The night in Eseria was like the sigh of a forgotten deity—heavy and cold. The city of Duskstar, once glorious but now decaying, crouched beneath sparse starlight that seemed on the verge of flickering out. The taint of corruption spread like invisible ink along the city's edges, bringing with it a chill and despair that seeped deep into the bones.
Far on the other side of Duskstar, atop a weathered and long-abandoned clock tower, a figure stood motionless, blending into the shadows like a statue. Selya Nightsong, the wandering shadow witch, was not entirely at peace. Her body, wrapped in layers of dark clothing, trembled slightly, and her pale, nearly translucent fingers instinctively pressed against her chest.
Just moments ago, a faint but unmistakably pure surge of energy had pierced through the suffocating miasma of corruption in the air, rippling like a stone cast into a stagnant pond. It had struck the deepest secret within her.
The Starfall Fragment!
That long-lost shard, bearing the last hope of the stars and an ancient curse, had been activated!
Beneath the heavy layers of clothing covering Selya's chest, a faint but resolute blue-white glow pulsed to life. Like a captive star, it throbbed within her—both the core of her existence and a lighthouse ceaselessly battling the surrounding darkness. This "Star Core Fragment" was the foundation of her being, the only thing that allowed her to temporarily suppress the shadow corruption that had plagued her since birth.
But now, this fragment resonated violently with the activation of its kind in the distance, sending sharp, soul-rending pain through her. Yet beneath the agony, there was an odd, almost yearning tremor. She could sense it—the energy radiating from the activated Starfall Fragment was small in quantity, but it carried a primal, pure stellar radiance, the very "nourishment" her fragment desperately needed. Or perhaps, it was the temporary "antidote" that could slow the relentless erosion of corruption within her.
More importantly, she understood the significance of that Starfall Fragment. It was not merely a stone imbued with energy. It was a key to a secret, a linchpin holding together the precarious balance of this crumbling world—and perhaps, the bait that could lure an even greater catastrophe. No matter what, it could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands, especially not those of ignorant fools or those with ulterior motives.
"Who…" Selya's ice-blue eyes gleamed with dangerous light beneath the shadows, like a snow leopard hunting in the dark. Her voice was low and hoarse, as if unused for a long time, carrying an inhuman chill. "Who awakened it?"
She closed her eyes slightly, immersing herself fully in her senses. Shadow magic extended like tendrils, silently spreading and probing every corner of the city. The residual stellar energy in the air was faint, but to her—the last "Starborn Guardian"—it was as clear as a beacon in the night.
The energy's trail was unstable, bearing the chaotic aftermath of a sudden outburst and a trace of… the bloody scent of a mortal, mingled with pain and shock?
Blood?
Had blood activated it?
Selya's brow furrowed slightly. There were many ways to awaken a Starfall Fragment, but blood as a medium usually indicated a connection, however faint, between the activator and the stars. A descendant of the Starborn bloodline? In this age of fading magic, pure Starborn blood was as rare as myth.
Whoever it was, they must now be suffering the backlash of stellar energy. This might be her best chance to reclaim the fragment.
Without hesitation, Selya's form melted into the darkness like ink, soundlessly sliding down from the clock tower's peak. She made no noise, light as a feather, landing softly in the shadowed alleyway below.
The hunt had begun.
Selya's tracking skills were less a learned technique and more an innate instinct, a talent born of her symbiosis with darkness. She relied not on sight or smell, but on her acute sensitivity to energy flows and the unique abilities granted to her by the shadows themselves.
The city's shadows became her allies. She moved along walls, her silhouette stretching and twisting in the sparse moonlight, blending seamlessly with her surroundings. At times, she dissolved into a wisp of near-imperceptible black smoke, flitting between rooftops and arches. Other times, she slipped into the reflections of puddles, gliding soundlessly like a fish. Passersby and night patrols remained oblivious to her presence as if she were nothing more than a minor wrinkle in the fabric of the night.
The trail of stellar energy in the air was like a broken golden thread, meandering through the city's polluted atmosphere. It was not strong—even weak—but its purity was unmistakable. Selya could sense the pain etched into its newly awakened vibrations.
"Does it hurt?" The corner of her lips curled into a cold smile—not mockery, but something closer to pitying understanding. "The gifts of the stars are never free."
She followed the energy's path, swiftly navigating the labyrinthine streets of the city. Duskstar's layout was chaotic and complex, with remnants of grand plazas and wide boulevards from the aristocratic districts of old, alongside the cramped, tangled alleyways of the slums. Gothic spires stood beside dilapidated shacks, the stench of decay everywhere.
Selya knew the city intimately, as though she were its ghostly denizen. She knew which paths avoided guards' eyes, which ruins served as vantage points, and which sewer entrances could cut across blocks.
The energy trail led to a dilapidated district once home to fallen noble families. Their mansions and gardens now lay empty, rotting in silence.
"A child of the Morningstar family?" Selya wondered. The Morningstars were an ancient but long-declined Starborn lineage, their bloodline was said to be so thin it was nearly undetectable. If a descendant had accidentally activated the Starfall Fragment, it would make sense.
She quickened her pace, shadows flowing beneath her feet, propelling her forward like a specter. The target was close now; the stellar energy's vibrations grew clearer, tinged with suppressed pain and… a faint, almost imperceptible wariness.
Oh? Had she been noticed?
Selya paused mid-step, her icy gaze flickering with amusement. It seemed this "child" was not as dull as she'd assumed. Even while enduring the agony of stellar backlash, they could sense the danger of being hunted. Interesting.
Lian Morningstar felt caught between ice and fire. Inside his body, the backlash of stellar energy brought pain like red-hot needles twisting in his marrow, each heartbeat sending fresh waves of torment. A cold, invasive sensation crept along his veins, as though freezing and draining his life force. Yet at the same time, the Starfall Fragment he'd hidden against his chest emitted a faint, steady warmth—like the last embers in the hands of a dying man, a reminder that what he'd experienced was no illusion.
After fleeing that suffocating study, he had no clear destination. Perhaps he'd sought herbs to dull the pain, or perhaps he'd simply wanted to escape the oppressive emptiness of his ancestral home—or maybe, just maybe, he'd wanted to put some distance between himself and the stone that was both hope and curse.
He tightened the rough cloak around his shoulders, keeping his head low, blending into the sparse nighttime crowds. But before long, an indescribable sense of danger coiled around his spine like a venomous serpent.
It wasn't a tangible gaze or audible sound, but something more primal—a creeping dread, as though unseen eyes watched him intently from some hidden corner. The air grew thick, the shadows around him seeming to writhe with unseen malice.
Was it his imagination? Had the backlash left his nerves too raw?
Lian couldn't be sure, but he trusted his instincts. The greedy eyes at the auction were still fresh in his mind—who was to say someone hadn't followed him, hoping to steal the Starfall Fragment he'd spent his entire fortune on?
He quickened his pace, his heart pounding like a drum. He didn't look back, but every muscle tensed, his senses sharpening to their limits. He could hear his ragged breathing, the distant footsteps of night travelers—and among them, a rhythm so light it was nearly imperceptible, yet somehow… inescapable?
Lian abruptly turned into a narrow, garbage-strewn alley. He knew this path well—it led to a secluded square with multiple exits, perfect for shaking off pursuit.
Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain in his skull, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping on the uneven cobblestones. The footsteps behind him seemed to vanish, but the sensation of being watched clung like a curse, growing sharper, closer!
Whoever was following him was skilled.
The realization sank like a stone in his gut. He was no trained soldier or spy, just a half-baked noble with more theory than practice and a body weaker than most. Against a professional hunter, he stood little chance.
The alley opened into the square. At its center stood a dried-up fountain, overgrown with moss, surrounded by abandoned houses with empty windows like hollow eyes in the moonlight.
Just as Lian rushed into the square, preparing to choose an escape route, a faint, icy breeze brushed the back of his neck.
He froze, then slowly turned.
At the mouth of the alley he'd just left, a figure now stood—as though it had been waiting there all along.
Cloaked in dark fabric, the figure was not tall, even somewhat slender. The hood obscured most of its face, revealing only a pale jawline and thin, tightly pressed lips in the moonlight. It stood perfectly still at the border of shadow and light, exuding an aura of quiet menace.
There were no threatening shouts, no glint of drawn steel—not even a single unnecessary movement. Yet Lian felt a chill unlike any before, shooting from his soles to the crown of his head. It was a pure, emotionless threat, the sensation of being locked onto by an apex predator with no escape.
The feeling of being watched was gone, replaced by something far more direct, far heavier. The figure's presence was cold and abyssal, merging seamlessly with the surrounding darkness, as though it were night itself given form.
Lian took an involuntary step back, his hand clutching the Starfall Fragment. Its warmth was his only comfort now. He knew—this figure was here for the stone.
"You…" His voice was hoarse. He tried to steady himself, but his body trembled from pain and fear. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The figure didn't answer immediately. Moonlight outlined the vague contours beneath its hood, shadows writhing at its feet like living things.
Then, at last, it moved. It lifted its head slightly, the hood's shadows receding to reveal ice-blue eyes. Those eyes held no trace of human emotion—only a coldness like eternal frost, and a barely restrained killing intent that seemed to freeze its prey in place.
"Give it to me," the figure's voice was the sound of cracking ice, clear and commanding. "That stone does not belong to you."
The moment the words fell, an invisible pressure descended, the air in the square thickening as though frozen solid. Under the moonlight, Selya's form grew more spectral, her murderous aura flaring like a reaper's scythe about to fall.
The danger was imminent.