Page 31 of Starlit Bargains

“Slow down,” Briar gasped, clinging to his collar. “Where are we even going?”

“To find Eliar,” Kai replied, not breaking stride. “Right now.”

“What happened to waiting three days?” she asked. “And shouldn't we maybe think about what we just learned before rushing into another potentially world-ending situation?”

Kai shook his head. “If that prophecy is right, every moment our magic connects might be making things worse. The merchant said the veil between worlds could tear—like what happened with the Void Feeder, but worse.”

“So your plan is to... what? Tell Eliar to stop being magical near you?”

“I don't know,” Kai admitted, pushing through underbrush as he cut directly through the forest toward Mistwood. “But he needs to know what's happening. What might happen.”

The afternoon sun was already sinking toward the horizon, shadows lengthening across the forest floor. Kai estimated they were still at least an hour from Mistwood, maybe more if he couldn't find a direct path. He picked up his pace, driven by a growing sense of urgency that he couldn't entirely explain.

“You're worried about him,” Briar observed, her voice softer than usual. “Not just about prophecies and cosmic consequences. About him.”

Kai didn't deny it. The thought of Eliar—lonely, exiled, slowly regaining power that might prove dangerous to himself and others—created a tight knot of anxiety in his chest. It wasn't just about potential catastrophe anymore; it was about Eliar himself, about the quiet sadness in his eyes, about the way he'd pulled away when their magic connected as if afraid of feeling anything at all.

“If anyone's going to warn him about potential cosmic disaster, it should be me,” Kai said finally. “I'm the one who started this. I'm the... the Catalyst.” The word felt strange on his tongue, heavier than it should be.

Chapter 7

Shadows Strike

His heart still raced from the mad dash through the forest, the cryptic prophecy from the Night Market merchant echoing in his mind. Eliar paced at the edge of the clearing, his movements tense and deliberate as he scanned the tree line.

“You shouldn't have come back so soon,” Eliar said, not looking at Kai. “I told you three days.”

“Yeah, well, plans change,” Kai replied, trying to sound casual despite the anxiety churning in his gut. “I found something. Something you need to know about.”

Eliar finally turned to face him, those star-filled eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What have you done?”

The accusation stung, all the more because it wasn't entirely unwarranted. Kai had made a bargain at the Night Market, had learned of a prophecy that cast their growing connection in an ominous light. But now, facing Eliar directly, the words stuck in his throat.

How exactly did you tell someone that their potential redemption might also be the catalyst for cosmic disaster?

“I...” Kai began, then faltered. Briar, perched on his shoulder, gave him an encouraging nudge. “I learned about a prophecy. About a fallen guardian and someone called the Catalyst who awakens his power.”

Interest flickered across Eliar's face, quickly followed by wariness. “Where did you learn of this?”

“There's a market,” Kai said, deliberately vague. “Hidden in the forest. They deal in information, among other things.”

“The Night Market,” Eliar said flatly. “You went to the Night Market. Alone.”

“Not alone,” Kai protested. “Briar was with me.”

“Oh yes, that makes it much better,” Eliar replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “A witch with unpredictable power and a sprite the size of my thumb. Surely nothing could go wrong.”

“Look, that's not the point,” Kai said, frustration building. “The prophecy said that when the Catalyst—which I'm pretty sure is me—awakens the guardian's power, there's a choice to be made. One that either restores balance or...” He hesitated, the merchant's words echoing in his memory. “Or tears the veil between worlds.”

Something shifted in Eliar's expression—recognition, perhaps, or confirmation of a fear long held. “Tell me exactly what you heard. Word for word, if you can.”

Kai closed his eyes briefly, recalling the faded text on the ancient parchment and recited it over to Elias. When he opened his eyes again, Eliar had gone perfectly still, his face drained of what little color it normally held.

“You know it,” Kai said. It wasn't a question. “You've heard this prophecy before.”

“Parts of it,” Eliar admitted, his voice low. “When I was first... sentenced to this existence. It was mentioned as a possibility, a distant future that might never come to pass.” His gazesharpened. “But prophecies are dangerous things, Kai. They shape as much as they predict. The moment you learn of one, you begin to fulfill it—or to fight against it, which often amounts to the same thing.”

“So you're saying it's self-fulfilling?” Kai asked. “That by learning about it, I'm making it happen?”

---