The sky above the desert city of Veyrith roiled with shadow and lightning. Not natural lightning—but jagged arcs of violet energy that cracked the heavens open like shattered glass. The storm wasn't weather. It was war.
Aelric stood on the parapets of the outer wall, his starforged armor gleaming beneath the angry sky, eyes narrowed on the approaching tide of shadowcrests. They moved like a black flood across the dunes, thousands of them—twisted beasts of fang and claw, remnants of the old void that had awakened under Morvath's unholy call.
Behind Aelric, the people of Veyrith braced for what might be their final stand. The city's defenders were proud but tired—desert warriors, old priests of flame, and refugees from the ravaged eastern kingdoms. They were not an army. But they would fight like one.
"Thalin!" Aelric shouted above the howling wind. "How long until your wards are ready?"
"Minutes!" the mage called back, his voice tinged with strain. He stood within a ring of runes, his hands glowing with starfire as he poured his power into the ancient wardstones mounted around the wall. "Hold them till then!"
Easier said than done.
Liora was already gone from his side, leaping from the parapet with a cry of fury, her twin blades blazing with heat as she plunged into the enemy's front lines. Aelric winced but didn't stop her. That was her way. And the time for restraint had long passed.
He turned back toward the stairs, Nyara close on his heels. "We make our stand here."
The celestial fox let out a growl that reverberated with power. Her fur shimmered with shifting constellations, eyes locked on the shadowbeasts tearing toward them.
Aelric drew his blade.
It blazed to life, a silver flame running down its length.
"For Eldoria," he whispered—and jumped.
Into the Maw
He hit the sand hard, but he was ready. The blade sang in his hands, meeting the first shadowbeast with a spray of starlight as its claws raked toward him. He ducked beneath the strike, pivoted, and drove his sword through the creature's heart. It howled—then burst into vapor.
Another came at him—twice the size, plated in some kind of dark bone. He blocked its strike with his forearm, the starsteel vambrace absorbing the shock. Then he pushed upward and drove his blade into the beast's skull.
It was chaos. Fire flared from Liora's path, every step she took carving swathes of burning corpses into the horde. Thalin's magic exploded overhead in arcs of blue and white, raining down with precision. Nyara moved like lightning, a comet weaving through darkness, tearing at anything in her path.
But it wasn't enough.
More kept coming.
Aelric was fighting blind now, cuts crisscrossing his arms, blood mixing with sweat. He parried and struck, parried and struck—but the tide wasn't turning. If anything, it was building.
Then the sky screamed.
The Broken Moon
Aelric looked up just in time to see the moon above Veyrith shatter.
Not entirely—but a deep, jagged crack ran through its center, spilling strange light across the world.
The shadowcrests paused.
Then they howled in unison, as if answering some terrible call. A rift tore open in the air above them, and from it descended a creature that froze Aelric's breath in his chest.
It was enormous—part dragon, part void-born nightmare. Wings of obsidian, eyes like planets, its body rippling with void-energy and ancient magic. A crown of jagged horns crowned its head.
Morvath had sent his general.
"The Hollow Tyrant," Thalin gasped from the wall above.
The beast opened its maw, and the sky fell.
A beam of void energy lanced downward, striking the outer walls and vaporizing stone like it was dust. Screams followed, then the rush of retreating soldiers. Panic was seizing the defenders.
"We fall back!" Aelric shouted to Liora. "We regroup inside the citadel!"
"No!" she shouted back, eyes blazing. "We stand!"
But even she knew—this was no ordinary battle. This was annihilation.
Starborn Ascendant
They made it to the inner gates by sheer will, dragging wounded behind them. The Hollow Tyrant loomed in the sky, circling, waiting. It didn't need to rush. It was inevitable.
Aelric collapsed to his knees beside Thalin, his blade scorched and flickering. "How do we kill that?"
"We don't," Thalin said, grim. "But we can slow it."
"Then we do that."
Suddenly, Nyara howled—and the amulet around Aelric's neck flared with impossible heat. It lifted from his chest, hovering before him. The star-rune etched within it spun like a dying sun.
Aelric gritted his teeth.
Memories surged—of the forest trials, the shattered spire, the marshes, the storm.
"You're not ready," the voice of the First Star echoed in his mind.
"I don't care."
He seized the amulet—and fire engulfed him.
The Light Unbound
He rose, not as a boy with a blade—but as something more.
Starborn.
Armor of living light encased him. Wings—not feathered, but forged of pure energy—flared from his back. His blade pulsed with the force of a dying star.
Liora blinked, stunned. "Aelric…?"
"No more running," he said, voice distant, radiant.
He shot skyward, trailing light across the torn skies of Veyrith.
The Hollow Tyrant turned to meet him—and roared.
Their collision cracked the heavens.
Skyfall
The battle that followed would be remembered in songs for generations.
Aelric met the beast in mid-air, blade clashing against its clawed talons. The impact sent shockwaves that leveled towers below. Light versus void, will versus chaos—they spiraled through the sky in a tempest of magic and might.
He slashed at its wings—burned one to ash.
It bit at his arm—tore away starlight.
They fell through clouds and rose again, locked in a death-dance above a dying city.
On the ground, the defenders saw hope reborn.
Thalin, watching from the ruined gate, began chanting—his voice joining with the pulse of the world.
Liora, her strength renewed, rallied the others.
"Don't stop!" she cried. "The stars are with us!"
The Last Blow
Aelric's strength was failing. He felt his heart slowing—his body cracking under the strain of the star's power. But he had one blow left.
As the Hollow Tyrant reared back to unleash another void-beam, Aelric dove straight into its chest.
He didn't aim with his blade—but with his soul.
He drove the Heartstone, still clenched in his palm, deep into the creature's core.
Light exploded.
Aftermath
When the skies cleared, Veyrith still stood.
Barely.
The Hollow Tyrant's body had vanished, its essence sealed within the Heartstone, now dull and cracked.
Aelric fell like a meteor, but Nyara caught him, cushioning his fall. His armor vanished. The light dimmed.
He was Aelric again. Scarred. Tired.
Alive.
A New Storm
Later, as fires were extinguished and the wounded tended, Aelric stood atop the ruined citadel, looking east.
Thalin joined him. "You saved them."
"For now."
"The Hollow Tyrant was only one general."
Aelric nodded. "And Morvath is still out there."
Liora approached, carrying her blades. "The stars gave you their power."
"They did," Aelric said. "But I don't think I'm the only one they'll choose."
He turned to the horizon—where dark clouds gathered anew.
From beyond the edge of the known world, a beacon pulsed once, then vanished.
A call.
Not for war—but for journey.
The Endless Reach. The lost lands beyond time. Where Morvath's master stirred in slumber.
Aelric sheathed his blade.
"The next path lies there," he said.
Liora smirked. "About time."
Thalin adjusted his staff. "Then let's not keep the stars waiting."
They turned together toward the unknown, the wind at their backs and the future burning before them.
To be continued…