than just a Valkyrie."

"Yeah, I figured that much when she sprouted wings and ruined someone's sense of balance." The chaos mage gestures vaguely. "But, y'know, details would be great."

I don't answer. The path ahead shifts, the air lighter, the corruption thinning. The sanctuary's magic hums beneath my skin, calling me forward.

Malrik's grip on Kaia tightens. "And once we're inside? How do we fix this?"

I exhale, the weight of centuries pressing down on me. "We find out why this is happening now. And then…" My eyes drop to Kaia's unconscious face. "We see if she remembers."

Malrik and Finn exchange a look, but before they can push further, the air shifts again.

The shadows ahead flicker, and then, finally, the sanctuary appears, its crystalline structures gleaming against the corruption that surrounds it.

As we approach, more shadows pull free from the realm to join us, each one carrying memories that make my chest ache.

Revna meets us at the barrier, her phoenix fire casting warm light across the corrupted ground. Her eyes widen at the sight of Kaia's wings, understanding dawning in their amber depths .

"The Heart calls them," she says softly as another shadow forms. "Just like before, when the balance started to shift."

Corruption pulses darker beneath her skin. A growl builds in my throat. "We need to get her inside. Now."

As we pass through the wards, the whispers begin. Survivors emerge from their homes—shifters, mages, souls I've gathered from across the realms. They line the crystal-lit streets, their voices carrying centuries of hope.

"The Valkyrie returns," someone breathes, and the words ripple through the crowd like wind through leaves. "She's come back to us."

More shadows form with each step toward the castle, drawn by her presence and the murmured prayers of the watching crowd. Each one feels like a memory given form, warriors I watched fall, healers who gave their last breath, guardians who held the line until the very end.

The chaos mage moves closer, his wild magic settling into something protective. His fingers brush against her wing, a gesture so familiar it makes my vision flash gold with rage. "Not that this isn't impressively dramatic," he says, "but she's getting worse."

He's right. The corruption spreads faster now, black veins creeping up her neck despite my attempts to slow them. Her wings shudder with each labored breath, and the shadows surrounding her ripple with shared distress.

"Almost there," I promise, though I'm not sure if I'm reassuring her or myself. I remember the old phrase, the one Solveig used to whisper when the world still made sense: when shadow and light become one, the gates shall remember their purpose .

Malrik's expression darkens as we climb the castle steps. "I grew up here," he says softly. "Before the corruption—before everything twisted—it was the most beautiful place I'd ever known."

"It will be again." The words carry more weight than I intend. Another shadow forms, this one bearing the essence of a guardian I lost in the first wave of corruption. "If we succeed."

Finn looks between us. "Anyone want to share with the rest of the class what exactly is going on here?"

But before I can answer, Kaia's wings flare with sudden light. The corruption recoils as more shadows surge into being around her—dozens now, each one carrying a piece of what was lost. The crowd below gasps in wonder, and I feel the ancient magic stirring beneath our feet.

For the first time in centuries, I dare to hope.

"Get her inside," Revna orders, her phoenix fire already blazing. "I'll hold the barriers."

As we carry her through the castle doors, I try not to think about how many times I've seen hope crumble in the face of corruption. But watching these shadows… her shadows move in perfect unity, seeing the way even the strange drifting wisp seems drawn to her light...

Maybe this time will be different.

It has to be.

The fate of all realms depends on it.