A sudden rupture of silence tore through the corrupted woods—not the roar of beast nor the hiss of blighted creatures, but something sharper, more unnerving: the rasp of metal brushing against twisted branches, and the thud of heavy boots crushing brittle bones beneath.
Leane jerked to a halt, blood pounding in his ears. His heart felt ready to burst through his ribs. Karrion snapped into position even faster—hammer leveled, shield planted to guard the flank—and Thalia slipped backwards a half-step, her hooded form melting into the gloom as one hand clutched her chest in silent dread.
Through the gnarled undergrowth ahead, a new light flared—not the sickly glow of star-magic or corrupt energies, but a pure, golden radiance crackling with judgment. Shapes took form in that sacred blaze: towering figures of armored paladins, their plates inscribed with the Church's sunburst and the Forge Fathers' ancient hammer. Their leader stood sentinel, grasping a colossal warhammer whose head burned like a miniature sun, radiating heat so intense it singed the skin. His helm concealed his face entirely, save for twin slits of searing gold that fixed with predatory focus upon Raine.
"Hold your ground."
The command rang out, a metallic hum that carried undeniable authority—two simple words, yet in them resonated the weight of divine law.
Karrion spat a curse, shield rattling. "Church dogs, even down here?" he snarled.
But the golden warrior paid him no heed. His unwavering gaze remained locked on Raine, and behind him, three more holy knights spread in a fan, blocking every possible retreat with flamelit swords and glowing hammers. Their movements were synchronized with fanatic precision. Even the foul stench of rot seemed driven back by their furious aura, replaced by a cold, martial clarity.
"Raine Morningstar," the lead knight intoned, raising his hammer higher until its corona blazed white-hot. "By the authority of the Holy Light and the Divine Synod, I am Gregory, the 'Hand of Thunder.' Today, I pronounce your judgment!"
His voice echoed through the trees like a tolling bell, causing saplings to tremble as if struck. An invisible weight pressed down upon Raine's chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. This was no mere bluff—it was divine force made manifest.
"Judgment?" Raine's voice wavered, dagger gripped so tight his knuckles whitened. "Judgment for what crime?"
Gregory's hammer pulsed brighter. "For the calamity of dimmed stars and rampant blight that you, O cursed one, have unleashed upon the world!"
Karrion spat again. "Blight existed centuries ago—this kid had nothing to do with it!"
"Silence, dwarf!" snapped a nearby paladin. "Lord Gregory's verdict is not for you, an outcast, to question!"
With deliberate steps, Gregory advanced. Each clang of his armor sounded like a decree. "We have tracked the source of corruption—and all trails lead to you! Your blood is tainted, drawing the Void's hunger ever closer!" He produced a yellowed parchment and held it aloft. "Here is the fragment of the Celestial Prophecies, interpreted by the High Pontiff himself! It foretells your coming—'When the last of star-blood walks the earth, gravity will warp and darkness will follow!'"
Raine's heart lurched. "Ancient prophecies bend to any reading you choose—"
"Your excuses are for fools!" Gregory crushed the scroll in his gauntleted fist, golden flakes drifting away on the breeze. "We have proof more recent and direct!" He pointed at Raine's belt, where the beginning of a Starflame Blade—unfinished and dangerous—hung half-sheathed. "Your forging of that accursed weapon unleashed forbidden power! Our scouts felt its profane pulse deep in these woods just hours ago!" He let silence hang, an invisible gauntlet thrown. "Still claim innocence?"
Raine opened his mouth to plead, but found only a dry rasp. He could not explain the blade's true purpose; he could not amidst these zealots. To them, any star-borne power outside their dogma was heresy incarnate. Their faith had warped into a relentless fanaticism.
"I—"
At that moment, Gregory raised his hammer and unleashed judgement: he did not charge but unleashed a column of holy flame, a beam so bright and true it felt like dawn breaking. The air sizzled as it seared through the rotting undergrowth, forging a pillar of purifying fire that hurt every eye that dared to meet it.
"Raine, no!" Thalia's cry was urgent.
But instinct and desperation overtook Raine. As the beam descended, he stepped forward to shield his friends. He thrust both hands out, gathering the last flicker of star-light in his veins. A pale blue barrier flickered into being—fragile as dew—its edges sputtering with inky corruption as the raw heat of divine fire beat against it.
Pain lanced through him like knives. His very veins seemed aflame, skin crawling with violent shudders. The slender star-ward he wove trembled and cracked under the onslaught of pure, holy power.
When fire collides with shadow, the forest shudders. Wood splintered, trees uprooted in the shockwave; a deafening roar tore through the glade.
Raine's barrier shattered. He was hurled backward, a bone-jarring impact burying him in leaf litter. He spat blood, black veins creeping across his arms in testament to the backlash.
"That is the mark of corruption!" Gregory roared above, standing triumphant. "Behold the taint upon his flesh—he is the Starfall, the harbinger of ruin! Purge him!"
At his command, the other paladins surged forward, their warcries a litany of holy vengeance. Light and steel clashed in the gloom, turning the forest into an altar of despair.
Raine struggled to rise, strength draining from him. Each breath felt like ragged gusts through bone. The black filaments across his throat whispered of death.
"Run!" Karrion's roar cut through the din. He planted his shattered shield, screaming an ancient rune that ruptured the earth. A patch of mossy floor collapsed, swallowing two knights who fell screaming into a hidden pit.
In that instant, a velvety void of pure shadow rolled in at Thalia's summoning. She stood at its heart, cloak billowing though no breeze stirred. Though her frame trembled, the darkness she commanded writhed outward, snaring the holy warriors with living tendrils, smothering their golden glow. Faint cries of holy steel being consumed echoed down their ranks.
"Cover our retreat!" Thalia's voice, though faint, carried authority. She yanked Raine up as Karrion seized his arm and dragged him into the deeper gloom.
Behind them, Gregory's furious bellows chased them, the shouts of outraged paladins echoing like church bells in a storm. "Do not let them escape! In the Light's name—purge!"
They fled blindly, Karrion leveraging hidden runic traps to slow their pursuers while Thalia unleashed wavering shrouds of shadow to cloak their passage. Raine, half-carried, half-dragged, felt the creeping weakness of his star-blood betray him with every heartbeat.
They ran until the screams and holy light receded into the distance, leaving only the pulsing stink of blight and oppressive mists of corruption.
Finally slowed by sheer exhaustion, Karrion collapsed Raine against the gnarled root of a blackened oak. His breath came in guttural heaves, every inch of armor scorched and splintered. Thalia sagged beside them, face drained of color, her cloak stained with ichor.
Raine forced open his eyes. The swirling darkness of his vision cleared enough to see Karrion's careworn expression and Thalia's white-lipped exhaustion. They had escaped—if only for a moment.
But the paladins' holy decree, that branded him the "Starfall," burned in his mind like a scorching brand. This chase had only begun. The Church would hunt him relentlessly. And the corruption coursing through his blood, once a tool, was now a cruel leash tightening around his very soul.
Deep in his veins, he could feel it: shadow stirring, waiting for the next summons. The darkness was far from vanquished. It was still alive, and it hungered for more.