The crackle of dying embers was the only sound left in the old chapel ruins. The once-sacred hall had collapsed under the siege like everything else, its mosaic windows shattered, its marble altar broken in half. Now, it served as a temporary shelter — nothing more than a roof of broken stone and smoke-stained timber.
Erza sat cross-legged beside a cold hearth, his cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The golden trim of his once-regal robe was smudged with ash. His hands trembled faintly — not from cold, but from what he was holding back. The fire within him burned too brightly tonight.
Across the room, Raze Thorne sharpened his axe with rhythmic scrapes, the sound oddly soothing. Lyra stood near the broken window, her pale hair catching the moonlight, lost in quiet observation. Caelum flipped through his aged celestial charts by candlelight, murmuring to himself. Selene was... gone again — vanished into the shadows to scout the area, as she always did when things got too quiet.
No one spoke much after nightfall. Words felt too heavy.
Erza let out a slow breath and leaned back against the stone wall, his violet eyes staring up at the stars through a gap in the ceiling. There, glimmering above the skeletal remains of Duskfire, was Leo — the lion constellation. His birthright. His curse. His hope.
"I used to look up there and feel proud," Erza muttered. "Like the stars were watching over us. Now, it just feels like they're watching us fail."
Lyra turned, her voice soft but sharp. "They're still watching. But now they're waiting to see what you'll do next."
Erza gave a bitter smile. "And what if I don't know?"
Raze snorted. "Then we make it up as we go. Worked for me all my life."
"Did it?" Caelum said dryly, not looking up from his parchment. "Because that explains a lot."
Raze grinned and tossed a pebble at him, which Caelum dodged without missing a beat.
Erza watched them for a moment — the way they could still joke, still breathe — and it made his chest ache. He felt like a ghost walking among people still alive. How could they still laugh when everything they knew had been taken?
"I saw my mother in my dream last night," Erza said suddenly, and the room fell silent.
Lyra's expression softened. Raze stopped sharpening. Even Caelum put down his chart.
"She was singing," Erza continued. "That lullaby she used to hum when I couldn't sleep. Her hands were warm. Her voice... it felt real. And then the fire came. And she burned. Again."
His fists clenched in his lap. "I couldn't save her then. I can't even remember her face clearly anymore. And every time I close my eyes, I'm back there. The screams. The smoke. That... thing that killed my brother. All of it."
The silence grew unbearable.
Then Lyra knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Erza. None of us made it through untouched. We carry pieces of the same nightmare. But the only way out... is forward."
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to become," he said.
"You're already becoming it," Caelum replied gently from across the room. "You stood your ground today. You saved those villagers from the corrupted beasts. You refused to abandon them, even when the shadows closed in."
"Kings aren't made from bloodlines," Raze added, rising and cracking his neck. "They're forged in fire. In choices. You're choosing to keep fighting. That's all that matters right now."
The door creaked open then, and Selene stepped inside like a wraith, silent as always. Her silver eyes glinted beneath her hood.
"They're on the move," she said, voice low. "A Consortium patrol. Four corrupted hounds, two handlers. Heading toward the outer ruins. Maybe half a mile off."
Erza rose to his feet, his breath steadying. He could feel the solar fire stirring again — not as a burden, but as a call.
"Do we intercept?" Lyra asked.
Erza nodded. "We stop them. Quietly if we can. Loudly if we must. We send a message."
"And what message is that?" Caelum asked, standing and rolling up his charts.
Erza's eyes burned with starlight. "That Duskfire still lives."
The team readied themselves in silence. Armor was adjusted. Weapons were drawn. The heavy weight of survival turned into something else — purpose.
As they slipped into the night, Erza felt the fire inside him align with the stars above. The pain didn't vanish — it never would. But for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like it was controlling him. It felt like it was his to wield.
Tonight, they would take back a sliver of what had been lost.
And tomorrow?
They would burn brighter.