There was a legend, Alex once told Elias, of a star that burned black and guided lost gods home.

  It was not a story found in the official tomes of the court historians, nor sung in the Temple of Titanous. It was a whisper, a heresy preserved in a crumbling book Alex had found buried beneath ash and salt in a forgotten library. He had never told Jasmine. Not yet. But sometimes, when the fire rose in his hands, he thought he could see that black star flickering behind his eyes.

  The blade fell in a flash of steel — but never landed.

  Flames erupted from Alex’s fingertips, consuming the soldier where he stood. The fire twisted and roared, fueled not just by magic but by something older, something that had waited inside him for too long. The other guards hesitated and then retreated in terror. In that breath, the people of Titanous saw something they had never seen before – a fiery hope.

  Alex’s breath became ragged. He stared at the soldier’s charred remains, unsure if the fire had obeyed him or if it had acted on its own. In the heart of the blaze, for a split second, he thought he saw a shape — dark, star-shaped — pulsing at the edges of his vision.

  He blinked. It was gone.

  Titanous was a city of towering marble, stone spires and bustling markets, a beacon of civilization that gleamed like a jewel upon the Kingdom of Atlantis. But beneath its grand bridges and glowing lanterns, its alleys ran dark with suffering. The Mad King’s rule had turned prosperity into oppression, and the weak were crushed beneath his soldiers’ iron boots.

  Alex had never planned to be a hero. His past, a closely guarded secret, was a shadow he carried with him. But the moment he saw the soldier’s sword descend upon the cowering innkeeper in the poorest district of Titanous, something inside him had broken.

  It was in that chaos that Elias found him. The rogue had tried to pickpocket Alex just days before, only to be caught in the act by the mage’s unnatural awareness. And yet, when he saw what Alex had done—what he was capable of—he did not run. Instead, he smiled.

  “That was a hell of a trick,” Elias had said, wiping blood from his lip. “How about you and I do something crazy?”

  And so their rebellion began.

  Their early days together were spent in the shadows of Titanous, moving through alleyways and side streets, avoiding the watchful eyes of the city guard. They took refuge in an abandoned stone cottage deep in the forest on the outskirts of the city, a place overgrown with ivy and hidden beneath towering sycamores. It became their sanctuary.

  At night, Alex sat beneath the trees, his toes pressed into the cool earth as he read from ancient books they had either stolen or scavenged from forgotten libraries. The damp soil and smooth stones beneath his skin kept him connected to the earth, his magic humming just beneath the surface, whispering secrets only he could hear.

  Sometimes, he heard singing beneath the soil. Sometimes weeping. Sometimes a heartbeat older than the stars.

  Elias would sit nearby, plucking a soft melody from his harp or rapping away on his flute, the music drifting through the trees like an ethereal lullaby. Occasionally, he would throw glances at Alex, watching the mage lost in his books. “You always this obsessed with old magic, Alex?” Elias asked one evening, his fingers idly dancing over the harp’s strings.

  Alex barely glanced up. “Magic is ancient. The earth holds power that is older than any kingdom; some even say it’s older than the stars. I just want to understand the entire expanse…”

  Elias sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the stars through the leaves. “Your head is lost in these old stars. I admit, they’re nice … I just want to understand how we’re going to survive the Mad King.”

  “We survive by fighting,” Alex murmured. “By taking power from all those who wield it cruelly. The day I saw them pulverize a pregnant woman and cut a little girl in half, I knew I had no other choice but to burn them all – anyone who would ever dare do something like that.”

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  Alex’s hands glowed with rage.

  But something in his voice trembled. Elias noticed it.

  Elias raised his brow, surprised yet understanding how deeply true and horrifying Alex’s words were. “Spoken like a true revolutionary.”

  Alex didn’t reply. He stared at his hands a moment longer, then slowly extinguished the glow.

  Jasmine was tending to the wounded when she met them, her magic-infused mace glowing softly as she channeled healing waters into the torn flesh of innocent men, women, and children caught in the purge. She had come to Titanous to be a doctor, but war had turned her into something else: something stronger. She had seen Alex’s power, had watched the way the earth and flames bent to his will, and she had decided to follow.

  Her faith had always guided her, and she had spent a very modest decade living at the Temple of Titanous, where she had learned to heal not just with magic but with wisdom. She spoke often of balance, of the divine flow of the world, of how power, if unchecked, could consume even the noblest of souls. When she saw the fire in Alex’s hands, she knew he would need guidance. He would need someone to remind him of the light in the world, even as he fought its darkness.

  Together, the three of them left Titanous, carrying with them the weight of a revolution. They would go where others had fallen silent. They would free those who could not fight. And they would bring down the Mad King.

  Alex never spoke of his past, of the nights spent alone in hidden libraries, devouring ancient texts by candlelight. He had learned the nature of magic not just through instinct but through relentless study. And yet, there was something about his powers that still unsettled him—a pull, a hunger, an ancient force that whispered beneath the earth whenever he walked upon it.

  He did not tell Elias and Jasmine that he feared what he might become.

  Alex smelled the cool damp earth as he crested the final hill overlooking Titanous. The morning mist clung to the grass, swirling around him as if drawn to his presence. He inhaled deeply, the scent of wildflowers and distant chimney smoke filling his lungs. He had always felt most alive like this—barefoot, treading upon the world as though he and it were one.

  Below them, the city was free. The Mad King’s banners had been torn down, the evil soldiers driven from its walls. The people of Titanous, once downtrodden and broken, had found their strength. There would be no more purges, no more fear. Not here.

  Behind him, Elias chuckled as he adjusted the strap of his leather satchel. The rogue’s sharp green eyes twinkled with mischief beneath tousled dark hair that never seemed to obey gravity. His lean frame moved with an effortless grace, clad in a deep rogue cloak over brown leather pants and sturdy boots. “You ever consider wearing shoes, Alex? Might help when we’re sneaking into dangerous places.”

  Alex smirked, stretching his arms over his head. “It would just cut me off from Gaia. I guess I’m a bit weird for choosing to look like a farm peasant or something, but I like to be grounded with the earth.” He quietly brushed his feet through the dewdrops. “Besides, I’d hear you clomping before you ever heard me.”

  Elias snorted. “You are in fact a bit of a weirdo, mage. But I kind of like that about you. You’re a good partner in crime.”

  Jasmine let out an amused sigh. “You two flirt like children,” she said, adjusting the shining blue leather of her outfit, as her long brown hair glistened in the morning sun. The healer’s mace at her side pulsed faintly with latent magic. “But there’s another town that needs us. Alastra. The people there sent word of an attack by the Mad King’s men. We should focus.”

  After a long day of walking together they settled down next to a small lake to camp for the night. As the trio sat aimlessly around the fires, taking in the warmth of their victory, Elias tapped furiously on his flute as he played a rebellious tune and sang:

  The earth it rumbles, the people sway,

  The tyrant forces them to dance his way.

  But deep below, the mages rise,

  A different rhythm, a hot reprise.

  One step forward, two steps wide,

  A quake beneath the kingdom’s pride.

  The cruel king stumbles, the towers crack,

  And the earth itself takes its power back.

  As the final note faded, Elias’ hands still resting on the harp, a faint glow surrounded him, the firelight reflecting something deeper, something powerful within him. The air itself seemed to shimmer, responding to his music. Alex and Jasmine exchanged a knowing look—Elias’ melodies were not just art; they were magic. And perhaps it was even manifesting their fate.

  The three of them huddled together beside the fire, taking warmth in each other’s magical glow. The embers flickered, their light casting soft golden halos around them as if the universe itself acknowledged the power of their bond. Three young souls barely in their 20’s, bound by magic and perhaps fate, increasingly believing that no force in the universe could break the spell they had begun to weave.

  Above them one faint black star blinked down upon their tired faces like a pulsing dark void.

  “That one’s different,” Elias murmured, pointing to the blinking black star hovering far above. “Like it’s watching us.”

  Alex closed his eyes and whispered, “Let it.”