He was spat out in pieces by the void.
Fragments of consciousness returned to Ethan, accompanied by a sharp taste of gold and rot on his tongue, fingers that were like shadows, and a gasp of air that was not in the atmosphere.
He was still alive.
But not like a human.
But alive.
With the earth burned in a flawless circle, the crater where Mara had fallen was now quiet. Like a dagger piercing the world's heart, the golden thorn in the center of it stood upright and stuck out from the ground.
Ethan grabbed it.
His formerly empty hand had changed into something else, and it moved through the thorn-like smoke.
A voice whispered.
"Not yet."
He knew that voice.
Mara.
...
Jarek's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
The knife was gone.
Disappeared as soon as it slit Mara's throat. The only thing left was the thorn, throbbing softly in the demolished ground.
He should take it.
Must destroy it.
However, the way Ethan gazed at it, like a man who has been in the desert for days—made him pause.
"She is in there," yelled Ethan.
His tone was incorrect. There are too many echoes.
Jarek took a step back.
"That is no longer Mara."
The thorn shone brightly.
Beneath the decay, a breeze rushed, carrying the smell of turned earth and something sweet.
Like Mara's scent when she laughed.
Jarek lost his resolve.
…..
Mara had a dream about roots.
As they sang lullabies in a language of thorns and forgotten names, they held her in their arms, this figure of shadow and gold.
"You are the link," the roots whispered. "You hold the key."
She could feel the Thirteenth Star, steady as a butcher, circling beyond the roots.
And closer, two heartbeats.
One half-void, trembling between realms.
One human, breaking.
Mara grabbed both of them.
…..
Like lightning, the vision came.
A garden of glass and bone.
A woman crying black sap, with bark for skin.
A child, the first child—plucking a star from the sky and swallowing it whole.
Ethan let out a gasp.
The thorn's light intensified, beating in time with his heart that had been stolen.
"It was never about worship," he said out loud.
Jarek stiffened.
"What?"
"The Duskheir. The Star. All of it." Ethan's voice shook. "They are starving. And we are the food.
The thorn trembled.
A single, golden leaf opened.
…..
Jarek had lived his entire life trying to escape Ravenscroft's legacy.
Now he knelt in its destruction.
He touched the thorn.
Pain. Then…
"East," said Mara's voice. Where the first hunger woke up."
He turned away. The vision lingered.
A cave.
A throne of petrified wood.
A skeleton wearing a crown of thorns.
"The first Duskheir's resting place," Jarek whispered.
Ethan's void-like eyes met his.
"No. Not resting."
"Waiting."
…..
Far away, in the dark between worlds, something licked its lips.
…..
The roots tightened around her dream self.
'You must choose', they whispered. 'Vessel or sacrifice?'
Mara smiled.
"I choose vengeance."
…..
They took the thorn.
As they emerged from the crater, the ground let out a scream. The sky darkened behind them—not with night, but with someone or something observing.
Jarek carried the thorn in his coat, its light leaking through the material like blood.
Beside him, Ethan's shape wavered between solid and emptiness.
Neither one made a sound.
Some oaths needed no words.
…..
As night fell, the leaf trembled.
There was only one word that stuck in their heads.
"Hurry."