Chapter 24 Kieran
KIERAN
“What about her?” Steele’s voice was furious, stripped of all composure as it boomed around us. “What about everything she’s giving up to hold the stars within her? She can’t live like this. She’s going to die!”
I felt the echo of his rage ripple through the bond—hot, wild, protective.
It wrapped around me like a second skin, jagged and shaking and full of fear he couldn’t hide anymore.
His arms were still locked around me, as if he could anchor me to this plane with nothing but his hold and the force of his will.
I wanted to reach for him, to ease some of that frantic ache in his voice, but I couldn’t even lift my hand.
Not when it felt like my entire body was still being hollowed out by celestial fire.
The Creator turned at last, her glowing eyes shifting from the ruin around us to me.
Bastian’s magic flared through the bond as he slid beside me, his gaze frantic as he gripped my hand. Gabe dropped beside him, hand trembling as it ghosted over my cheek.
Fear shot through me as I waited for my power to burn them as it had Steele, but there was no trace of pain or burning skin after a few moments.
The Creator gave me a knowing look as a gentle smile lifted her lips. “I have given them immunity to the energy so that those you love can be with you. It is the least of what I owe you for all you’ve sacrificed."
Ronan finally allowed his shadow creatures to fade, collapsing into smoke now that his attention was fully on me, his presence a steady thrum of loyalty and devotion pressing against my mind. Niz crossed to my side last, his arm slung around Ronan’s shoulder as he lowered himself.
I was surrounded by them at least. The gravity of my world.
“Lie her flat,” the Creator demanded softly. She stepped closer, light swirling in her wake like galaxies followed her footsteps.
Steele’s grip didn’t loosen. His eyes found mine as he whispered hoarsely. “She needs her rune maker—I can’t…”
“It’s okay,” I told him through the bond, the words fragile but certain. “We have to trust her. You have done everything you can, Steele.”
His eyes burned into mine, wide and stricken, but he nodded. Slowly, reluctantly, as if every muscle in his body rebelled against the motion.
The Creator knelt at the top of my head, her gaze falling to my chest where his rune burned brightly. Her expression shifted from curious to admiration as she lifted her hand and her fingers hovered above it.
“This,” she murmured, seemingly more to herself than anyone else, “is a beautiful rune. So expertly crafted. I can hardly believe it’s managed to shield her soul from the stars for even this long, yet it has.”
The words struck as divine acknowledgment of something extraordinary.
My eyes found Steele’s once more and he was already looking at me with disbelief, as if somewhere deep inside, he still doubted that what he’d done was enough. Like I was going to slip away any moment.
Even through the pain and fire still clawing through my chest, I felt the truth of what he’d done—how he had held on, forged something utterly new from love and desperation and all the broken, beautiful pieces of himself.
Of our love. How he had believed in me, even when he hadn’t believed in himself.
I reached for him through the bond.
“I always knew you could do it,” I whispered, and the golden weight of truth rang in every syllable. “You just needed to believe in yourself.”
His throat worked like he was trying not to cry, and then slowly he lifted my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles. The kiss lingered. It was gentle and reverent and full of a thousand unsaid things.
As I focused on the love from all of my mates pouring into me, the Creator’s hand passed into my chest with a gentleness that defied logic. There was no tearing or broken bones, just the sensation of something ancient brushing against the soul-deep ache I was carrying within.
I arched with a choked breath, every nerve sparking to life as her fingers curled around the core of the magic clinging to me. There was no pain, just the weight of something immense being lifted from within that had begun to devour me.
And then suddenly it was gone.
My lungs expanded fully for the first time since the stars had entered me, the breath trembling as it passed through lips parted in awe. My ribs no longer screamed with pressure, no longer ached like a cage trying to contain a sun.
In her hand hovering above my body, all of the energy of the stars shimmered.
A swirling orb of starlight alive with movement, pulsing like a heart that belonged to the cosmos itself. It spun in slow spirals, silver and indigo and gold folding around each other. Tendrils of energy curled from it, reaching in soft, fluid arcs.
I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to, because outside of my body, there was no pain with it. Just beauty.
My mind couldn’t comprehend that something that had nearly torn me apart could also be this breathtaking. We were seeing a piece of something so vast now sitting weightless in the Creator’s palm. The power that had given me enough energy to be considered a deity for just a brief moment.
Gabe’s breath caught. “Kieran…” His voice was low and shocked. “Your right wing. It’s white.”
I turned my head enough to see out of my peripheral vision at the wings cushioning my body and there it was: pure white feathers I thought I’d never see on myself again.
My past and future were shown in the duality of my wings now. The truth of what I’d carried and survived. Of who I’d become.
The Creator drew my attention once more just as her gaze turned toward the sky, her fingers still curled around the swirling mass of light she’d drawn from my chest. The wind stilled around us as if the world itself paused to bear witness.
Then, with a motion that was somehow both effortless and commanding, she flung the light upward into the heavens. Released to its rightful place.
The energy soared, trailing a ribbon of gold and silver that shimmered.
A hush fell over the battlefield as the stars began to return to their rightful place.
Even the ones that were still descending toward us reverted.
One after another they claimed their rightful place, until dozens more joined the twinkling expanse, blinking into existence.
They spread across the sky in radiant blooms, threading back into constellations.
The color of the sky deepened into rich indigo, a velvet backdrop to the glittering cascade of stars that now danced above us. They pulsed with life, each one thrumming softly in the back of my throat, as if their reawakening spoke to all of the Star Keepers I carried within me.
It was a beauty that made my soul ache in recognition of this astronomical moment. There was a peaceful stillness to my being. All of the restlessness that had been persistent, even when I didn’t know what the energy in me was, was now gone.
Light spilled across Alfemir from the moon and stars now, illuminating the broken stones, the ash, the blood still wet on the ground.
But in that glow, none of it looked ruined.
The city didn’t feel like a battlefield anymore.
It felt like a fresh start for us to rebuild something beautiful in the aftermath of this battle.
“Now all is as it should be,” the Creator said, her voice low and melodic.
She turned to me, eyes glowing as they swept over me. “I healed your body as I stripped the stars from you, but one stubborn star remained within you. Your true star to tend to. It is up to you to place it back in the sky where it belongs and seal it with the rune and your dagger.”
I looked inward and found a slow, steady burn in my chest where the heat no longer scorched, but thrummed comfortably. A pulse that felt like a tether had formed between me and the sky above, to guide me to where my star needed to be.
The star inside me didn’t burn or thrash. It rested there, patient and waiting.
My fingers drifted to the spot just above my heart, where Steele’s rune still glowed faintly beneath my skin, a ghost of his love etched into flesh. I traced the lines with reverence, the warmth of it settling deeper into my chest like an anchor.
This last star wasn't a burden. It was mine to place and set free. To tend to until the next Star Keeper came to relieve me of the duty.
I sat up slowly and each easy inhale felt like a miracle. I looked over at the Creator, still luminous from her own glowing power and in the starlight she had returned to the sky. A quiet, persistent question rolled around in my head.
“What about the other stars without a Keeper?” I asked softly, my voice steady for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Who’s going to tend to them now?”
“I’m awake now,” she answered, and something about the gentle, almost wistful way she said that made my heart throb with warmth. “I will tend to them. I will remain present, and allow time for natural births of more Star Keepers. No more will the burden be forced onto one angel alone.”
A long silence settled over the courtyard as the Creator stood and clasped her hands gently in front of her, bowing her head.
“I owe you—and all those who’ve been lost to the violence of the upper triads—my deepest apologies.”
The breath caught in my chest. Around me, my mates stiffened, the world itself holding still at the weight of the Creator apologizing to us.
“I may be your Creator,” she continued, “but even I am not perfect. I made a grave mistake in where I placed my trust…and in the power I allowed to flourish unchecked. I will spend eternity now working to correct that and ensuring it never happens again.”
None of us moved. None of us spoke. Even Bash, who always had a clever line tucked behind his teeth, seemed stunned into silence.
She smiled at our speechlessness, a soundless chuckle rising in her chest.
“You are stunned,” she said, amusement dancing in her tone.
“But I looked back on all that transpired before joining you here. I watched the weight of survival on your shoulders, and now I will continue to watch over you all. I have a feeling that even without the powers of a deity within you, you will continue to shape this world with your hearts.”
The laughter faded from her lips, but the smile remained. She began to rise into the sky, drifting slowly toward the stars.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat as she whispered, “Rest now. Your duty is done.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks without permission as her form began to dissolve back into the stars above. It seemed almost impossible that all of our fighting and planning was simply done. The weight of that relief crashed through me as my shoulders shook with the weight of my sobs.
One by one, my mates came to me.
Arms folded around my waist from behind, strong and steady, and I knew it was Steele by the way his chest pressed to my spine, anchoring me to this moment.
To my right, Ronan and Niz stood side by side.
Ronan’s hand was warm on my cheek, his forehead brushing mine in a silent promise that we were still here.
Beside him, Niz reached out to squeeze my hand, the tremor in his touch—the reverence of it—saying everything words could not.
Bastian curled around my other side, one hand threading with mine and the other pressed flat to my back as though grounding both of us in our bodies again.
Gabe stood in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders, his presence a steady pulse through the bond, solid and unshakable.
My circle was complete. Whole.
Ronan’s lips brushed the crown of my head. “What now?” he asked softly, voice barely more than a whisper carried in the wind.
I turned, just enough to look at each of them as they stepped back. My chest squeezed with the answer that once upon a time I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to give them.
“I think,” I said shakily, my throat thick with emotion, “that we get to spend the rest of forever figuring that out now.” I smiled, tears blurring the world again. “Finally.”