《The Bargain》 Prologue: The Pact Lord Cedric Varian stood tall on the garrison wall surrounding the encampment, his sharp gaze locked on the hazy horizon. In the distance, the flickering glow of his enemies lit up the night like malevolent nebulae. The deafening roar of the approaching Starless echoed through the silent, night sky. The ominous groans and crackles of starlight sent shivers down his spine as his men hustled around the garrison, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the destruction would reach them. The weight of his decision pressed heavily on his shoulders, threatening to break through his carefully held composure. Still, he stood tall, his blonde hair catching the flicker of firelight, while the dragon motifs on his dark armor seemed to twist and shift, almost alive in their anticipation of the battle to come. Cedric¡¯s contemplation was interrupted when one of his knights strode up to him, His voice carried the rough, edged drawl of the Wastes, each word weathered by sand and sun. ¡°You look like you could use a drink,¡± he quipped, holding out a goblet of wine. Cedric smirked, finding amusement in the thought of drinking at the brink of a war. Despite the circumstances, he couldn''t turn down a drink. He raised the goblet to his lips and tipped it back, savoring the fiery taste of the alcohol. As he handed back the empty cup, he couldn''t help but admire his friend''s unwavering steadiness. Emrick scanned the tense encampment and couldn''t resist stating the obvious, "Seems like everyone¡¯s on edge tonight," Cedric nodded, his gaze sweeping the area with a calm detachment. The weight of the situation was not lost on him. "Fear¡¯s a strong motivator. The thought of not making it home, of never seeing the people you love again, can drive a man mad." He flashed a brief, pained smile toward Emrick, as if both men knew this feeling all too well. His friend lowered his head with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his tangled, matted black hair, worn by days under the unrelenting sun. His skin, the deep, rich hue of earth, contrasted sharply with the pale glow of the fire, casting light on Cedric''s grim expression. With a scoff, Emrick tightened his grip on the hilt of his spear. "And yet, they say the Starless outnumber us ten to one. No wonder the men are restless." Though his tone remained casual, his sharp amber eyes betrayed a restlessness and unease that mirrored the others. Cedric shook his head, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "Numbers don¡¯t win battles. It¡¯s about how you fight, the decisions you make." His gaze shifted to the distant glow on the horizon, his tone firm but not boastful. "And I¡¯ll make sure we have the advantage." As Cedric spoke, his fingers absently traced the constellation-like scars that marred his skin, reminders of past battles and the inevitable decision he was now facing. It was why he stood here tonight, contemplating a pact that would alter everything. His mind churned as he thought of the Starless, their monstrous forms a warning of what could become of him if he failed to secure a celestial pact. Emrick, still standing nearby, was none the wiser to the storm brewing in Cedric¡¯s mind. ¡°Do you believe in destiny?¡± Cedric asked abruptly, his voice low, edged with something unreadable beneath the calm surface. Emrick¡¯s gaze shifted, brow furrowing as he considered the question. He scratched at the stubble on his chin, a habit he had picked up not long before joining Cedric¡¯s forces. ¡°I can''t say I do,¡± he replied, his tone dry and unconvinced. ¡°Seems like too much of a luxury for a man who¡¯s spent most of his life running from it.¡± Cedric caught a quick glance from him, as if aware of where this conversation was heading. "Then you¡¯re a fool," Cedric responded, his tone colder now, with an edge sharper than usual. "Destiny exists, but it isn¡¯t something simply given to us. It¡¯s something we take, with our own hands. Our choices define us. If we fail¡­ well, then we pay the price." His gaze drifted towards the distance, where the low light of the Starless flickered menacingly, waiting to devour them all. "They may outnumber us, but I''ll make them regret stepping foot in Selnia." Then with a dismissive gesture, Cedric waved his old friend off to rejoin the other soldiers, and was left with the sound of the man''s boots crunching against the dry earth as he made his way back toward the encampment. Left alone, Cedric¡¯s mind raced with the thought of what he was about to do. The decision weighed heavily on him, but there was no turning back. He had already made up his mind. The pact would be his, and with it, he would secure victory¡ªnot just for King Alden, but for himself. He would survive, and if that meant the price of power was becoming something less than human, then so be it. "No more hesitation," Cedric murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the distant clang of weapons being prepared from the encampment below. His hand tightened into a fist, the constellation-like scars shifting beneath his skin, as if responding to his will. The weight of his decision pressed on him, but there was no turning back now. With a determined stride, Cedric moved toward the encampment below, preparing himself for what was to come. In only a matter of hours, the Starless would descend upon them, and they would be left vulnerable, at the mercy of the constellations. As Cedric paced the perimeter of the camp, his piercing blue eyes narrowed, and his thoughts ran rampant. The stories of the celestial pacts echoed in his mind, whispers of unimaginable power, but also the sacrifices that came with it. His pacing continued as chaos erupted around. Soldiers scrambled in a frenzy, their movements purposeful and frantic as they prepared for the impending storm of Starless. The air was filled with the clanging of metal against metal, swords being unsheathed, and armor being fastened. The flickering light of torches cast sporadic shadows across the camp, making the soldiers appear as ghostly figures preparing for battle under the cover of night. Shouts and orders roared through the encampment with a mix of urgency and fear. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly at their anvils, forging weapons under the intense glow of the firelight. Archers checked their bows and sharpened arrows with swift precision, some uttering prayers to very constellations who damned this world, while others focused intently on their tasks. Horses neighed in their stalls as riders equipped themselves with saddles and armor, their unsettlement evident in every movement. The clatter of shields and chainmail blended with an underlying hum of nervous energy that seemed to echo through the very ground beneath Cedric''s feet. Every soldier moved with determination, aware of what was coming yet still plagued by fears of facing these beings born of starlight, stripped of all humanity. In the midst of the frenzy, a few commanders shouted orders in an attempt to restore order. But even their voices were drowned out by the collective tension pulsing through the camp. It was a place teetering on the edge of uncertainty, where every action and breath seemed weighted by the unknown. As Cedric rounded a corner, the unmistakable figure of King Alden emerged, his tall frame a steady presence. Despite the noise and frenetic energy that buzzed around the garrison, the king remained calm and collected, as if none of it touched him. His regal countenance was carved with age and experience, a weathered face bearing the marks of countless battles fought and won. His hair, silvered with time, framed his sharp gray eyes, eyes that had seen the rise and fall of empires, and yet held a calm, steady resolve. He was the kind of king whose wisdom carried weight without need for shouting, a man who had built an empire on subtlety, patience, and precision. "You walk as if the weight of the world rests on your shoulders, Cedric," Alden said, his voice low and steady, though there was a warmth behind it. "I thought you had grown past such brooding." Cedric stopped in his tracks, his lips curling into a faint, wry smile. "Some burdens don''t lift so easily, Your Majesty." Alden¡¯s eyes softened. He gave a small nod, as if understanding the hidden struggle in Cedric''s words. "Indeed. But you carry them well. Better than I did at your age, I suppose." He let out a dry chuckle. "Though, I''ve had more time to learn how to carry them."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Cedric¡¯s gaze softened, though his words carried the same weight as before. "And yet you continue to carry them. What makes you so sure that I can?" Alden¡¯s expression grew serious, his eyes thoughtful. "Ambition, like fire, can bring both warmth and destruction. It¡¯s how one fuels it that matters. You¡¯ve seen what ambition can do, the devastation it can cause, but also the empires it can build. The key is knowing which path to take." Cedric shifted uncomfortably, glancing towards the horizon where he knew the flickering lights of the Starless were waiting. Their ever-growing numbers were like a looming tidal wave, and thoughts of celestial bargains filled his mind. The allure of their power was undeniable, but he had witnessed firsthand the toll it could take on a person''s soul. "And what if that flame consumes everything I care about, Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. Alden¡¯s expression softened further, his hands clasped behind his back as he regarded the younger man with a mixture of paternal affection and quiet strength. "Then I believe it¡¯s up to you to ensure that it does not. But you cannot shrink from it, Cedric. The kingdom, your people, they look to you now. There are no easy answers, only choices, and the consequences of those choices." His gaze flickered toward the camp, where preparations were still in full motion. "The battle ahead is not just one of swords. It is one of hearts and minds. Power is a tool, yes, but it is the hand that wields it that determines its value." Cedric stood silently for a long moment, the weight of Alden¡¯s words pressing down on him like the very earth beneath their feet. He thought of the Starless, their inhuman eyes burning with a hunger for the land he was sworn to protect. He thought of the celestial pact, a bond forged with fire and blood, and the price that came with it. "And if my hand trembles?" Cedric finally asked, his voice low, the vulnerability beneath his mask clear. "Then steady it," Alden replied, his voice a quiet command. "We rise not just in the face of victory, but in the face of our own doubt. Power is a terrible thing to waste, Cedric. You¡¯ve been given the chance to wield it, but you must choose wisely." Cedric looked into Alden eyes, those eyes that had seen kingdoms crumble and rise again. For a moment, he felt the weight of everything on his shoulders, but also a flicker of hope. The king had not faltered in his duty, even when the world seemed bent on breaking him. Alden gripped Cedric¡¯s shoulder tightly, his voice carrying a sense of urgency "There is no path without struggle. But it is in that struggle that you will find your true strength. Do not forget that." Suddenly, a blood-curdling screech rent the air, far off in the distance. The eerie wail, a horrific, inhuman sound that pierced the night, echoed like the cry of something ancient, something wrong. It was a sound that reverberated through the camp, unsettling the men who froze at the unnatural noise. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath them. Cedric tensed up, his neck hairs standing on end as he turned towards where the sound had come from. They were already here. As the name "The Starless" left Cedric''s lips, the weight of it settled on him like a curse. He had hoped the rumors were exaggerated. "How do we fight such beings?" he asked, his voice now low, almost a whisper, as if the gravity of the question pressed down on him. His determination did not waver, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable. The king''s jaw tightened, his expression a mask of focused calm, though there was a flicker of something deeper, something more serious behind his eyes. ¡°With steel, faith, and no small amount of luck," he replied, his voice sharp but steady. ¡°But I fear that may not be enough this time.¡± Another screech shattered the silence, even more chilling than the first. This time, the cry was closer, sharper, as though the Starless were closing in. Cedric¡¯s eyes narrowed, the weight of his duty pressing harder on him. He could feel it in his bones, the time to act was now. His heart pounded in his chest. He needed to go. Now. "I¡¯ll make them regret ever setting foot in Selnia," Cedric said, his voice clipped and resolute, but his gaze flickered toward the camp, toward the direction he must go. His pact. Alden¡¯s gaze followed, seeming to know exactly where Cedric''s mind had gone. A flicker of understanding passed between them, silent but unmistakable. "You must hurry," Alden said, his voice a little sharper now, though his calm demeanor never faltered. ¡°I need to command my armies. I cannot waste another moment.¡± His eyes softened slightly, his hand resting briefly on Cedric¡¯s shoulder. ¡°But remember this, Cedric. Do not let your ambition blind you. Power may save us, but it will come at a cost. And the price¡­ may be more than you¡¯re willing to pay." Cedric swallowed the lump in his throat, but the urgency inside him won. "I know what I¡¯m doing," he said, though it sounded like a half-truth even to his own ears. The screech again, louder now, reverberated across the camp, growing nearer with each passing second. Cedric took one last look at Alden, his king, his mentor. ¡°I¡¯ll see you on the other side,¡± he said, his voice steady but filled with unspoken promises. Without waiting for a response, he turned, his boots thudding against the earth, each step carrying him farther from the camp¡ªand closer to the pact that would change everything. He moved quickly, his boots crunching against the dry leaves, the sound of his pace cutting through the eerie quiet of the forest. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of wet moss and damp earth¡ªa fleeting comfort, far removed from the heat of the garrison and the impending storm. But there was no time to savor it. Cedric¡¯s mind raced as he pressed deeper into the woods, every step carrying him farther from the camp, and closer to the pact that loomed over him like a dark cloud. The distant screeches of the Starless echoed through the trees, a harsh reminder that time was slipping away. Rounding the back of the garrison, the trees parted slightly, and the vast expanse of the sky stretched out before him. The stars shone brightly, their cold light piercing the velvet darkness above, offering a fleeting moment of peace. He stopped for a moment, his gaze locked on the celestial bodies, distant and indifferent to the struggles below. They were beautiful, untouched by the chaos that threatened to consume the world. But that beauty did nothing to quiet the fear in his chest. He stared at the constellations, searching for something, anything, as his heart pounded in his chest. Then he saw him. The constellation he was looking for. His pulse raced, urgency clawing at his insides. "Draco!" he shouted, his voice breaking through the night like a desperate plea. "Can you hear me?" The world around him seemed to fall silent, the wind stilling in anticipation, as if the very air held its breath. Cedric¡¯s throat tightened as he stood there, the weight of his decision crashing down upon him. A pact with Draco could end the war, could shift the tide, but it would demand a price, something he wasn¡¯t sure he could pay. His hands shook as he clenched his fists. "What right do I have to hesitate?" he muttered, his voice raw. The faces of the people of Selnia flickered before him, families, children, soldiers, all of them depending on him to protect them. "What¡¯s the cost of their lives, Draco? What¡¯s the cost of my soul?" He turned his gaze upward again, his heart pounding, every breath a struggle. "I can¡¯t fail them. I won¡¯t fail them!" He fell to his knees, his desperation breaking through. "Please, Draco," he begged, his voice ragged. "I offer myself. I offer whatever you demand. Just... please, make it enough. Give me the power to save them, to save Selnia. I¡¯ll give anything. I¡¯ll give everything!" With a deafening boom, the air around Cedric seemed to crack open, warping and distorting in response to the intensity of his desperation. The peaceful sounds of the forest fell away, swallowed by an oppressive, suffocating silence that pressed in from all sides. Cedric¡¯s heart hammered in his chest as the world around him seemed to fold in on itself, the very fabric of reality bending and warping in a way that defied reason. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his head, eyes wide with disbelief. The night sky before him tore open, the stars¡ªthose cold, distant pinpricks of light¡ªshattering like fragile glass and gathering together in a swirling vortex of raw energy. The very heavens seemed to come alive, descending with a terrifying speed and force. From the depths of that maelstrom emerged Draco. The dragon was no mere creature¡ªit was an entity of pure celestial energy, its form composed of shimmering constellations, each scale blazing with a thousand flickering stars. It was as though the universe itself had manifested before him, a being born of starlight and cosmic power. The pressure of its presence was overwhelming, the sheer force of it pressing against Cedric¡¯s skin like the weight of an entire galaxy, threatening to crush him under its suffocating weight. If Cedric had not already been on his knees, he would have collapsed under the intensity of Draco¡¯s arrival. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. His hands trembled as he reached out, fingers digging into the earth as if trying to ground himself against the impossible reality unfolding before him. "Gods..." His voice barely escaped him, hoarse and weak, his words faltering under the weight of the sight before him. Draco¡¯s eyes, swords of piercing light, locked onto Cedric, and the world seemed to stop. Time itself seemed to hold its breath as the dragon¡¯s gaze bored into Cedric¡¯s very soul, unraveling every thought, every fear, every hesitation. When it spoke, its voice wasn¡¯t just heard, it vibrated through his very bones, shaking him to his core, the sound a deep rumble like thunder from the heavens above. Draco''s words landed like a thunderbolt, shaking Cedric to his core. "So," he said, his voice sharp and piercing. "You wish to make a pact?" Chapter 1: The Fall of a King Chapter 1: The Fall of a King Cedric stood alone in the throne room, the only sound his own ragged breath echoing off the stone walls. The flickering torchlight burned low in their sconces, illuminating the empty throne before him. The dim amber glow did little to push back the oppressive atmosphere. He began to shuffle forward, his bandaged leg dragging behind him. With each step, a new wave of pain coursed through his body, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest. Cedric''s hand drifted to the thick wrappings swathing his torso, feeling the ridges of the stitches underneath. The pain grounded him, keeping the horrific memories at bay for a few blessed moments. But they always came rushing back, those final blood-soaked images from the battle at Falcon''s Rest. The Starless hordes surging forward in an unstoppable tide of starlight and malice, the twisted forms of man and beasts consumed by an unending thirst for bloodshed. Cedric squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still hear the desperate screams, smell the coppery tang of spilled blood, see the light fading from King Alden''s eyes as he breathed his last. The king''s final words plagued Cedric''s mind, drowning out all other thoughts. "You must...protect them..." Alden had rasped, blood bubbling on his lips. "Selnia...needs you..." Cedric''s knees buckled and he caught himself on a pillar, his head bowing under the crushing weight of it all. How could he protect a realm on the brink of being swallowed by darkness? He was a broken shell of a man, barely able to protect himself. "I''m not strong enough," Cedric whispered, his voice cracking. "I failed you..." The shadows seemed to close in around him and Cedric shuddered, feeling the specter of the Starless pressing against the edges of his mind. He could almost hear their sinister whispers, feel their icy talons raking down his spine. Drawing in a shaky breath, Cedric pushed himself upright and limped the last few steps to the throne. He placed a trembling hand on the gilded armrest, imagining he could still feel some of Alden''s strength and wisdom emanating from the cold metal. "Alden, how do I do this without you?" he asked, his voice echoing hollowly off the vaulted ceiling. "How am I expected to lead when all I see is death?" He waited with baited breath, as if expecting a familiar voice that never came. But the darkness held no answers, only the remembered horrors of the battle playing out endlessly behind Cedric''s eyes. He sank down onto the top step below the throne and dropped his head into his hands. There, he allowed himself, for a fleeting moment, to feel the crushing sorrow he''d held at bay. There, alone in the dimness with only the ghosts of the fallen for company, the tears finally came, quiet and bitter. But the throne room offered no solace, only the suffocating stillness of an empty kingdom teetering on the edge of chaos. The cold stone beneath him seemed to pulse with the unyielding truth: there was no time for weakness. A low creak shattered the silence, reverberating off the high walls like a thunderclap. Cedric''s head snapped up, his heart pounding against his ribs as his teary eyes darted to the source of the sound. The heavy doors, carved with the sigils of Selnia''s noble houses, slowly swung open, the sudden sound shattering the oppressive stillness like a thunderclap. He hastily swiped at his face with the back of his hand, a quick attempt to erase the evidence of his vulnerability. The nobles had arrived. Before he could be spotted sitting, Cedric pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in his wounded leg. He couldn''t afford to show weakness, not now, not in front of these circling vultures who would tear him apart at the first sign of frailty. They filtered into the throne room with the measured grace of predators stalking their prey, each movement calculated and deliberate. They took their places in the wooden pews flanking either side of the hall, arranged in rows that rose in tiers. The air bristled with an undercurrent of tension as the lords and ladies settled in, the rustle of their fine silks sounding deafening in the stillness Some he recognized from his time at Alden¡¯s side. Like Lord Valron, a portly older man who was seated in the front row to Cedric¡¯s right. His doublet was a garish shade of emerald green, trimmed with gold embroidery that strained at the seams of his generous frame. His fingers, heavy with jeweled rings, tapped idly against the armrest of his seat as his thin lips curled into an oily smile. His pale blue eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked over Cedric like a merchant appraising defective goods. To Valron¡¯s left sat Lady Maris of Whitecliff, a tall and slender woman draped in a gown of shimmering silver fabric that caught the torchlight. Her features were severe, her dark eyes framed by sharp cheekbones and lips that never quite seemed to soften. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, but her gaze was piercing, scrutinizing Cedric with an intensity that felt almost carnivorous. Further back, Lord Harrick of Stormhaven leaned forward on the edge of his pew, his brooding presence impossible to ignore. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, and his dark leather armor bore the scars of old battles. Unlike the others, Harrick wore no finery; his practical attire marked him as a man who spoke with his sword more often than with words. His frown deepened as his keen gray eyes lingered on Cedric, his skepticism etched into every line of his weathered face. The rest of the nobles filled the pews with muted murmurs and shifty glances. Some were richly dressed, their clothing adorned with family crests and symbols of their houses, while others wore simpler garb, their loyalties and ambitions harder to discern. A few exchanged hushed whispers, their expressions varying between contempt and mild curiosity. Cedric could feel their eyes on him, pricking at his skin like needles. His breath steadied as he forced himself to meet their gazes, one by one. These were the people he would have to win over¡ªthose who would either uphold his claim or undermine him entirely. "Lords and ladies," Cedric greeted them, his voice rough but steady. "I apologize for the delay. I was... reflecting on recent events." The words felt inadequate, but he would not let them see the cracks beneath his armor. A ripple of reaction passed through the crowd. Some nobles nodded politely, their faces masks of false sympathy, while others exchanged pointed looks. He could practically hear their unspoken thoughts. A knight, newly Starbonded, presuming to stand among them? They saw him as a pawn. A placeholder. Temporary. Unworthy. Lord Valron¡¯s oily voice cut through the silence. "Cedric," he began, his tone dripping with condescension, "we understand this must be a difficult time for you. Perhaps it would be best if you¡­retired to your chambers to rest. We can handle the affairs of state in your absence." A soft murmur of agreement spread through some of the pews, though others remained silent, their expressions unreadable. Cedric¡¯s jaw tightened, his grief eclipsed by a flash of anger. How dare they dismiss him so easily, as if he were a child to be sent off while the real decisions were made? Swallowing the fury, he let it smolder beneath the surface as he straightened his posture and met Valron¡¯s gaze directly. ¡°Your concern is appreciated, Lord Valron,¡± Cedric said, his tone measured but firm, ¡°but I am quite capable of managing.¡± He paused, letting his words hang in the air before continuing, ¡°The realm needs stability now more than ever, and I intend to ensure it has just that.¡± Valron¡¯s smile faltered, his fingers pausing in their rhythmic tapping. ¡°Stability, yes,¡± he said, his voice taking on a saccharine edge. ¡°But stability requires experience, does it not? Wisdom. A steady hand. Traits you¡­ have yet to fully develop.¡± The insult landed with subtle precision, and Cedric could feel the eyes of the other nobles shift back to him, weighing his reaction. ¡°Experience is gained through action, Lord Valron,¡± Cedric replied evenly. ¡°Action, I''m afraid, you are sorely lacking. At Falcon¡¯s Rest, I stood beside King Alden until his final breath. I fought to protect this realm when others might have fled.¡± His voice hardened. ¡°I don¡¯t plan to stop now.¡± Valron¡¯s pale blue eyes narrowed, his smile gone. ¡°And yet,¡± he said slowly, leaning forward as if to drive his point home, ¡°despite all that, the king is dead, and the throne is empty. Tell me, Sir Cedric, did you not become Starbonded to save him? Or did even that celestial power fail you?¡± A hush fell over the room, the tension crackling like a storm about to break. Cedric¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his fingernails biting into his palms. He could feel the constellation markings on his back stir beneath his bandages, a faint, restless ripple that mirrored the anger rising within him. Before Cedric could respond, a sharp voice cut through the thickening tension. ¡°Enough!¡± Lady Maris of Whitecliff rose to her feet, her silver gown making her stand out like a blade amongst a room of parchment. Her dark eyes swept over the chamber, silencing the murmurs and halting Valron¡¯s smug satisfaction. ¡°We are not here to assign blame,¡± she said coolly, her voice sharp and authoritative. ¡°King Alden is gone, and no amount of finger-pointing will change that. What matters now is ensuring the realm does not descend into chaos. Or would you prefer to see Selnia torn apart by petty squabbles, Lord Valron?¡± Valron¡¯s face darkened, but he held his tongue, sinking back into his seat with a huff. Cedric inclined his head toward Maris in silent gratitude, though her expression remained unreadable. Lady Maris¡¯s rebuke hung in the air like a blade poised over the assembly. The murmurs slowly resumed, soft at first, a ripple of unease that quickly grew into a tide of hushed whispers, and Cedric stood at the center of it all. For a moment, he thought the room might settle, but then the subject shifted, and the whispers turned darker. ¡°Starbonded,¡± someone muttered from the back rows, the word dripping with suspicion. ¡°A celestial bond is power beyond mortal reach,¡± another added in a sharp whisper. ¡°But power without limits¡­¡± ¡°And closely aligned with the Starless,¡± a third voice hissed. Cedric¡¯s shoulders stiffened as the whispers spread. He caught fragments here and there, ¡°dangerous,¡± ¡°unpredictable,¡± ¡°corruption¡±, until the room was abuzz with fear masked as caution. Lord Harrick leaned forward, his gravelly voice cutting through the noise. ¡°The boy carries the burden of a power none of us can claim to understand. Should we not question what this bond means for the realm? What it means for us?¡± Cedric¡¯s jaw tightened, and he turned his gaze toward Harrick, his voice steady but sharp. ¡°You¡¯ve fought beside me, Lord Harrick. You know my loyalty to this kingdom. Does my bond with the stars suddenly erase all I¡¯ve done for Selnia?¡± Harrick¡¯s steely gray eyes narrowed. ¡°Loyalty doesn¡¯t erase risk, Sir Cedric. The Starbonded are few, and in the wrong hands, they¡¯ve brought kingdoms to ruin.¡± His words were measured, but the unease in his voice was plain. ¡°We know too little about this¡­ gift.¡± The murmurs grew louder, emboldened by Harrick¡¯s words. Valron seized the moment, his oily tone returning. ¡°And that is precisely the point, isn¡¯t it? This power, while¡­ impressive, is untethered. Unstable. A celestial force bonded to a man is no different than a fire left unchecked, it may warm us for a time, but it is just as likely to consume us all.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Cedric stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise. ¡°My bond means nothing!¡± The room fell silent, though the tension remained a living, breathing thing. His gaze swept across the nobles, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. ¡°You speak of me as if I am some¡­ other. Some threat to be contained.¡± Maris¡¯s dark eyes flicked toward him, her expression unreadable. ¡°I am no different than the knight who stood beside King Alden,¡± Cedric continued, his voice hardening. ¡°The same knight who fought to protect this realm and all of you. The power I bear is not a curse, it is a responsibility. One I will shoulder for the good of Selnia. Do not let your fear blind you.¡± ¡°Fear is not blindness, Sir Cedric,¡± Valron said smoothly, rising from his seat. His bulk shifted heavily as he adjusted his gaudy doublet. ¡°Fear is wisdom. Prudence. You¡¯re telling us you will wield this power for the good of Selnia, but how can we be certain? How can you be certain? The stars chose you, yes, but the stars are not infallible.¡± A ripple of agreement spread through the room, and Cedric¡¯s stomach tightened. ¡°I have never given you cause to doubt me,¡± Cedric replied, his voice low but firm. ¡°And yet doubt persists,¡± Valron shot back, his pale blue eyes glinting. ¡°Perhaps not through fault of your own, but through the nature of the bond itself. The Starbonded are close to the celestial planes, yes, but they are also perilously close to the Starless. How long before that power¡­ twists?¡± The room stilled at the unspoken implication. Cedric¡¯s hands clenched at his sides. He could feel the heat of their distrust, their fear coiling around him like a vice. It pressed against his chest, suffocating and relentless. And then, at the edges of his awareness, he felt it: a stirring deep within him, a flicker of something ancient and restless. Draco. The constellation markings etched across his back rippled faintly, the sensation crawling beneath his skin. He closed his eyes briefly, willing it to subside, but the murmurs only grew louder as the nobles noticed the faint glow emanating from the edges of his collar. ¡°What is that?¡± someone whispered, alarm creeping into their voice. ¡°Is it alive?¡± ¡°It moves!¡± The markings flared suddenly, bright and vivid, snaking across Cedric¡¯s back in intricate patterns that seemed to shift and writhe beneath his wrappings. Gasps filled the room as the nobles recoiled, their fear now palpable. Cedric gritted his teeth, fighting to maintain control over the surging energy within him. ¡®Not now, Draco,¡¯ he pleaded silently, ¡®not here.¡¯ But the constellation only grew stronger, its presence almost suffocating in its intensity. Cedric could feel it pushing against his mind, urging him to unleash its full power and show the nobles the true might of a Starbonded. Cedric took a steadying breath, his voice low and firm as he addressed the room. "Forgive me, my lords and ladies," he managed, his voice strained, "but I must take my leave." It was clear the sight of the living constellation had already sown its seeds of doubt. Whispers turned to frantic mutterings, and Cedric could feel the tension in the room rising to a crescendo. Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the throne room doors, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The nobles parted before him like a sea, some relief evident on their faces as he passed. He caught Maris¡¯s gaze as he reached the exit¡ªher expression remained inscrutable, but her dark eyes gleamed with something that might have been curiosity. As the heavy doors shut behind him, the noise of the nobles swelled again, muffled but relentless. Cedric exhaled slowly, his hands trembling as he pressed them against the cool stone of the corridor wall. Draco stirred once more, a faint, pulsing presence that seemed to hum with the same tension Cedric felt in his own chest. The castle halls stretched endlessly before Cedric, and each step echoed like a drumbeat in his ears, but Cedric¡¯s thoughts moved faster than his feet. As he walked, he began to map out the battlefield of noble alliances with care, dissecting each face he could recall.
  1. Valron. Venomous and opportunistic, would rally those hungry for their own slice of power.
  2. Maris, though sharp and pragmatic, was a mystery. Her loyalty was still a question mark.
  3. Harrick, blunt and hardened, might respect action over words, but he remained a skeptic.
Then there were the murmurs from the others, the whispers of doubt and fear that followed him like a shadow. His enemies were clear, but potential allies? Fewer than he¡¯d hoped. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that his claim to the throne rested on the edge of a blade. Not one of steel, but of opinion. And opinions were far more dangerous. As he rounded the corner, he could hear faint cries in the distance. The sound was low and desperate, carried by the stale air. His feet instinctively slowed down. He was approaching the infirmary; he knew he should continue walking, but something compelled him to go closer. The scene beyond the arched doorway hit him like a fist to the gut. Rows of cots stretched across the room, each one occupied by men and women writhing in agony. Their bodies twisted unnaturally as screams tore from their throats. Starlight, normally a thing of beauty, coursed through their veins like molten fire, illuminating their flesh with an unearthly glow. It spilled from their wounds, their eyes, their mouths. The power meant to save them was destroying them from within. Cedric¡¯s breath caught as his gaze fell on the unmoving bodies lining the far wall, laid out beneath tattered sheets. Their faces were frozen in masks of terror, their eyes wide and unseeing. "Too many," he muttered under his breath. "Too many lost." And then, from within him, Draco spoke. "This is the price for war." The words reverberated through Cedric¡¯s mind, a deep and commanding tone that carried no hint of sympathy. The voice of the celestial presence that had fused with his very being, granting him power beyond imagination, and tethering him to something he still did not fully understand. ¡°You say that as if it¡¯s acceptable,¡± Cedric murmured aloud, his voice low. "It is fact," Draco replied, the rumble of his voice resonating through Cedric¡¯s chest. "Mortals fight. Mortals die. The strong survive, and the weak fade. This is how it has always been." Cedric¡¯s hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. ¡°They¡¯re not weak,¡± he said sharply. ¡°They fought. They gave everything to protect this realm. They deserved better.¡± "Deserve?" Draco¡¯s laugh was dark, almost mocking. "Do you believe the Starless care who deserves what? They do not discriminate, and neither should you. Slaying the Starless requires strength, not sentiment. Look at them, Cedric. Look at the bodies. This is what strength demands." Cedric¡¯s jaw tightened as he turned his gaze back to the injured. A soldier thrashed violently on the cot nearest to him, his screams piercing the air. Cedric wanted to move, to help, to do something, anything, but he felt paralyzed. "You pity them," Draco continued, his tone shifting to something colder, more clinical. "You fear this cost. But without me, they would all be dead. Without me, you would be dead. You knew what you were sacrificing when you took the Starbond." ¡°Did I?¡± Cedric muttered bitterly. Draco¡¯s presence flared within him, an almost tangible weight pressing against his soul. For a moment, Cedric felt not just his own emotions but Draco¡¯s¡ªa raw, ancient power tinged with frustration and disdain. "You accepted me, boy. You called for me in your moment of weakness, and I answered. Do not pretend you didn''t know the price. You wanted power, and I gave it to you. Now, you hesitate. Why?" Cedric leaned against the doorway, his breathing uneven. ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s mine,¡± he admitted quietly. ¡°This power, this... presence. It¡¯s you, not me. You¡¯re always there, in my thoughts, in my actions. How am I supposed to know where I end and you begin?¡± Draco¡¯s response was immediate, and for once, it wasn¡¯t cold. There was an almost begrudging respect in his tone. "You are not meant to know. We are one now, Cedric. Your will drives my power, and my power fuels your will. This bond is not a burden, it is a gift. Without it, you would have crumbled beneath the weight of the Starless. You are alive because of me. And if you wish to protect your realm, you will need me again." Cedric¡¯s gaze fell to his hands, the faint glow of Draco¡¯s celestial energy pulsing beneath his skin. It was true. Without Draco, he would have fallen. Without this power, Falcons Rest would be nothing but ash. But the cost... the constant presence, the shared thoughts, the blurred line between himself and this ancient, unknowable entity, it gnawed at him. He pushed off the wall, his shoulders straightening. The screams in the infirmary grew louder, and Cedric felt his stomach twist. "You cannot save them all," Draco said, almost gently. "But you can ensure they did not die in vain. Focus on what lies ahead, not what is already lost." Cedric¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. He hated how logical Draco sounded, how easy he made it seem to dismiss the lives already claimed by this war. But there was truth in the celestial¡¯s words. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I must,¡± Cedric said finally, his voice quiet but resolute. "Good," Draco rumbled. "Then let us prepare for what comes next. You have a throne to claim, and the realm will not wait for you to find your footing." *** The chamber was quiet save for the faint beams of the sunlight that bathed the room. Alden¡¯s body lay encased in a glass coffin, his hands folded over his chest, his expression serene despite the violence that had stolen his life. The soft light gave his face an almost divine quality, as if even in death, he radiated the authority and grace he had carried in life. Cedric knelt before the coffin, his head bowed. He could feel the weight of his grief pressing down on him, raw and unrelenting. He looked up, his gaze tracing the lines of Alden¡¯s face. The man who had raised him, mentored him, and believed in him when no one else would. Alden had been more than a king. He had been a father in all but blood. And now, he was gone, taken by a war that Cedric was left to finish. Draco¡¯s voice stirred within him, low and quiet. ¡°He was a good man. But good men often meet their end too soon.¡± Cedric didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t have the strength to argue, not now. Would Alden have wanted this for him? Cedric¡¯s hands curled into fists as the question clawed at his heart. Alden had always believed in honor, in duty, in sacrifice. But would he have condoned this? Would he have accepted Cedric¡¯s choice to bind himself to something so ancient, so unknowable? The answer would never come. A knock broke the silence, its sharpness jolting Cedric back to the present. He straightened, hastily wiping at his eyes. ¡°Come in,¡± he said, his voice steadier than he felt. The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Emrick entered, his dark skin rich like the earth. His face was drawn, exhaustion evident in every feature. His dark, tangled hair, matted from days of sweat and blood, framed his face with a wild, almost untamed air, yet his stance remained unwavering. A fresh bandage covered one eye, blood seeping through the cloth¡ªa grim souvenir of Falcon¡¯s Rest. Despite his injuries, Emrick carried himself with his usual confidence, though his limp betrayed the true toll the battle had taken on him. ¡°Cedric,¡± Emrick greeted, his voice low but steady. He paused, his gaze falling on Alden¡¯s coffin. For a moment, neither of them spoke. ¡°I thought I''d find you here.¡± Emrick said finally. Cedric let out a bitter laugh. ¡°Am I that predictable?¡± He asked, turning his attention back towards his late king. After a beat of silence, he spoke. ¡°I can¡¯t help but think he¡¯d call me a fool for making a pact with something I barely understand.¡± Emrick walked closer, his steps slow and deliberate. ¡°Maybe. But he¡¯d also call you brave. And you know it.¡± Cedric shook his head. ¡°Bravery isn¡¯t enough. Look at what it¡¯s cost us. Look at you.¡± His eyes flicked to the bandage over Emrick¡¯s eye. Emrick smirked faintly, though the expression didn¡¯t reach his good eye. ¡°You¡¯ve seen me in worse shape. Besides, I¡¯d rather lose an eye than lose you. Or this kingdom.¡± Cedric sighed, rising to his feet. He turned to face his friend fully, studying him. Emrick had been with him since the beginning, through every battle, every loss. He was more than an advisor. He was family. And family was rare these days. ¡°I assume you didn¡¯t come here just to check on me,¡± Cedric said, crossing his arms. Emrick¡¯s expression grew serious. ¡°The Heartlands are fracturing. Alden¡¯s death has shaken the nobles more than we thought it would. Alliances are crumbling, and there are whispers of rebellion. If we don¡¯t act quickly, we¡¯ll lose the Heartlands entirely.¡± Cedric¡¯s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. ¡°And that¡¯s not the worst of it,¡± Emrick continued, his voice grim. ¡°The Starless are continuing to advance from the west. Scouts say their numbers are growing, and their attacks are becoming more relentless. It¡¯s only a matter of time before they reach the Heartlands.¡± For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of Emrick¡¯s words pressing down on them. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this alone, you know,¡± Emrick said quietly, his voice softer now. ¡°No one would blame you if you took a step back¡ª¡± ¡°To what?¡± Cedric snapped, cutting him off. ¡°To grieve? To rest? We don¡¯t have that luxury, Emrick. Alden¡¯s gone, and the Starless are closing in. If I stop, even for a second, everything he fought for will crumble.¡± Emrick studied him, his frown deepening as he took in the cold resolve in Cedric¡¯s eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t keep going like this. Not forever.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Cedric replied, his voice firm, though tinged with something darker. Emrick took a step closer, his hand catching the front of Cedric¡¯s tunic, a grip that was almost desperate. ¡°Just... promise me you won¡¯t lose yourself in all of this. You might be Starbonded, but you¡¯re still human.¡± Cedric held his friend¡¯s gaze for a long moment, the weight of those words settling on him. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± It wasn¡¯t a promise, but it was the closest thing Emrick was going to get. Cedric straightened up, shrugging off Emrick¡¯s grip as he smoothed out his tunic. ¡°We¡¯ll handle the Heartlands first. If the nobles want to fight, they¡¯ll have to go through me. And the Starless? I¡¯ll find a way to stop them. Whatever it takes.¡± Emrick¡¯s expression didn¡¯t soften, but he didn¡¯t argue. He knew better than to try. As Cedric moved past him, he paused, a hand resting briefly on Emrick¡¯s uninjured shoulder. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°I was never good with politics,¡± he said, his tone light but carrying the weight of what he was about to face. ¡°But it¡¯s about time I learned.¡± Chapter 2: Shadows in the City Liora Blackthorn sat in the dimly lit corner of one of her many hideouts, her back to the wall, a pint of ale in front of her untouched. Her emerald-green eyes, sharp as a blade, were fixed on the tankard in front of her. She wasn¡¯t in the mood for drink tonight, nor for company, but she couldn¡¯t ignore the message coming through the front door. A young street urchin, barely fifteen, slipped into the tavern under the guise of the evening¡¯s bustle. He was a thin thing, with a mop of unruly brown hair and an expression that always seemed to hover on the edge of fear. His name was Tamsin, though Liora never bothered to ask for much more than that. He was just another face among the many children scraping by in the city, but he had earned her trust for one simple reason. He knew where to find information, and he knew how to get it to her without being caught. She caught sight of him the moment he walked in and beckoned him over with a subtle wave. He didn¡¯t smile or hesitate, though she could see the way his hand trembled slightly as he approached. He slid into the seat across from her, a hand slipping into his threadbare coat pocket. He met her eyes with a look of practiced bravado, though she could see the worry beneath the surface. ¡°Anything of interest, Tamsin?¡± Liora asked quietly, her voice low and measured. There was no need for pleasantries. They both knew why he was there. He shifted in his seat, glancing nervously around the room. ¡°Aye, Mistress. Got a message for you. From the usual place.¡± He slid a small bundle of parchment across the table, careful to keep his hands steady. Liora took the letter with little more than a glance, her eyes flicking to the familiar seal etched into the wax. Her stomach clenched at the sight of it. Tristan Gallows. The name alone was enough to make her grit her teeth. He was nothing but a convenient ally, always appearing when she needed him most. His smug demeanor and grating voice scraped on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but his intel was invaluable. The crime lord had his uses though. His position in the city gave him access to information Liora could never acquire on her own. Still, he was no friend. She would use him as long as it suited her, and not a moment longer. Gallows had his own agenda, and Liora would be damned if she played a part in it. But that was the nature of the game, wasn¡¯t it? Everyone had their role to play, even if it meant putting up with someone like him. She took a slow breath, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment with precision. There, in the cryptic script only she could decipher, were the words that made her stomach drop. The King is dead. Her fingers tightened around the paper, her thoughts already racing with the implications. King Alden, the man who had precariously maintained the fragile peace between the noble houses, was gone. With his death, the entire kingdom now teetered on the brink of all-out war. The animosity among the great houses would only fester and grow, and as always, it would be the people¡ªthe poor and the powerless¡ªwho would bear the brunt of the suffering. She glanced up at Tamsin, her gaze catching his own, and noticed the worry etched into his young face. His wide eyes darted nervously, his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, lips parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn¡¯t find the right words to break the silence. Liora exhaled slowly, softening her tone just a fraction. ¡°How¡¯s your sister, Tamsin?¡± she asked, her voice quieter now, though it still carried an edge of concern. The boys sister was a sickly thing, and had been on her mind for some time now. She knew Tamsin was doing everything he could to get her the medicine she needed, but as always, it was never enough. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and it only made her resolve harden. ¡°Still bad,¡± Tamsin mumbled, looking down at his hands. ¡°Won¡¯t get better unless I can find the money for the herbs... but it¡¯s getting harder, Mistress. The streets are colder, and the markets are... they¡¯re more dangerous now.¡± Liora gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. ¡°I see,¡± she murmured, her voice offering little comfort. ¡°You two should make plans to leave the city soon. It¡¯s going to fall apart. You won¡¯t want to be caught up in any of this.¡± Tamsin nodded absently, his eyes flicking to the parchment in her hands, but his mind seemed far away. He fidgeted, his gaze lost in thought as he weighed her words. Liora¡¯s own gaze dropped back to the parchment, her jaw tightening as her thoughts churned. If she had to guess, the Starless were already on the move. It was only a matter of time before the great houses turned on each other. She could already see it. The nobles bickering and fighting over power, while the streets ran red with blood. She had no intention of letting her people fall victim to their petty political games. ¡°Tell your sister I¡¯ll have someone send over the herbs,¡± Liora said, her voice unwavering. ¡°And keep your eyes open. Things are about to get much worse.¡± Tamsin nodded gratefully, though his eyes still held a trace of that nervous energy. He shifted in his seat, his hands now moving to fidget with the frayed edge of his scarf as if gathering the courage to say something more. When no words came, he stood, the chair scraping softly against the wooden floor. Her gaze followed him as he adjusted the wispy fabric around his neck and tugged his coat tighter around his thin frame. He hesitated by the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, and for a brief moment, it looked as though he might turn back, but then he squared his shoulders and stepped out, letting the tavern door creak shut behind him. She watched his retreating form through the grimy window, her expression softening for just a moment before narrowing once more. With a quiet sigh, she leaned back in her chair, the creak of the worn wood breaking the silence. Her gaze dropped to the empty tankard on the table before her, but her thoughts were already wandering far beyond the confines of the dimly lit tavern. Her thoughts drifted back to the bustling markets of the Heartlands, to a time when she herself had been little more than a urchin slipping through the crowds. At fifteen, she¡¯d been wiry and lean, her face streaked with dirt, and her stomach an endless, gnawing ache. The market stalls, vibrant with ripe fruit and bolts of dyed fabric, had been more than just a place of business. They were a battlefield. A chaotic, unforgiving place where survival meant fighting tooth and nail every single day. And it was there, in the heart of that chaos, that she¡¯d made her first grave misjudgment. She could still feel the sharp jolt of panic from that moment. Her fingers brushing the fat coin purse of what she thought was a nobleman. The iron grip that had clamped around her wrist had frozen her in place, her heartbeat hammering as she¡¯d met his dark, amused eyes. Not anger, not cruelty¡ªamusement. At first, she¡¯d taken him for no more than a well dressed young noble, but he¡¯d quickly proved otherwise. She could picture it vividly even now: how he had pulled her into a quiet alley, that cocky smirk on his face, his sharp gaze cutting through her like a blade. Tristian Gallows. The name still made her jaw tighten, though whether it was from anger or begrudging respect, she could never quite decide. He hadn¡¯t turned her in. Instead, he¡¯d given her a choice: learn from him, or fend for herself in a city that devoured the weak. She¡¯d chosen to learn. At the time, she hadn¡¯t realized just how steep the cost of his lessons would be, or how tightly those lessons would bind her to him. It was Tristian who had taught her the art of deception, how to read people like books, and how to strike before they even realized they were the target. Skills and information she used to this day, though the thought of him still left a sour taste in her mouth. A faint ripple beneath her skin drew her abruptly back to the present. Hydra stirred, her presence coiling and stretching within her like a serpent waking from a deep sleep. Liora¡¯s lips twitched as the voice of Hydra curled through her mind, smooth and sharp like the edge of a well-worn dagger. ¡°Thinking about that slippery bastard again, are we?¡± Hydra¡¯s voice carried a tone of mockery, warm and familiar in a way that only long-time companions could manage. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you waste your energy. If I had arms, I¡¯d wring his scrawny neck for you.¡± Liora leaned back in her chair, smirking faintly as her fingers absently traced the edge of the parchment. ¡°Oh, you¡¯d love that, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± she muttered under her breath, her voice low enough to not draw attention in the otherwise quiet tavern. ¡°Don¡¯t act like you wouldn¡¯t.¡± Hydra¡¯s voice softened, adopting a sly, teasing lilt. ¡°Whatever debt you think you owe him, I¡¯d say it¡¯s more than paid.¡± She let out a soft chuckled. ¡°Old habits die hard, Hydra. He¡¯s a useful bastard, even if he is insufferable.¡± ¡°Useful or not, he¡¯ll drag you into the muck with him if you¡¯re not careful.¡± Hydra¡¯s voice softened, almost as if sighing. ¡°You¡¯ve done better without him. Don¡¯t let his games pull you back.¡± Liora leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I know what I¡¯m doing.¡± Hydra made a noise like a hiss of disapproval, which had her chuckling once again, shaking her head. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better, Hydra, I¡¯d think you were jealous.¡± ¡°Jealous? Of him? Don¡¯t insult me, girl. I just have better taste than to waste my time on filth.¡± Hydra¡¯s tone was indignant, but she could sense the amusement lurking beneath the words. The smirk faded from her lips as her gaze returned to the parchment. Her fingers tightened slightly, the weight of the news pressing down on her once more. ¡°What do you make of this, Hydra?¡± she asked, her voice dropping to an even lower whisper. ¡°King Alden, dead. The noble houses will tear each other apart.¡± ¡°And the people along with them,¡± Hydra murmured, her tone growing quieter, almost reflective. ¡°The man wasn¡¯t perfect, but he kept things in check. Now that leash is gone, and you know how the dogs will behave. Blood will surely be spilled. ¡°Exactly.¡± Liora sighed, folding the parchment and tucking it into her belt. ¡°Which means it¡¯s time to make moves before the storm hits.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you always making moves?¡± Hydra quipped, though there was a note of approval in her tone. ¡°Go on, then. Summon your little council of misfits. Just try not to get too sentimental about Gallows while you¡¯re at it.¡± Liora snorted, rising from her chair with a practiced grace. ¡°You¡¯re insufferable.¡± ¡°And yet you love me.¡± The bond between them pulsed with warmth, like the gentle flicker of a flame, as Liora pulled her hooded cloak over her head. The serpentine patterns etched into her leathers caught the dim candlelight, glinting faintly as if alive. With a practiced motion, she adjusted the cloak, its edges falling in heavy, shadowy folds that seemed to swallow the light around her. Reaching out to Hydra, she called upon the pact that had bound them together for years. The shadows in the room shifted, slithering like liquid around her frame. With each step she took, her footfalls became silent, her presence a whisper that barely touched the world around her. The shadows bent to her will, obscuring her entirely, making her little more than a phantom in the flickering light of the tavern. *** Liora moved through the darkened streets of Vessport with ease. Built along the rugged coastline, the city sprawled outward in a chaotic, unplanned sprawl. The wealthier districts perched high on the cliffs where they could catch the salty sea breeze, their stone estates standing aloof and untouched by the chaos below. But here, in the lower levels, the shanty like buildings pressed against each other in a tangled maze of narrow streets and alleys. It goes to show how much the largest and most chaotic capital in the Heartlands cares about it¡¯s people.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The city seemed alive, a restless beast that never truly slept. Merchants still called out in the evening markets, their stalls lit by flickering lanterns. Fishermen hauled their day¡¯s catch from the docks, the smell of brine and fish guts mingling with the ever present stench of damp wood and rotting refuse. Sailors staggered drunkenly between taverns, their laughter mingling with the cries of street vendors selling greasy fried fish and stolen trinkets. Liora¡¯s sharp eyes caught glimpses of children darting through the crowd, quick fingers lifting purses or trinkets as they went. The people here were hard, their faces weathered by salt and sun, their clothes patched and stained. Yet, there was a resilience to them, a kind of reckless determination born from living so close to the edge. In Vessport, everyone was either trying to scrape by or claw their way to the top, and the line between the two blurred more often than not. Liora continued to weave through the crowds, her movements fluid and silent. Hydra¡¯s power cloaked her, not with invisibility, but something more subtle. The shadows seemed to shift around her, bending to obscure her presence. A merchant¡¯s lantern flickered just as she passed, casting a brief pocket of darkness that swallowed her entirely. Even the faint creak of the wooden planks beneath her boots was lost in the noise of the city. Hydra¡¯s influence wasn¡¯t just in the shadows. Liora could feel the serpent¡¯s presence coiling within her, heightening her senses to a razor¡¯s edge. She felt the vibrations of the city through her feet, every creak and murmur of the streets a faint echo in her mind. The air shifted subtly, alerting her to the approach of others before she saw them. Hydra¡¯s power wasn¡¯t overt, but it made her a ghost among the living. As she passed a cluster of merchant stalls, her ears caught the low murmur of a conversation that made her pause. ¡°Did you hear about one of King Alden¡¯s knights?¡± a fishmonger whispered to a customer, his voice low and conspiratorial. ¡°They say he¡¯s become Starbonded. A real celestial pact.¡± The customer snorted, shaking his head as he reached for a bundle of salted fish. ¡°A load of shit, that is. Some drunken man¡¯s tale made to rile us up. If anyone was going to be Starbonded, it wouldn¡¯t be one of them.¡± Liora lingered just long enough to catch the fishmonger¡¯s response, a stubborn, ¡°We¡¯ll see soon enough,¡± before slipping past. The mention of a Starbonded knight sent a ripple through her thoughts, bringing with it a flood of memories she would have rather kept buried. She briefly considered the implications, her fingers brushing over the constellation imprints etched into her skin. Hydra¡¯s presence stirred within her, warm and steady, like the pulse of a heartbeat. ¡°That¡¯s not a pact,¡± Hydra¡¯s voice interrupted her thoughts, amused. ¡°That¡¯s a leash for people too stupid to realize they¡¯re being used.¡± Liora¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, her stride slowing as the weight of Hydra¡¯s words settled over her. ¡°A leash?¡± she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible over the din of the bustling street. ¡°Is that true? Celestials wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t what?¡± Hydra interrupted with a chuckle that rippled through her mind like a serpent¡¯s hiss. ¡°Meddle in one another¡¯s affairs? You don¡¯t think our precious ¡®pacts¡¯ come with strings attached? The stars are as territorial as wolves and just as cunning. They don¡¯t meddle because it¡¯s beneath them to clean up each other¡¯s messes. They prefer their chosen to stay in neat little lanes, marching to the beat of their master¡¯s drum.¡± Liora pressed her lips together, her expression tightening as she considered Hydra¡¯s words. ¡°So, if this Starbonded knight exists, he¡¯s just a puppet?¡± Hydra¡¯s voice came again, soft but sharp. ¡°Exactly. A weapon, forged to serve a purpose, used until they¡¯re no longer needed.¡± Liora¡¯s fingers brushed against the scar hidden on her palm, a faint reminder of the pact she had made. Hydra¡¯s words stirred something inside her. Unease, but also a cold clarity. She and Hydra were different. They were partners, not master and servant. Her voice was quiet, but there was a hint of uncertainty. ¡°And us?¡± she asked, her gaze narrowing as she thought of the bond they shared. ¡°You¡¯re not using me like that, are you?¡± For a brief moment, there was silence. Then, Hydra¡¯s voice returned, smooth and confident. ¡°Us? No. We¡¯re not the same. I don¡¯t have use for a pawn who can¡¯t think for herself. You¡¯re resourceful, clever. That¡¯s exactly why I chose you.¡± Liora held back the retort that threatened to slip past her lips and quickened her pace through the streets. Hydra¡¯s words clung to her, the line between truth and manipulation as blurred as ever. She had spent years with the celestial, knew how these bonds worked. Yet, despite all of her experience, the thought of the Starbonded knight gnawed at her. There was something off about the gossip. She couldn¡¯t shake it. She turned her mind back to Hydra, pushing her curiosity to the side. ¡°Do you know anything about this knight?¡± Hydra remained silent for a long moment, then replied with a lazy drawl, ¡°Like I said. We don¡¯t meddle in each others affairs. You already know that.¡± Liora¡¯s lips tightened, her mind reeling. She¡¯d learned long ago that Hydra¡¯s silence was just as telling as anything she might say. There was something more there, but Hydra wouldn¡¯t reveal it. Not now, at least. While moving through a tighter side ally, her thoughts drifted back to the night she had made her own pact with Hydra. The night that had saved her life. It was a flicker of memory, a shadowed moment that came and went too quickly to hold onto. The shadows had spoken to her that night, a presence slithering into her mind like a snake in the dark, offering power, freedom. Her hand, trembling with exhaustion and pain, had sealed her fate in blood. The scar beneath her glove was proof of that bargain¡ªa mark of something both terrifying and empowering. Liora¡¯s fingers brushed against that scar once more, the faint burn always a constant reminder. A flicker of rage sparked in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside. She didn¡¯t have time for such things. With a sharp breath, she turned away from the memory and focused on pushing forward. Her footsteps falling silent against the wet cobblestones. The noise of the city, the clatter of ships and the shouts of traders, faded into the background as she navigated the winding back alleys. Each turn was second nature to her, every shadow a cover she knew like the lines of stars across her skin. The hum of the mill ahead grew louder as she drew closer, a familiar and comforting sound. This part of the city was the forgotten end, a place where survival was measured by the hour. Workers trudged through their days in near silence, their faces hollow from exhaustion and years of hard labor. The mill was a symbol of their lives. Grinding, repetitive, always pressing. The men and women who worked here were part of the unseen backbone of Vessport, their lives little more than a series of shifts, the promise of pay barely enough to feed them, and even less to offer hope. Liora passed the front door, taking a path only the workers knew. She moved quickly, eyes sharp for any sign of trouble, until she reached a set of back doors that led her deeper into the mill¡¯s underbelly. The room she entered was dimly lit, its walls covered in peeling paint, the smell of dust and rotting wood mixing with the mill¡¯s stale air. A few rickety tables sat around the space, but it was the foreman, a tall man with a face as lined and worn as the mill¡¯s timbers, who waited for her. His name was Fenwick, a no nonsense type with a reputation for taking care of his own. Fenwick barely looked up from the pile of papers he was sifting through when she entered, letting Hydra¡¯s shadows fall away. He knew her well enough to not ask questions. She crossed the room to stand opposite him, their exchange always the same. He paid her in favors, in loyalty, in trust, and she paid him by keeping an eye out for the vulnerable. Men and women who had nowhere to go but into the hands of those who would use them. A simple bargain, a smooth transaction, yet one that kept her relevant in the city¡¯s underworld. Every favor she did for him gave her deeper roots, and the loyalty of those who lived in her debt. ¡°Seems you¡¯ve got some trouble with the recent news?¡± Fenwick asked, finally lifting his gaze. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, a wariness that stretched between them. Seems she wasn¡¯t the only one who got Tristian¡¯s message. Liora met his eyes, taking a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s a mess,¡± she said. ¡°Things are bound to get worse before they get better.¡± Fenwick¡¯s gaze hardened, and his voice dropped lower, laced with unspoken experience. ¡°I agree. We should act fast. I¡¯ve got the girls at the mills, but we can¡¯t keep them here much longer. It¡¯s only a matter of time before the thieving circles start drawing too much attention. We need to start evacuating.¡± He leaned forward, his broad hands pressing against the table as if to emphasize the urgency of his words. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few safe houses lined up, but we need to move quick. If we don¡¯t, they¡¯ll get swept up, too many will go missing in the chaos.¡± Liora thought for a moment, her fingers tracing the constellation-like marking along her forearms. They shimmered faintly beneath the surface of her skin, the power of Hydra coiling silently within her. She understood her role as a Starbonded. They were a spectacle to the world. Elevated, adored, but also feared, their very existence a reminder of the power that lay just beyond human reach. And yet, Fenwick¡¯s unease at the sight of her tattoos wasn¡¯t lost on her. He eyed her forearms warily, his gaze flickering to the marks before quickly looking away. He didn¡¯t say it, but Liora knew what he thought. The Starbonded were unnatural, unsettling. Too many whispered that they were cursed, or worse. Fenwick had never outright questioned her, but the tension between them was palpable, his discomfort hanging in the air like a cloud ready to burst. ¡°You need to keep a low profile, Liora,¡± Fenwick said, his voice low, edged with warning. ¡°Word¡¯s spreading that the Great Houses are sniffing around for Starbonded. It¡¯s getting dangerous out there.¡± She stiffened, though her expression remained carefully neutral. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®sniffing around¡¯? What could they possibly gain from targeting us?¡± Fenwick hesitated, his eyes flicking to the faint shimmer of her markings. ¡°Don¡¯t know for sure. But I¡¯ve heard whispers¡ªsome say it¡¯s connected to the Starless. There¡¯s talk that they¡¯re... drawn to you Starbonded, like moths to flame.¡± Liora didn¡¯t respond right away. She felt Hydra''s irritation begin to stir. Hearing the sharp edge of Hydra''s voice, low and venomous in her ear. ¡°Tell him to shut his insolent mouth,¡± Hydra hissed, her voice filled with contempt. ¡°The Starbonded are nothing like those celestial failures. We are not like them, never have been. Do not listen to the lies, Liora.¡± Her words burned in Liora¡¯s mind, the flickering rage like a fire sparked within her chest. She felt the urge to lash out, to silence Fenwick¡¯s worries, to tell him where he could shove his caution. But she controlled it, forced it down. She was well aware of how blurred the line could be between her own emotions and Hydra¡¯s. How Hydra¡¯s fury often threatened to overtake her. This was not the time for recklessness. The Starbonded were not like the Starless. She knew this, deep down, and yet... the connection was undeniable. The power they both shared, born from the same celestial magic, was ancient, dangerous, and intoxicating. It was why the Starless were drawn to the Starbonded, like moths to flame. Their existence, their very essence, was tied together by something older than the city, older than the petty politics of the Great Houses. And yet, the Starbonded were not evil. They were not mindless monsters, driven by hunger and instinct alone, as the Starless were. They had purpose, they had will. The Starbonded were a force of balance, of control, of strength¡ªstrength that set them apart from the chaos of the Starless. She was not a mindless beast. The world would never see that, of course. They would always be seen through the lens of superstition and fear. But Liora knew the truth. She knew that she was different from those star cursed monsters. Liora¡¯s jaw clenched as she resisted the urge to snap at Fenwick. She knew his concerns weren¡¯t born of malice, but Hydra¡¯s temper was hard to ignore. ¡°The Starless aren¡¯t ¡®drawn¡¯ to us,¡± she said, her voice colder than she intended. ¡°They¡¯re remnants of something broken. They failed where we didn¡¯t.¡± Her words tasted bitter, dredging up memories she tried to bury. The Starless were failures, twisted remnants of people who had once reached for the stars and fallen short. The transformation was horrifying¡ªordinary men and women who had sought to bond with the heavens but lacked the will, the strength, or the favor needed to succeed. Their bodies couldn¡¯t handle the celestial magic, and instead of ascending, they were consumed by it, becoming mindless, monstrous echoes of their former selves. The faint hum of celestial energy prickled at the edge of her memory. It was always there, that lingering echo of a night she had long tried to forget. The promise, the ritual, the light¡ªit crept in like an unwelcome shadow, sharp and cold against her thoughts. She remembered the shadows that shouldn¡¯t have been there, the way the Starseeker¡¯s voice faltered, breaking mid-chant. She didn¡¯t have to close her eyes to see the convulsions, the unnatural jerking of limbs being bent and reshaped by some monstrous, unseen force. The starlight had burned too brightly, searing into her vision even as she tried to look away. And his eyes, when he finally raised his head, those hollow, empty voids. Liora shook herself from the memory. Her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of Fenwick¡¯s table, grounding herself in the rough wood beneath her fingers. ¡°You are not him,¡± Hydra¡¯s voice murmured, curling around her like a protective shadow. ¡°You are not a failure. You are chosen. You are strong.¡± She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as Hydra¡¯s presence calmed the storm in her mind. When she opened them again, Fenwick was watching her with concern. ¡°Liora, are you all right?¡± She forced a weak smile, straightening her posture. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said, her voice steadier than she felt. ¡°Just... memories.¡± Fenwick didn¡¯t press further, but his gaze lingered on her a moment longer. ¡°Just... keep your head down, all right? The city doesn¡¯t forgive mistakes.¡± She nodded, the weight of his words settling over her like a cloak. ¡°I will.¡± As she turned to leave, Fenwick¡¯s voice stopped her. ¡°Liora... take care of yourself. Truly.¡± She paused, glancing over her shoulder. For all his rough edges, Fenwick¡¯s concern was genuine. She gave him a nod before stepping back into the shadows, the weight of Hydra¡¯s power humming beneath her skin. As she passed through the door and disappeared back into the streets of the cities underbelly, what felt like the weight of hundreds of lives pressed down on her shoulders; And she wore it like a crown.