The starlight Directive

Darkness.

Not the kind of darkness where you could blink and your eyes would adjust. No, this was absolute — a void where light had never existed. Victor floated in it, weightless, for what felt like an eternity. No sense of up or down. No air. No ground. Just… nothing.

Then, a spark.

It flickered in the distance, tiny but sharp, like the first star piercing a moonless sky. It wasn't much, but it was something, and in this place, something was everything. The spark pulsed once, twice, and then flared, growing into a swirl of red and gold flames.

Heat washed over him, sharp and searing.

Breathe.

Victor gasped. Air filled his lungs like he'd been drowning and had just broken the surface. His body jolted with the shock of it, arms and legs flailing as gravity returned all at once. His back slammed into something solid, cold, and unyielding. His head snapped back, and pain shot through his skull.

"Ahh!" he groaned, rolling onto his side, clutching his head. His heart was racing, his chest heaving with deep, frantic breaths.

What… happened?

He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the brightness. Flames danced across his vision — not wild, destructive flames, but slow, steady embers floating like fireflies. They hovered all around him, drifting lazily through the air.

He blinked. His mind was still reeling from the shift from nothingness to this. The stone beneath him was cold, rough, and uneven. His body ached from head to toe, muscles tight as if he'd been running for hours. He pushed himself up on shaky arms, his breath fogging the air.

His spear was gone.

"Great," he muttered, scanning the area for it. But there was no sign of the weapon. Only the floating embers, the jagged stone ground, and the distant hum of something ancient and alive.

The air smelled strange — burnt metal and old ash. His fingers brushed the stone beneath him, and it felt hot in some places, cold in others. He looked up and saw it.

The Rift.

But it wasn't like before. It was different. No longer a chaotic tear in the sky, it had become a perfect circle of swirling red and blue energy, like a burning sun trapped behind a veil of water. Its glow bathed the cavern in soft, eerie light. The pulse was still there, but now it was slower, steadier, like the heartbeat of something sleeping.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Focus, Victor. You're not dead. Not yet.

"Where… am I?" he muttered, his eyes darting around.

No fog. No mist. No Zhorul. Just the steady hum of energy and the embers that hovered like stars. Am I underground? The air was thick and heavy, making it harder to breathe, like being inside a cave with no ventilation.

His fingers brushed against his chest, feeling for wounds or burns, but he found something else.

A mark.

Right in the center of his chest, just below his collarbone, his fingers traced an unfamiliar shape — a raised symbol like a brand burned into his skin. His heart skipped a beat as he pulled his shirt down to see it.

It was glowing faintly.

A six-pointed star with sharp edges and twisting lines spiraling out from its center, like veins reaching for his heart. The glow shifted from orange to red, like a coal buried in the ashes of a fire. His breathing quickened.

This wasn't here before.

"What… what is this?" He clawed at it, rubbing at the mark as if it could be wiped away like dirt. But it didn't budge. His fingers only made it tingle, the warmth of it seeping into his skin. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable either. Like it's… alive.

Then, it burned.

"AHHH!" Victor fell to his knees, gripping his chest as a surge of white-hot pain shot through him. His teeth clenched, veins bulging from his neck as his body arched backward. It felt like something inside him was being pulled apart, his mind screaming with every second of it.

Stop. Stop. Make it stop!

He collapsed onto his hands and knees, his breath ragged, eyes squeezed shut. Sweat dripped from his brow as the pain began to fade. His chest still throbbed, but the overwhelming burn was gone. Slowly, he opened his eyes, gasping for air like he'd been underwater.

"Get it… off me," he panted. His fingers hovered over the mark, but he didn't dare touch it. It still glowed faintly, but the pain was gone. What is this thing?

"You are the catalyst."

He froze.

That voice. He knew it. It wasn't just a memory this time. It was here.

He whipped his head around, scanning the area. "WHO SAID THAT?!" he shouted, his voice echoing back at him.

Nothing answered. No figures in the mist, no eyes watching him from the shadows. But the hum from the Rift grew louder. The pulsing beat matched the rhythm of his heart.

No, not matched. Synchronized.

His heart beat, and the Rift pulsed at the exact same moment.

Victor staggered to his feet, his eyes locked on the swirling energy in the air. His breathing slowed, his muscles tense. His mind tried to piece it all together. The whispers. The mark. The Rift.

"You're connected, aren't you?" he said aloud, eyes narrowing. He pointed at the Rift like it could understand him. "You did this to me."

The hum rose, as if responding to his words. It wasn't loud, but he felt it in his bones.

"You think this is funny, huh?!" He stepped forward, heart pounding harder with every word. "Branding me like I'm one of your little Zhorul freaks? What do you want from me?! HUH?!"

The hum stopped.

Silence.

Victor's breathing slowed, his anger fading into confusion. Why did it stop? The world felt hollow without that hum, like the background of existence had been ripped away. His eyes shifted, scanning for danger.

Then, it spoke.

"You are the catalyst."

This time, it wasn't a whisper. It was a voice — loud, clear, and everywhere at once. It didn't echo. It overpowered everything.

Victor stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a loose rock. "What… what do you mean?!"

"You will burn away the old."

His eyes widened. He didn't know what that meant, but something about the words shook him to his core.

"No," he growled, pointing at the Rift. "You're wrong. I'm nobody. I'm not your 'catalyst' or whatever you're calling me. You got the wrong person."

"We never get it wrong."

The Rift pulsed. A shockwave rolled through the cavern, rattling the ground beneath him. He stumbled, barely catching himself before falling.

"No!" Victor roared, slamming his fist into the stone at his side. "I'm not your tool! I don't care what you think I am!"

The mark on his chest flared with heat. He hissed, pressing his hand over it, but it only grew hotter. It wasn't burning him — it was filling him. Power surged through his veins like liquid fire, and for a moment, his eyes glowed the same orange-red as the mark.

He gasped. His fingers twitched. The air around him shimmered, distorting like heat rising from scorched earth.

The Rift pulsed again.

Victor felt it this time — felt it in him. It wasn't just the Rift's pulse. It was his.

His breathing slowed. His fingers stopped shaking. He gazed down at his hands, turning them over slowly. Something's different. He could feel it. Power. Raw, unshaped, waiting to be used.

He looked up at the Rift, eyes narrowed. "You think you can control me?" he muttered, his breath fogging the air. "You think you can make me your 'catalyst'? Fine. But I don't follow anyone's orders. Not yours. Not theirs."

He stepped forward, closer to the Rift, his eyes locked on its swirling form.

"You woke something in me," he said, his voice cold as steel. He glanced down at the glowing mark on his chest, lips curling into a smirk. "And now, I'm going to burn you out."

The Rift pulsed in response.

The mark on his chest flared.

Victor smiled.

"Let's see who burns first."