Page 55 of Starlit Bargains

Before Eliar could respond, a weak voice called out from nearby.

“Fallen One...”

Elder Tobias had pushed himself to a sitting position, blood staining his white beard where it had trickled from a cut on his temple. His eyes, rheumy with age but sharp with hatred, fixed on Eliar with bitter resignation.

Eliar gently released Kai's hand and moved toward the fallen elder, kneeling beside him not out of respect, but out of a need to face directly what had been hidden from him for so long.

“The Council will know what you've done,” Tobias coughed, his breath labored. “They will send others. More powerful than us. You cannot outrun fate, Fallen One. The prophecy will find you, no matter where you hide.”

Eliar's expression hardened, the last vestiges of the quiet, unassuming persona he had cultivated for centuries falling away completely.

“I'm not running,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of newfound resolve. “Not anymore.”

He rose to his feet, turning back to Kai who stood waiting with uncharacteristic patience, as if understanding the significance of this moment. Briar hovered nearby, her usual commentary suspended as she sensed the gravity of what was unfolding.

For centuries, Eliar had existed in a state of suspension—not fully alive, not truly present, just enduring. Accepting his punishment, believing it just, allowing himself to be further bound by those who feared what he might become if ever awakened. He had convinced himself that isolation was safer, that distance from others was protection for them, that the corruption within him could only be contained through rigid self-denial.

But in the space of a few weeks, a chance encounter with a witch whose magic echoed the stars had begun to unravel all of that careful construction. And in the last few moments, facing the truth of his containment, he had made a choice that could not be unmade.

It was terrifying. The power flowing through him now was both familiar and strange, stronger than it had been in centuries but still carrying that dark undercurrent of corruption that his fall had introduced. The prophecy still loomed, the choice it foretold still coming—restoration or destruction, balance renewed or the veil torn beyond repair.

But for the first time since his fall, Eliar found himself wanting to face that choice rather than avoid it. Wanting to discover what he might become if he stopped hiding from himself.

“Take me to Thornhaven,” he said finally, the words emerging with quiet certainty.

Kai smiled, just a little, the expression warming his eyes despite the fatigue and tension still evident in his stance. “Took you long enough.”

The simple acceptance in those words—the lack of triumph or smugness, just a gentle acknowledgment of a decision long in coming—touched something in Eliar that had been dormant for too long.

“Thornhaven it is,” Briar chimed in, darting between them with a spark of her usual energy returning. “Where apparently everyone in this strange little story is gathering. Should be totally fine and not at all likely to cause magical catastrophes of any kind.”

Despite everything—the aftermath of battle, the revelations that had shaken centuries of careful existence, the uncertain future that awaited—Eliar found himself smiling. A small, tentative thing, but real.

“Your confidence is inspiring,” he told the sprite dryly.

“I'm a natural optimist,” she replied, the sarcasm in her voice belied by the genuine relief in her tiny features. “Now can we please get moving before someone decides to try locking you up again?”

Together, they made their way out of the devastated square, past the broken remnants of Eliar's long confinement. As they reached the edge of the village, Eliar paused for one last look back at Mistwood—at the place that had been his prison for so long, disguised as sanctuary.

He felt no regret for leaving it behind. Only a strange lightness, as if in breaking the bindings that had held him, he had shed a weight he hadn't fully recognized he was carrying.

The road ahead stretched before them, leading away from Mistwood and toward Thornhaven—toward uncertainty, toward potential danger, toward a future Eliar had never allowed himself to imagine. But also toward Silas and Thorne, who might have insights into the prophecy. Toward resources that might help them understand the connection between his power and Kai's. Toward the possibility of facing what was coming not alone, but with allies.

With Kai walking beside him, the sunlight catching in his dark hair and turning his eyes to amber fire, Eliar felt something he had thought lost to him forever: hope. Not thefragile, hesitant kind that came in brief moments of respite, but something stronger, more resilient.

They left the village behind, walking toward the unknown, together. And for the first time in centuries, Eliar found himself looking forward to what might come next, rather than dreading it.

The choice the prophecy foretold still awaited. The corruption within him still threatened. The Celestial Council would surely send others once they learned what had happened to their watchers. But none of that seemed as insurmountable as it had before.

Because now, he was no longer simply the fallen, the bound, the contained.

Now, he was choosing his own path. And that made all the difference.

Chapter 13

The Ghosts We Carry

The journey to Thornhaven had taken longer than expected. After the confrontation in Mistwood, they'd been forced to travel more cautiously, avoiding main roads and villages where word of the incident might have spread. Eliar had remained hyperaware of their surroundings, sensing for any signs of pursuit—whether from the remnants of the Keepers or from something worse.

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