Chapter Five
I can’t breathe. My lungs seize, desperate for air.
The shock claws at my chest.
He knows.
Ronyn heard him.
Kael knows.
The truth—Lightborne—echoes in the hollow spaces of my mind, louder than the chaos that still lingers in the dark warehouse. My head spins. My chest heaves.
I’m no one. Just a thief. A shadow. A scrappy girl from the slums of Virellin.
But I am also someone—someone fated, marked, destined.
My name was written in the Stars the moment I was born. Under a rare constellation that hasn’t graced the heavens since King Thalmyr himself—The Eye of Lireal.
For twenty summers, I have carried that prophecy like a secret, a promise, and a curse.
The Lightborne. I have whispered those words to myself in the quiet moments when the darkness of the slums threatened to consume me.
They have kept me alive. They have fueled my every step, every choice, every dream of vengeance.
Twenty summers ago, conscription and prophecy brought the Royal Guard to my door—to take me, to use me, like they do to all Starborn children of Dravara. But they didn’t want to stop there—they wanted to abuse my power, to remove me as a threat.
Twenty summers ago, they murdered my parents in cold blood.
I was just a child—five summers old—when the world collapsed around me.
Their screams, raw and agonized, have been the fuel on the fire of my nightmares ever since.
I hear them still, echoing in the darkest corners of my mind. Not even sleep offers reprieve.
I’ll never forget the way my father stood between me and the guards, unyielding even as their blades tore into him. I cannot forget the way my mother clutched me close, whispering her final words as blood soaked her hands. “Live, Little Star. You are our only hope.”
I am the only child in Dravari history to escape conscription. But it cost me everything—my parents, my name, my magic. It's still bound with the ancient spell they put on us at birth. But I’ve felt it stirring—rebelling against its constraints like a caged animal.
Even now, there are pieces missing from that night. From the past. Not just from me, but from the world around me.
Questions that never get asked. Histories no one remembers. As if someone took a blade to our past and carved out the truths too dangerous to leave behind.
Sometimes I wonder what else they stole—what else we’ve forgotten.
But I refuse to forget them.
Their names—Salvis and Lesara—are my prayer and my battle cry. Every night, I fall asleep whispering them like a mantra, their memory the only light in the endless shadow of my grief.
Salvis. Lesara.
Salvis. Lesara.
Salvis. Lesara.
Their deaths will matter. One day, their names will be the last words the King chokes out before I end him—just as he ended them.
They say having a Starborn child is an honor for parents in the Kingdom of Dravara—or so they want you to believe. A blessing bestowed upon them by the Stars themselves, who have deemed them worthy of wielding magic—and paying for the privilege with a lifetime of service to the crown.
Even the Runewrights—Starborn under the Amber Forge constellation—end up drunk on the King’s doctrine. Sweet, scholarly children with a flair for language, crafting and logic become beasts who carve violent runes into weapons without flinching.
But I can see the truth: service is just another word for obedience, and honor is just a prettier word for sacrifice. But that sort of thinking gets you hanged for treason around here.
I have hidden in plain sight, a phantom in the gutters of Virellin. I have thieved and starved, fought and survived. Revryn has given me shelter, trained me, and kept me alive, but the hunger for justice—no, for vengeance—has been my true sustenance.
And now, the Stars have called me to collect on their promise.
I clutch at my chest, squeezing my eyes shut against the brutal reality crashing down around me. The Lightborne mark burns beneath my skin, searing with a light that refuses to be ignored. My fingers dig into my shirt, desperate to claw my fate free, to tear it out and cast it away.
But there’s no running now. No hiding. My destiny has found me, and it demands that I face it.
The warehouse looms around me, its shadows heavy and oppressive, threatening to swallow me whole.
The air is thick with the lingering stench of blood and smoke.
My chest flares with light once again, a cruel beacon that pierces the darkness.
The burning is relentless, a reminder of what I am and what I cannot escape.
I fall to my knees, gasping as if I could extinguish the light inside me with sheer willpower. My hands tremble in recognition—my time has come. The Lightborne mark pulses beneath my palms, a brand that feels too heavy to bear.
“Breathe, Isk. It’s okay. Shhhh,” Ronyn soothes. His voice cuts through the haze, low and steady. His hand finds my back, rubbing slow circles against my spine. His touch is firm but careful, anchoring me to the moment when I feel like I might shatter.
“You’re okay,” he says softly, his tone so at odds with the chaos within me that I almost believe him. “I’m obviously shocked, but listen to me—you’re still you. And I’m still me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
I open my eyes, my vision blurred with unshed tears. Ronyn’s face hovers just inches from mine, his expression raw with concern but unflinching.
For a moment, the weight in my chest eases, and I focus on the steady rhythm of his hand against my back. He’s always been there—through every scrape, every scheme, every impossible situation. And even now, as my world shifts on its axis, he’s here.
“Let’s go home, Isk,” he says, as if nothing has changed at all.
“Elyssara,” I correct him with a whisper, because everything has changed.