Chapter 87

The night sky above Dawnspire was split in half, a canvas of chaos and fire. Smoke curled from the citadel towers where flames had devoured banners once heavy with pride. Ash rained like dying snowflakes, coating the stones and broken shields scattered across the courtyard.

Serenya Vale stood at the heart of the ruin, her breath shivering in her chest. The echoes of battle still rang in her ears, but it was the silence that followed that crushed her most—the silence of a heart she had loved, now stilled forever.

Orren Kaelith, the guardian who had walked beside her since her childhood in hiding, lay motionless upon the shattered steps. His blood was dark beneath the moonlight, pooling around the fragments of his broken blade. Only hours ago he had sworn, “I will not let the shadows claim you.” Now, the shadows had claimed him instead.

Serenya fell to her knees, clutching his hand. “You were supposed to protect us… to protect me.” Her voice cracked, raw with grief.

Kaelen Draven moved beside her, his eyes burning with both sorrow and fury. His jaw clenched as if each second was a battle he fought silently. “He chose this, Serenya. He gave his life for you—for the crown you must claim.”

She shook her head violently. “I never wanted a crown. I wanted peace… I wanted to stop this endless spiral of blood.”

But peace was a dream buried beneath too many graves.

From the shadows, a cruel laugh slithered into the courtyard. Thalric Veynor, the Duke who had plotted her ruin from the beginning, stepped forward, his cloak singed but his ambition unbroken. His eyes glimmered like a serpent’s as he gazed upon Orren’s body.

“So, the Guardian falls at last,” Thalric sneered. “One more star extinguished in your little constellation of fools, Serenya. Tell me, how many must die before you realize destiny has no place for you?”

Kaelen drew his sword with a snarl, but Serenya raised a trembling hand to stop him. Rage roared in her veins, hotter than fire. She rose from Orren’s side, her gown torn, her hair matted with ash, but her spirit burning brighter than ever.

“You speak of destiny as if you command it,” she said, her voice low but steady. “But you command nothing. You are a shadow clinging to power, Thalric. And shadows vanish when the stars rise.”

His smirk faltered.

Behind her, Darian Crestfall limped into the courtyard, his armor dented, his sword dripping blood. “Serenya…” His voice was hoarse, but his eyes widened with a grim realization. “The wards are broken. He’s not working alone.”

Serenya’s heart clenched. “What do you mean?”

Before Darian could answer, the ground trembled. Cracks split through the courtyard stones, and from the fissures surged black fire, twisting upward into a monstrous shape. An ancient force long whispered in prophecy, bound to Thalric’s will, had awakened.

Cyrion Duskbane appeared at the edge of the courtyard, his own face pale with horror. “It is the Wraith of the Forgotten… the beast sealed centuries ago. He’s unleashed it.”

Thalric spread his arms as the towering creature, forged of shadows and burning eyes, rose behind him. Its scream shattered the night, and stars above seemed to flicker as if frightened by its call.

“Do you see now?” Thalric bellowed, his voice carrying through the destruction. “Stars shatter. Crowns crumble. Only those who embrace the darkness survive!”

Serenya’s grief boiled into defiance. She stepped forward, her hands trembling, not from fear but from power stirring deep within her blood—the hidden legacy of her lineage. She felt the weight of her ancestors, the vow of Orren, and the bond of Kaelen’s unwavering eyes upon her.

“No,” she whispered, louder with each word. “Stars do not shatter… they are reborn. And you will fall, Thalric.”

The Wraith lunged, a storm of shadow and fire crashing toward her. Kaelen leapt to shield her, but Serenya thrust her hand out, light erupting from her palm. It wasn’t the gentle light of hope—it was fierce, raw, and burning with the pain of every life lost. The courtyard blazed as her power met the Wraith’s strike, throwing shockwaves that split towers and sent soldiers sprawling.

Kaelen staggered, shielding his face. “Serenya—your power—”

But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t.

As the light clashed with shadow, memories of Orren’s sacrifice filled her, weaving into strength rather than sorrow. She screamed, forcing the Wraith back step by step, until even Thalric’s smug expression began to crumble.

“Impossible,” he whispered, retreating as cracks formed in the beast’s form. “You were never meant to wield such power!”

Darian dragged himself beside Kaelen, clutching his side. “This is it. Either she destroys it, or we all die.”

The struggle tore at Serenya’s body, every bone feeling as though it might shatter. But she pressed on, her eyes blazing like twin suns. Her voice rose above the chaos.

“I am Serenya Vale. Heiress of the true line, Guardian of the realm, and child of both shadow and star. You will not break me!”

With one final cry, she unleashed everything—light surging outward like a thousand shattered stars reuniting into one. The Wraith screamed as its form disintegrated, dissolving into ash that scattered into the night sky like sparks.

When the light faded, Serenya collapsed to her knees, her strength spent. Kaelen caught her before she struck the stone, holding her trembling body close. His voice broke. “You… you did it.”

But her victory was hollow. Orren’s body still lay cold, and though the Wraith was gone, Thalric had vanished in the chaos, slipping away into the shadows like a venomous snake.

Cyrion knelt near the ruins of the fissure, his hands pressed against the earth. His expression was grim. “He is not defeated. That creature was but a fragment… and Thalric still holds the key to the rest.”

Serenya’s chest heaved, her tears hot against Kaelen’s shoulder. “How many more must fall before it ends? How many more stars must break?”

Kaelen held her tighter, whispering into her hair. “No more, Serenya. Not if we fight together.”

Above them, the clouds parted, revealing the night sky littered with stars. Yet to Serenya’s eyes, they no longer gleamed with comfort. They looked shattered—splintered jewels cast across a broken sky.

Still, within their shattered light, she found a promise. A promise to rise again.

For though Orren had fallen, his sacrifice had not been in vain. The stars might break—but in their breaking, they gave birth to fire.

And fire would burn until the very end.