Chapter 59: The Oath Beneath Stars

The night sky stretched overhead, a vast canvas of cold, indifferent stars. The air was still, heavy with the scent of ash and smoke, the silence pressing down like a weight. Below us, the crater where Lyra had fallen glowed faintly, a scar etched into the earth, the remnants of her final flame lingering like a whispered memory.


We stood at the edge of that wound, eight shadows cast by the pale moonlight. I kept my back to the others, the dragon egg cradled tightly against my chest, its warmth a fragile tether to something beyond the devastation. My mind was a storm of grief and fury, but my face betrayed none of it. I had long since learned that showing weakness was a luxury I could no longer afford.


The seven of them—each marked by the trials of battle—came forward, their eyes wide and haunted. The girl with raven-black hair was the first to break the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.


“What’s next?”


I didn’t turn. My gaze remained fixed on the crater, on the faint shimmer of magic that still clung to the shattered earth. My voice came cold, flat, like a blade sliding across stone.


“We will destroy the Eclipse Order.”


The words hung heavy in the air, a vow forged in fire and blood. For a long moment, no one spoke. The wind stirred, swirling ash around our feet, carrying the weight of what had been lost.


The girl with silver hair stepped forward, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.


I said nothing. My throat tightened, jaw clenched so hard it ached. I let the silence stretch, letting them feel the full weight of the devastation without my explanation.


The girl with deep auburn hair’s voice was soft, trembling. “Is that… dragon’s…?”


I nodded once, barely audible.


They exchanged glances, fear and uncertainty flickering in their eyes. They looked at me—not as they once had, but as something new. Something dangerous.


The girl with chestnut hair tried again, her voice barely steady. “What do we do now?”


I finally turned to face them, my eyes burning with a fierce, unnatural red. The egg pulsed faintly in my arms, a reminder of the fragile hope I carried.


“Are you sure you want to follow me?” My voice was low, steady, unyielding. “Even if we have to kill… even if we must do something terrible. I don’t want hesitation.”


Shock rippled across their faces. The girl with raven-black hair swallowed hard, her gaze dropping for a moment before she met mine again.


“We’ve come this far,” she said quietly. “We can’t turn back now.”


The silver-haired girl nodded, jaw set with determination. “We’re with you, Aren. No matter what.”


The auburn-haired girl hesitated, then stepped forward, her hand trembling as it reached for mine. “If you’re going to become a monster, then we’ll be monsters too.”


The chestnut-haired girl exchanged a look with the last girl, whose hair was a striking shade of platinum. The chestnut-haired one’s voice was quiet but firm. “You saved us. We’ll follow you anywhere.”


The platinum-haired girl simply nodded, eyes shining with resolve.


One by one, they stepped forward, forming a loose circle around me. They didn’t ask for explanations. They didn’t demand answers. They understood—deep in their bones—that this was the cost of what we had lost. The price of vengeance.


The silence that followed was heavier, more profound. The stars above seemed to close in, cold and watchful.


For a long time, none of us spoke. We stood together at the edge of the crater, bound by grief and fury and the unspoken promise that we would see this through.


Finally, the girl with raven-black hair broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “We should bury her. What’s left, I mean.”


I nodded, unable to trust my voice. The egg in my arms pulsed softly, a heartbeat in the darkness.


Slowly, we gathered the fragments of Lyra’s remains—shards of blackened scale, twisted claws, the faint shimmer of her magic still lingering in the air. Each piece was a memory, a promise, a reminder of what we had lost.


We dug a shallow grave at the crater’s edge, the earth still warm from the blast. The girls worked together, hands steady despite the tears streaking their faces. I watched in silence, the egg cradled close.


When the grave was ready, we laid the fragments to rest. The silver-haired girl placed a single white flower atop the mound, her hands shaking.


The auburn-haired girl whispered a prayer, voice trembling. “May your fire light the way, wherever you go.”


The chestnut-haired girl knelt beside the grave, head bowed. “Thank you.For everything.”


The platinum-haired and raven-black haired girls stood together, silent, their faces set.


I stepped forward last, the egg pressed to my chest. I knelt, hand resting on the earth.


I whispered. “I should have been stronger. I should have saved you.”


The words felt hollow, but they were all I had.


We sat in silence beneath the stars, the six of us bound by loss and the fragile hope that remained. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of ash and burning, a reminder of the night’s cost.


No one spoke. There was nothing left to say.


The egg pulsed gently in my arms, a steady heartbeat in the darkness.


I looked up at the sky, the stars cold and distant.


“The world wants to see the ruler,” I said, voice barely more than a whisper. “And I will show it.”


The vow hung in the air, a promise forged in fire and loss.


We stayed there until the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, turning the sky from black to gray to soft gold. When the sun’s first rays touched the earth, I stood, the egg still cradled close.


“We move at sunrise,” I said, voice steady.


The girls nodded, faces set with determination.


We turned our backs on the grave, on the ashes of the sky, and began the long climb down the mountain.


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The heavy iron door of the hideout groaned open, scraping against the stone floor as Count Vareon Faulmont staggered inside. Blood dripped from his torn sleeve, trailing crimson droplets behind him. His once-immaculate armor was cracked and scorched, the blue enamel smeared with soot and grime. Every step sent a fresh jolt of pain through his battered body, but rage kept him moving.


He slammed the door shut with his good arm, the echo ringing through the dim corridor. The torchlight flickered, casting wild shadows on the walls as he lurched forward, breath ragged and uneven.


“Damn them,” he spat, voice raw. “Damn the Eclipse Order! meddling, thinking themselves above the rest of us—”


He stumbled, catching himself on a table. Bottles and scrolls clattered to the floor, shattering and scattering parchment everywhere. He barely noticed. His mind was a storm of fury and humiliation.


“I had her,” he growled, eyes wild. “I did everything—everything! Spies, mercenaries, traps, monster—I gave up everything just to catch that cursed beast!”


He swept his arm across the table, sending a map and a rack of vials crashing to the ground. Glass exploded, liquid hissing as it seeped into the cracks of the stone. He kicked a chair, sending it spinning into the wall where it splintered with a sharp crack.


“They ruined it. All of it! The dragon was mine—mine!” His voice broke, a mixture of agony and bitter frustration. He staggered to a chest in the corner, yanking it open and rifling through its contents with shaking hands. Trinkets, talismans, and silver coins spilled out, but none of it mattered now. None of it would bring back the opportunity he’d lost.


He pressed a bloodied hand to his side, feeling the warmth of fresh blood seeping through his fingers. His vision blurred, the room spinning around him. He tried to steady himself, gripping the edge of a shelf, but his knees buckled.


“No… not now… not—” The words slurred as darkness crept at the edges of his sight.


He crashed to the floor, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The cold stone bit into his cheek, and for a moment he was aware only of pain and the taste of failure.


Footsteps thundered down the corridor. The door burst open and a guard—broad-shouldered, armor half-fastened in his haste—rushed in, sword half-drawn.


“My lord! Count Faulmont!” The guard dropped to his knees beside the fallen noble, eyes wide with alarm. “Get the healer or portion , whatever! Now!” he shouted over his shoulder.


Vareon’s eyes fluttered, unfocused. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse whisper escaped his lips.


“Eclipse… Order… I wanna see them burn…”


His head lolled to the side, consciousness slipping away as the world faded to black, the last thing he heard the frantic shouts of his men echoing through the stone halls.




To be continued