Page 58 of Starlit Bargains

“We knew each other before,” Thorne said, his eyes still fixed on Eliar. “Before his fall. Before his binding. Before he decided to challenge the Celestial Council and reshape the boundaries between realms.”

Eliar flinched as if struck. “You make it sound so simple. So cold and calculated.”

“Wasn't it?” Thorne's voice rose slightly. “You knew what would happen. What the consequences would be—not just for you, but for all of us who were connected to you. Who trusted you.”

“I did what I thought was right,” Eliar replied, his own anger stirring now. “What was necessary.”

“You did what was forbidden,” Thorne countered. “And then you disappeared. Let us believe you were dead. Let me believe—” He broke off, turning away abruptly to face the fire.

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, with centuries of separation and misunderstanding.

Kai cleared his throat awkwardly. “So... you two definitely know each other.”

Despite everything, a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Eliar's mouth. Trust Kai to state the painfully obvious in the midst of such a charged reunion.

Thorne turned back to face them, his expression now carefully composed. “Eliar and I were... allies, once. Before his fall. Before everything changed.”

“Allies seems a bit clinical,” Briar commented from her perch on a nearby shelf. “The tension in here could power a small city.”

“Briar,” Silas warned again, more firmly this time.

“What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Eliar could feel Thorne's gaze still on him, heavy with unspoken questions and centuries of misunderstanding. The weight of their shared past hung in the air, but there were more pressing matters at hand—matters that couldn't wait for them to untangle the complex web of their history.

Silas was the first to break the silence, his scholarly instincts clearly recognizing the need to move beyond personal tensions to more urgent concerns.

“While we've been waiting for Kai to return,” he said, moving toward the large table at the center of the room, “Thorne and I haven't been idle.” He gestured to the maps and scrolls spread across its surface. “We've been tracking... disturbances.”

“Disturbances?” Kai moved closer to the table, examining the maps with newfound interest. Red marks dotted the parchment in a pattern that seemed random at first glance, but revealed a subtle organization upon closer inspection—concentric circles expanding outward from a central point.

Mistwood.

“Shadow manifestations,” Thorne explained, joining them at the table. “Void incursions. Reports of strange dreams and unexplained phenomena. All increasing in frequency and intensity over the past several months.”

“Since I first arrived in Mistwood,” Kai said quietly, the connection dawning on him.

“Precisely.” Silas tapped a finger on the innermost circle of markings. “It began as barely perceptible shifts in the fabric of reality—dreams that felt too real, shadows that moved against the light, animals behaving strangely. But it's grown stronger, more pronounced.” He looked up, his gaze moving between Kai and Eliar. “Whatever happened in Mistwood during your confrontation with the Keepers, it's accelerated the process.”

Eliar felt a chill run through him. “The shadows are not gone,” he said, the realization settling heavily in his chest. “We drove them back, but they're regrouping. Waiting.”

“And not just the Void Feeders you encountered,” Thorne added grimly. “Something deeper, older is stirring beneath the fabric of our world. The shadows are merely symptoms of a greater disturbance.”

Silas pulled a ancient, leather-bound book from beneath one of the maps. Its cover was unmarked, its pages yellowed with age. “We found this in the restricted section of the library,” he said, handling the tome with reverent care. “It speaks of a cosmic entity—a being of pure void that exists between the realms, seeking entry into our world. The text calls it the Nullifier—that which unmakes, that which consumes.”

He opened the book to a marked page, revealing an illustration that made Eliar's blood run cold—a vast, shapeless darkness with countless eyes, tendrils reaching across the boundaries between worlds.

“The prophecy speaks of its awakening,” Silas continued. “Of a time when the veil between realms would grow thin enough for it to sense our world again. When it would begin testing the boundaries, seeking vulnerabilities, gathering its strength for a final breach.”

Eliar's stomach twisted painfully. He knew what it was. He had always known. The entity they described was no myth, no abstract threat from ancient texts. It was terribly, horrifically real—and he had encountered it once before, at the moment of his fall.

Thorne was watching him closely, those moss-green eyes missing nothing. He saw the flicker of recognition in Eliar's face, the way his shoulders tensed, the momentary flash of ancient fear in his star-filled gaze.

“You knew,” Thorne said, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. It wasn't a question.

The accusation hung in the air, drawing everyone's attention back to Eliar. Kai's expression shifted from curiosity to concern, while Silas looked between them with the sharp focus of someone connecting previously disparate pieces of information.

Eliar didn't deny it. How could he? The truth had been his burden for centuries, a knowledge he had carried alone through his long exile.

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