The abandoned square's silence was replaced by a heavier, more ominous tension. Pale moonlight outlined the two figures in their standoff—a silent pantomime where every subtle movement brimmed with wariness.
Selya stood rigid, her glacier-blue eyes scanning Lian like precision instruments, lingering on his still-bleeding right arm. Those few drops of blood that had brought her inexplicable solace now ignited a silent storm within her. Shock, confusion, disbelief—all crystallized into icy scrutiny. The sudden alleviation of her corruption's torment was too potent to ignore, yet instinctively distrusted. This unforeseen variable had shattered her clear-cut objective, forcing her to reassess this seemingly weak prey.
Leaning against the fountain's cold base, Lian winced with each breath as fire lanced through his wounded arm. Blood loss made his vision swim, but he clung to consciousness, watching the dangerous woman before him. He didn't understand why she'd stopped, nor the complex emotions in her gaze, but he sensed the killing intent had been replaced by something more unnerving—relentless appraisal. His grip tightened around the warm Starfall Fragment, his sole anchor.
Time stretched in silent confrontation, each second is as precarious as treading thin ice.
Finally, Selya broke the suffocating stalemate. Her voice was the crackle of breaking ice—cold and imperious.
"You," she began, pinning him with her gaze, "what exactly are you?"
The question was abrupt yet fundamental. She asked not for his name or origins, but his very essence.
Lian exhaled raggedly, pain roughening his voice as he straightened slightly. "Why should I answer," he countered, "before you answer mine? Who are you? Why attack me? And you seem... interested in this stone." His fingers brushed the fragment concealed beneath his clothes.
Selya's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. She was accustomed to control, to bending others through fear. This defiance unsettled her. But the anomaly of his blood demanded reassessment.
Instead of answering, her gaze returned to his bleeding arm, where moonlight glinted oddly on the blood. "Your blood," she murmured, more to herself, "is abnormal."
Lian's pulse jumped. So it was the blood! But he kept his face guarded. "I don't understand."
"Understanding isn't required," Selya cut in coldly. "Only know this: your blood carries... a unique power. One that quiets darkness."
Her phrasing was vague, but Lian recalled her stunned pause when his blood touched her. His blood could suppress darkness? Absurd—yet her reaction seemed genuine.
"Such traits," Selya continued, "belong solely to legends—the purest Starborn, those whose veins bind closest to the stars." Her piercing stare sharpened. "Morningstar lineage, yes? Lian Morningstar."
Lian stiffened. She knew his name! The Morningstars were a forgotten minor house—how? And "Starborn"—a term he'd only seen in crumbling family records.
Noting his shock, Selya pressed her advantage, selectively sharing truths to steer the exchange.
"As for this stone," she eyed his concealed prize, "it's called a Starfall Fragment—a conduit for stellar magic. But its significance... and peril... far exceed your grasp." Her tone darkened. "Eseria changes. Stars wane while corruption spreads. The Church calls it divine punishment, but the truth is far worse. The taint consumes all, faster than ever."
Her words drowned Lian like an icy tide. Stellar magic? Shadow corruption? These concepts were alien, yet "corruption" resonated grimly—echoing rumors at the auction, the expanding quarantined zones at the city's edge.
Studying him, Selya continued, "Your blood resisting corruption is a miracle... and a liability. Those who crave or fear such power will hunt you. As I did." She didn't shy from her earlier intent.
Lian fell silent. The revelations overwhelmed him—Starborn blood, magical stones, all-consuming corruption—far beyond his quest to find his sister and avenge his family. He'd stumbled into a far deadlier game.
This woman was formidable, knowledgeable... but her motives remained opaque. Why share this after trying to kill him?
"What... do you want?" he finally asked, exhaustion and confusion weighing his words.
Selya's gaze flickered. She needed his blood—at least until finding alternatives—to soothe her torment and counter the fragment's erosion within her. His Starfall Fragment and visions of Skyfall City (the last Starborn capital she, as Guardian, must investigate) also intrigued her.
Trust was impossible, but necessity bound them. For now.
"Truths," she said slowly, her voice still frosty but faintly layered. "About the fragment. Your blood. And... Skyfall City."
At "Skyfall," Lian flinched. The heart of his visions—his sole clue to finding his sister.
He inhaled sharply, meeting her penetrating stare, torn. Allying with this lethal enigma was madness. Yet she alone might guide him. Wounded and vulnerable, he had no better options.
Perhaps... no choice at all.
"You want the truth?" Lian's voice dropped, bitter yet resolved. "Then hear it."
Under the pallid moon, Lian unraveled his story—the Morningstars' faded glory, the night his family was slaughtered, and his younger sister Lya vanishing without a trace. His years as a walking corpse were sustained only by finding her.
Then, the fragment.
"I gambled everything for it," he admitted, "because its energy matched ancient texts about the Starborn. I hoped... for leads." His voice shook. "When I touched it, I saw... visions."
He described the floating ruins, the colossal chains, and his sister trapped within.
"That's Skyfall, isn't it?" Lian met her eyes desperately. "You know it. Tell me—what is that place? Is my sister truly there?" Hope and agony warred in his gaze.
Selya listened impassively, though inwardly stirred.
A slaughtered family, a missing sister, Skyfall visions—this wove into prophecies and Starborn secrets. Lian Morningstar, this seemingly ordinary落魄贵族, might be pivotal beyond expectation.
His corruption-soothing blood, his resonance with the fragment, and his Skyfall "guidance"—whether genuine or manipulated—marked him as a keystone.
Could he be the prophesied variable that alters all?
Suppressing speculation, Selya resumed her detached demeanor. Lian's candor suggested cooperation was possible—and exploitable.
"Skyfall City," she began coolly, "was the last Starborn capital—a floating marvel, long lost and shrouded. Legends say it guards the ultimate secret of the 'Star Core.'" She omitted the Void Maw's role as corruption's source and her Guardian身份.
"As for your sister..." She paused, watching hope flare in his face. "Visions may be true guidance... or traps. Skyfall is no sanctuary. It harbors unknowable dangers, possibly already claimed by... forces beyond comprehension."
Her words doused Lian's fragile hope. Traps? Occupation?
"But," Selya's tone shifted, a glint in her eyes, "if answers matter—if you'd confirm your sister's fate—Skyfall is your only path. And I... may be the sole guide who can take you there."
Lian's heart sank, then rallied faintly. He searched her icy mask for sincerity.
"You propose... partnership?" he rasped.
"A temporary alignment," she corrected frostily. "We share a destination, perhaps enemies. I offer knowledge of corruption and the old ways to reach Skyfall. You..."
Her gaze returned to his wounded arm. The implication was clear.
"... assist." She chose a gentler term, but both knew the truth—his blood.
Lian wrestled inwardly.
Trusting his would-be killer? Offering his blood to this shadow witch? It reeked of folly.
But... Lya. Skyfall might hold her, however perilous. And this woman seemed his only path.
He studied his bleeding arm, then Selya's hand where his blood had lightened the corruption's veins. Was his blood truly power? Could it be leverage?
A gamble. Failure meant ruin. But inaction meant eternal regret.
"Guarantees," Lian demanded hoarsely, resolve to harden his eyes. "Vow you'll guide me to Skyfall. Vow no betrayal."
Selya's lips curled faintly, almost mockingly. "Guarantees? In this world, they're worthless currency. I'll only say this: until Skyfall, we need each other. Our interests align."
Not a promise, but a stark reality.
Lian closed his eyes, seeing Lya's smile, reliving his family's massacre. When he reopened them, determination burned through.
"Fine," he gritted out. "We cooperate."
Selya gave a minute nod, acknowledging the fragile pact. No handshake, no pleasantries. Only a glance at his wound before stating, "Tend your injury. We leave soon."
She turned toward the city's outskirts where darker shadows loomed. "To reach Skyfall, we first cross the Corrupted Woods. There... we may find what's needed. Or... who can aid us."
Lian staggered upright, pain lancing through his arm as he eyed Selya's indifferent back, emotions in turmoil.
Thus, beneath the indifferent moon, in this forsaken square, an alliance was forged—bound by blood, secrets, and shared purpose (however fleeting).
Ahead lay unknown perils, trust as fragile as ice. Yet fate's gears had turned, yoking these unlikely companions toward