The morning after the second mark appeared, Leora didn't leave her room.
She couldn't.
Her hands still glowed faintly beneath the wraps her grandmother had hurriedly tied. Every few hours, a pulse of light would throb in her palms—warm at first, then searing. The mark on her chest had settled into a dull burn, as though the very skin had been branded by a fire that refused to go out.
Her grandmother paced the cottage in silence, occasionally stopping to glance out the window. The Order of the Veil's presence had cast a heavy shadow over Eldoria. Armed patrols now circled the city's central spire, and whispers of missing people—mages, dreamers, anyone with even a hint of arcane talent—grew louder with each passing hour.
Leora sat by the hearth, clutching the sigil stone from the ruins. Its surface pulsed in sync with the marks on her body.
"They're connected," she said quietly. "This stone, the symbols, the dreams—they're all pieces of the same thing."
Her grandmother nodded slowly. "The ancient texts called it the 'Celestial Thread.' A link between the stars and the soul. A force that exists outside time. Your marks are not just a birthright—they're a tether."
"To what?" Leora asked.
"To something older than the gods."
Later that day, a knock came at the door. Three sharp raps.
Leora tensed. Her grandmother motioned for her to stay hidden and moved to the door. She opened it slightly.
A man stood outside, tall and cloaked in dark blue robes embroidered with silver flame patterns. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his voice was calm and firm.
"I come on behalf of the Order," he said. "We've been informed of magical disturbances in this district."
"There's no one here but an old woman and her herbs," her grandmother replied coolly.
"There are reports of light seen through your roof beams. Surges of celestial energy."
Leora held her breath.
The man's next words sent a shiver down her spine. "We believe a Starborn may be present."
Her grandmother didn't flinch. "The Starborn were myths."
"Perhaps," the man said. "But myths leave traces. If you see or hear anything… unusual, report it to the tower."
He turned and vanished into the fog without another word.
Once the door was shut and bolted, her grandmother finally exhaled. "They're searching for you now. Openly. You must be careful. If the Order discovers what you are becoming…"
Leora swallowed. "They'll try to contain me."
"Or worse."
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
The marks flared again just after midnight, and this time, they didn't fade.
Leora gritted her teeth as the pain bloomed beneath her skin like fire racing through her veins. She stumbled outside, unable to bear the heat inside her body. The stars above Eldoria shimmered unusually bright—each one like a glowing eye watching her from the heavens.
She fell to her knees in the grass, clutching her arms. Her vision blurred. The wind howled. And then—
Boom.
A shockwave burst from her body, rippling through the air like a silent explosion. Trees bent. Stones lifted off the ground. The cottage windows shattered inward.
Her eyes glowed bright gold.
She screamed.
When she woke, she was lying in a crater.
The ground around her had been scorched black, as if lightning had struck from above and below. Her clothes were torn, and her hands were still smoking. But she felt something new now—a presence within her.
A flame that no longer burned her.
It obeyed her.
She stood slowly, her knees trembling. Her grandmother rushed from the cottage, eyes wide with horror and awe.
"I didn't mean to," Leora whispered, voice cracking. "It just—burst."
"No," her grandmother said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It didn't. It awakened."
The air around them shimmered faintly, as if magic itself now hung heavy in the atmosphere. Birds had stopped singing. Even the wind had gone still.
"I'm not safe here anymore, am I?" Leora asked.
"No," her grandmother admitted. "But you were never meant to hide. You were meant to rise."
By evening, Leora had packed a satchel with maps, ink, food, and the sigil stone. Her grandmother pressed a pendant into her hand—a crescent moon wrapped around a single star.
"This will keep the Order from sensing you. For now," she said. "But it won't hold forever."
"I'll find answers," Leora promised. "I'll find out what these marks mean. What I'm meant to become."
Her grandmother nodded and stepped aside. "Head east. Beyond the Hollow Peaks. There's a man there… a former Seer. He once translated the Prophecy of the Fallen Stars. If anyone can help you, it's him."
Leora tightened her cloak and stepped into the shadows of the forest path. With one last look back, she left the only home she'd ever known.
Scene Change: The Tower of the Order
In the highest chamber of the Veil's tower, the man in the silver-flamed robe knelt before a massive mirror of obsidian.
The reflection shimmered… and spoke.
"The seal is undone," said a voice that echoed like wind through stone. "A Starborn walks once more. Have you found her?"
"Not yet," the man replied. "But the magic she wields is not stable. We will find her. And we will bring her back under control."
The voice hissed.
"There is no control. There is only fire… or ashes."
The mirror went dark.
Final Scene: Deep in the Forest
Leora stopped at a stream, the moonlight casting silver ripples across the water. She knelt to drink but paused.
Her reflection in the water shimmered—eyes glowing faintly gold, and behind her…
A figure.
Cloaked in black. Masked.
Watching.
Then it was gone.
She leapt up, drawing the small dagger her grandmother had given her, heart pounding.
The woods were silent.
But she knew what she saw.
She wasn't alone.
Leora's power has violently awakened, forcing her to flee the city. The Order of the Veil is closing in, but she's not the only one watching the stars. A mysterious figure appears in the forest—neither ally nor known enemy. And the voice in the obsidian mirror hints at something far worse than prophecy: total annihilation if Leora loses control.