The morning of the solstice dawned cold and clear, the sky a pale, brittle blue that promised no mercy.
I stood on the roof of the Imperial Library, watching the sun creep over the eastern ridge. Below, the city stirred, unaware that it was waking to its last day. The Grand Forum lay directly ahead, its ancient oak a dark silhouette against the rising light.
Three weeks of preparation had led to this.
Every whisper planted, every suspicion nurtured, every faction nudged into position. The Iron Legion surrounded the Imperial Palace, their loyalty to the dying Emperor absolute—they would not move unless the throne itself was threatened. The other five factions circled the Forum like wolves around a wounded deer, each convinced the others planned to seize it.
Valerius had spent the night in his barracks, his dreams poisoned by my void-whispers. He woke convinced that today, his brothers would make their move. Today, he would crush them and claim the Forum as his own.
The perfect puppet. The perfect flame.
---
Elara found me as the morning bells tolled. Her face was pale, but her hands were steady.
"The Tidewell forces are moving into the harbor district," she reported. "The Stonewardens have sealed the Forum's underground passages. The Zephyr Compact is routing all messages through emergency channels. And the Verdant Circle..." She hesitated. "They've surrounded the oak. They say they'll burn it themselves before letting anyone else desecrate it."
Good. Fear and desperation were making them predictable.
"Victus?"
"In his study, burning papers. He says if this fails, he wants no evidence linking him to... any of it."
Smart. The Spider Prince was covering his webs.
"And you?" I asked, turning to face her. "Why aren't you running?"
Elara met my gaze. "Because someone needs to remember what you did. What you sacrificed. When this is over, whether you succeed or fail, there should be at least one person who knows you weren't a monster. You were a brother."
The void within me stirred, not with hunger, but with something almost like warmth. Almost.
"Stay in the library," I said. "Third sub-basement. There's a cistern there that connects to the old aqueducts. If things go wrong, follow the water east. It leads outside the walls."
She nodded, then did something unexpected. She hugged me. A quick, fierce embrace, then she was gone, running down the stairs before I could react.
I stood alone on the roof, the ghost of her warmth already fading against the void's chill.
---
Noon. The Forum.
I watched from a shadowed alcove in the Hall of Records, my void-shroud making me invisible to any magical detection. The Forum was filling—not with crowds, but with factions.
Stonewardens first, emerging from their guildhall like slow, patient rock given form. They positioned themselves around the perimeter, their earth magic subtly reinforcing the flagstones beneath their feet.
Then the Zephyr Compact, riding currents of air down from their towers. They landed on the Forum's edges, messengers with nowhere to send messages, watching with the sharp, hungry eyes of birds of prey.
House Tidewell arrived by water, their mages riding a controlled wave up from the aqueducts to the Forum's central fountain. They emerged dripping and dangerous, water coiling around their arms like living weapons.
The Verdant Circle came last, walking in silence from the royal gardens. They surrounded the ancient oak, their hands glowing with soft green light, ready to defend or destroy.
Five factions. Five elements. Waiting.
And then, Valerius.
He came not with subtlety, but with fire.
The Ignis Guard marched in formation, their boots striking the flagstones in unison. At their head, Valerius blazed—literally. Fire mana surrounded him like a living cloak, flames licking at his shoulders without consuming. He was a walking bonfire, a declaration of war.
"The Forum is under imperial protection," he announced, his voice carrying on magically amplified air. "By order of the Crown Prince, all factions will disperse immediately."
No one moved.
The Stonewarden Elder, a woman carved from granite and patience, spoke first. "The Forum belongs to the people of the capital. Not to any prince."
"The Forum belongs to whoever can hold it," Valerius snarled. "And I am the only one here with the strength to do so."
Arrogant. Predictable. Perfect.
He raised his hand, fire gathering in his palm—a warning shot, meant to intimidate.
But I had prepared for this moment.
From my alcove, I extended a single, precise Void Thread. Not to attack, but to redirect. The fireball Valerius launched veered slightly, just a fraction of a degree, and struck not the empty space before the Stonewardens, but the fountain where House Tidewell stood.
Water met fire in an explosion of steam and chaos.
The Tidewell mages reacted instantly, lashing out with water whips. The whips, guided by another invisible thread, struck not Valerius, but the Zephyr Compact messengers hovering nearby.
Screams. Curses. The sharp, electric crackle of elemental forces colliding.
And then, the Verdant Circle made their move. Seeing chaos erupting around their sacred oak, they did what they had promised: they raised their hands to burn it themselves rather than let it be desecrated.
Green fire—wood mana pushed to its destructive extreme—engulfed the ancient tree.
The sight broke something in the Stonewardens. The oak was older than the empire, planted by their founders. To see it burn was sacrilege beyond bearing.
The ground heaved.
Stone spikes erupted from the flagstones, not targeting anyone specifically, but creating barriers, trenches, obstacles. In the chaos, a spike caught an Ignis Guard soldier, impaling him through the chest. His fire mana released in a single, blinding detonation.
The war had begun.
---
I moved through the battle like a ghost, my void-shroud absolute. The reservoir within me pulsed with each death, each release of elemental energy. Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Wood—they were all feeding the convergence, the ley lines beneath the Forum drinking in the slaughter.
But one element was missing. Metal.
The Iron Legion had not moved. They stood at the Forum's edge, shields raised, watching the carnage with the cold eyes of sworn protectors. Their oath was to the throne, not to any faction. They would not enter the battle unless the Emperor himself commanded it.
And the Emperor lay dying in his bed, unaware of the chaos.
I needed them. Their metal mana was essential to complete the ritual.
Leaving the battle behind, I ran.
---
The Imperial Palace was chaos of a different kind—servants running, guards shouting, the sharp, panicked energy of a place that knows something terrible is happening but doesn't know what.
I bypassed them all, reaching the Emperor's chambers in minutes.
The Iron Legion guards at his door were the same ones from weeks ago. They recognized me, saw the blood on my clothes (not mine—a Tidewell mage's, from a close call), and stepped aside without a word.
The Emperor lay in his bed, his eyes open, his breathing shallow. When he saw me, a faint smile touched his lips.
"The war?"
"Burning. I need the Legion."
He nodded slowly, as if he'd been expecting this. "The sigil. On my hand. Take it."
I looked. On his right hand, a ring of dark iron, unadorned except for a single, raised line. The Emperor's seal of command over the Iron Legion.
"You'll need to speak the words," he whispered. "The oath of binding. It's in... the old tongue..."
He told me the words. Three sentences in a language older than the empire, older than the elements. I repeated them until he nodded.
"Go. And Kieran..." His eyes found mine, clearer than they'd been in weeks. "Tell your sister... some emperors die for their children too."
I took the ring. It was warm from his skin.
I left him there, alone in his vast bed, the old man who had finally found something worth dying for.
---
The Iron Legion commander, a woman named Vex with eyes the color of forged steel, studied the ring on my finger, then studied me.
"The Emperor commands," she said slowly, "that we follow you into that?" She gestured toward the Forum, now a roiling chaos of elemental fury.
"Yes."
"And if we refuse?"
"Then the Emperor dies having given an order no one obeyed, and the empire falls to whichever faction survives out there." I met her gaze. "I don't need your loyalty. I need your metal. One hour. Then you can go back to guarding empty halls."
She was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded, once, and turned to her troops.
"Legion! Form ranks! We march for the Forum!"
---
I led them into hell.
The Forum had become a war zone. Fire raged unchecked, water boiled in the fountain, the ground was a nightmare of stone spikes and craters, air sliced with deadly precision, and the burning oak cast an eerie green light over everything. Bodies lay everywhere—Ignis Guard, Tidewell, Stonewarden, Zephyr, Verdant. The elements were consuming each other.
And at the center, Valerius still stood.
He was magnificent, in his way. A pillar of living flame, surrounded by the bodies of those who'd tried to reach him. His fire had consumed a dozen Stonewardens, melted the water of a Tidewell elder, burned the air itself from a Zephyr's lungs.
But he was also exhausted. His core, pushed beyond its limits, flickered and dimmed. He was a bonfire running out of fuel.
When he saw the Iron Legion march in, he laughed—a wild, desperate sound.
"Finally! The cowards show themselves! Come then, iron dogs! Let's see how you burn!"
The Legion formed a shield wall and advanced. Metal met fire in a clash that shook the Forum to its foundations.
And I, the ghost at the edge of the battlefield, began the final ritual.
---
The ley lines beneath the Forum were screaming.
Six elements, converging. Fire from Valerius and his dying guard. Water from the fountain and the fallen Tidewell. Earth from the Stonewardens' corpses and the ruptured ground. Air from the Zephyr's final, desperate gusts. Wood from the burning oak and the Verdant Circle's sacrifice. Metal from the Iron Legion's advance.
I stood at the exact convergence point, directly above the deepest ley line nexus. The void within me opened—not as hunger, but as receptacle. I became the seventh element, the absence that completes the circle.
The Star-Eater stirred. For the first time, it felt not like a passenger, but an extension of my will. We were one instrument, playing the music of endings.
I raised my arms and pulled.
The effect was instantaneous.
Every elemental death in the Forum—every spark of released mana, every fading life-force—snapped toward me like iron filings to a magnet. The air screamed. The ground buckled. The sky above the Forum turned black, not with clouds, but with the absence of light.
Valerius, mid-battle, felt his fire ripped from him. He turned, saw me standing at the convergence, and understanding dawned in his dying eyes.
"You," he breathed. "The ghost. The nothing prince."
"Not nothing," I said, my voice carrying on winds that weren't wind. "Everything. The end of everything."
I pulled harder.
His core, already flickering, shattered. The fire mana within him, all the rage and pride and desperate ambition, poured into me like a river into the sea. He fell, a collapsing star, and was gone.
The Legion staggered as their metal mana drained. The remaining factions crumpled. The ley lines beneath us cracked.
And above, the sky tore open.
A wound in reality. A gash between worlds. Through it, I saw not stars, but a city. A hospital. A window with a single, small figure in a bed.
Maya.
---