Chapter 5: The Fire Within

The darkness swallowed Zyra whole.

It wasn't the absence of light—it was something more. It curled around her like smoke, alive, breathing, pressing against her skin, whispering in a language she didn't understand.

She clenched her fists, her pulse hammering. Where was she?

She had been in Kieran's throne room, facing off against the Shadow King himself, and then—nothing.

No, not nothing. His power.

The last thing she remembered was his smirk—damn him—and the way the shadows devoured her at his command.

Now, she stood in a void of endless night, the air thick with an ancient power that coiled against her skin.

Panic clawed at her chest, but she shoved it down. Think, Zyra.

She took a step forward—at least, she thought she did. The ground beneath her felt unstable, shifting like sand, yet solid enough to hold her weight.

A flicker of light bloomed at her fingertips—small, weak. A remnant of her celestial power.

She tried to push more into it, to draw on her magic the way she had countless times before—but it wouldn't come.

Something was blocking it.

Her throat tightened. This place, wherever Kieran had thrown her, wasn't just darkness. It was a prison.

A deep chuckle echoed from the void.

Zyra's breath caught.

Then—he stepped out of the shadows.

Kieran.

Or at least, a version of him.

His usual armor was gone. Instead, he wore something looser, darker, the fabric shifting like smoke around his frame. His silver eyes gleamed in the dimness, watching her with an unreadable expression.

But there was something different about him.

Something colder.

Zyra forced herself to stand taller. "What is this?"

Kieran's smirk was slow, deliberate. "You didn't think I'd let you leave without knowing what you are, did you?"

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"What I am?" she repeated. "You mean the Starforged nonsense you keep spouting?"

His smirk deepened. "Tell me, celestial—why do you think your power isn't working here?"

Zyra swallowed.

She had noticed it the moment she arrived. Her connection to her magic felt distant, as if she were struggling to breathe underwater.

Kieran took a slow step forward, and the shadows around them reacted. Not like before, when they had simply obeyed him—no, this was different.

The darkness fed off of him.

Or perhaps… he fed off of it.

Zyra clenched her jaw. "You're blocking my power."

Kieran let out a quiet laugh. "I don't have to."

He lifted a hand, palm up. The shadows curled around his fingers, slithering over his wrist like a living thing.

"You're standing in the heart of my domain, little star." His voice dropped lower, the air tightening around her. "Here, your power is nothing. Here, I am everything."

A shiver ran down Zyra's spine, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"I don't care how powerful you think you are," she said, voice steady. "You can't keep me here."

Kieran tilted his head, as if amused. "Oh? And what makes you so sure?"

Zyra stepped closer, ignoring the warning crackle in the air between them. "Because I am not yours."

Something flashed in his gaze—something unreadable, something dangerous.

Then—the world shifted.

The ground beneath Zyra's feet vanished, and suddenly, she was falling.

The wind howled around her, icy and merciless, tearing through her clothes. She couldn't see where she was falling, only the endless abyss below.

Her stomach lurched—this was real.

She reached for her magic, desperate, grasping—

And then—fire.

It erupted from her core, golden and wild, bursting through the darkness like a sun breaking free from an eclipse.

The fall slowed.

Then—stopped.

Zyra hovered in midair, her body burning with celestial energy, her power finally breaking free of whatever had been suppressing it.

She gasped, inhaling light itself.

Then, slowly, she floated back to solid ground.

When her boots touched down, her magic crackled around her, golden embers against an endless night.

Kieran was watching her.

Not smirking.

Not mocking.

Just watching.

Zyra's chest heaved as she glared at him. "Not so powerless now, am I?"

Kieran exhaled, slow and deliberate. Then—he did something she hadn't expected.

He smiled.

Not the smug, arrogant smirk she had grown used to.

No.

This smile was something else entirely.

Dark.

Pleased.

Zyra's stomach dropped.

"I was waiting for you to figure it out," he murmured, his voice like a shadowed caress. "I needed to see if you could break through on your own."

Her brows furrowed. "You—"

He took a step closer, his presence suffocating. "You're stronger than I expected."

Zyra's fingers twitched. She didn't like the way he was looking at her.

Like he had just found something precious.

Like he had just confirmed something he had suspected all along.

Kieran reached out—slowly, deliberately.

Zyra should have stepped back.

But she didn't.

His fingers brushed against her jaw, barely a whisper of contact, and yet it set her nerves on fire.

The bond between them thrummed, alive and insatiable.

"You felt it, didn't you?" he whispered.

Zyra's breath caught.

"The fire," Kieran continued, his voice like silk and sin. "That wasn't just celestial magic, little star. That was something else."

His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, the touch maddeningly light.

Zyra's entire body was tense, a war raging inside her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, though it was a lie.

Kieran's smirk returned, slow and knowing.

"Yes, you do."

He let his hand drop, stepping back.

The air between them was thick, electric.

But Kieran was no longer looking at her like she was his prisoner.

No.

He was looking at her like she was his equal.

And that terrified her more than anything.

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