“Move!”

  Instinct took over. Kael whirled, his hand lashing out. A crack rang out as his palm met a wiry wrist, stopping the dagger short. The assassin hissed, trying to yank free, but Kael clamped down with surprising strength. White-hot adrenaline surged through Kael’s veins, and a familiar, pulsing warmth sparked at his back.

  Orion.

  Kael felt the constellation’s power thrum inside him, a deep reservoir of starlight and strength. Now, Kael demanded wordlessly, a single command.

  The assassin’s eyes widened at the pale glow that began radiating from Kael’s skin—shifting, shimmering tattoos that covered the length of his back and ribs. There was no time for the attacker to process the sight. Kael twisted the dagger aside and slammed his forearm into the man’s throat. A muffled snarl escaped the intruder as he staggered backward.

  “Behind you,” Orion’s voice rumbled in Kael’s thoughts, calm but urgent.

  Kael reacted instantly. His body glowed brighter as he spun, another assassin lunging from the shadows with wickedly curved blades. Kael jerked away, the second blade nicking his shoulder. Warm blood trickled down his bare skin, but the pain only sharpened his focus.

  He struck out in a blur of motion, Orion’s presence guiding his blows with supernatural precision. His fist connected with the second assassin’s jaw, sending him reeling. Another blade arced toward Kael’s ribs. Kael sidestepped, flicking out a knee to strike the attacker’s thigh. In the same breath, he pivoted and drove his elbow into the man’s temple.

  Thud. The assassin collapsed.

  A third figure emerged from the corner of the room—a woman, tall and lithe, her face concealed by a cloth mask. She carried a short sword, the metal gleaming. Kael’s pulse hammered in his ears. He was completely naked, the cold night air biting at his exposed skin, but there was no time for self-consciousness. Survival trumped dignity.

  “She’s faster,” Orion warned, reading the assassin’s stance.

  Kael’s bare feet shifted across the floor as he balanced his weight. The woman charged, her blade whistling through the air in a graceful arc. Kael ducked low, feeling the rush of steel pass above him. He retaliated with a savage uppercut, his starlit tattoos blazing. She blocked it with her sword’s hilt, but the force of his strike still threw her off balance.

  Grunting, Kael slipped behind her, hooking an arm around her neck and yanking her backward. She drove an elbow into his gut. He gasped, loosening his grip just enough for her to twist free, the sword point flicking dangerously close to his throat.

  “Force her left,” Orion instructed in a measured tone, all the while Kael’s heart thundered.

  Kael feinted right, then ducked left. The assassin’s weapon followed, leaving her flank exposed. Kael surged forward, grabbing her wrist and twisting it in a brutal arc. Her sword clattered to the floor. With a strangled cry, she lashed out at his face, but Kael jerked his head back, narrowly missing her fist.

  He slammed his palm into her chest, sending her staggering into the nearest wall. In one fluid motion, Kael’s hand closed around her throat, pinning her firmly. Her legs kicked wildly, but he had the upper hand now, raw strength bolstered by Orion’s celestial might.

  She struggled, clawing at Kael’s wrist until her grip weakened. Her eyes fluttered and she sank to the ground. Kael released her, breathing hard, sweat mixing with the faint shimmer of starlight covering his skin.

  Silence. Three bodies lay scattered across the cramped space. The first assassin twitched, trying to rise, but Kael landed a swift kick that left him unconscious. The second lay sprawled near the overturned table, while the third lay crumpled against the wall, unmoving.

  “That was sloppy,” Orion chided, though there was a thread of satisfaction in his voice. “You allowed yourself to be wounded.”

  Kael clutched at the shallow gash on his shoulder, wincing. “Shut up,” he snapped back, exasperated. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

  Orion rumbled in mild disapproval but didn’t argue further.

  Kael was about to search the bodies for clues when the door swung open with a bang, and a loud voice pierced the air, grating on his ears.

  “I’m here to—whoa!”

  Corin Vain nearly tripped over his own boots, sword in hand, as he burst into the room. His jaw dropped at the sight of Kael standing, naked and glowing with faint starlight, over three battered assassins. For a moment, neither man spoke.

  “You’re…” he whispered, the weight of realization pressing the words from his lungs. “You’re Starbonded.”

  They stared at each other for a beat, the wind ghosting through the cracked window, ruffling Kael’s sweat-damp hair. Finally, Kael broke the silence, raising an eyebrow in dry resignation.

  “Well, shit,” he said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Would it be asking too much of you to keep this quiet?”

  Corin’s jaw tightened, the lines of his face still drawn with awe and a hint of residual fear. “I— well, I’m not exactly one to go blabbing, but this isn’t a small thing.” His eyes flicked to Kael’s ribs, where faint residual glimmers of his constellation marks lingered. “A Starbonded in the middle of the Frostbitten North. I can think of about a dozen people who’d pay through the nose just to confirm a rumor like that.”

  “Tell him to watch where he’s aiming that sword,” Orion muttered in Kael’s head, unimpressed.

  Kael rolled his eyes, equally unimpressed. “People have already tried to kill me tonight. I don’t need an entire army of bounty hunters beating down the door.” Striding over to the bed, he snatched up the nearest pelt, draping it around his waist to preserve what little modesty he had left.

  Even with the glow of Orion fading from his skin, the chill in the small room seeped into every cut and bruise, reminding him of just how close he came to death. He shot Corin a sidelong look, still unsure if the man was friend or foe—if there was such a thing as “friend” in Kael’s world anymore.

  Corin, meanwhile, seemed far more concerned with the three bodies splayed around the floor. His expression was half awe, half incredulity as she crouched before the bodies. “Three assassins. You… in your birthday suit. And all they managed to do was scratch your arm?” He whistled low. “Makes you wonder if all Starbondeds are this mad.”

  It seemed the initial shock had finally faded for the man.

  Kael let out a short, humorless laugh. “Or we just don’t have the luxury of—” His voice trailed off, noticing a sliver of moonlight glinting off a piece of metal near the first assassin’s belt. He knelt, still keeping a wary eye on Corin, and fished out a small, ornate dagger that bore no distinctive markings. “Damn. No crest, no insignia,” he muttered, tossing it aside in frustration.

  Corin snorted. “So you’re telling me you don’t even know who hired these guys?”

  Kael glanced up. “Not a clue. Now, why are you here exactly?” He stood, curling his lip as he let his gaze drift to the sword still in Corin’s hand.

  Noticing his gaze, Corin gave the sword a wry flourish, before sheathed it properly. “I did come bursting in, quite gallantly I might add, after you’d done all the heavy lifting. I heard a commotion, and it turns out you had it covered.” He glanced at the three battered attackers. “Impressive. And a little insane.”

  Kael didn’t believe him for a second. “Doubt it. You barged in here for…what? Coin? Curiosity? Did someone send you?” Kael tugged the pelt a bit higher on his waist, warding off the cold. “If you’re here to spy on me or—”

  Corin raised his hands defensively. “Hey, easy. I’m no assassin. No cultist either. I was just—passing through. Staying in the inn like I told you before.” His eyes flicked to the one assassin Kael had effectively knocked out cold, then back to Kael. “And you’re, um… definitely you. That is—Starbonded. Didn’t see that coming.”

  And so, we’re back to this again. Kael studied him for a beat, turning over Corin’s words. Something about the man’s breezy tone irked him, and he clenched his jaw. “We’ve already established that, and I’ve had enough trouble from stowaways and eavesdroppers for one night. If you’re here to peddle information—”

  “Whoa,” Corin interrupted, waving him off again. “I already told you, I’m not looking to sell anything to anyone, all right? Not that I don’t need the coin, but I value my neck a bit more.” He shot the unconscious assassins a meaningful glance.

  Kael snorted, casting another quick scan around the room. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re awfully smarmy for a man who almost got skewered.”

  Corin shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “I’d like to think of myself as a professional at almost getting skewered, thank you very much. And who are you calling smarmy? You’re the one bare-chested, shining like a star.”

  Kael opened his mouth for a retort, but Orion’s dry voice beat him to it: “He’s not the sharpest sword on the rack, is he?”

  No, Kael admitted inwardly. But he’s persistent.

  “And this,” Corin continued, oblivious to the silent exchange, “explains quite a few things. Like why the Starless have been creeping around this godforsaken corner of the North. Everyone says they avoid harsh climates like the Wastes, right? But if you’re here…” He trailed off, realization dawning in his eyes. “They follow the Starbonded, don’t they? At least, that’s what the rumors say.”

  The tension in Kael’s shoulders coiled tighter. “They do,” he said in a clipped tone. “Which is precisely why I’d prefer people not know I’m exactly who they suspect me to be.”

  Corin snapped his fingers. “So that’s why you’re holed up here, all grumpy and alone. Makes sense. Wow, I guess the rumors about Starbondeds being trouble magnets weren’t just tall tales.”

  Kael shot him a warning glare. “Watch it. I’ve got enough corpses in here for one night.”

  Corin held up his hands again, the grin faltering a bit. “Right. Right.” He cleared his throat, nodding at the battered assassins. “Well, next time, you could leave one for me. Show off.”

  Kael rolled his eyes, casting a final glance at the attackers. “You never really answered me,” Kael muttered, voice growing rough with fatigue. “Why are you here? How did you know I was in danger?”

  Corin let out a shaky laugh. “I could ask you the same thing, Your Highness.” His final words dripped with pointed emphasis, and Kael’s knuckles whitened on the furs.

  “Excuse me?” Kael’s tone turned cold as a dagger’s edge, the ache in his wounds flaring in sudden tension.

  Corin raised his hands in another placating gesture. “Hey, I thought we were dropping the pretenses. It’s not like I don’t know who you really are. What you really are. You’re the exiled prince… King Aldric’s son.”

  Kael’s breath caught, an old, painful memory twisting at his heart. He forced his jaw to remain set, denying the sting behind Corin’s words. “You’re mistaken,” he said, though without conviction.

  “Don’t bother lying, Kael,” Orion rumbled in his mind, an exasperated edge coloring the constellation’s usual wit. “He knows. Let’s hear him out.”

  Kael’s lips thinned. Fine. He let out a slow breath, meeting Corin’s gaze. He spoke again, trying to keep his voice measured. “If you do know… all of that… then what do you want from me?”

  Corin’s tension evaporated, replaced by a sudden seriousness that made Kael’s skin prickle. The man’s boyish grin faded. He took a slow step closer, eyes locking with Kael’s in the dimly lit room.

  “I want you,” Corin said softly, “to raise an army.”

  Kael’s heart thudded once, loud and uncertain. The words hung in the space between them, echoing against the battered walls and unconscious assassins. Outside, the wind still howled through the cracked window, as if even the elements recognized the gravity of Corin’s demand.

  Kael couldn’t help a bitter laugh, though there was little amusement behind it. “You barge into my room—after someone tries to kill me—and you expect me to gather soldiers under my banner?”

  “Why not?” Corin shrugged, a flicker of determination lighting his eyes. “You’re the rightful heir, whether you admit it or not. And I… Well, let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting to see you take back what’s yours.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Kael studied him, shoulders tense, mind racing through the implications of such a request. Raise an army. That was the last thing he’d ever pictured himself doing, not after he’d spent years surviving in the wilderness, letting the world forget him. Even with Orion’s power coursing through his veins, the burden was enough to crush a man.

  “And if I refuse?” Kael asked quietly, testing him.

  Corin’s gaze never wavered. “Then I leave, and you keep hiding out in an old, run down fishery, fending off assassins one by one until someone finally succeeds. But I think we both know you want something more, and I can be one—persistent—pain in the ass.”

  He snorted, moving to grab the nearest tunic he could find and toss it over his shoulders, ignoring how it stuck to the cut on his arm. “Raise an army?” he repeated, voice low with disbelief. “You’re out of your mind. You show up out of the blue, harass me at work, and suddenly you want me to claim a throne I was ‘supposedly’ exiled from?”

  Corin’s confidence wavered, but he held his stance. “You’re the rightful heir—like it or not. If there was ever a time for you to—”

  “No,” Kael cut in, his tone firm. “I’m not your savior. I’m not some banner for you to rally under.”

  Corin opened his mouth to argue, but Kael shot him a glare that shut him down. Gathering every ounce of dignity he could muster, Kael flicked his gaze toward the door. “Now get out,” he ordered, keeping his voice measured but cold. “And don’t think about coming back with another shitty sales pitch.”

  Corin hesitated, his expression cautious. “You sure that’s the call you want to make?”

  Kael’s fist tightened around the fur cloak. “I’m sure. Go.”

  Corin exhaled, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. Still, he bowed his head stiffly and stepped toward the door. “Well,” he muttered, “my offer stands… for now.” He cast one last lingering look at Kael—wary, intrigued—then slipped into the corridor, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  As the latch clicked, Orion’s presence thrummed in Kael’s mind, fueled by annoyance. “Really? You’re turning him down so easily?”

  Kael’s lips curled in a snarl. “Give it a rest, Orion.”

  “We’ll need allies, whether you like it or not,” Orion pressed, a warning note in his voice. “That one might be more helpful than you realize.”

  Kael turned away from the door, his shoulders dropping with a heavy sigh. His ribs ached, every bruise protesting the movement. “I said give it a rest”. He pressed a hand to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m not raising an army. Not now. Not ever.”

  Orion huffed an inaudible breath, then fell silent, the celestial glow along Kael’s skin fading back into nothingness. The quiet that followed felt both relieving and oppressively lonely. Outside, the wind howled around the cracked window, carrying the scent of blood and night. Kael’s gaze drifted to the limp forms of the assassins, and he wondered how long he had before another one tried to plunge a dagger into his back.

  With a curse under his breath, he moved to a small chest near the bed. A quick rummage yielded a pair of threadbare pants—better than nothing. He slipped them on, hissing when the waistband grazed another shallow cut at his side he hadn't realized appeared. The ache flared, but he carried on.

  Now at least slightly more dignified, he prowled toward the first unconscious assassin—the one he’d kept alive to interrogate. Kneeling down, Kael rolled the man onto his back, pressing two fingers to his throat. The skin felt clammy and still, no faint pulse beneath. Shock flickered through Kael’s expression as he lifted the man’s limp wrist and let it fall heavily to the floor.

  “Dead,” he muttered, frustration nipping at his voice. “I didn’t hit him that hard.”

  "Convenient," Orion’s dry rumble echoed in Kael’s head, suspicion lacing the single word.

  “So much for interrogating him,” Kael muttered under his breath. He’d hoped to ring even a crumb of information about who had sent these killers, but it seems he was shit out of luck.

  “We’ll have to look elsewhere,” Orion cautioned, half impatient, half resigned.

  Kael exhaled hard, resisting the urge to lash out. “Yeah. I know.” he bit back, his voice low.

  He nudged the dead man’s leg aside, pulling him by the collar toward the door. Despite the numbness in his fingers and the dull sting of his wounds, Kael pushed through the weariness. “Let’s get this over with.”

  One by one, he hauled the bodies across the room, careful not to open any new gashes on his bare feet. The cold did little to mask the smell of blood and sweat that clung to them. He fought a shiver as he wrestled with the door’s latch, propping it open to glimpse the dark hallway beyond. Seems Corin really did leave, for now—thank the stars.

  He dragged the first assassin into the corridor, the body leaving a streak of blood on the warped floorboards. A swift plan formed in his mind: slip out through the side door, lug them out one at a time. No one should be awake this late—besides Corin, apparently—and he didn’t need a crowd forming.

  The second assassin posed more of a challenge—he was a bigger man with more muscle. Kael’s arms burned with the effort of hauling him through the threshold. Each step grated against the wound in his shoulder, fresh droplets of red marking his path. He clenched his teeth to keep from hissing.

  When he returned for the third, he hesitated, remembering the vicious dance of steel they’d shared only minutes ago. Her blade had almost found a home in his throat. Now she hung limp as a rag doll.

  “Damn it,” he whispered, brow furrowed, as he lifted her over one shoulder. “This had better be the last time.”

  “It won’t be,” Orion stated matter-of-factly, a faint undertone of sardonic amusement in his voice.

  “Shut up,” Kael retorted silently, heaving the woman forward.

  Outside in the yard, clouds shrouded the moon, plunging the world into deeper darkness. Kael’s breath misted in the bitter air as he dragged the bodies to the far corner where refuse and waste were routinely burned. A small fire pit lay half-smoldered, smudges of ash and debris scattered around. It would have to do.

  He arranged them in as respectful a manner as possible under the circumstances, an odd pang of guilt clenching in his chest that it should end for them like this. Then, with tired precision, he piled broken crates and hay, sparking an ember from the near-dead flames. The glow rose slowly, crackling to life.

  With a grim set to his jaw, Kael fed the flames until they hissed and smoked, the smell acrid and sickening. He stood there until the fire took hold, swallowing the last vestiges of the assassins who had invaded his room.

  His head pounded, every nerve frayed. Exhaustion lapped at him, but he was determined to see the job through. When the final traces of them curled into embers and ash, Kael snatched up a rag, wiping blood from his hands.

  “It’s done,” Orion said softly, any earlier sarcasm replaced by a reluctant note of empathy.

  Kael dropped the rag and turned, searching the horizon as though expecting another intruder to materialize from the shadows. None came. Slowly, he trudged back into his ramshackle home.

  Right now, he needed rest. He needed time to think, to plan his next move—alone. Allies, armies, and returning to a place that had cast him out were weights he wasn’t ready to think about.

  He exhaled a ragged breath and once back in his room, he laid down among the tangled, blood-spattered furs. Whatever tomorrow brought, at least for tonight, he would stand by his refusal. He had escaped the demands of a crown once; he wasn’t about to shackle himself to that fate again. No matter what Orion or Corin said.

  ***

  The next few days blurred together in a restless haze. Kael kept himself busy, returning to the everyday routine of mending nets, sharpening knives, and exchanging small talk with the villagers who stopped. His thoughts drifted more than once to Corin, but there’d been neither sight nor sound of the man since that night. Kael told himself he felt nothing but relief at the absence; Orion quietly disagreed.

  “He’ll turn up again,” the constellation would grumble in Kael’s thoughts from time to time, but Kael did his best to push away his unease.

  One chilly afternoon, he was halfway through repairing a fishing trap when a soft cough caught his attention. He glanced up to see Inga’s mother standing in the doorway, worry etched into the deep lines of her face.

  “Kael,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m sorry to bother you, but… have you seen Inga these past few days?”

  Kael set down the trap he had been working on, frowning. “I haven’t. Is she all right?”

  The older woman pressed a hand to her chest, her breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. The pallor of her skin and the way she leaned on the doorframe told Kael the recent cold snap had been unkind to her. “She’s been gone for a while now. Longer than I’d expect if she was just gathering herbs for the shop. She normally doesn’t vanish like this.” Her voice dropped, anxiety creeping in. “I was hoping you might’ve run into her.”

  Kael shook his head slowly, a deep worry pinching at his expression. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Not since… earlier this week, maybe.”

  Her face fell, and she started to respond, only to be wracked by a fit of coughing so violent that she nearly doubled over. Kael moved swiftly, guiding her to a nearby stool, his arm steadying her slight frame as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “You shouldn’t be out in this cold,” he said, voice low and concerned as he retrieved a canteen of water from a shelf. He remembered well how she and Inga worked together in their family-run apothecary, a small hut on the village’s main street that always smelled of lavender and rosemary. The place was usually bustling with villagers seeking salves, teas, or healing tonics, but business had died down ever since her mother grew sick. “Let me look for her. You focus on resting,” he insisted, pressing the canteen into her hand.

  She nodded her thanks, offering a thin, grateful smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Kael. You’ve always been kind to us. Just… be careful. There’s something about those woods lately—” She coughed again, though less violently this time, “—something I can’t quite put my finger on. But I’ll check near the outskirts just in case. I can’t sit idle while she’s out there.”

  Kael stood, a chill prickling down his spine at her words, and he gently but firmly insisted she sit a moment longer to regain her strength. Her hair fell forward as she leaned over to stifle another cough, revealing strands of gray woven through lighter brown. Even exhausted and worried, she had the same determined glint in her eyes that he recognized in Inga.

  Once he was sure she could stand on her own, Kael went and closed up shop. He gathered his bow and quiver from the corner, pulling a thick cloak over his shoulders. A hint of dread stirred in his stomach, but he tried to reassure himself that Inga might simply have lost track of time searching for herbs deeper in the forest.

  As he stepped into the biting wind, a pulse of unease rippled through his mind. It was Orion’s presence, like a second heartbeat thudding in his chest. Kael pushed open the door and glanced back one last time, meeting Inga’s mother’s eyes.

  “Stay warm,” he urged softly. “I’ll be back.”

  She nodded, murmuring something Kael didn’t quite catch, worry still etched into her features as she lingered in the doorway.

  The road leading out of the village crunched under his boots, and Kael felt every watchful stare of the day’s late passersby. Inga had always been the chatty one, a friend who sometimes lingered in his shop, marveling over small trinkets or telling stories about the apothecary’s customers. The idea that she had just vanished didn’t sit right with him.

  She’s probably fine, he tried to tell himself, yet the knot in his stomach refused to ease.

  The forests around the village were deep, their winding paths well-known to Kael considering how often he hunted. He moved quickly, following the faint tracks: footprints in the patches of snow, broken twigs, and partial impressions of boots that meandered aimlessly. He knelt to examine them, brow furrowing at the pattern.

  “They’re all over the place,” he murmured to himself, feeling Orion’s presence stir with concern. Inga’s tracks were erratic, her gait unsteady. It didn’t look like foraging at all. It looked more like she’d been wandering, or fleeing.

  “Something’s off,” Orion muttered, echoing Kael’s own dread.

  Kael’s heart raced as realization began to form. The steps leading deeper into the woods were spaced unevenly, almost as though Inga had started limping… or thrashing about.

  She can’t be…

  A sudden rustle in the underbrush snapped him into focus. Kael froze, lifting his bow reflexively, but it was too late. A figure burst from the tree line, a shape of cracked, translucent skin riddled with strands of glowing starlight that pulsed like exposed veins. Hollow white eyes locked on him, and a ragged jaw yawned wide, unleashing an unearthly wail. The sound cut through the winter air, raw agony made audible.

  He recognized her, even in that monstrous form. Inga. Or what was left of her.

  Shock rooted Kael to the spot. Memories of her shy smile, the way she would chat brightly in his shop, surged against the horror of her current, star-twisted form. Orion’s voice roared in his mind—“Move, Kael! Move!”—but he stood there, numb. Painful seconds stretched as she lunged with impossible speed, slamming into him full force. He toppled backward, the bow slipping from his grip to skitter across frozen ground.

  A faint grunt tore from his throat as his spine struck a patch of frostbitten earth. Inga—Starless Inga—straddled him, her unnatural strength holding him down. She reared back, cracked lips peeling in a silent snarl as her starlit skin crackled, threatening to split.

  “She’s already gone, Kael!” Orion pleaded, voice ringing desperately through Kael’s head.

  Kael’s arms trembled under the weight of her flailing claws. He tried to shove her off, but it was like grappling stone. His mind screamed that this was Inga, a girl he’d known and once helped deliver herbs for her mother’s shop. A kind face turned to something monstrous.

  A guttural hiss broke from the twisted creature above him, and Kael’s breath caught at the sight of her contorted face. The starlight under her skin brightened with each ragged movement, and he feared she might literally explode from the pressure.

  “Use me!” Orion bellowed. “Use our power, Kael!”

  He tried. Summoning that pulsating starlight should have been as natural as breathing, but seeing Inga’s hollow eyes paralyzed him. He remembered her timid laugh, her gratitude whenever he repaired a broken shelf in her apothecary. How could he bring himself to kill her?

  Inga screamed again, a warbled sound that contorted into a shriek of mindless hunger. Her clawed hand raked across Kael’s chest, leaving shallow, burning scratches. He gasped, arching in pain.

  “Fight!” Orion pleaded, rattling in Kael’s head. “Fight or so help me, I will kill you before she does! ”

  Kael gritted his teeth, forcing the gnawing horror aside for just a moment. A faint glow began to shimmer along his arms, but his strength faltered the instant his gaze locked onto her once-familiar features. He froze.

  Inga lunged downward, her jaw unhinging further as she prepared to tear into him.

  And then a wet, sickening thud reverberated through the air. She jerked, her maddened scream severed in an abrupt choke. Kael felt a sudden slackening as her body slumped forward onto his chest. Shock riveted him; her face hovered inches from his, twisted into a final, horrifying grimace.

  For a heartbeat, the world went silent except for Kael’s own ragged breaths. A shining steel blade protruded from Inga’s back, the hilt trembling lightly. Blood, tinged with cosmic luminescence, dripped from the fatal wound.

  Kael scrambled, pushing her limp body off. His heart hammered, and dizziness momentarily swept his vision. He blinked as a figure loomed overhead: Corin Vain, sword in hand, his chest heaving from exertion.

  Corin cast a lopsided grin down at Kael, though it bore none of his usual lightheartedness. “Would you look at that,” he panted, yanking the blade free with a wet shlk. “I actually arrived in time for once.”

  Kael could only stare, chest heaving, as Corin shoved the Starless corpse aside. The sound of ripping flesh made Kael’s stomach twist. Inga—her twisted, broken, Starless remains—lay slack, unmoving.

  Kael opened his mouth, but no sound emerged beyond a weak, breathy rasp. His eyes flicked from Corin’s sword to Inga’s dead, star-cracked form. The reality settled in: Inga had turned. The Starless were getting closer. And he’d been powerless to stop her, to stop himself from… Orion was right—he was right.

  Corin offered a hand, still wearing that lopsided grin. “You all right, Your Highness?”

  Kael swallowed hard, adrift between gratitude and shock. Slowly, he accepted the hand, letting Corin pull him back to his feet. The bitter wind carried the last echoes of that unholy scream away, leaving only the jagged memory of what Inga had become… and the stark proof of how fragile life in these lands truly was.