The army halted at the edge of the city bridge. The man in obsidian armor stepped forward. His face was hidden behind a jagged helm, but his presence was like a weight on our chests.
"Lyria," Kael's voice echoed, cold and calm. "You have played your part well. The Star has matured within the vessel of a human's love. Now, give it to me, and I might let your little mage live."
Lyria stepped in front of me, her voice trembling but firm. "You will never have the Star, Kael. It died with my people."
Kael laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "It didn't die. It was waiting for a spark. And this boy..." he pointed his black sword at me, "...he is the spark. By bonding your soul to his, you've given the Star a heartbeat."
He raised his hand, and the ground beneath us began to crack. "If you won't give it to me, I will take it from his cold, dead heart."
I stood tall, wiping the blood from my lip. I looked at Lyria, and she looked at me. No words were needed. We both knew this was the moment our lives would change forever.
"Get ready, Lyria," I whispered, gripping my staff. "We're going to show him why stars are meant to shine, not burn out."