The forest was quiet again. Too quiet.
Ren's boots sank slightly into the damp soil as he slowed his steps, his breath visible in the thin mist curling above the riverbank. The moonlight broke through the gaps in the clouds, scattering silver across the surface of the water. It was peaceful, deceptively so.
He tilted his head toward the sound of soft footsteps behind him. Lyra walked carefully, her robe fluttering faintly. The glow that usually surrounded her had dimmed to a soft shimmer, just enough to see. For once, she looked… fragile.
Ren stopped beside a fallen log and dropped down to sit. His body ached from the earlier battle, every muscle screaming in quiet protest. The faint traces of beast resonance still burned beneath his skin, but he forced it down, steadying his breath.
Lyra watched him silently before kneeling beside him. "You shouldn't have pushed your core like that," she said softly. "Even the Star Wolf's resonance has limits."
Ren gave a short laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "You say that like I had a choice."
She frowned. "You always have a choice, Ren. You just refuse to see it."
The tension between them wasn't new—it had always been there, a strange thread of conflict and connection that tied them together. Ren had always been reckless, and Lyra, the light that tried to keep him from burning himself out. But this time felt different. The weight of silence pressed harder than before.
After a long pause, Ren finally looked up. "You're glowing again," he said.
Lyra blinked, glancing down at her hands. The faint silver light rippled along her skin, reacting to her pulse. "It's… involuntary. The resonance between us hasn't settled since we merged in the last fight."
Ren tilted his head. "Merged? You make it sound like we're some kind of experiment."
Her lips curved slightly. "Aren't we? Two halves of a weapon that shouldn't exist."
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked toward the horizon where the mist thickened, curling between the trees. Somewhere in that haze, he could still feel the faint vibration of something ancient—the remnants of the beast's power they had just faced.
Lyra followed his gaze. "It's gone for now. But you felt it too, didn't you? The shift in the world's pulse."
Ren nodded slowly. "It wasn't just the beast. The energy… it was drawn somewhere. Like something is calling to it."
Lyra's fingers brushed the edge of her pendant. A shard of crystal hung there, faintly glowing. "Then whatever it is, it's connected to the Star Core. Maybe to you."
He gave her a skeptical look. "To me?"
She turned to meet his eyes, and in that moment, the air between them thickened with something unspoken. "The resonance responded to you first. Not me. The beast called your name before it fell. You can't deny that."
Ren looked away. "Names mean nothing to things that don't understand them."
But his words sounded hollow, even to himself. He could still hear it—the low growl of the beast as it bowed its head before vanishing, whispering the same title again and again in the language of the stars.
Sovereign.
Lyra reached out, gently touching his shoulder. Her hand was warm despite the cold air. "You don't have to carry that alone."
Ren's breath caught. For a moment, he almost leaned into her touch. Almost.
Then, with quiet stubbornness, he stood. "We should move before the mist thickens. The scouts won't wait forever."
Lyra watched him, her expression unreadable. "Running again?"
"Surviving," he said simply.
They walked in silence for a while. The moon followed them between the trees, casting their shadows long and thin. Somewhere, an owl called. The faint sound of rushing water guided them deeper into the forest until they reached the base of an ancient stone bridge, broken in half by time.
Ren crouched, running his hand across the old carvings etched into the stones. "These markings… they're the same as the seal in the ruins."
Lyra knelt beside him, tracing one of the symbols with her glowing fingertip. The mark pulsed faintly in response. "This was once a Starlink Gate," she said. "A path that connected realms before the collapse."
"Can it still be used?"
She shook her head. "Not without the core crystal. And we both know who has it now."
Ren's jaw tightened. "Rian."
Lyra's tone softened. "He's not beyond saving."
Ren gave her a sharp look. "He's the one who shattered the seal. The one who killed half our team."
"He was consumed by resonance. The beast energy corrupted him—"
"And you think I'll just forgive that?"
Lyra didn't answer. She looked away, her eyes reflecting the light of the stars above. "Forgiveness isn't the same as forgetting."
For a long time, the only sound was the wind whispering through the grass. Then, quietly, Ren said, "If we find him, I'll end it myself."
Lyra's hand trembled slightly, but she didn't argue. She simply stood, her expression composed again. "Then let's hope we never do."
Ren turned his gaze toward the broken bridge once more. Somewhere beyond that gap lay the path to the next fragment of the Star Core—and the truth about the Sovereign title that haunted his dreams.
A faint shimmer caught his eye near the riverbank. He walked closer and knelt. There, embedded in the mud, was a fragment of translucent crystal. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.
Lyra gasped. "That's—"
"The beast's heart," Ren finished, reaching out carefully. The moment his fingers brushed the shard, a surge of warmth coursed through him. His vision blurred, and for a heartbeat, he saw a vast expanse of stars swirling within the darkness. Voices echoed—familiar, distant, calling his name.
When the vision faded, he was kneeling again, the shard glowing softly in his hand. Lyra was beside him, her expression filled with awe and fear.
"What did you see?" she asked.
Ren hesitated. "A city made of light… and a gate leading nowhere."
Lyra's lips parted. "Then it's true. The Star Path still exists."
Ren closed his fist around the shard, the glow seeping through his fingers. "And it's waiting for us."
The mist around them thickened, curling like phantom smoke. Above, the moon dimmed as clouds gathered, heavy with the scent of rain.
Lyra stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ren… whatever you saw, it's changing you."
He looked down at her, the silver glow of her eyes reflected in his own. "Maybe it's too late to stop it."
Their gazes locked—too long, too quiet. The space between them crackled faintly with the energy they shared. Then, slowly, Ren reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
"Stay close," he said.
Lyra's reply was soft, almost lost to the wind. "I always do."
Lightning flickered in the distance. The world felt like it was holding its breath.
The storm was coming.
---
The first drops of rain fell just as they started moving again.
The scent of wet earth filled the air, and the rhythm of water against leaves became their silent companion. Ren adjusted his cloak, pulling it over his shoulders as he glanced at Lyra walking beside him. Her glow flickered faintly, barely visible now that the mist had thickened into a veil.
They followed the narrow trail winding along the ridge. The sound of the river below faded with every step until only the storm remained.
"Once the rain passes, we'll reach the northern ruins," Ren said quietly. "We can rest there for the night."
Lyra nodded but didn't respond. Her eyes were distant, fixed on something beyond the fog.
"What is it?" Ren asked.
She hesitated before whispering, "The resonance is reacting again. The shard you took—it's calling to something nearby."
Ren stopped walking. "How close?"
Her hand trembled slightly as she pressed her palm to the ground. The glow in her veins pulsed, and her expression darkened. "Too close. It's moving toward us."
Before Ren could reply, the forest around them came alive. The shadows between the trees rippled, and from within them, five figures emerged—cloaked, silent, and heavy with murderous intent. The faint glint of red light shimmered beneath their hoods.
Ren drew his blade in one swift motion, its edge flaring faintly with silver resonance. "Specters," he muttered.
Lyra stepped back, light blooming around her hand. "No… not just specters. They're bound by a contract."
The air crackled. One of the cloaked figures raised its arm, and a chain of black energy lashed out toward Ren. He dodged, rolling to the side as the chain struck a tree, splintering it in half.
"Stay behind me!" he shouted.
But Lyra didn't obey. Instead, she stepped forward, lifting her other hand. A radiant barrier burst forth, intercepting another strike. Sparks of silver light scattered through the rain, illuminating her determined expression.
"Don't order me around, Ren," she said sharply. "You're not the only one who can fight."
Ren almost smiled despite the chaos. "You always pick the worst moments to argue."
Another chain came whipping through the air, and this time Ren caught it mid-swing. He pulled hard, dragging the cloaked attacker toward him. The figure's mask cracked, revealing a hollow face—no flesh, no soul, just the echo of something that used to live.
Ren's blade sliced through it cleanly, and the specter disintegrated into fragments of dark mist. But as soon as it vanished, two more emerged from the trees, faster and stronger than before.
"They're endless," Lyra gasped. "Something's feeding them!"
Ren's eyes darted toward the glowing shard in his pouch. The crystal pulsed violently, resonating with the specters' energy. "It's this thing. They're drawn to it!"
"Then throw it away!"
He shook his head. "If I do, we'll lose the trail to the Star Path."
"Ren—!"
But before she could finish, one of the specters lunged at her. Ren moved without thinking, crossing the distance in an instant. The chain grazed his shoulder, tearing through his armor, but he ignored the pain and plunged his blade straight into the specter's chest.
Silver light exploded outward. The remaining enemies staggered, their forms flickering. Lyra took the chance—she lifted both hands and released a burst of radiance so bright it burned through the fog. The air hummed, and the rain briefly halted mid-fall.
When the light faded, the specters were gone. Only silence remained.
Ren dropped to one knee, panting. His blade dimmed, its resonance nearly spent. Lyra rushed to him, kneeling at his side. "You're bleeding."
He gave a low chuckle. "Nothing new."
"Stop joking." Her voice trembled. "You're hurting yourself every time you use that power. The Sovereign energy wasn't meant for a mortal vessel."
Ren glanced at her, eyes half-lidded. "Maybe I'm not as mortal as I thought."
Lyra froze. For a moment, she didn't recognize the tone in his voice—it wasn't arrogance, but something deeper, heavier. Like a memory that didn't belong to him.
"Ren…"
He looked up at her. The rain had stopped, leaving droplets clinging to his hair and lashes. "Back in the ruins, when the beast bowed to me… I saw flashes. Not just of light, but of people. Faces I didn't know, calling me by that same name. Sovereign."
Lyra's heart clenched. "Then it's true. You were connected to them—before this life."
Ren didn't answer immediately. He stared at his reflection in a puddle nearby, watching the faint glow of his eyes flicker. "If that's true, then every choice I've made since the beginning… wasn't mine."
Lyra's hand shot out, gripping his arm tightly. "Don't say that. You're still you, Ren. Whatever you were, whatever you might have been—it doesn't erase who you are now."
For a heartbeat, their eyes locked. The distance between them vanished, replaced by something raw and unguarded.
"Lyra…"
She swallowed hard, her pulse racing. "You keep trying to carry the world alone. You push everyone away, even when they're the ones who want to save you."
Ren gave a small, tired smile. "Maybe I'm just afraid of what happens if I stop."
Lyra didn't think. She just moved—closing the space between them, pressing her forehead to his. The contact was light, but it sent a tremor through both of them.
"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered. "Not with me."
For once, Ren didn't pull away. The sound of the forest returned slowly—the gentle drip of rain, the distant rustle of leaves.
He exhaled, his voice barely a murmur. "You always find a way to say things I can't argue with."
"Then don't argue," she said softly.
He laughed under his breath, the sound warm despite the chill. "Fine. Just this once."
They stayed like that for a while—two souls breathing in rhythm beneath the silent sky.
Then, as the wind shifted, Lyra's glow brightened suddenly. She jerked back, alarm flashing across her face. "Something's wrong."
Ren immediately reached for his blade. "What is it?"
"The shard—it's stabilizing. But the resonance… it's forming a pattern."
Before either could react, the crystal in Ren's pouch erupted in light. The ground beneath them trembled, and a vast sigil blazed across the earth, spanning the entire clearing.
Lyra's voice was drowned out by the rising hum. "It's activating a Gate!"
Ren shielded her as a beam of pure light shot skyward, piercing through the clouds. The wind roared, dragging leaves and dust into a spiraling vortex. His voice strained against the chaos. "Hold on to me!"
"I'm not letting go!"
The light swallowed them whole.
When the world finally steadied again, everything was different.
They stood in the middle of an ancient courtyard—stone towers crumbled around them, and the sky above shimmered with threads of starlight.
Ren tightened his grip on his sword, his pulse quickening. "Where are we?"
Lyra's eyes widened in awe. "This is… the Star Citadel."
Ren frowned. "That's impossible. The Citadel vanished centuries ago."
She stepped forward, her glow reflecting off the marble ruins. "Not vanished. Hidden. Waiting for its Sovereign to return."
Ren's heart pounded, the weight of her words sinking in. "You mean—"
Lyra turned back to him, her voice trembling between reverence and fear. "You've just opened the path home."
---