ASHES OF THE SUNDERED STAR

Kael: The Knight's Burden

The desert sun scorched Kael's neck as the stranger approached.

He rode a stallion clad in Solaris gold, his armor etched with the crest of a phoenix—the Order of Ember, the knights who had served Nyrisia before her fall. Kael stood in the shadow of Ashreach's ruined smithy, Soulbrand heavy at his hip. The hammer had gone silent since sealing Lira in the temple, its light dimmed to a dull flicker.

The knight dismounted, removing his helm to reveal a face webbed with burn scars. "Kael Vyrion."

Hearing his family name struck like a blow. "That's not me."

"It is," the knight said, tossing a scroll at his feet. "By blood and oath. Your ancestors swore to protect Eldyra from Nyrisia's wrath. Now you've unleashed her."

Kael didn't touch the scroll. "She's gone. We buried her."

"The parasite isn't." The knight's gaze drifted to the distant canyon, where crows circled. "It's taken a new host. One you know."

Lira.

Kael's hand flew to Soulbrand. "You're lying."

The knight drew his sword—a twin to Kael's hammer, forged from the same star-metal. "The Order abandoned Nyrisia when we learned the truth. The parasite manipulated her, yes, but she chose to let it in. To save her children."

"The Voidspawn."

"Her people," the knight corrected. "They were mortal once. Warriors who volunteered to become her knights. The parasite twisted them into… what you've seen." He sheathed his blade. "Now it's free, and your Weaver is the key to its return."

Kael's vision blurred—a flash of the temple, Lira's glowing eyes, the scratch of claws in the dark. "What do you want?"

"The same as you," the knight said. "To finish what Vyrion started."

He threw a dagger. Kael caught it by the hilt, its edge serrated with Voidspawn teeth.

"Find the host," the knight said, mounting his stallion. "Kill it. Or everything burns."

Lira: The Weaver's Price

The nightmares had changed.

Lira sat bolt upright in the healer's hut, her throat raw from screaming. The same vision clawed behind her eyes: a child in Umbralis' fungal forests, their skin splitting as shadowy tendrils burrowed beneath. The parasite's new host.

It's not me this time, she thought, trembling. But it's still my fault.

The healer's prisoner moaned in the corner, his chains clinking. The cultist they'd captured days ago—a boy barely older than sixteen—stank of fear and rot.

"You see them too, don't you?" he whispered. "The whispers."

Lira ignored him, checking the meteorite shard hidden under her pillow. It had cooled to a lifeless gray, its power drained after the temple. But the black veins were gone, her magic eerily silent.

The boy strained against his bonds. "They told me we were saving her. Nyrisia. That the parasite was a lie."

"And you believed them?" Lira said coldly.

"I believed him." The boy's eyes glazed with reverence. "The High Priest. He said she'd make us gods."

Lira froze. "What priest?"

"The one with the daggers. The one who—agh!"

The boy's scream cut off as black veins erupted across his face. His body convulsed, bones snapping as shadows poured from his mouth.

Lira scrambled back as the Voidspawn took shape—a spindly, child-sized horror with too many joints. It skittered up the wall, clicking its teeth.

"Sundered Star…" it hissed. "Mother misses you."

She lunged for the door, but the creature dropped, blocking her path. Its head rotated backward. "Come home."

The hut's door exploded inward.

Kael's dagger impaled the creature, pinning it to the wall. He wrenched the blade free, golden light searing the Voidspawn to ash.

"We need to go," he said, tossing her the meteorite shard. "Now."

Lira caught it. The shard flared, hot enough to burn, and her magic roared back—not threads of fate, but chains.

"Kael," she whispered. "I can feel it. The parasite… it's in Tyrus."

Tyrus: The Claw's Hunger

The pain was a living thing.

Tyrus crouched in the hollow of a dead tree, cradling his left arm. The stump had healed overnight—no, not healed. Regrown.

A claw of blackened bone and sinew stretched from his elbow, serrated and twitching. It had ripped through the bandages, through flesh, as if eager to carve.

"Fantastic," he muttered. "First my looks, now my charm."

The dagger lay beside him, its remaining blade cracked. It hummed when he touched it, the sound vibrating in his new claw.

Hunger.

He'd felt it since dawn—a gnawing void in his gut, satiated only when he'd skewered a jackal Voidspawn outside the Ghost Road. The claw had absorbed the creature, its shadow-flesh melting into his veins.

"Not a word, Lira," he told the empty air. "Not a godsdamned word."

A twig snapped.

Tyrus spun, claw raised. A figure emerged from the mist—Selene. No, not Selene. Her eyes glowed crimson, her skin mottled with rot.

"Hello, Varys," the parasite crooned through her lips.

Tyrus bared his teeth. "You're not her."

"Aren't I?" She smiled, revealing jagged fangs. "I kept her soul. Every scream, every tear. You want to hear them?"

He lunged.

The claw tore through her chest, but she dissolved into smoke, reforming behind him. "You can't kill me with my own gift," she laughed. "*But I can make you remember."

Her hand clamped his face.

Memory:

*Tyrus—Varys—stands in the Obsidian Spire's sanctum. Selene kneels at the altar, her blood filling the ritual circle. The parasite's voice booms: "A trade, priest. Her soul for my power."

He hesitates.

Selene meets his gaze. "Do it."

The dagger falls.*

Tyrus wrenched free, retching. "I didn't—I didn't know it would take her!"

"Liar," the parasite hissed. "*You wanted godhood. Now you're half a monster. Let me finish the job.*"

It surged into his claw.

Agony.

Tyrus screamed as the parasite burrowed into his bones, his mind fracturing under its weight.

"Fight it!"

Lira's voice. Kael's hammer flashed, smashing the parasite's hold. Tyrus collapsed, claw searing, as Lira pressed the shard to his chest.

"Stay with us," she ordered.

He laughed weakly. "Bossy little prophet, aren't you?"

Kael hauled him up. "Walk. Or I leave you."

"You'd miss me."

"Try me."

Convergence: The Bloodied Feast

They found the host at dusk.

A village in Solaris's farmlands, its fields lush with alien crops that pulsed like hearts. The villagers stood motionless in the square, their eyes hollow, veins black. At the center loomed a grotesque altar of flesh and bone, the parasite's voice thrumming through it.

"You're too late."

The villagers turned as one.

Lira gripped the shard. "It's not in them. It's the crops."

Kael ignited Soulbrand. "Burn it all."

Tyrus flexed his claw. "Finally, a party."

They attacked.

Kael's hammer shattered the altar, golden light purging the corruption. Lira wove chains of starlight, binding the possessed villagers. Tyrus's claw tore through the pulsating crops, each strike feeding the void in his gut.

The parasite's laughter echoed. "You cannot kill hunger, Sundered Star."

Lira plunged the shard into the earth. "But I can starve you!"

Light erupted. The village, the crops, the altar—all dissolved to ash.

When the dust settled, the parasite was gone.

But Tyrus's claw had grown.