Beyond Worlds, Beneath the Star God

The wind had changed.

Where once the forest howled with curses, now it whispered of rebirth. The Wyrm's body, or what remained of it, had melted back into the roots of the land, leaving behind nothing but scorched stone and a crater that hummed with dormant power.

Kun stood on the rim of that crater, silent. The Starfire flickered gently across his shoulders like living light, no longer raging but steady—as though it, too, were breathing after a long sprint.

Behind him, Orlan sat cross-legged, drawing sigils into the earth with a stick. "The forest will seal itself in a few days. But the leyline is fractured. The balance of the western magical currents has shifted."

"Shifted how?" Elira asked, arms crossed, her cloak tattered but her stance firm.

"Toward him," Orlan replied grimly. "Toward Kael."

Kun didn't turn. His voice was quiet, but resolute. "Then we follow it."

Elira looked up sharply. "You want to chase him?"

"No." He turned around, golden eyes burning with intent. "I want to end this. Before he awakens something worse."

Orlan frowned. "Even if we track him, Kael will be shielded. The Nethershade Covenant has entire fortresses buried beneath the Dead Marshes. Their magic warps space—some say they've rooted part of their citadel into the shadow realm itself."

"Good," Kun said, stepping toward them. "Let's go knock."

Elira blinked. Then laughed—short, surprised, but genuine. "I was worried you'd say something reckless. I'm in."

Orlan grumbled. "Madness. Absolute madness. I'll gather my scrolls."

They made camp one last night near the edge of the forest, where the trees began to breathe normally again. Birds returned, cautious and silent, perching on limbs that had once bled shadow.

By the campfire, Elira sat beside Kun, handing him a canteen. "You didn't hesitate."

"When?"

"When the Wyrm rose. When Kael said what he said. You never doubted."

Kun looked at the stars above. "I did. For a moment."

She nudged him lightly. "Didn't show."

He was quiet for a beat. "When I saw his face… it was like looking into a mirror I'd never meant to find. It scared me. Because if I'd made different choices... I could've been him."

"But you didn't," she said. "And you're not."

Their eyes met. Something unspoken passed between them—not quite love, but the recognition of a bond forged in fire and survival.

"I'm glad you were there," he said.

Elira grinned. "You're a pain. But you hit things hard. That counts."

The next morning, Orlan summoned a windbeast—an elemental hawk made of air and crystal—to scout ahead. They followed the corrupted leyline southeast, toward the high ridges of Ashclaw Plateau, where the land turned jagged and the clouds never cleared.

By noon, they saw the first signs.

Dark banners fluttering from ruined towers. Stone obelisks etched with the mark of the Covenant—an eye surrounded by thorns. And beneath them, villages burned, crops withered by curses, animals twisted into mindless husks.

"This is spreading fast," Elira muttered.

"Kael's pushing forward," Orlan said. "He's testing the land's resistance—and ours."

Kun didn't speak.

But the Starfire did.

It pulsed faster, in rhythm with his heartbeat, as though drawn toward something ahead.

Toward a call.

That night, they reached the edge of a canyon. In the depths below, flickering purple lights danced like stars in a black ocean.

Orlan pointed. "That's it. The Mawhold. One of the Covenant's deep sanctuaries. If Kael's not there yet, his generals will be."

Kun clenched his fists. "Then that's where we go next."

"But be warned," Orlan added. "The Mawhold isn't a battlefield. It's a trial. For outsiders, for traitors, for sacrifices. And for anyone who carries... that." He nodded toward Kun's glowing chest.

"I carry more than that," Kun said, stepping forward. "I carry everyone Kael left behind. Everyone he destroyed. And I'll carry them until this is finished."

The wind blew harder.

The canyon below whispered in tongues forgotten.

And the Starborn Warpath began.