An icy sting pierced Raine's mind before consciousness fully returned, as if countless shards of ice were jabbing deep into his skull. He groaned, eyelids heavy as if weighed with lead. Struggling, he opened his eyes to a blurred view of the Blightwood's twisted, dim sky and two faces bent close in concern.
"Boy? You're awake!" Karrion Anvil's gruff voice sounded markedly relieved. The dusty, sweat‑matted lines of his face relaxed at last.
The other face remained hidden beneath a cowl—that of Thalia Nightsong. She spoke not a word, but Raine felt her deep gaze upon him and… a faint, almost imperceptible fatigue. Her complexion was even paler than before, lips pressed tight as though containing something.
"Ugh…" Raine tried to sit up, but a wave of vertigo and bone‑deep weakness rolled over him, his body aching as if falling apart. "That… that thing…" he rasped, fragments of memory assembling—the massive Corruption Aggregate, its cataclysmic energy eruption, his desperate foresight and strike, and then the darkness that swallowed him.
"It's dead, stone‑cold." Karrion patted Raine's shoulder with just the right force to reassure without causing further pain. "You did well, boy—though the price was steep." He nodded toward the scorched, smoking wreckage of the horror, which fumed a rancid stench.
Raine stared at those charred remains without a shred of triumph, only hollow relief and shock at his battered state. He could feel his once‑slender starlight flickering like a candle in the wind, almost snuffed out, chaos rending its flow. Every heartbeat stabbed him with needle‑sharp pain—the burn of magic's backlash, far worse than ever before. Gazing into the future, especially so vividly and using that knowledge to alter the battle, had exacted a truly terrible toll.
"How long was I out?" Raine panted.
"Not long—maybe a quarter hour," Thalia replied at last, her voice still cool yet darker than usual. "We scouted around—you're safe for now. But we shouldn't linger; that blast might attract something else."
Raine nodded, struggling to rise. Karrion was at once at his side, offering sturdy support. Though the dwarf's arm was rock‑solid, Raine's legs remained shaky, each step feeling as though he walked on cotton.
"You've overtaxed your strength," Thalia observed, tone neutral yet firm. "Don't use your foresight lightly again, or…" She left the warning hanging—Raine understood too well: another strain like that might destroy him.
"I know," Raine answered wearily. He glanced at Thalia, who caught his look and quickly turned away. Doubts stirred again in his mind: in that flash of foresight, he had glimpsed not only the Aggregate's weakness but also a vision of Thalia preparing some immensely potent—and possibly ruinous—defensive spell… Was it merely illusion, or had she concealed yet another secret?
"Let's move," Karrion interrupted, ever the pragmatist. "We need to find somewhere you can rest and scout a path out of this damned place."
The three set off once more, the atmosphere heavier than before. Raine's weakness was plain; he leaned so much on Karrion that it seemed half his weight rested on the dwarf, each step sending fresh shards of pain through him. Thalia walked on his other side, still silent, her hood drawn lower as though to seal herself away.
The Blightwood's core spread out before them, broader and more deathly silent than its fringes. Twisted trees loomed like specters, the ground slick with thick, oily black moss, the air thick with stench and malice. They advanced cautiously, every sense alert for fresh danger.
After who could say how long, even stalwart Karrion halted with a low, awed grunt when the landscape before them came into view.
"By my beard… what is this?"
In a relatively open glade lay the ruins of an ancient structure, ravaged by time and corruption. It had once been a watch post or altar. Crude black stone formed crumbling walls and a toppled dais, all cloaked in thick moss and entwined with pulsating dark‑purple vines that seeped sticky black sap onto the ground with a soft sizzle.
Despite the ruin, Raine noticed faint traces of carved patterns on the stones—spirals of starlight, geometric motifs unique to the Starborn civilization. Though much had been eroded or twisted by corruption, the style still spoke of the site's origins.
Karrion broke from Raine's side and hurried forward, crouching to brush away moss and slurry from a clearer stone slab. "Starborn runes," he muttered, brow furrowed. "Very ancient—older than any I've studied. This one… might mean 'vigil' or 'sentinel.' And this next… 'gathering of starlight'? Or perhaps… 'well of stars'?" He struggled to interpret the eroded lines.
Meanwhile, Thalia approached the ruins but did not scan the carvings. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly, pale fingers tracing shapes in the air as if sensing some invisible current. Her body trembled, not from cold but from a fierce emotional surge.
"There is… residue of starlight here," she said, voice trembling. "Faint, like a candle's last flicker… but stronger still is…" Thalia's eyes shot open, alarm shining in their depths. "…resentment. Implacable hatred… and… despair. Thick as ink."
Raine watched the pair and let his gaze sweep the shadow‑soaked ruins. A strange shiver rose within him, as though this place bore an inexplicable link to him. Despite his frail state, his Starborn blood stirred at the ruin's presence—an emotion both familiar and repellent.
He found himself stepping toward the toppled dais at the center. It felt like the heart of the ruins, covered in denser etchings beneath the vines. He reached out to brush the grotesque tendrils aside and reveal the starlit inscriptions beneath.
"Raine, careful!" Thalia's warning snapped him back.
But it was too late.
The moment Raine's fingers touched the dais's cold, rough surface—where the star‑track carvings lay—
Vvvvrrr!
An invisible lightning bolt struck his spirit.
The world before him splintered and warped. The Blightwood vanished, as did Karrion and Thalia. In their stead surged a chaotic, tidal wave of broken visions!
This was no vision of Ellaria.
He saw the ruins once whole—a gleaming altar lit by soft starlight, Starborn sentinels in silver‑white armor patrolling, eyes keen and unwavering. In the center, a robed archmage guided falling starlight into the altar's energy node, sustaining an ancient protective ward.
The scene shifted!
The sky turned a sickly emerald green; the ground cracked open, and foul corruption spewed forth in waves from the earth! Unspeakable, twisted creatures lunged from the shadows, their bodies pure malice and rot.
The Starborn warriors fought back! Beams of starlight cut through the darkness, spears of star‑flame swept through the horde, runes blazed. A fierce clash of light and shadow shook the air with thunderous booms!
He recognized a determined figure—bearing a striking resemblance to himself—wielding a sword ablaze with star‑fire, cleaving corrupt beasts. That was… one of his ancestors from the family portraits!
But the corruption proved relentless, like acid upon steel. Starry power dimmed; warriors fell. Despair spread as a plague.
The vision leaped again.
The watch‑altar lay shattered, its starlight waning. The archmage lay prostrate, covered in black ichor, eyes filled with horror and regret. His ancestor, bloodied and broken, sword dull, surrounded by corruption—eyes once keen now alight with a cold, insane green…
He saw the ancestor's anguished roar as his flesh writhed, shadows wriggling beneath his skin, his star‑power twisted and perverted… until, at last, he became a… a wraith bound by hatred… a tormented spirit.
The shattered visions stabbed Raine's mind like shards of glass. He saw the clash, the sacrifice, the agony—and the fall.
"Ah—!"
Raine jerked back, stumbling several paces, face ashen, breathing ragged. A brutal headache threatened to rip his mind apart—far worse than any magical backlash before, for this cut to his spirit as deeply as to his body.
"Kragh, Raine!"
Karrion and Thalia hurried to his side.
"What did you see?" Thalia pressed, voice urgent. Her hand rested on his shoulder, a thread of cold shadow‑energy coiling in an attempt to soothe his fractured spirit.
"I… I saw…" Raine's voice trembled, eyes wide with terror and disbelief. "I saw… my ancestors… fighting here… and then… then they…" He could not finish the word.
Falling to corruption.
That realization struck him like a boulder upon his chest. He had always believed his Starborn blood a gift, a source of power, a tie to a glorious lost past. But now he had seen its other side—a curse, a tragic bond to the darkness that consumed all. His family, his heroes, had not all been unblemished champions—they too had failed, had… succumbed.
A chill of fear and dread gripped him. If mighty ancestors could not withstand the Blight, what chance did he stand? His threadbare gift, his fleeting glimmer of light—what could it accomplish? Fallenstar Citadel, his hope and purpose—if it held the same heritage of ruin, what fate awaited him?
As Raine struggled with these thoughts, a colder, more malicious chill slithered out from the ruins' depths.
Thalia's face blanched as she whirled her head toward the darkest recess behind the altar. "No—! They've been stirred!"
Before his eyes drifted, several twisted, translucent shapes slid from the shadows, floating like ghosts around the ruined dais.
Raine's heart froze.
They were… the corrupted spectral remnants of his fallen kin!
There were three or four of them, each in a different form but all bearing faint Starborn traits—slender frames, sharply pointed ear contours, and fragments of the armor or robes once worn by Starborn warriors or mages. Yet their bodies were wrapped and twisted by dense, almost solid shadow‑energy. Their faces were expressionless, their empty eye‑sockets aflame with twin emerald fires of hatred and madness. Where once Starborn blood radiated warmth, these specters exuded a teeth‑chilling cold and pure malice toward the living.
What chilled Raine most was the focus of their gaze—or rather, the focus of those green flames—locked unerringly on him! They recognized him! They sensed the same, untainted Starborn blood that still flowed within his veins!
"Living flesh…"
"Starlight…"
"Fresh…blood…"
Raspy, fractured whispers—like voices risen from the ninth hell—echoed through the air, laden with greed and longing.
Then, without warning, all the Starborn specters let out sharp, ear‑piercing shrieks. In a blur of black shadow and bone‑cold intent, they lunged at Raine!
"Protect him!" Karrion Anvil shouted, springing before Raine with axe raised. The runes along its blade flared bright ochre as he braced for impact.
Thalia sprang into action at once, hands weaving rapid seals. From the ground rose writhing shadow‑tendrils, seeking to ensnare and halt the rushing phantoms.
The battle erupted anew!
Though corrupted, these Starborn wraiths retained vestiges of their former martial skill and instincts. They moved with uncanny speed and grace—phasing briefly into near‑intangible forms to evade blows, then solidifying to unleash savage claw‑strikes or spiritual surges. They brandished lethal blades forged of shadow‑energy in the shapes of Starborn weapons; each strike carried corrosive power and a psychic shock.
Karrion took the brunt of the assault. His axe rang against shadow‑blades in a series of harsh clang echoes. The warding runes held back the corrosive darkness, but the sheer number and variety of attacks kept him constantly off-balance. He had to remain hyper‑vigilant against strikes that ignored physical armor and battered his spirit.
Thalia's shadow magic proved a natural counter: her chains bound specter‑limbs, her darkness weakened their might. Yet the specters' hunger for starlight was fierce—they seemed to siphon whatever stray starlight lingered in the air and, more dangerously, from Raine himself—making them stubborn opponents, hard to banish permanently.
Raine gripped his sword's hilt, aching to join the fray, but he was far too spent. Simply standing left him light‑headed, let alone wielding steel. He watched Karrion and Thalia clash with these former comrades—or perhaps even his own ancestors—in bitter sorrow and rage.
"Why…" he murmured, eyes fixed on a specter that, even in its corrupted form, sidestepped Karrion's swing with the same fluid, elegant grace of a Starborn warrior. That ancestral combat memory ran deep, undimmed by corruption.
Then Raine noticed something crucial.
After one specter's frenzied lunge was warded by Thalia's shadows, its hollow eye‑sockets flickered. From them came a fleeting, pain‑tinged whisper so brief it might have been imagined:
"…trap…void…devour…"
The word vanished in an instant—so swift it seemed unreal. Yet Raine knew he had heard it.
He glanced at the other specters. Their onslaught remained furious, driven by hate, but Raine forced himself past their fury, seeking something deeper. He summoned every scrap of focus left, straining to catch any unconscious…message?
Yes! Not all of them sought only to slay. They repeated certain gestures, emitted broken syllables—like dream‑bound prisoners desperately trying to relay a warning!
"Thalia! Karrion! Wait!" Raine shouted. "Don't destroy them outright! They're trying to tell us something!"
Both paused in surprise. Karrion nearly ended up with a ghost‑claw in his ribs before scrambling back. "Boy, have you lost your mind?" he growled. "These things want only to tear us apart!"
Thalia frowned, yet she seemed to grasp Raine's meaning more than Karrion did. Her shadows eased from pure destruction to tighter binds and deeper restraint.
"These wraiths are bound here by decades—no, centuries—of anguish," she said between dodges. "Such potent grief can leave behind fragments of truth. But it's perilous, Raine! Corruption twists everything; these fragments may be lies—or lures!"
Raine understood her caution but could not ignore that whispered warning, nor the undercurrent of despair beneath those raging specters.
"I know the risk!" he insisted. "But we must try—this could be vital to understanding Fallenstar Citadel!"
Gathering every scrap of strength, Raine stepped forward, addressing the bound, thrashing wraiths not as foes but as kin.
"Listen to me!" he called, voice firm over their shrieks. "I know your suffering! I know all you gave! Tell me—tell me what happened in Fallenstar Citadel! Tell me of Malcos…tell me the truth of the Void!"
His words struck a chord.
The specters halted their frenzy. Green flames in their empty eyes roiled—then they unleashed even more tortured, chaotic wails. Broken words and jumbled visions flooded Raine's senses:
"…Starkernel…tainted…"
"…Betrayal…he deceived us…"
"…Void's maw…open…"
"…Fallenstar…trap…"
"…Beware…."
The scraps were jagged, laden with anguish and warning. Raine fought to parse them, each fragment hammering at his mind with skull‑splintering force. He nearly lost consciousness to the onslaught.
Finally, as Thalia tightened her binding spells, the wraiths' strength ebbed. Their forms grew translucent; their emerald fires dimmed to smoldering ember. With muted sighs of despair, they dissolved into curling wisps of shadow and grief—leaving only the echo of their sorrow.
The clearing fell silent once more, save for Karrion's heavy breaths and Raine's unsteady stance.
Raine stood rooted, pale and trembling. The buried truths he'd glimpsed were shattered and incomplete, yet their warning cut clear: Fallenstar Citadel is a trap…a nest…Malcos deceived them…
This directly opposed the vision of his sister's imprisonment. If their warning was genuine, then his lifelong quest—his very hope—might have been a carefully woven lie, a snare leading him only to ruin.
A frosty dread coiled in his veins. Yet he could not afford hesitation.
Raising his voice, he said to Thalia and Karrion, "We move on. Whatever truth lies ahead, we must press forward."
Karrion placed a heavy hand on Raine's shoulder. "Truth or trap, son, we'll face it. I'm just an old dwarf—but I'll hold the line, come what may."
Raine exhaled, steeling himself. No matter what lay beyond, he would keep moving—for Ellaria (true hope or illusion), for Thalia's silent sacrifice, for Karrion's vow, and above all…to uncover what his Starborn blood truly meant.
With that shared resolve, the three turned deeper into the black heart of the Blightwood.