Chapter 86: The Star‐Tear Spring

Bits of shattered stone and charred tendrils lay strewn across the ground.

The collapse of three colossal guardians sent up choking clouds of dust, mingling the stench of decay with an unexpectedly crisp freshness.

Karrion leaned on his hammer, chest heaving, sweat soaking the edges of his leather armor.

He scanned the ruins to ensure no danger remained, then staggered, almost collapsing.

"By the Forge… finally done," he rasped, voice hoarse. "I thought I'd be leaving my bones here."

Raine tried to push himself up, only to be slammed back by a wave of dizziness.

The aftershock of star‐blood backlash washed over him like icy surf, each heartbeat stabbing at his skull.

He saw Karrion approach unsteadily, soot caking his face and unknown ichor dripping from his beard.

"How are you holding up?" Karrion crouched beside him, concern in his tone but fear still lurking in his eyes. "Back there… what was that? How did you—"

Raine shook his head, speechless.

That fleeting vision had drained every ounce of his strength—and then some.

His bones ached as though they were weeping, and his blood felt as frozen as steel.

His gaze drifted past Karrion's shoulder to Thalia, not far off.

She remained motionless, a fragile statue carved from shadow.

Her hood concealed her face, but Raine sensed her trembling frame and her breath's barely audible, strained rise and fall.

That she stood so, unfallen, surprised Raine.

Despite his haze, he had felt that strike carry the weight of near‐cataclysmic power.

"Thalia?" Karrion's voice rose as he, too, noticed her condition.

Thalia swayed, jolted by his call.

She lifted her head, the hood's shadow deepening around her.

"I'm… fine," she murmured, fragile as a spider's web in the breeze. "Just drained of energy."

Karrion frowned, unconvinced.

But he did not press her; instead, he said gravely, "The spring… it must be close. We'd best find it quickly."

He hauled Raine up, nearly supporting the full weight of the starborn youth.

Thalia followed silently, her steps so unsteady she seemed on the verge of collapse.

They picked their way through the rubble of collapsed guardians toward the sunken hollow at the heart of this place.

A purifying chill carried on the breeze, growing stronger, a stark counterpoint to the corruption beyond these ruins.

The star‐shard at Raine's chest glowed warmly, as if drawn by the crystal clarity in the air.

Karrion halted and pointed ahead.

"Look there."

Beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, twisted as if bearing endless agony yawning, shadowed entrance lay concealed.

The opening was barely large enough for one to stoop through, encircled by thick roots draped in black moss.

Were it not for that distinct breath of purity, they might have passed it by.

A gentle, moon‐lit blue glow seeped from the depths, banishing the heavy dark and imparting a refreshing chill.

"The Star‐Tear Spring…" Raine whispered, the persistent ache abating in that soft radiance.

Karrion cautiously peered inside.

"Doesn't look haunted," he reported. "Let's go—first we see it, then we know it."

He ducked in first; Raine followed, with Thalia bringing up the rear.

The interior was snug—a hollow naturally cocooned by massive roots.

Damp walls bore bioluminescent moss that cast a muted, sapphire hue throughout.

At its center, the scene opened wide.

A pool of water lay there.

So crystal clear, so utterly pure.

The spring was only a few paces across—its surface mirror‐flat, reflecting the pale blue moss above.

The water itself glowed with a soft, star‐shard blue—not harsh, but imbued with a soulful purity.

Mist rose in faint tendrils, carrying an indescribable fragrance that stood in stark contrast to the rot beyond.

This was the Star‐Tear Spring.

Legend spoke of it as the one unhallowed refuge in the Corrupted Wood.

"Incredible…" Karrion gasped, eyes wide. "The dwarven scrolls… they weren't lies."

He hurried to the pool's edge, cupping a handful of water.

The liquid felt like glacial silk, simultaneously cool and oddly soothing.

After a glance at Raine and Thalia, he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply.

"Ah!" he exhaled, satisfaction washing away most of his fatigue. "This is... damn good stuff!"

With Karrion's help, Raine approached the spring.

He stared into the crystal depths, entranced by the gentle azure glow.

He gingerly touched the surface with his fingertip.

A wave of pure, cooling energy raced from his fingertip through every vein.

Like a parched land blessed by rain, his drained form greedily drank it in.

The deep‐seated weariness, the star‐blood agony—both washed away in the soothing flow.

He scooped more, draining it eagerly.

It slid down like sweet spring wind, flooding him with warmth and vitality.

Daily exhaustion, soreness, hidden corruption—all seemed banished by this pristine surge.

He even felt the dormant star‐magic within him rekindle, faint yet alive rather than the prior dead hush.

This spring was more than mere refreshment—it was purification.

Thalia, too, approached, removing her hood in silent reverence.

Her pallid features glowed under the azure light—more bloodless, yet her gaze shone with renewed purpose.

She cupped the water in delicate hands and drank, each sip measured and slow.

Raine watched her eyes close, lashes trembling, as she savored the water's balm.

A hush fell over the cavern—only the drip of the spring and the steady breaths of the three.

In a forest teeming with peril, this moment of peace felt infinitely precious.

Karrion had recovered fully, his dwarven vigor renewed by the spring.

He fetched every waterskin, pouch, and spare vial—and busied himself filling them.

"This is treasure!" he marveled between pours. "More invigorating than any stout! We must study it—figure out its source…"

Raine leaned against the damp wall, basking in the rare comfort.

Relaxation sharpened his senses.

He became aware of something else in the air, beyond the spring's purity.

An emotion.

Ancient, profound, unshakeable.

Sorrow.

Like a chorus of broken sighs echoing through the cavern.

Faint whispers, thick with regret, defiance, and boundless grief, seeped from the pool's depths and the surrounding roots and stone.

It was no illusion. Raine knew it.

It mirrored the echoes he'd felt in starborn ruins—yet more concentrated, more sorrowful, and more pure.

As if countless souls had left their final laments here, imprinted on this last sacred ground.

The spirits of his starborn kin.

Had their sorrow and tears pooled into this spring?

The Star‐Tear Spring… its name was no empty legend.

A shadow passed through Raine's heart.

Had this moment of cleansing cost an eternity of grief?

He glanced at Thalia.

She neither labored like Karrion nor recovered like Raine.

She simply stood by the spring, still as stone, gazing into the softly glowing waters.

Her eyes held an inconsolable sorrow, as if she saw through the water to things beyond this world.

Raine noticed a detail.

When Thalia's finger skimmed the surface again, the spring's glow brightened subtly.

And those ripples seemed strangely attuned to the spot over her heart…

Though the cloak hid the truth, Raine felt the echo on an energy plane.

The spring's pure star‐energy resonated with something equally pure in Thalia—yet laced with shadow.

His heart sank.

He recalled the secret of her heart—the star‐core shard that could stave off corruption.

Could this spring be tied to the shard?

Or was it of the same origin as the fragment within her?

A chill ran down his spine.

If so, Thalia's presence here meant she felt not only cleansing but a deeper pain—and bond.

"Hey," Karrion's voice broke Raine's reverie as he secured the last waterskin. "Ever heard the joke of the Spring‐Goddess?"

He missed the tension between Raine and Thalia and the melancholic aura in the air.

Patting his bulging supplies, he grinned widely, flashing white teeth.

"Legend tells of a cranky spring‐goddess—her waters cured every ailment, but if she was in a foul mood, she withheld it."

"One day, a lovesick prince begged her for water. She asked, 'How much do you love your princess?'"

"The prince said, 'I love her as much as… dwarves love gold!'"

Karrion paused for effect, eyes dancing as he awaited their reaction.

Raine tugged at his lip, but no laughter came.

Thalia showed no sign she'd heard—her gaze stayed locked on the spring.

Karrion shrugged, disappointed.

"Well, she turned him into a… uh… golden beetle."

Silence fell.

He cleared his throat twice, trying to salvage his joke.

"But seriously, this water works wonders—I feel every rusted joint gleaming new!"

He clapped Raine on the shoulder.

"How're you feeling? Better?"

Raine nodded.

"Much better," he replied, voice steadier. "Thanks, Karrion."

Karrion waved the thanks away.

"No thanks needed—we're all in this boat together." He glanced at Thalia, then leaned in. "But… she seems off."

Raine followed Karrion's gaze.

Thalia slowly turned to face them.

Her face remained pale, but the sorrow in her eyes was now replaced by something even deeper.

A calm verging on resolute.

"We should go," Thalia said softly, her tone flat. "This energy is pure…but lingering too long may not be wise."

She drew her hood back up, hiding those too‐complex eyes.

Raine looked at her, heart heavy with questions.

The spring's lament, her resonance with its waters, that fleeting look of resolve…

All presaged that their path lay fraught with challenges far beyond imagining.

And Thalia's hidden burden might weigh far heavier than he guessed.