Time seemed forcibly stretched and frozen by some unseen force.
In one moment there had been fierce, life-and-death combat; in the next, all fell into an eerie, suffocating silence.
Those few droplets of warm blood—tinged with a faint rust-like flavor and carrying an indescribable aroma of starlight—had splattered onto Thalia's pale hand, like molten lava dripping into a lake frozen for millennia.
At first, the sensation was but a barely perceptible warmth.
Yet, what followed was an entirely different, unprecedented feeling—a gentle radiance, like the soft warmth of a spring sun, silently permeating her icy skin and flowing upward along the veins etched with fine, dark lines by years of shadow energy corrosion.
This was not the scorching, dominating power of starlight magic, nor was it the cold, twisted force of the shadows she knew so well. It was a… gentle, vital energy, akin to the first, life-giving rain after a long drought in a barren desert, precisely and softly soothing every corner within her that had long become accustomed to pain and turmoil.
For years, the relentless Shadowblight—gnawing at her life force like parasitic worms—had inflicted constant, sharp stinging pain and agitation. Yet before this sudden gentle power, that ever-present chill and sting melted away as though confronted by an overwhelming tide of its nemesis.
It was not forcibly suppressed nor brutally driven away, but rather neutralized and soothed by a deeper, more profound force.
That perennial cold and piercing torment, which had long dwelled in every limb and even the depths of her soul, dissipated silently—as if melting beneath the gentle caress of sunlight—being replaced by a long-forgotten sense of calm and comfort.
For the first time in years, Thalia felt that her body was no longer a battleground engaged in relentless combat with its internal enemy, but rather a harbor granted a temporary ceasefire, a moment to catch its breath.
The sensation was so alien, yet so… alluring.
Thalia's movements froze completely.
Her left hand, which had been poised to reach out and seize the Fallen Stone to end Raine's life, now hovered in mid-air. The shadow energy at her fingertips became erratic, flickering like a candle in the wind, as her mind reeling with shock.
Her head bowed slightly, and those once ice-cold blue eyes—like the frigid glaciers of the far north—lost their focus. They were fixed, in disbelief, on the vivid, slowly absorbing red stains on the back of her right hand.
Around the bloodstains, the fine black lines that once symbolized the corruption of shadows now seemed to have lightened, no longer as grotesque or fearsome.
How could this be?!
Her heart, and the Starcore Fragment that carried both her life and her curse, began to beat in an unusual rhythm. It was no longer the searing pain or the frenzied agitation induced by the encroaching corruption, but rather a… strange, almost resonant pulse—as if gently touched by a kindred force.
That sensation…
She abruptly lifted her head, her gaze striking like two bolts of frigid lightning as it fell upon the young man collapsed against the cold stone base of the fountain.
But this time, her eyes were no longer filled with the pure, emotionless murderous intent of before. The chill still remained, yet it now surged with an intensity, as if a blazing branding iron had been thrown into her depths, evoking a tumult of swirling mists.
Shock, confusion, disbelief, curiosity… all these complex emotions collided in her gaze, causing the normally stoic façade—long as unyielding as carved ice—to betray a tumultuous ripple for the first time.
What did she see?
A young man in rough-spun clothing, looking utterly disheveled. His face was ashen, trembling ever so slightly from blood loss and fear. The wound on his right arm—inflicted earlier by her shadow whip—was ragged and bleeding profusely, staining his tattered sleeve all the darker. His eyes reflected terror, agony, and a hint of bewildered survival.
He was but an ordinary, even a downtrodden noble's descendant. By all accounts, his Starborne blood was so diluted as to scarcely register any starlight sensitivity, let alone manifest such… miraculous power capable of "soothing" the corruption of shadows!
This could not be! It was absolutely impossible!
Shadowblight—the curse from the Void's Throat—devours all life and light. Even at the zenith of their power, Starborne arch-mages could only fend it off with potent starlight magic; never had there been any account of a power so gentle that it could "calm" it.
Unless… unless it belonged to those legendary first-generation Starborne, whose blood—like liquid starlight—contained the creative force capable of neutralizing the deepest darkness.
And yet, this young man before her…
Thalia's breathing grew somewhat rapid, her chest rising and falling with rare, uncharacteristic emotion. For a Shadow Witch accustomed to suppressing every hint of emotional and physical response, this loss of composure was profoundly unusual.
She needed answers.
She needed them urgently.
If this young man's blood truly possessed such properties, what would that imply?
It implied a possibility—a possibility she had never dared to dream of… the chance to alleviate her own suffering, perhaps even to delay the decay of her life force.
That thought blazed like wildfire, igniting her frozen heart with an inexplicable thrill, followed by a deeper caution and suspicion.
Meanwhile, Raine was slowly recovering from the searing pain and near-death terror.
The wound on his right arm throbbed with fierce, tearing pain; every heartbeat felt as though it ripped through his flesh. Blood loss left him dizzy and his vision blurred. Yet he sensed an eerie change in the atmosphere.
The spectral assassin had paused.
There she stood, just a few paces away, motionless—her gaze fixed upon him with an expression so intricate he could barely comprehend it.
No longer was her look the pure, disdainful coldness that treated him like a mere insect. Now it was laden with something else—an amalgam of astonishment and inquisitiveness, as if she had discovered something utterly incredible.
"Who are you?" Raine panted, leaning against the cold stone of the fountain, watching every minute move of his enigmatic adversary. He dared not relax; his recent brush with death had made him acutely aware that this woman was far more dangerous and mysterious than he had imagined.
The truce in battle allowed the ambient sounds to return with startling clarity.
The night wind swept over the abandoned square, stirring dust and shattered withered leaves that moaned like lamenting souls. The distant clamor of the city seemed cut off by these ruins, and occasionally, a faint dog's bark would echo, underscoring the desolation.
There was also a subtle scent of blood—a tang emanating from the wound on Raine's arm, mingled with the acrid odor of dust and… a trace of that uniquely chilling, decaying aura that clung to Thalia like a memento from the depths of a crypt.
But now, that putrid scent seemed to have receded with her unsettled mood.
Time ticked by slowly.
Neither spoke, nor moved.
One sat, slumped on the ground, enduring pain while wary and filled with questions.
The other stood frozen, her inner turmoil roiling and her gaze ever-changing.
Above the square, sparse moonlight broke through gaps in the clouds, elongating their shadows on the cracked stone slabs—a still, tension-filled, uncanny tableau.
Tension.
An intense tension.
But not the imminent, explosive tension of a battle poised to erupt—rather, one laden with unknown variables and a precarious, unnerving balance.
Raine could sense that her attention was now entirely fixed on his wounded arm, or more precisely, on the blood slowly seeping from it.
Why? What was so special about his blood?
He instinctively glanced at his injury. The vivid red blood continued to trickle out, taking on an almost otherworldly hue in the moonlight. Beyond the pain, he sensed nothing unusual.
Could it be… the faint golden halo he had inadvertently summoned in his moment of desperation?
He recalled that fleeting sensation—a warming surge from the Fallen Stone in his chest that, in a heartbeat, vanished. It was a transient burst of energy, akin to a near-death reflex that he couldn't control, let alone deliberately invoke.
Could such an insignificant power have so disarmed the formidable Shadow Witch?
Raine could not understand. He forced himself to remain calm, striving to regain his strength as his mind raced to analyze the situation and search for even a slender hope.
And Thalia, having weathered her initial shock and confusion, gradually regained her customary composure and clarity.
Suppressing the faint desire borne of the alleviated pain—a desire verging on weakness—she forced herself to reassess everything before her.
This young man, Raine Dawnstar, possessed the diluted Starborne blood of the once-prestigious Dawnstar family—a lineage beyond dispute despite its decline.
He had acquired the Fallen Stone. The stone itself contained pure starlight energy. Perhaps it had triggered latent qualities within him?
The brief defensive halo he had instinctively unleashed, though weak, bore the unmistakable hallmark of starlight magic. This suggested that, at least in theory, he possessed the potential to wield Starborne power.
And now, his blood—astonishingly—appeared capable of "soothing" the dreaded Shadowblight.
These phenomena, taken together, pointed to an almost unbelievable yet seemingly logical conclusion—
Raine Dawnstar's blood might not be as "dilute" as it appeared on the surface. Perhaps his veins harbored a… atavistic or mutated trait? A latent, nearly pure power reminiscent of the first Starborne?
Or… could it be related to the Fallen Stone? Had the Fallen Stone altered his blood?
No, that couldn't be. Thalia frowned slightly. While the power of the Fallen Stone was indeed pure, it primarily functioned as an energy source or conduit. It was highly unlikely to directly change the essence of one's blood—unless…
Unless the Fallen Stone itself was exceptionally unique, perhaps even connected to the legendary "Starcore."
At the mention of "Starcore," Thalia's heart skipped a beat. She herself harbored a Starcore Fragment within, and she knew all too well what that entailed.
If Raine's blood truly possessed such a quality, then he—and the Fallen Stone in his grasp—would be of immeasurable value and significance, far beyond her initial estimates.
He was no longer merely a target to be eliminated or an object to be seized.
He could be… the key.
The key to unlocking hidden secrets and possibly influencing the fate of all Etheria.
Thalia's gaze refocused, fixated intently on Raine's face. Her stare was as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, attempting to dissect his ordinary facade to unearth the secrets hidden deep within.
A silent interrogation hung between them.
Who exactly are you?
What makes your blood so extraordinary?
What connection exists between you and the Fallen Stone?
Is what you saw merely a vision—a phantom of the mind?
These questions weighed heavily in her thoughts, each as weighty as a thousand burdens.
Raine, meeting her penetrating gaze, felt a shiver rise from his spine. He did not know what she was thinking, but he sensed that something far more dangerous and unpredictable was quietly brewing beneath this temporary calm.
The murderous intent had withdrawn for now, replaced by an even colder, more unsettling scrutiny.
He clutched the Fallen Stone tighter against his chest—its faint warmth his only solace at this moment. He knew that whatever unfolded next, he must guard this secret, preserve this lone glimmer of hope at all costs.
The night wind swept through again, carrying an even deeper chill.
In the square, the standoff continued.
The mingled scents of blood and decay, the wan starlight, and the lurking shadows…
An accidental spill of blood had momentarily interrupted the pursuit, but it also unveiled the prologue to an even deeper and more perilous mystery.
In that instant, fate's wheel had been subtly altered by a few inconspicuous droplets of blood, setting it spinning in a direction that no one could have foreseen.