The Silver Woods echoed with a sound that shouldn't exist in nature—the high-pitched, electric hum of vibrating plasma cutting through smoke.
Solan moved like a ghost. His modern clothes were stained with black soot and silver sap, but his eyes were sharper than they had ever been in his previous world. Every time he swung the jagged marble hilt, the crimson blade elongated, slicing through the Shadow Husks as if they were made of nothing but mist.
Shing.
Another Husk dissolved. This time, Solan didn't wait. He held out the Obsidian Orb, and the black smoke was violently sucked into the core.
[ABSORPTION COMPLETE: NEBULA CORE +1] [STRENGTH ATTRIBUTE: INCREASED] [STELLAR BLEED: STABILIZED]
A surge of warmth rushed through Solan's veins, dulling the stinging burns on his arms. The orange runes under his skin pulsed with a rhythmic light, matching his heartbeat.
"It's not just energy," Solan whispered, staring at his glowing palms. "I'm taking their essence. Their life force."
He looked around. The clearing was littered with fading black patches where the Husks had fallen. The rest of the pack had retreated into the darkness, their red eyes flickering with something Solan hadn't seen before: fear.
But Solan didn't have time to celebrate. The "Hunt of the Stars" from the Citadel was still coming. He could see the faint golden beams of search-magic sweeping through the canopy in the distance.
"I need to move deeper," he muttered.
He trekked for hours, pushing through silver briars that tried to snag his skin. The forest grew denser, the trees taller and more twisted. The blue glow of the grass faded, replaced by a deep, suffocating purple.
Suddenly, Solan stopped.
The air felt different here. It was heavy, smelling of ozone and old parchment. In the center of a small, shadowed grove sat a figure huddled against a stone monument.
Solan's grip tightened on the marble hilt. The crimson blade flared slightly.
"Who's there?" Solan's voice was raspy.
The figure stirred. It was an old man, dressed in rags that might have once been a scholar's robes. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes were milky white—blind. But as Solan approached, the old man tilted his head, a toothless grin spreading across his face.
"The color..." the old man wheezed, his voice sounding like dry leaves. "I can't see the light, but I can feel the weight. The heavy, beautiful weight of the Thirteenth."
Solan froze. "How do you know about that?"
"I was a Librarian of the Great Vault before the Covenants burned the truth," the man coughed, pointing a shaking finger at Solan's chest. "They call you a 'Dud' because they fear the Ophiuchus. They fear the one who can eat the stars."
The old man reached into his tattered sleeve and pulled out a small, heavy object wrapped in oilcloth. He tossed it toward Solan.
Solan caught it. He unwrapped the cloth to find a heavy iron ring with a dull, grey stone. It looked worthless, but as soon as Solan's fingers touched it, the aggressive pulsing of his orange runes died down. The crimson energy around him settled into a calm, invisible simmer.
"The Ring of the Faded Star," the old man whispered. "It masks the scent of the Void. Wear it, boy, or the Sentinels will find you before the sun rises."
Solan slid the ring onto his finger. Instantly, the oppressive heat in his arm vanished. To any magical sensor, he would now appear as nothing more than a commoner with a weak, flickering spark of energy.
"Why help me?" Solan asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Because the twelve stars have grown too bright," the old man said, his voice fading as he leaned back against the stone. "They have forgotten that without the darkness, the light has no meaning. Go now. The Academy holds the rest of your soul. But remember..."
The old man's head drifted down, his breath hitching.
"...the more you eat, the less human you become."
Solan stood in the silence of the purple grove, the grey stone on his finger glinting. He looked toward the horizon, where the spires of the distant Academy began to prick the sky like silver needles.
He wasn't just a fugitive anymore. He was a predator in hiding.