Kael landed hard on the hillock, knees buckling as the last cobalt-white light guttered out. Smoke curled off his skin in thin wisps, his breathing ragged, eyes still fixed on the crater where Lirien had come apart.

  The team was on him instantly.

  Toren dropped to one knee, big hand gripping Kael's arm like he might disappear. "Hey—hey, look at me. You with us? Say something."

  Vel slid in front, shadows trembling around her fingers as she scanned him. "God, you're smoking like a forge. Can you move?"

  Mira crouched close, voice shaking. "That... that thing you did. The hole. It swallowed the whole sky."

  Lark stayed standing, scars pulsing faintly, staring down at Kael. "You look half-dead, kid. But you just... turned the night inside out. Never seen anything like it."

  Kael dragged in a breath, voice scraped raw. "I'm... here. She's gone. But it didn't feel right. Like I killed something that was already dying."

  The words landed heavy. The team fell silent, looking at the crater.

  Then the glow rose.

  A faint blue-white ember lifted from the crater's center—slow, gentle, growing brighter as it drifted upward. It shaped itself into a small figure: a child of pure white light, no older than ten in form, translucent, soft glow, with a faint blue-white core visible in its chest. No violet taint. No corruption. Just clean, quiet light.

  The child floated down, stopping a few feet above the grass, looking at Kael with luminous eyes.

  Toren's hand tightened. "What the hell..."Vel's shadows went still. "It's... peaceful. Not like her."

  Mira whispered, "It's... like him. Like Kael."

  The child spoke—voice soft, clear, carrying the weight of silence that had lasted a century."

  Thank you," it said, eyes on Kael. "For breaking the chains."Kael pushed himself up, still on one knee. "Who are you?"

  "I was like you," the child answered. "A child of the Aur Calaestar, born over a hundred years ago. The Watchers took my light before it could wake. Veyra twisted it. Made me her 'sweet child.' Lirien. She was sent to find you. To stop the next one."

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  Mira's breath caught. "She was... trapped?"

  The child nodded. "Every ten thousand years, a new hope arrives—a child carrying the disruptor light. The Watchers fear the cycle. They trap us to keep their order. Veyra uses the trapped to hunt the new ones before they can rise."

  Kael's jaw tightened. "So I'm... the next one?"

  "Yes," the child said. "You are the hope this cycle. They will come for you. Veyra is one of their blades. She was sent to 'get to' you before you fully awaken."

  The child's glow dimmed slightly, as if the memory still ached.

  "The world is bigger than the Vale," it continued. "There are layers beyond this border—realms the old gods wove, realms the Watchers guard. More of us are trapped. More children like me, their lights twisted into weapons. Free them... or they will use us all to end the cycle forever."

  The child smiled—small, sad, genuine. "Thank you for remembering what we were."

  It reached out, tiny hand touching Kael's. A faint spark jumped—enough to steady his breathing, ease the smoke on his skin.

  Then it turned to the team, light flaring gently.

  "And you," it said, voice softening further. "You stood with him. That matters. The light remembers loyalty."

  The child raised both hands—palm up, blue-white glow spreading outward in soft waves. The light touched each of them—Toren, Vel, Mira, Lark—lingering for a moment on their chests. A quiet warmth bloomed inside, not a sound, not a voice, but a subtle pull—like a distant star suddenly visible in their awareness, a faint tug of starlight calling from far away."

  I give you this," the child said. "A trace of the hope. Not to hear... but to sense. The starlight will speak to you now. The echoes of trapped lights, the scars of prisons. You will feel them when you are near—faint at first, stronger as you draw close. It will guide you to the others. And in battle, when the dark comes, you will sense the light in your enemies... and in each other. You will know where to strike, where to shield."

  The glow faded from their chests, leaving only a quiet hum inside—something alive, subtle, attuned to starlight itself.

  Then the child began to fade, light drifting upward like fireflies.

  "Wait," Kael said, reaching. "How do we find them?"

  The child paused, voice soft. "Follow the pull. The starlight will guide you."

  With that, the child dissolved upward in a gentle streak of white, vanishing into the stars. The pulsing rifts on the horizon calmed, one by one, as if sealed by its departure.

  Silence fell.

  Kael stared at the sky for a long moment. Then he looked at the team, hand pressed to his chest where the warmth still lingered.

  "They took one of us," he said quietly. "Turned her into that thing. And there are more."

  Toren rubbed his sternum, voice rough. "I feel it. Like... something tugging at me. Not strong, but it's there."

  Vel nodded slowly, shadows settling. "Same. Like a pull toward something far away. Starlight... I can sense it now."

  Mira touched her chest, eyes wide. "It's real. I feel... lights. Not mine. Others. Calling."

  Lark's scars glowed brighter for a second. "The echoes. They're out there. And I know where to look."

  Kael pushed himself to his feet, still weak, but standing. He looked toward the horizon—where the last faint rift had closed.

  "Then we start by finding them," he said. "The trapped ones. The ones like her."

  The night sky was clear again.

  For now.