Liora's POV
"That's not my mother."
The words rip out of me before I can think. But I know it's true. I watched my mother die. I saw the flames consume her. I heard her final scream.
Celeste's smile widens. "Are you sure, little sister? Look closer."
The woman in chains raises her head again, and gods, she looks exactly like Mother. Same silver eyes. Same face. Same desperate love in her expression.
"Liora, baby, please," she begs. "Help me. Don't let them—"
"It's a trap," Ashuron snarls in my ear, his arm tightening around my waist. Through the bond, I feel his certainty. "That's not your mother. It's an illusion. Shadow magic twisted to look like her."
"How do you know?" But even as I ask, I'm searching through the bond for the truth.
"Because I invented that trick three hundred years ago." His voice is grim. "Your sister learned it from someone. Probably from whoever cursed me in the first place."
My heart is breaking and healing at the same time. It's not Mother. She's still dead. But at least I don't have to watch her die again.
"Touching reunion, isn't it?" Celeste calls out. "But I'm afraid playtime is over. Surrender the Prince of Night, Liora, and I'll give you a quick death. Keep running, and I'll make you watch everyone you've ever cared about suffer first."
The fake mother screams as Celeste's magic burns her. Even knowing it's an illusion doesn't stop the pain from cutting through me.
"We need to leave," Ashuron says urgently. "Now."
"Can you get us out?"
"Not with twenty hunters and your psychotic sister blocking every exit." His shadows are already gathering, thick and defensive. "But I can buy us time."
He steps in front of me, putting himself between me and the hunters. His power explodes outward—not attacking, but creating a wall of absolute darkness that swallows everything. The hunters shout in confusion. Dogs bark frantically.
"Run!" Ashuron grabs my hand and pulls me backward, away from the cliff edge, into the forest.
We crash through dead trees and thorny vines. My feet are screaming. My lungs burn. But I don't stop because I can hear them behind us—swords cutting through Ashuron's shadow wall, Celeste shouting spells, hunters getting closer.
"I can't—" I gasp. "I can't run anymore—"
"You don't have to." Ashuron spins and scoops me up like I weigh nothing, one arm under my knees, the other around my back. "Hold on tight, little star. This is going to feel very wrong."
"What—"
The world dissolves.
We fall into pure shadow. Not darkness like nighttime—this is the absence of everything. No light. No sound. No air. Just cold emptiness that presses against my skin like frozen water.
I can't breathe. Can't scream. Can't do anything but hold onto Ashuron as we hurtle through this nightmare space.
Then suddenly, we're falling for real. We hit solid ground hard, rolling across stone. I end up tangled in Ashuron's arms, both of us gasping for air.
"What," I wheeze, "was that?"
"Shadow-walking." He sits up, checking me for injuries with hands that are surprisingly gentle. "Traveling through the spaces between darkness. It's how I've stayed hidden for so long."
"It's horrible."
"Yes." His smile is grim. "But it works."
I look around, and my breath catches.
We're inside a building. A huge building with walls that reach up into shadows. Broken columns hold up a cracked ceiling. Shattered stained glass windows let in slivers of moonlight that paint everything in blues and silvers.
But it's what's carved into the walls that makes my heart stop.
Stars. Thousands of stars forming constellations I recognize from my mother's bedtime stories. The Great Bear. The Weeping Maiden. The Crown of Light.
"Where are we?" I whisper.
Ashuron's expression is unreadable. "Starfall. The ancient capital of the Lightborn civilization."
No. No, this can't be—
I stumble to my feet and run to the nearest window. Outside, broken towers stretch toward the sky like accusing fingers. Gardens that should be blooming with starflowers are nothing but ash. Streets that once held thousands of my people are empty and dead.
This is where my people fell. This is where they died.
"You brought me to a graveyard," I say, and my voice sounds hollow.
"I brought you to the one place your sister won't follow." Ashuron stands behind me, his presence solid and steady through the bond. "The ruins are cursed. Anyone with stolen Lightborn magic who enters them dies within minutes. Celeste would burn alive before she reached the gates."
"But I have real Lightborn magic. Why am I not burning?"
"Because you belong here." He says it so simply, like it's obvious. "This place recognizes you. It's been waiting for someone like you for three hundred years."
I press my hand against the cold window. "My mother used to tell me stories about Starfall. She said it was the most beautiful city in the world. She said the towers glowed at night like captured stars."
"They did." Ashuron's voice is soft with old memories. "I was here the night before it fell. Your ancestors invited my people to celebrate the upcoming union—the prophecy that would bind our kingdoms together. Everyone was so happy. So full of hope."
"What happened?"
"Betrayal." The word tastes like poison in his mouth. "My brother. Your false Lightborn leaders. Human mages hungry for power. They formed a conspiracy. Killed both our peoples. Rewrote history to make me the villain."
I turn to face him. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because you can feel me through the bond." His golden eyes meet mine steadily. "You know I'm telling the truth. You can sense it."
He's right. Through our connection, I feel his emotions—grief, rage, and something that feels like shame. He's not lying. He really did watch my people burn while being powerless to stop it.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
He looks surprised. "For what?"
"For believing the lies. For thinking you were the monster." I touch my chest where the soul-mark glows under my dress. "You're not what they said you were."
Something soft and vulnerable crosses his face before he locks it away. "Don't make me into a hero, little star. I've done terrible things to survive. I'm not—"
A sound interrupts him. A child crying.
We both freeze.
"Did you hear that?" I ask.
Ashuron's face has gone pale. "That's impossible."
The crying comes again, echoing through the ruins. It sounds so sad. So lost.
"There's someone here," I say, moving toward the sound.
"Liora, wait—"
But I'm already running, following the crying through broken hallways. Ashuron curses and follows me.
We burst into what must have been a grand hall. Moonlight streams through a shattered ceiling, illuminating a small figure curled up in the center of the room.
A child. Maybe five years old. With glowing silver hair and tear-streaked cheeks.
"Please," the child whimpers. "Please help me. I'm so scared."
I start forward automatically, but Ashuron grabs my arm.
"Don't," he says urgently. "That's not a child."
"What are you talking about? She's terrified!"
"She's been terrified for three hundred years." His voice is grim. "That's not a living child, Liora. That's a ghost. A soul that got trapped here when Starfall fell."
The child looks up at us with huge silver eyes. "I've been waiting so long. Waiting for someone who could see me. Hear me."
My heart breaks. "She's been alone here for three centuries?"
"Not just her." Ashuron's grip on my arm tightens. "Look around."
I do, and horror floods through me.
The shadows are moving. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them. Ghostly figures emerging from the darkness—men, women, children, all with glowing Lightborn features. All staring at me with desperate hope.
"They're all trapped here," I breathe.
"The massacre was so violent, so sudden, that their souls couldn't move on." Ashuron's face is tight with old pain. "They've been waiting for someone with enough power to set them free."
The ghost child walks toward me slowly. "Are you the one? The one from the prophecy? The Daughter of the Fallen Light?"
"I don't know what I am," I whisper.
"Then let me show you." The child reaches out with one small, ghostly hand.
"Liora, no!" Ashuron shouts. "If she touches you—"
The ghost's fingers brush mine.
And the world explodes into visions.
I see Starfall as it was—beautiful and glowing and alive. I see the celebration, see Ashuron and a Lightborn princess laughing together in a garden. I see the conspiracy forming in shadows. I see my ancestor—the crown princess—running through burning halls, her hands pressed to her pregnant belly, desperately trying to save the baby inside.
I see the massacre. So much blood. So much death.
And I see something else. Something hidden beneath the ruins.
A chamber. A throne. A crown made of pure starlight.
The Lost Star Court. It's real. And it's here.
The vision releases me, and I collapse. Ashuron catches me before I hit the ground.
"What did you see?" he demands.
I look up at him with eyes that must be glowing brighter than ever before.
"I know why the prophecy chose me," I whisper. "I know what I have to do."
The ghost child smiles sadly. "Then you understand. To save us all, you must claim your birthright. You must become what you were always meant to be."
"What's that?" Ashuron asks, fear creeping into his voice through the bond.
I meet his golden eyes. "The Queen of the Lost Star Court. The one who can restore the balance between light and shadow. The one who can bring the dead back to life."
Every ghost in the ruins moves closer, their eyes burning with hope.
"But there's a price," I continue, my voice shaking. "To claim the throne, I have to die first."