The starlight Directive

The cavern was in chaos. Flames licked the walls, smoke coiled in every direction, and the molten glow from the cracks in the ground bathed everything in a fierce orange-red. Victor's chest heaved with every breath, his hands still warm from the fire he'd unleashed. His vision swirled with heatwaves, the edges of his sight flickering like a mirage.

Gone.

The creature was gone. Not shattered, not broken, but gone. No remains. No ashes. Just silence.

Victor staggered forward, his legs weak like they'd forgotten how to move. He glanced around the cavern, eyes darting to every shadow. His breath was sharp, shallow, every muscle in his body tense like a coiled spring.

It was here. I know it was.

But the only sign that it had existed at all was the glow of molten rock and the burn marks on the stone. No tracks. No trace. Nothing. His eyes locked on the last place it had stood, his heart still thumping like a hammer on steel.

"The Starlight cannot be—"

The words echoed in his head. It had stopped mid-sentence, like someone had ripped its voice away.

"Can't be what?" Victor muttered aloud, his voice ragged with exhaustion. He stepped forward, scanning the cracks in the ground for any sign of the creature. "What are you afraid of saying?"

No answer. Only the distant hum of the Rift, faint but still present.

He gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling up in his chest. First, it's riddles. Now, they can't even finish a sentence. He clenched his fists, flames flickering at the edges of his fingertips. His gaze drifted toward the Rift, still hovering at the center of the cavern like a distant sun. It pulsed slower now, its light dimmer than before.

"You," Victor muttered, eyes narrowing at it. "You know something, don't you?"

The Rift didn't respond. It never did. But he felt it watching him. Not like before. Not distant. Close. Like it was peering into his very bones, searching for something hidden deep inside him.

The warmth on his chest flared, the mark glowing brighter beneath his shirt. He glanced down at it, scowling. It hadn't stopped burning since it first appeared. He pressed his palm against it, trying to smother the heat, but it only burned hotter.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he growled, pulling his hand away. "You're not going away."

He looked back at the Rift, its glow reflecting in his eyes. It was like staring at a lantern submerged in a stormy sea. Faint, flickering, but always there.

"Fine," Victor said, stepping toward it. His boots crunched against the loose stones, his movements slow but deliberate. "If you won't talk, I'll figure it out myself."

The glow of the Rift pulsed in response, brighter for just a moment. Victor stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing.

"Thought so," he muttered.

He glanced down at his hands, his fingers flexing as sparks flickered across them. He could still feel the heat, the steady burn of power just beneath his skin. This time, though, it wasn't out of control. It didn't feel like it was consuming him. It feels like mine.

He raised one hand slowly, focusing on the warmth. The glow in his chest matched the glow of his palm, the two working in sync. Sparks flickered, then flames. Small at first. Harmless. Controlled.

Control is everything, he reminded himself. Control or be controlled.

He took another step forward. The Rift's hum grew louder, its glow growing sharper. His eyes never left it, every muscle ready to move at a moment's notice.

"Show me something," he demanded, his voice low but firm. "You've been playing games since I got here. You want me to burn away the old? Fine. But I'm not doing it blind."

Nothing.

The Rift spun in silence, its glow dull and unchanging. Victor grit his teeth, heat rising up his arms. "I said, show me something!"

The Rift pulsed. Once. Twice.

Then everything went dark.

Floating.

Victor blinked. No ground. No sky. Just black.

He twisted his body, turning in every direction. His arms waved through the air, but there was no resistance. He spun, heart pounding, his breaths sharp and shallow.

"Not this again," he muttered. "No more floating in nothing. I'm done with this."

He tried to move, but his body didn't respond. He was stuck, his limbs sluggish like they were moving through tar.

Then, a flicker of light appeared. Not orange. Not flame. Blue.

It was faint at first, like a star too far away to see clearly. But it got closer. Closer. Until it hovered in front of him. It wasn't just a light. It was an eye.

A single, narrow, glowing-blue eye.

"Victor Hollow," a voice said.

His breath caught in his throat. The voice wasn't like the others. It wasn't metallic or hollow. It was sharp, clear as a bell. Every syllable cut through the air like a blade.

"Who's there?" Victor asked, trying to move, but he was still frozen in place.

The eye didn't blink. It stared straight into him, deeper than anything ever had. It was like it could see through him — through his heart, his thoughts, his past, his regrets.

"You burn with stolen flame," the voice said. "But flames are not stolen. They are passed. Gifted. Earned."

Victor's fingers twitched. He could feel the heat in his hands again, growing stronger with every word. "I don't know who you are," he said, "but if you think I'm just going to stand here and listen to you—"

"Silence."

The single word hit him like a punch to the chest. His breath vanished. His thoughts scattered. His mark burned hotter than ever before, searing like molten steel pressed against his heart.

"Do you know what you are, Victor Hollow?" the voice asked. It was closer now. Louder.

"I know enough," Victor said through gritted teeth, fighting against the pressure that held him still. "I know I'm not yours."

The eye drew closer, filling his vision. The glow of blue light swallowed everything else. The voice echoed from every direction, louder than thunder.

"No, boy. You are THEIRS."

The glow flashed, blindingly bright. Victor flinched, his eyes snapping shut.

BOOM.

He fell