Chapter Four: Collision of Starlight and Shadow

The night wind whimpered as it swept over the cold stone slabs of the abandoned square, carrying with it the stench of decay and dust. Thalia's ice-blue eyes, reminiscent of the glacial depths of the far north, were locked on Raine, each word from her like a blade tempered in ice: "Hand it over. That stone does not belong to you."

Before the words had even faded, and before Raine could react, she moved.

Her movement was not like the typical, muscle-powered motion of a human beginning to run; it was as though the very shadows had come alive. The darkness under her feet spread upward like boiling ink, instantly enveloping her. In the next instant, she was no longer in her original spot but had transformed into a vague, almost indiscernible stream of inky black light, hurtling directly toward Raine!

So swift was her advance that the gust of wind she generated sent a sharp sting across Raine's fear-stricken, stiffened cheeks. He had no time to think; his body's instincts screamed urgent warnings.

"No!" A hoarse, terrified growl rasped from Raine's throat.

Almost simultaneously, Thalia was upon him. She did not target his vital areas directly; instead, with pale fingers like talons, she extended her hand, wreathed in twisted shadow energy aimed unmistakably at the hand that pressed the Fallen Stone tightly to his chest.

The shadow energy exuded a bone-chilling cold, as if it intended to freeze the very soul. Raine could even detect the odor—a decay reminiscent of dust from the depths of a crypt—emanating from that energy. Never before had the shadow of death felt so palpably real.

At the moment when her icy fingertips were about to touch the back of his hand, something long dormant—nearly forgotten—within Raine suddenly ignited in response to the extreme life-threatening danger and the resonant call of the Fallen Stone held close to his heart.

It was not a calculated move, nor a trained technique—it was pure, instinctive defiance, born deep from his very bloodline.

"Hum!"

A faint yet distinct vibration sounded. Centered on Raine's body, a halo of pale gold light—resembling a fragile condensation of starlight—erupted all around him!

The light was not dazzling; in fact, it was rather dim, like a candle struggling in the wind. Yet it carried a quality that was pure and warm, utterly at odds with the surrounding, frigid darkness. It expanded momentarily like a delicate bubble.

Ssshh—

The moment the shadow energy from Thalia's outstretched fingertips made contact with the golden halo, it emitted a sound akin to cold water splashing against a red-hot iron plate. The twisting, seemingly living shadows, as if encountering their nemesis, emitted a silent shriek and abruptly recoiled.

Thalia's actions faltered for an instant.

For the first time, a flash of incredulous surprise shimmered in her ice-blue eyes—not solely at the sudden resistance, but at the revelation of the faint, yet pure starlight power contained within that glow!

Starlight magic?

That thought flickered through her mind. But how could it be? The Dawnstar blood had grown so thinned over time that it was nearly undetectable, let alone be able to instinctively summon starlight for defense without any formal training. Even during the Starborne's golden age, only those of exceptional talent could harness such power!

Moreover, that power… seemed to resonate, however faintly, with the Starcore Fragment within her own body.

Raine himself was astonished by this sudden change. He sensed a meager warmth flowing outward from the Fallen Stone at his chest, following an unseen path through his body, culminating in the brief burst of light. He could not fathom what had just transpired, only that in that fleeting moment the threat of death had been repelled.

Yet his astonishment was short-lived.

Thalia, an experienced Shadow Witch with years spent dancing along the edge of life and death, quickly recovered her composure. After her initial shock, the cold determination in her eyes returned, now laced with a hint of… curious interest.

"Intriguing," she murmured in a low, hoarse tone that was as icy as ever, though her method of attack shifted subtly.

Though the brief flash of starlight had been unexpected, Thalia quickly assessed its limited strength—merely the instinctive struggle of a near-death moment, not a sustainable force.

She abandoned her attempt to seize the stone directly, and instead, her figure blurred as she circled around Raine like a specter. Her speed remained breathtaking, her form flickering amid the sparse moonlight and the dense shadows of the square, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint her exact position.

As she moved, more shadow energy radiated from her, transforming from a simple burst into fluid, deadly forms.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Several solidified arrows of shadow sprang forth from nowhere, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle as they converged on Raine from different angles.

Raine was struck with terror. The golden halo had already dissipated, and the warm current from the Fallen Stone had vanished, leaving behind only the searing pain and the terror of facing death. With no weapon at hand and no combat skills to rely on, he could only instinctively roll backwards in a desperate bid to dodge.

Thud! Thud!

A few shadow arrows grazed past him, embedding themselves deep into the ground behind him—the stone slabs hissing as though corroded by acid.

"Stop!" Raine managed to yell, his voice breaking amid his labored breaths and screams of fear. He longed to plead, to ask who his assailant was, but Thalia granted him no such opportunity.

Her assault rained down like a violent storm. Following the shadow arrows came lashing whips of darkness—snakelike, agile tendrils that slithered silently from the ground, striking at Raine's ankles and arms in an effort to entangle or immobilize him.

Raine dodged desperately, stumbling around the central, dried-up fountain as he sought to use its bulk as cover from the relentless onslaught. His coarse cloak was torn in several places during the frantic run, exposing the plain garments beneath. His breathing grew ragged, his heart pounded as though it might burst from his chest, and the headache and internal chill from the starlight backlash surged anew, further slowing his movements to a clumsy crawl.

The disparity in power was overwhelmingly apparent.

Raine felt like a fragile boat tossed in a raging tempest, on the verge of being swallowed whole. Thalia, by contrast, moved as if she were a cold, merciless goddess commanding the storm, each precise strike displaying a refined cruelty, as though she were taking a perverse delight in her prey's futile struggles.

The shadows in the square had become her arsenal. At times, the ground suddenly softened into a viscous, shadowy mire, intent on ensnaring Raine's feet; at other moments, unseen psychic shocks burst from the dark recesses of abandoned buildings, leaving him dizzy and unsteady.

"Give up," Thalia's voice rang out like a bitter winter wind across the square, "hand over the Fallen Stone, and I'll make sure your death is swift and agonizing."

Her tone was disarmingly calm, as if stating an incontrovertible fact rather than issuing a threat—a calm that struck Raine more deeply than any frenzied roar.

Raine gritted his teeth, sweat and tears blurring his vision. He knew he would not last much longer. The shadow of death coiled around him like parasites, tightening inexorably. Yet deep inside, the fierce will to survive—and the obsessive vision of his sister—refused to let him surrender.

He had to live! He had to find his sister!

At that moment, one of the shadow whips, as cunning as a venomous serpent, bypassed the fountain's barrier and lashed out at the hand holding the Fallen Stone!

Alarm surged in Raine's heart; he instinctively tried to withdraw his hand, but his reflexes were a beat too slow. All he could do was watch as the chilling whip of shadow drew near.

In a desperate act bordering on self-harm, Raine yanked his left hand—still clutching the Fallen Stone—tightly inward, while simultaneously thrusting his right forearm hard against the approaching shadow whip!

He would rather suffer injury than allow anyone to seize that sole beacon of hope!

Smack!

A dull sound resounded as the shadow whip struck his right forearm with full force. A searing, tearing pain shot through him, as if his bones were being rent apart. Raine let out a muffled groan as he staggered backward, crashing heavily against the cold stone base of the fountain.

In that violent collision, the ragged sleeve of his cloak was torn, exposing his arm beneath. A deep, crimson lash mark quickly appeared, the skin split open, and blood began to gush forth.

But Thalia's assault did not cease. To her, this was nothing more than Raine's final, foolish resistance. With a swift movement, she closed in once more; her other hand morphed into a claw, reaching directly for the left hand that was now loosened by pain.

Raine's pupils constricted in shock. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his right arm, he instinctively raised his wounded forearm in an effort to block or push away his attacker.

It was a chaotic, desperate maneuver.

In that instant, as if by chance, a few droplets of warm, blood tinged with a faint hint of starlight—flying like scattered raindrops—broke through the cold darkness of the night. Some fell squarely onto the pale back of Thalia's extended hand, which, moments ago, had been partially withdrawn by the starlight burst; a few more splattered along the edge of her black claw, still emanating a piercing chill due to condensed shadow energy.

In that infinitesimal moment, blood met shadow, and starlight touched decay—the two forces collided in a way that none had anticipated.

Time seemed to stand still.

Thalia's movements froze abruptly, and in her ice-blue eyes, the relentless cold and murderous intent were, for the first time, overwhelmed by a tumultuous shock—and a stirring emotion deep within her soul that was impossible to name.

For his part, Raine, dazed by the impact and searing pain, could barely see; he only registered that her attack had ceased, and that those ice-cold eyes were fixed relentlessly on his injured arm, and on the vivid specks of red on her hand.

The oppressive aura of death that had permeated the square suddenly dissipated, replaced by an eerie silence that was even more unsettling.

In the square, only the whimper of the night wind over the ruins and Raine's ragged, pained breaths remained.

Those few droplets of blood, like sparks falling onto a scalding, frozen surface, were inexplicably altering some hidden balance deep within the darkness.