Chapter 32 Starlight #2
The air around him shuddered, compressing in on itself as it was sucked into the black hole.
He drew her magic towards him, trying to absorb it.
Their powers collided, their polarizing forces clashing and whirling, hers ultimately fragmenting against his.
Damien took only excess, leaving her to gain control of the rest.
She closed her eyes and focused.
She envisioned the warmth that always nestled in her chest—not as something foreign or separate but as a part of her. A single entity, not divided. She pictured herself shrinking to the size of a candle flame, small enough to be blown out.
Then, like a burnt-out star vanishing from the night sky, her magic began to retreat.
Her skin cooled and relief flooded her mind.
She could do this. With the last of her strength, she forced her magic to yield—and it obeyed.
The flames died. The glow of skin dulled as her magic folded back into its rightful place.
Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the scorched earth, her body trembling as the final traces of magic faded away. Only then did she realize she had transformed at some point.
She lifted her head, disoriented, searching the aftermath to find Damien smiling at her. Not with triumph or joy but rather with deep, weary relief. With a flick of his great horn, he then closed the black hole.
Luna stirred and it took her a moment to realize she was alive. Her ears flattened against her skull. She couldn’t tell if the world was buzzing or if the hollow sound was only ringing in her mind. Her body ached, every shift sending new waves of agony through her.
She fought to rise, legs trembling beneath her and a low groan escaping her throat before she could stop it, every shaky breath scraping her raw lungs.
Pain lanced every movement, but it was her hooves that hurt worst of all—no longer strong, but raw and tender; the damage from her torn nails carried over into her unicorn form.
The thought of stepping forward made her stomach turn.
Her foreleg pulsed where the arrow had pierced her, each heartbeat stoking the wound’s slow, burning ache.
It was a miracle she could stand at all. She couldn’t even remember when sleep had overtaken her—it had been less a choice, and more of a surrender to the void.
The world around her was eerily silent. The sharp tang of burnt earth hung thick in the air. Somehow, impossibly, she was whole—despite the hell she’d unleashed.
She braced herself and looked out over the ruin she had wrought. It didn’t feel real, more like a story she’d been told . . . a nightmare she’d woken from. Yet the vast emptiness stretching before her was undeniable.
The smell of fruit wafted before her, sweet and fresh.
Her gaze dropped.
There, amidst the blackened earth, sat a small, neat pile of red apples. The stark contrast—the absurdity of the little pile—almost made her laugh.
Almost.
Instead, she dragged her attention towards the two figures in the distance. Had they done this? Damien and Gregory stood together, both still in unicorn form, deep in conversation, oblivious to her waking.
I could run. The thought came unbidden, sharp and clear. The conversation she had overheard last night replayed in her mind. Damien planned to give her to the Darkened One—maybe that was why he fought so hard to save her. Because doing so meant getting his sister back.
Her nostrils flared. She could barely walk, let alone run. She swallowed hard, trying and failing to quickly decipher a plan.
She glanced back at Damien; his silhouette was draped in shadows as if waiting for the next threat to surface.
I could stay with him, she realized. Let him protect me until I’m strong enough to leave.
Once I’m in Eloria, I could disappear before he can set his plans into motion.
I’d finally be free. The thought wasn’t comforting, but it was her only chance.
For now, she’d stay by his side. Use him.
Even if his protection came with its own dangers, it was better than trying to flee and face more of the king’s men elsewhere by herself.
She grabbed an apple and bit into its crisp flesh, savouring the burst of sweetness that filled her mouth.
The sharp crunch caught their attention. Damien turned first, his gaze locking onto her. There was something raw in his expression—relief, perhaps, but also something darker, heavier.
He started towards her, each step impossibly sturdy . . . strong even. How had he already recovered? It only further proved that he was capable of inflicting far worse damage than the torture she had endured.
Her body moved without thinking—several small, retreating steps. Pain flared, but she didn’t stop.
Damien paused, his eyes searching her face. Slowly, he eased back a step, giving her space.
“You’re okay,” he said, uncertain, as if he needed to hear it to believe it himself.
“Yes,” she answered hollowly. The weight of everything she had endured pressed down on her and the apple she was still chewing turned bland on her tongue; she forced herself to swallow it down.
Though she had been mocked and humiliated: Her hair hacked off, her nails pried from their beds, her body bled dry .
. . It was her heart that ached the most. Looking at Damien no longer brought her that comforting sense of safety.
She felt exposed, weaker than she ever had, but she didn’t admit any of that to him, instead she said, “I never want to see another human again.”
“You’ll be safe in Eloria. I will make sure of that.” He spoke with such conviction she almost believed his lies.
But that’s all his words were. Lies. Sweet, poisonous lies were all that men seemed capable of giving her.
A scuffing sound drew her attention. She startled, turning to find Gregory a few feet away, pawing the ground.
“Alright, starlight and shadows,” he said lightly, though the tightness in his eyes betrayed the forced calm.
“We should get moving before someone notices a trio of unicorns standing out in the open.”
Luna blinked at him, her thoughts moving at a sloth’s pace. “I don’t think I can transform. How are we going to get there?”
“We left horses when we came for your rescue. They are long gone by now. We will have to travel as we are.”
Something sank in her chest. Walking—on shattered hooves—seemed as impossible as climbing Mount Marmen.
It was the largest mountain in Ghelvina, said to hold tales of the darkest horrors at its peak.
Of course, no one who had climbed it and reached the top had survived to confirm whether the stories were true.
Surely there had to be a better option. Wouldn’t it be dangerous to roam the countryside as unicorns?
What if a group of humans spotted them? If they didn’t torture her for her magic like Tyrina, they’d probably try to snatch her up for a ridiculous reward from the king.
The idea of being dragged back to the palace to be imprisoned and made a slave to a wicked king’s magical whims sent a cold shiver sliding down her spine.
Luna shifted her weight and a sharp cry escaped her before she could stop it. Her foreleg buckled slightly under her, the arrow wound flaring with fresh pain.
In an instant, Damien’s shadow magic wrapped around her injured leg, dark tendrils weaving over the wound. She felt the deep, searing ache lessen as the magic stitched the torn flesh, easing the immediate damage.
But the exhaustion didn’t lift. Her broken hooves remained, her body weak and trembling; her magic reserves hollowed out.
Damien motioned to Gregory, who nodded and walked over to Luna.
“Your magic cannot be replenished with other magic.” Luna nodded, recalling Damien explaining how magic was restored—his was with the night, and hers—well, she couldn’t remember how hers was replenished.
The sun or stars, perhaps? “Nor can magic grow your hair or help with your hooves, but I can help, at least, numb the pain a little.”
She nodded wearily.
Gregory gently pressed the tip of his horn to her shoulder, and a green light pulsed, washing through her, numbing the worst of the pain.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the words sticking in her throat.
Energy funneled through her, as if Gregory had breathed life back into her. Her legs no longer shook beneath her, and for a moment, she felt like she could run the rest of the way to their destination.
She took a single step forward, less than convinced. Her bruised body ached with fatigue, the pain present but duller, as if muffled by a thick wall.
Gregory tipped his head. “It’s the least I can do.”
Pity coloured his gaze, and Luna turned away, suddenly acutely aware of her brokenness.
Shame filled her.
Whatever strength she had gathered now hung off her like a tattered cloth, stripped down to sorrow and self-consciousness.