Liora's POV
Malachar leads us deeper into the ruins, toward the heart of Starfall where the throne waits.
Every step feels like walking toward my own execution.
Through the bond, I feel Ashuron's emotions churning—rage, fear, desperation. He's planning something. I can sense his mind racing, trying to find a way out that doesn't end with me sacrificing our connection.
But there is no way out. I've known that since the moment the Court spoke.
The corridor opens into a massive chamber. And there, in the center, sits the throne.
It's not made of gold or jewels. It's made of pure starlight, frozen in place, pulsing with ancient power. The ghosts fill the chamber—hundreds of them, maybe thousands—all watching with desperate hope.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Malachar says. "Three centuries I've been trying to access this throne. To claim its power for myself. But it only responds to true Lightborn royal blood." He turns to me with that poisonous smile. "Your blood, little star."
"Let us go," Ashuron snarls. "You have what you want. She's here. Release us from this bargain."
"Oh, I don't think so." Malachar's shadows wrap around both of us, holding us in place. "I need to make sure she actually makes her choice. Can't have you two running off before the price is paid."
The throne pulses brighter, responding to my presence.
Approach, it whispers in my mind. Choose. Power, life, or love. The balance demands payment.
I take a step forward, but Ashuron's voice stops me.
"Liora. Don't."
I turn to face him. Through the bond, I feel everything he's feeling—the three hundred years of loneliness, the brief hope I gave him, the terror of losing me. It breaks my heart.
"I have to," I whisper.
"No, you don't." His golden eyes are burning with intensity. "We can fight him. We can—"
"Can what? Let these souls suffer forever? Let Kira and everyone else die?" I shake my head. "You know there's no other way."
"Then choose power!" His voice cracks. "Give up your magic! You'll be human, but you'll be alive. We'll be alive."
"And the ghosts stay trapped. Malachar wins. The false Lightborn keep their stolen throne." I touch his face gently. "That's not a world worth living in."
Through the bond, he feels my decision solidifying. Feels me choosing duty over happiness.
"You're going to sacrifice our bond," he says flatly. "You're going to choose to give up love."
I can't speak. Can't deny it. He already knows.
"After one day," he continues, and his voice is raw with pain. "After one day of knowing what it feels like to be connected to someone, to not be alone, you're just going to rip it away?"
"I don't want to!" The tears finally break free. "Do you think this is easy? Do you think I want to lose you? But I can't be selfish! I can't choose my happiness over hundreds of innocent lives!"
"Then you're a fool." He pulls against Malachar's shadows, trying to reach me. "You're a fool who thinks being a hero means suffering alone. That's not heroism—that's martyrdom."
"Maybe that's what the world needs right now." I turn away before I lose my courage. "A martyr instead of a monster."
His pain floods through the bond like a knife to my chest.
I walk toward the throne, each step heavier than the last. The starlight reaches for me, welcoming me home.
Sit, the throne commands. Choose.
I'm about to sit when a voice cuts through the chamber.
"Wait."
Everyone turns. Standing in the entrance is someone I never expected to see.
Celeste.
But she's not glowing anymore. The cracks in her skin have spread until she barely looks human. She's dying—actually, truly dying—and from the way she's swaying, she knows it.
"Don't do it," she gasps. "Don't sacrifice yourself for them."
"Why do you care?" I demand. "You tried to kill me. You tried to steal my light."
"Because I'm dying anyway." She stumbles forward, leaving a trail of ash behind her. "Because I've spent twenty years being jealous of you, hating you, trying to prove I was better. And for what? I'm still nobody. Still the fake pretending to be special."
Through the bond, I feel Ashuron's suspicion. This could be another trick.
But Celeste continues, her voice getting weaker. "I heard what the throne said. Power, life, or love. You're going to choose love, aren't you? Going to give up your bond with him to save everyone else?"
"Yes."
"Then don't." She's right in front of me now, looking me in the eyes. "Let me pay the price instead."
Everyone freezes.
"What?" I breathe.
"I'm dying anyway from the stolen magic. I have maybe an hour left." Celeste's smile is sad and broken. "But if I sit on that throne and offer my life—what's left of it—maybe it'll count. Maybe I can do one good thing before I die."
"The throne won't accept her," Malachar says quickly. "She's not true Lightborn. It'll reject her sacrifice."
"Then let it reject me." Celeste looks at the throne with something like longing. "But let me try. Let me be the hero this time instead of the villain."
I stare at my sister—the girl who betrayed me, who hated me, who tried to destroy me. And through all her dying pain, I see something I never expected.
Regret.
"Why?" I whisper. "Why would you do this?"
"Because you were right." Tears stream down her cracked face. "I chose power over love. I chose jealousy over family. And I've been miserable every single day since mother died. You didn't steal anything from me, Liora. I threw it away."
She reaches for the throne.
"No!" Malachar's shadows lash out, trying to stop her.
But the ghosts move faster. They swarm him, their incorporeal forms somehow holding his magic back. The ghost child looks at me with ancient eyes.
"Let her try," she says. "Every soul deserves a chance at redemption."
Celeste sits on the throne before anyone can stop her.
The starlight explodes around her, examining her, judging her. For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then the throne speaks, and this time everyone hears it.
"False light. Stolen power. Corrupted soul." A pause. "But willing sacrifice. True regret. Love buried beneath hate."
The light pulses brighter.
"Acceptable."
"No!" Malachar screams. "That's not how this works! She's not—"
The throne doesn't care what he thinks. It accepts Celeste's offer.
Her body starts dissolving into pure light, feeding the throne's power. But she's smiling—actually smiling—as she burns away.
"I'm sorry, little sister," she whispers. "For everything. Be the star I never could be."
The last of her crumbles into light, and the throne unleashes its full power.
The ghosts begin to glow. One by one, their forms solidify, becoming real again. Not alive—not exactly—but not trapped anymore. Free to move on. Free to rest.
The ghost child looks at her hands in wonder. "We're free," she breathes. "After three hundred years, we're free."
The chamber fills with crying, laughing, thanking. Souls that have suffered for centuries are finally released.
And I'm still standing. Still alive. Still bonded to Ashuron.
Celeste paid the price instead of me.
Malachar's face twists with rage. "This changes nothing! The throne is active now. I can still claim its power!"
He lunges for the throne.
But the moment he touches it, the starlight rejects him violently. It throws him backward so hard he crashes through a pillar.
"You are not worthy," the throne declares. "You who betrayed blood. You who cursed love. You who chose ambition over balance. You will never command the Lost Star Court."
Malachar staggers to his feet, darkness bleeding from his wounds. "Then I'll destroy it! I'll destroy all of you!"
His power explodes outward, but he's weak now. Desperate.
Ashuron steps forward, his shadows rising to meet his brother's attack. "You've already lost, Malachar. The throne has chosen. The prophecy continues. And you'll never touch either of us again."
Their powers collide in the center of the chamber.
But before the battle can truly begin, the throne pulses one more time.
"The first price is paid. But the prophecy remains incomplete. The Daughter of the Fallen Light and the Prince of Night must unite fully—magic, soul, and flesh—to restore true balance. Until then, the Court sleeps once more."
The starlight dims. The throne goes silent.
And in that moment of distraction, Malachar does something I don't expect.
He doesn't attack Ashuron.
He grabs me.
His darkness wraps around my throat, choking off my air. His poisonous smile is right next to my ear.
"If I can't have the throne," he whispers, "then neither can you. If I can't win, everyone loses."
Through the bond, I feel Ashuron's terror spike.
"Let her go," he says, his voice deadly calm. "Let her go, or I will spend the rest of eternity making you suffer."
"Empty threat, brother." Malachar's grip tightens. "You're still cursed. Still weak. And this girl?" He laughs. "She's still naive enough to think sacrifice makes her noble. Let's see how noble she feels when she's dead."
His darkness starts seeping into my skin, burning like acid.
Ashuron roars and attacks, but Malachar shadow-walks, taking me with him.
We dissolve into darkness.
And the last thing I hear is Ashuron screaming my name