The moon hung high over the ruined city of Asterholt, casting an eerie silver light over the remnants of Espearia's capital. What had once been a proud beacon of civilization, teeming with life and promise, was now nothing more than a shell of its former self. Fires still smoldered in the streets, black smoke curling up into the heavens, choking the air with the stench of death and despair. Buildings that had once towered like proud sentinels to the stars lay collapsed and shattered, their foundations cracked like the very bones of the world itself. The streets were eerily quiet—too quiet—save for the distant crackling of flames and the occasional echo of something sinister moving in the shadows.
Swift stumbled through the broken city, his armor battered and his body weary, but his spirit was something else entirely—frozen. He had failed. The city he had spent years protecting, the people he had sworn to defend, were now dust. Bones had done it. He had unleashed a force of unimaginable darkness, and now it had consumed Espearia whole.
Swift clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of the green star within him—still there, still gnawing at his soul like a parasite. The curse that had taken root in his chest when he first unleashed Bones was now a constant presence. It was as though the entity's spirit had fused with his own, infecting his thoughts with dark whispers. Bones was no longer just a figure from the stars; he was a part of Swift. And that connection terrified him.
A low, rumbling laugh echoed through the streets, and Swift instinctively drew his sword, a blade forged from the rare red star. The sound reverberated through the ruins, growing louder, as if the very earth itself was mocking him. And then, through the smoke and haze, a shadowy figure emerged.
It was him.
Bones.
The entity, freed from his prison of stone and star metal, loomed tall and monstrous, a twisted figure of shadows and green light. His body flickered and rippled like smoke, constantly shifting in form, as if reality itself could not contain his presence. His eyes—if they could even be called eyes—burned with an unnatural green glow, staring down at Swift like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Did you think you could stop me, Swift?" Bones' voice was a chorus of whispers, a thousand voices speaking in unison, each one darker and more sinister than the last. "You, who unleashed me? You, who allowed me to walk once more among the stars?"
Swift's chest tightened, and for the briefest moment, he felt the full weight of his failure. He had thought that he could control it—that he could stop Bones before he wreaked havoc on Espearia. But now, as the entity stood before him, basking in the destruction he had wrought, Swift realized the horrifying truth: there was no stopping Bones. Not now.
"You… destroyed everything," Swift whispered, his voice hoarse and bitter. He stepped forward, his sword raised. "This is your doing. This is on your hands."
Bones chuckled, the sound like nails scraping across stone. "On my hands? Oh no, Swift. You forget. I did not do this alone. It was you who opened the door. You who released me. I only did what I was destined to do."
Swift's hands trembled as he gripped the hilt of his sword, but even with the weapon in his grasp, he knew that it was useless. The green light that emanated from Bones was a power beyond anything Swift had ever faced. He could feel the entity's power surging in waves, warping the air around them.
"You're a fool," Swift growled, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew the truth. He was powerless to stop this madness. The city was already lost, the people were dead, and Bones was far stronger than any of them had ever anticipated.
Bones' laughter grew louder, a cacophony that seemed to split the very air. "No, Swift. I am simply free. And now, you'll witness the true power of the stars. You'll see what happens when one such as I is unleashed."
Swift's body ached with exhaustion, his heart heavy with grief, but he refused to back down. He was the last of the Knights of the Stars. He had sworn to protect Espearia. It was too late for his world, but he wouldn't go down without a fight.
With a roar, Swift charged at Bones, his red star blade slicing through the air. The sword cut through the smoke and ash with deadly precision, but Bones' form flickered and warped, dodging the strike with ease. Swift's heart sank as he realized that his blade could not harm Bones—his strikes were nothing more than empty gestures against the entity's unnatural form.
"I am beyond your weapon, Swift," Bones said, his voice almost pitying. "Your stars, your swords—they are meaningless against me."
With a wave of his hand, Bones sent a blast of green energy toward Swift, knocking him off his feet. He crashed into the ground, the impact rattling his bones. He gasped for air, his vision swimming as the world around him seemed to warp and bend. The green light in Bones' eyes grew brighter, and with it, a strange sensation settled over Swift—a terrible weight, as if something was pulling at him from within.
Bones' laughter faded into a chilling silence as the entity approached Swift, his footsteps echoing like thunder in the empty streets. "It's almost over, Swift. Your people are dead. Your world is dead. And you…" He paused, bending down to look Swift in the eyes. "You will be the last to fall."
Swift's pulse quickened. He could feel it now—Bones was feeding on his fear, his pain, his failure. It was as if the entity's power had leached into him, pulling him toward the inevitable. The stars—those stars that had once been his greatest strength—seemed so distant now. They were silent, unmoving. It was as though they had turned their backs on him.
"Don't you dare!" Swift snarled, pushing himself up. He gritted his teeth, summoning the last of his strength. "You won't win. Not like this."
Bones chuckled darkly, raising his hand. A green light began to swirl in his palm, gathering like a storm cloud. "It's already done, Swift. Your world is no more. There is no victory for you. Only despair."
The green light began to pulse, growing larger, more intense. Swift's breath hitched in his chest as the pressure in the air around him became unbearable. Bones was preparing to end it all—to end him.
But in that moment, something else happened. A strange, ripping sensation tore through the air. A tear in the fabric of reality itself. Swift looked up just as the air around him began to shimmer and distort. A strange force seemed to pull him from the ground, like the universe itself was yanking him away from Bones' grasp.
"NO!" Bones screamed in frustration, his voice shaking with rage. But it was too late. The tear grew wider, and Swift was drawn into it, the world around him folding like paper, everything warping into a maelstrom of colors and shapes.
In an instant, the city, the flames, and the monster before him vanished entirely. The green light faded, and all that remained was the rush of wind and the sensation of falling. Swift gasped for breath, his senses overwhelmed by the force of the pull. But just as quickly as it had begun, everything went dark.
When Swift awoke, he was no longer in Espearia.
He was lying on the ground, a sharp pain in his chest and the taste of blood in his mouth. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. The air was different—thicker, colder—and there was a strange stillness to the world around him. He pushed himself to sit up, his body aching with every movement, and glanced around.
The world he found himself in was nothing like Espearia. The sky was a dull, grayish blue, the landscape flat and unremarkable. No stars glimmered above, no strange forces at work—just an empty expanse of land.
Swift's heart sank. He had been sent somewhere else. But where? What had happened to his world?
Had Bones followed him here?
A voice echoed in the distance—a human voice, not the malicious whispers of Bones. Swift squinted, his senses still scrambled. Someone was coming.
With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, his broken body screaming in protest. But he didn't have the luxury of rest. Not now.
The green star still pulsed within him, like a ticking bomb, its light dim but persistent.
He didn't know where he was, but one thing was clear: he was not done yet.