Vel's fingers tightened around the shard.

  The crystalline fragment—fist-sized, jagged, glowing that rare faint blue-white—hummed louder the moment she tried to lift it from the frost-cracked stone. The sound vibrated up her arm, into her chest, matching the rhythm of her own star.

  Then it cracked.

  A hairline fracture spidered across the surface. Blue-white light poured out in a blinding surge. Vel hissed, tried to drop it—but the shard clung, burning hot against her palm like molten glass. Visions slammed into her mind: a woman with violet eyes laughing softly, fingers weaving red-violet chains around a struggling blue-white star. The chains tightened. The star screamed. The woman whispered, "Sleep, little one. When they come for you, you will wake hungry."

  The shard shattered.

  Blue-white explosion erupted outward—searing heat that scorched the air, sent fragments spinning like shrapnel. Mira shielded her eyes. Toren staggered back. Lark raised an arm, radiant wave flaring to deflect a piece that would have embedded in his face.

  From the broken crystal, something rose.

  It was small.

  Child-sized.

  A silhouette no taller than a ten-year-old drifted upward, feet hovering inches above the plaza stone. Violet-crimson shadow made up its body—translucent, writhing, like smoke given form. Long hair of dark crimson tendrils floated behind it, moving as if underwater. The face was delicate, almost beautiful: smooth porcelain skin, large luminous violet eyes that glowed softly, small mouth curved in innocent curiosity.

  But the chest...A faint blue-white core flickered inside, chained by pulsing crimson-violet veins that wrapped it like arteries. The core struggled—brightening, dimming, brightening again—like a heart trying to beat free.

  The child tilted its head.

  "Hello," it said in a soft, sweet voice. A child's voice. Layered beneath it, faint but unmistakable, was Veyra's gentle murmur. "Mother said you would come."

  The team froze.

  Mira's voice cracked. "What the hell is that?"

  Lark's scars glowed brighter. "It's... one of hers."

  The child smiled—small, perfect, terrifying. "I am Lirien," it said, as if introducing itself at a gathering. "Mother's sweet child. She made me from a piece of the sky that sang like you do."

  Tendrils extended from its arms—long, clawed, violet-crimson smoke tipped with burning red-violet fire. The air around them heated, then drained, like the life was being siphoned away.

  Vel's shadows surged instinctively, dark coils rising to meet the tendrils.

  Lirien giggled—high, childish, echoing. "Play with me."

  The first lash came fast.

  A crimson-violet tendril snapped toward Vel like a whip. She flickered aside, shadows wrapping the tendril, smothering its burning fire. The contact sparked, the tendril recoiling, smoking, but Lirien laughed again.

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  Toren roared, charging forward. His star flared—raw, crushing force pulsed from his chest in a burning wave. He slammed both palms into the ground; the force erupted upward, a pillar of radiant heat aimed at the child's core.

  Lirien floated aside effortlessly, small body twisting like smoke. "Too slow, big one."

  A tendril lashed back—wrapped around Toren's forearm. Crimson-violet fire seared skin, draining strength from his star. He bellowed, ripped free with a burst of force, but the arm smoked, star dimmer.

  Mira darted left, palms up. Searing beams shot from her fingers—hot, piercing thick needles of light. Three struck Lirien's shoulder; the child flinched, porcelain skin cracking like glass, blue-white core flaring brighter for a second. The veins tightened, smothering it again.

  Lirien's violet eyes narrowed. "That hurt."

  Lark stepped in front, scars blazing. He thrust both hands forward—radiant shockwave rolled out, burning air rippling. The wave hit Lirien square in the chest. The child staggered mid-air, core flickering wildly, tendrils thrashing.

  For a heartbeat, the blue-white inside burned hotter—almost free.

  Then Veyra's voice layered over the child's, soft and amused. "Not yet, my Lirien. Feed first. Grow strong on their rarity."

  The child giggled again, higher, hungrier.T

  endrils exploded outward—four at once, burning crimson-violet, aiming for each of them.

  Vel met one with shadows—coiled, squeezed, burned the fire away. Mira dodged another, countering with a searing dart that scorched the tendril black. Toren crushed a third with a point-blank pulse, shattering it into smoke. Lark took the fourth head-on—wave clashing with tendril, radiant force against draining fire. The impact lit the plaza like lightning, heat and cold warring.

  The child hovered higher, hair whipping, eyes glowing brighter violet.

  "More," it whispered, voice pure innocence. "Give me more."

  Lirien blurred—gone in a blink, reappearing behind Toren like she'd teleported. Her small hand—clawed, porcelain—slammed into his back with impossible strength. The impact lifted him off the ground, ribs cracking under the force, air exploding from his lungs. He flew ten feet, crashing into a ruined pillar with a thunderous crack, stone splintering.

  Before he could rise, Lirien was there again—blurring speed, a violet streak. She grabbed his tunic with one tiny hand, strength like a giant's. Lifted him one-handed, high above the plaza—twenty feet, thirty. Toren swung a pulse at her face; she dodged with teleport-like swiftness, giggling. "Catch me!"

  She punched him mid-air—small fist, but strength shattering. The blow sent him spinning higher, body twisting like a ragdoll. Lirien blurred after him, tendrils coiling to pull him close. Another punch—straight to the gut, strength crumpling his core like paper. He gasped, star flaring wildly.

  Vel and Mira attacked from below—shadows lashing up, beams searing into Lirien's back. The child flinched, porcelain cracking more, but didn't let go.

  Lirien's eyes sparkled. "Fun!"

  She smashed Toren downward—melee slam with both hands, strength hurling him like a meteor. He plummeted, crashing into the plaza stone with earth-shaking force, cratering the ground, dust exploding. Toren groaned, rolling to his feet—bruised, bleeding, but star still burning. "That all you got... kid?"

  Lirien floated down, tilting her head. "No. More?"

  Lark charged in—radiant wave slamming her side, forcing her to blur-dodge. She reappeared next to him, clawed hand raking his scars. He tanked it, strength holding as he countered with a close pulse that sent her staggering.

  Vel's shadows wrapped Lirien's legs, pulling her down. Mira peppered beams into the exposed core. The child screamed—high, pained—blue-white flaring against the crimson-violet chains.

  Veyra's voice echoed: "Yes, my little Lirien... hurt them. Grow."

  Lirien broke free with a burst of crimson-violet fire, blurring around the plaza—teleport-speed dodges evading waves and darts. She slammed into Mira next—small body tackling with giant strength, pinning her to the ground, tendrils coiling around her star. Mira gasped, searing beam point-blank into Lirien's face—porcelain shattered, violet eye cracking.The child recoiled, giggling through pain. "Ouch! You're mean."

  Back at the Crucible, Kael staggered, hand clamped to his chest. The tug was fire now—searing, pulling.

  Elowen grabbed his arm. "Kael—""It's her," he rasped. "She's got something... it's calling us."

  Rhen's face was stone. "Hold the wards. If they don't come back—"Kael's star flared cobalt-white, lightning arcing across his skin.

  In the plaza, Lirien tilted her head at the team, smiling sweetly."

  Shall we play again?"

  The silence was gone.