Chapter 1253: Tailored Reality

Aurle tilted her head, looking at me curiously. "I’m not sure I know those names. Are they from... before? And when did you get a chance to find flowers? I think I’d remember if you gave me something that beautiful."

I groaned, pressing a hand to my head. Something was seriously wrong, something deeper than the dull ache throbbing between my horns. Nivaleas... I’d never heard of those. And Elise, I knew, but Tana...? I’d barely met any full-blooded elves. Why did I have a half-elf in my memories?

"Starlight, what’s going on? You’re trembling," Aurle said, catching me by the shoulders. "Are you feeling sick? I mean, anyone would, living like us, but..."

She bit her lip, frustration showing in her eyes. "Starlight, please, talk to me!"

I pushed her away, collapsing onto the couch, not caring that it was forbidden for slaves to soil the finery with their filth. This wasn’t right. I shouldn’t be here. I should be with Luke!

The name hit me like lightning, and suddenly some of the fog lifted. Luke. Tall and handsome. Warm. Violet eyes that shimmered whenever he looked at me. His hands, strong and comforting, lifting me whenever I felt weak.

"Well, this is a surprise," a cold, amused voice said.

I froze, and Aurle’s breath hitched audibly in her chest. We both scrambled to our feet and dropped into low curtsies, too terrified to move.

"M-my Lord," Aurle stammered, her hands shaking in the folds of her apron. "This is—"

"What, exactly?" Lord Byron asked, entering the room. He gave us a long, pondering look before settling onto the couch.

The slave crest burned with his disapproval, though he hadn’t even activated it.

"Am I to understand my servants have finished their duties already? And here I find you lounging about in my reception room." He glanced at Aurle. "I see you’ve been assigned to work together again, how... fortuitous." His smile could have chilled ice.

"Yes, my Lord. We were just finishing—"

He raised his hand. Aurle fell silent, her ears flattening against her head. Byron smiled and turned toward me.

"Now then, Starlight. You’ve been rather stubborn lately, but I think we’ve reached the limits of my generosity."

My stomach sank.

"Just think, little filthblood. No more beatings, no more unpleasantness. I might even find a better position for that little friend of yours." His smile widened. "Though I must say, she’s been quite accommodating in your place. A bit too much crying for my tastes, but I suppose she’ll learn."

I flinched, and he chuckled.

"She was rather pitiful last night. Begging me to stop, asking for a little rest. You saw how she was limping this morning, didn’t you? And those bruises on her arms? Well, she has a habit of struggling when she knows better. It’s only natural I hold her down. She loves it, you know. Taking it rough like that."

"Please, my Lord," Aurle whispered.

"Quiet, girl. I’m speaking to Starlight." He leaned forward, studying me. "Have you considered how she must feel? All those nights I’ve had her brought to my bed instead of you. All those punishments she could have avoided if you’d simply learned your place. Do you think she doesn’t resent you, even a little?"

I glanced at Aurle. Her hands were clenched in her apron, and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her ears drooped, and I saw a faint tremor in her shoulders.

Please, say something. Anything.

She remained silent.

A memory stirred. Aurle crying against my shoulder, her voice trembling as she tried to reassure me. And then another, of her broken body lying in my arms.

"Aurle..." I whispered.

And suddenly, I remembered.

The Divine Throne. Fate’s final embrace. Elise, Tana, the Glory Chasers. Luke and the countless nights we’d spent together. The World Shard, and the spell that had swallowed us.

I staggered backward, grabbing the couch for support. The memories came too quickly, overlapping until I could barely distinguish one from another.

"What’s gotten into you?" Byron demanded, rising to his feet. "Have you forgotten your manners? Kneel, slave. I’ve half a mind to take you right here and now!"

He raised his hand, and my slave crest erupted with pain.

I cried out, falling to one knee, but beneath the familiar agony, I felt something give. It was like a collar loosening just enough to breathe, and I instinctively reached for the freedom.

The room wavered. For a moment, power welled within my soul, power I hadn’t felt since the Grand Inquisitor had shackled me with the soul binder. And then more, and an endless amount. So much my soul shouldn’t have been able to bear it, and yet, it felt...right.

It was gone just as quickly, but that was enough to open my eyes.

This wasn’t Enusia. I wasn’t in High Valley. I wasn’t standing before Lord Byron. I wasn’t a slave.

"What is this?" Byron growled and stepped back.

I looked up, finding the room bathed in a soft, golden glow. Though I couldn’t feel my mana, that didn’t seem to matter. The stars answered my call.

"S-Starlight?" Aurle was cowering in the corner of the room, frightened and trembling, covered in every bruise the master had inflicted on her.

I raised my hand, and golden threads wrapped around Byron, binding him in place. He cursed and struggled, but I barely noticed. Against my power, his sixth-level soul was no more significant than an ant.

With another gesture, the slave crest burst into flame and faded, and the soul binder ring cracked and faded before it hit the ground. My wounds vanished, and I took a long, deep breath, relishing the chance to breathe easy without the sunpurge.

"Aurle," I said, reaching toward her. "It’s all right. He can’t hurt you anymore."

She stared at me in disbelief as her own injuries faded beneath my magic. Her ears perked up, and she took a tentative step forward, no longer limping.

The world responded to my every thought, shaping itself according to my will. Finally, I was strong enough. Everything I knew, all the powers of fate and oblivion.... I could do anything. I could save everyone.

As I caught Aurle’s hand and drew her close, something tugged at my soul. I stiffened, feeling a strange, foreign mark within my chest, creeping into my soul. It traced the path of the stars, small and subtle. Nearly imperceptible.

I followed it back toward the World Shard, and recoiled. For a moment, the entire world stood open, every fiber woven from divine mana instead of fate. Every star here was my own. A world without fate. A tailored reality.

More mana sank into my soul, curling around the small pockets of warmth that were my bonds. Luke, Fable, the divinity, and...the mark. They seemed drawn to the latter by the infernal mana leaking from it.

I pursed my lips, my tail twitching uncertainly as I tried to isolate the mana amid the natural cycle, but it slipped through my grasp. My own soul, my own power, couldn’t differentiate my stars from the world I stood in. I couldn’t wield one without the other.

"No," I whispered, clenching my fists as I began to withdraw my aura. I couldn’t let the Pope’s magic–

"Starlight, what’s going on? What are you doing?" Aurle looked at me, eyes wide and shimmering with tears.

"I... I have to stop."

"Stop?" She glanced toward Byron, still struggling against his bonds. "But...why? We’re so close! With your power, we can escape!"

"Aurle, I...I can’t." My voice broke. "It’s not real."

She stared at me, her expression slowly changing. "Not real? What are you talking about? I’m standing right here! Take me with you!"

"Aurle, please. I can’t..."

Her fingers tightened around mine. It would be so easy. There was enough mana here to create anything I wanted, and if I could just find a way to keep the Pope out...

"Y-You’re leaving?" Aurle’s voice trembled. "After everything? You’re just going to leave me?"

I shook my head, tears gathering in my eyes.

"But Starlight! I...do you even know? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent wishing you’d just give in, just once?" She bit her lip. "Every time he hurt me, every time he tied me up and raped me...All for what? How can you just leave? Just how many more have you left just like me? How many have you caused to suffer?"

I stumbled back. She couldn’t know about the others, about Korra and Gayron, or our friends trapped beneath the Divine Throne. And Aurle...oh, gods. This whole time, she’d been my light. My star. Selflessly sacrificing herself for me. No wonder I couldn’t understand why. All this time, Aurle must have carried the anger she’d been too kind to show me.

"Look at me!" Aurle demanded, catching my sleeve. "You can’t keep doing this! How many more people have to suffer before you’re satisfied?"

I flinched, nearly reaching for my mana again. The fabric of the room trembled, responding to my desperation, and another sharp prick pierced my mark. My soul was open, now. Flowing with Divine Mana it didn’t know.

I couldn’t leave her. I had to make things right. I had to make up for not saving her. I had to–

"That’s not what you said," I whispered, tightening my grip on her. "Aurle...that’s not what she said."

Aurle stopped, staring at me. Her tail flicked with anger. Not once had she ever raised her voice at me before. Why did it make me so afraid? And why did the strange magic seem to relish that feeling? Like it was feeding on it?

"What?" she demanded.

"I’m sorry," I said, meeting her gaze, refusing to look away. "I didn’t believe you then. I thought if I’d just been stronger, or made a different choice, you wouldn’t have had to suffer."

"But I did suffer!"

"I know. And I’m sorry. I wish I could have saved you." My voice trembled, but I held her gaze. "But it was Lord Byron who hurt you. The gods, the church, the inquisitors carved the crests into our flesh. Not me. You told me that, remember? And Aurle, I think...I think I finally understand what you were trying to tell me. I won’t carry it anymore. I won’t carry any of it. Aurle, I love you, and I’m so, so sorry that you..." I swallowed hard. "That you were hurt. That you died. But I won’t carry that anymore. I won’t carry any of it."