17. A Starfallen’s Cry

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. They brought Crow to the canteen, laying her on a bench because ‘she’s going to have to eat something any way’ according to Kiki.

Rowan only meant to rest his head for a moment. But the day’s weight pressed heavily on his shoulders, and Crow’s words still echoed in his mind: The labyrinth is alive.

Before he realized it, his eyes slipped closed.

Sleep curled around him like mist.

Gentle. Inescapable.

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He was falling.

Not fast. Not violently.

It’s slow—like sinking into a pool of silver water, the stars above bending and shattering like glass across the surface.

A voice threads through the silence. It echoes—not from around him, but within.

“Lunar Harbinger… you who walk in shadowlight…”

He turns. He thinks he turns. There's no ground. No sky. Just space—a luminous void where galaxies bloom like wildflowers.

And then—

From above, a spiral of stars unraveled, descending like a comet falling backward. It didn’t blaze—it wept. Threads of silver sorrow streaked down and became a form, almost human but not quite.

Virelya.

Her name curled in his mind like a memory he’d forgotten he’d lost.

She was beautiful. Terrifying. Vast.

Her hair was spun from nebulae. Her skin, etched with constellations like glowing scars. Her lower half, serpentine—scales shimmering like moonlight on water.

Her voice trembled with pain. Not just her own—

But the pain of countless others.

She bowed her head to him.

“Champion of the Moon. You have come late, but there is still time.”

She spoke without sound—her voice was etched into his bones, old and infinite, like it had been calling for lifetimes he couldn’t remember.

He tries to speak, but no words come. Just a feeling rising in his chest—recognition, grief, rage not his own.

“I was once keeper of the archive. The serpent of memory. I was not meant to harm—I was meant to preserve. But the Spark burned the truth away. They unthreaded me.”

Her fingers trembled as she reached toward him. Rowan flinched—but she didn't touch him. Instead, she opened her palm.

“They have shattered me six times. One more… and I am no more. Not sealed. Not broken. Gone.”

A piece of her soul flickered there, like a dying star.

“The monsters are not our doing. They were our beloveds. Guardians. Now... twisted by centuries of isolation. Of grief. They fight because the seventh has been breached. Their master—me—they try to protect.”

Around him, shadows slithered. Shapes of serpents, but made of fractured glass and broken song. They flickered with emotions—fear, loyalty, grief. Not rage. Not evil.

“And the Paragon... He was never meant to scorch the world. He was spring’s warmth. The fire that clears dead roots so new life can bloom.

But they—the Spark—they feared wild things. Feared balance. So they made him into a sword.”

Images flash like thunder:

A boy wreathed in fire, screaming as chains of light pierce his chest.

A golden crown melting into a halo.

Eyes like Kael’s—but weeping.

“They buried the scroll before they could burn it. The one written by the first Trinity—sun, moon, and anchor. It is waiting. On the fifth floor. Hidden beneath memory and stone.”

The stars flicker. The void groans. Her voice becomes desperate.

“They will destroy my last core. If they do, only the monster remains. I will be gone. And the magic they corrupted will never be healed.”

She floats closer. A hand brushes Rowan’s chest over his heart. It glows. Silver and soft.

“The mark you carry—it was once a blessing. Given by the first Shadow Guardian. The one who walked between realms. He was not evil. He was a protector.”

“But he, too, was bound. Feared for his power. Locked away by those who could not understand what they could not control.”

Rowan can’t move. Her starlight bleeds into him.

“The moon cannot rise alone.”

“The sun cannot lead unbound.”

“And the world cannot heal… until the Anchor stands between them once more.”

Her hands tremble. Her light dims.

“Find the scroll. Find the scroll, Lightbearer.”

“Become the Harbinger. Not of destruction—but of dawn.”

Her form begins to shatter.

“Tell the Anchor… we remember her. Even in shadow.”

And then—

The stars go out.

The cold rushes back.

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Rowan gasped–hand reaching for his chest. He felt as though he had plunged into an icy pond. He took ragged breaths, no matter how many he took couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen.

“Rowan, are you okay?” Garran looked over, startled by the sudden jolt.

“I uh. I–” he was trying to find the words. That wasn’t just a dream. That was a plea for mercy.

Crow stirred beside Rowan, grumbling,

“Five hundred.” She blinked a few times before sitting up.

“Careful.” Rowan croaked, hands out to help her sit up.

“Why am I in the canteen?” She blinked a few times, getting her bearings.

“Because you hate the infirmary.” Myra slid in next to Garran with a dinner roll in hand.

“You’re not wrong,” she sighed and put her head on the table, “I don’t believe any of you when you say you took up a collection for those damn swords, I saw Duskbane’s mana flickering. It only does that when he’s hiding something.”

He, Garran, and Myra all shared a three-way look.

“His mana, Crow?” Myra asked carefully.

Crow’s eyes shot open like she had been caught, then she mumbled, “Yeah, I have a couple mana-related skills. Mana sight was one of the first skills I had…I just don’t have to focus as hard to see mana signatures anymore.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow, “Is that why you always look tired? Because you're practicing at night?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that.” She sat up and stretched.

Rowan didn’t want to check; he knew it was an invasion of privacy, and he never would usually even try. But he knew he could appraise people now, just basic things like stats, status conditions, and enchantments. He didn’t like how she said that. What he saw horrified him in a broken heart kind of way.

> LEVEL: 7

> ALIGNMENT: Unknown – fluctuating

> HP: 190 / 220

> MP: 150 / 285

> Status: Mana channel fatigue detected. Threads unstable. Full recovery advised.

>

>

> 🧪 ENCHANTMENTS ACTIVE

>

> * Residual Lunar Imprint – Passive mana regeneration under moonlight.

>

>

> * Mana Threading – Wounds may self-repair using ambient alchemical strands.

>

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> * Monsterblood Adaptation (Permanent) – Toughened flesh and faster recovery from physical trauma. Unknown long-term effects.

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> * Void-Tether Instability – ⚠️Codex Alert: New glyph detected. Bound status unknown.

>

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> * Threadwalker’s Endurance – MP regeneration halved during sleep. MP control and sigil tension bonuses increased when under pressure or duress.

>

>

> * Alchemical Scarweave (Passive) – Micro-tears from excessive threading have left semi-permanent alchemical filaments in her hands and veins.

> Minor resistance to mana backlash. Wounds affected by mana surges close faster.

> Starforged Blade forms faster when used consecutively.

>

>

>

> ----------------------------------------

>

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> ⚠️ STATUS CONDITIONS

>

> Mana Exhaustion (Mild) – Recovery required before next high-tier spellcast.

>

>

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> Celestial Bond [Dormant] – Connection partially reactivated. Monitoring...

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>

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> Corrupted Intake [Stabilized] – Monster meat assimilation successful.

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>

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> Codex Glitch – Astral glyphs overriding Guild-standard formatting.

>

>

>

> Mana Withering [Chronic, Mild] – Max MP reduced by 5% until full rest cycle is completed. Minor risk of sigil instability during casting.

>

> Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

>

>

>

> Sleep Debt [Stacking-1] – Every 3 days without full rest adds +5% Feral Surge chance in high-stress scenarios. Perception may blur. Hallucinations possible at 5+ stacks.

He swallowed. Should he tell the others? His eyes flicked back to hers. She was staring at him now.

“Are you appraising something, Rowan?” Crow’s face twisted into concern.

“Uh, no. Not really. I was thinking about some gauntlets I got in today. I think they had some alchemical seals on them. If you’d like to come see them,”

“Aren’t we supposed to be preparing for the dungeon?” Garran tilted his head, “The gauntlets will be here when we get back, I’m sure.”

Rowan gave them a ‘just go with it’ look, flicking his eyes at Crow and shaking his head.

“Just don’t take too long,” Myra looked confused, but Crow smiled.

“Sure. Maybe it can give me ideas for something I’m working on.” When she stood and stretched.

As soon as her back was turned, he quickly mouthed, “I’ll tell you later,” before walking with her down the hall they’d gone down more times than he could count. But this time his heart was hammering in his chest.

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The door clicked closed behind him, and he could see her tense.

“I know you lied.” Her voice was quiet, her back to him.

“Crow, let’s sit, okay?” he said gently.

“You can appraise people now, can’t you?” Her voice cracked. He saw her hands tremble.

“What are you so scared of, Crow? It's just me and you. I’m not going to hurt you.” He moved closer and gently touched her shoulder.

“I’m fine, okay?” She whispered, “Whatever you saw, it probably sounds worse than it is.”

“Crow…I know that it’s important to you to train and experiment. I just want to know why you’re not sleeping.”

“I sleep.”

“Apparently not,” he said flatly, “Your mana is withering from overuse, Crow. It’ll be unstable–”

“I compensate. I’ve read and reread everything in my codex, Ashford. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child.”

He grabbed her shoulders, trying to turn her around she just shrugged him away.

“Crow, I’m worried. I’m not trying to fuss, I just want to talk, okay?”

“I’m talking.”

“Do you have a feral meter now, Crow?” he said softly, “It's okay, I won’t tell. I swear.”

Silence.

“Not like yours.” She finally said, “I can’t see it. Only when it’s filled over a certain amount.” She was trembling.

“What are you fighting so hard for, Crow? We’re all here, why not talk to us?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She walked, sitting on the couch and pulling her her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against them, “I can’t sleep even if I want to.”

“Why?” he pulled his chair to her, sitting in front of her.

“When I sleep–the nightmares–and it’s not just that. I have these dreams, they don’t make sense. And they’re horrible.” She choked, “When I try to just lay down. Just sleep a couple of hours, mind moves too fast, I hear every noise, and it startles me to the point I can’t–” He heard her sniffle.

“You could have come to one of us, Crow, we’re friends. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep this up.”

“I’d rather die than be a burden. Then to be seen as a burden. That’s all I’ve ever been. I thought if. If I just worked harder, then I could stop feeling that way. Now my mana doesn’t even regenerate in my sleep.” She laughed a sad, wet laugh. She was crying.

“What do you mean?” He blinked.

“You haven’t seen my wonderful enchantments?” She laughed again, “I got a title about a month ago, ‘Disciple of the Burning Thread,’ and when I got it, I got an enchantment too, Rowan. ‘Threadwalkers Endurance’.”

He appraised her again, he must not have seen that one for some reason. His heart dropped.

> Threadwalker’s Endurance – MP regeneration halved during sleep. MP control and sigil tension bonuses increased when under pressure or duress.

He swallowed.

“The others are going to think I’m a monster if they ever see my codex.” She whispered, “Hell, maybe I am. That’s what the church said about me when they burned my alchemy research.”

Rowan stood suddenly, grabbing her chin so she’d look up at him.

“You are not a monster, if anyone here is a monster, it’s me.”

Her lips trembled, “It’s not the same Rowan. You didn’t choose that–”

“Oh, and you chose to have some crazy magical blades to suddenly give you an unveiling that no one had to update your codex for? You chose to be stuck in ruins for over a month after you were trapped? You chose to have your family throw you out?” He never raised his voice around Crow. She froze.

“Are you a little unhinged? Yeah. But not a monster. You’re just trying to survive, Crow. If I can see that, why can’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered and curled back into herself.

“I’ll stay with you from now on until you sleep. I make more now that I have an appraisal skill, I can get a room here and keep my cottage.” He lowered his voice, squatting in front of her, “You don’t have to so this alone anymore okay?”

“I can’t ask that of you,” She shook her head, “Rowan–”

“No amount of money can compair to keeping your kookie ass sain.” he looked over her, not budging.

“You’re going to tell the others, aren’t you?”

“Not everything,” he sighed, “But they need to know what’s going on. I need you to be with us in this dungeon. I had this dream.” He scrubbed his face.

“It’s important that you’re there. Okay?”

“What if they hate me? I’m pretty sure Kael already does.”

“Would you leave food in the room of someone you hate? Would you even notice if they weren’t eating?”

“I guess not.” She whispered, “I didn’t know it was him. Until today. But his mana it, when I stopped trying to be his friend, it balanced. He stopped yelling at me when I spoke first.” Her voice was breaking.

“Crow. I don’t think that idiot could have you if he wanted to.” Rowan laughed, “You’re the only one I’ve seen keep up with him.”

“I think I could beat him if I went all out,” She whispered, “And had a nap first.”

Rowan laughed until he realized she was serious.

“I’ve run the numbers. He wouldn’t be capable of keeping up if I used my alchemy. At least, not how he fights right now.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head. She swallowed hard.

“I’ve…I’ve got a subclass in something called ‘Twilight Alchemist’ and I’ve pretty much unlocked all the skills in their base form.”

“You’re a mad scientist, I’ve decided.” He didn’t even know where to begin with that information, and what that meant for battle.

She laughed, it was soft but genuine, “Yeah. You have no Idea.”

“Have you told Duskbane? Maybe he can add it to your training?”

“No,” she whispered, “What if he–” she pressed her lips together, “Let me show you something,”

He eyed her as she pulled up her sleeves, scars. She was covered in them, most looked like burn scars but–

“I’m not showing you my scars, just look,” she whispers, her eyes lighting silver once more. Her veins were glowing, then he saw it Sigils. Three altogether, and none that he recognized off the top of his head.

“Wha-what is that?” he breathed.

“It’s called ‘ruinic memory’,” She whispered, “I basically can hold three glyphs–any three glyphs, even ones I make. And they’re stored there until I want to use them. I basically cast them into my arm, but I have to be precise because it holds it exactly as you cast it.” The glow faded.

“And that’s one of the more subdued skills I have access to.”

Rowan nodded but had to sit. This was insane.

“Crow, we have to tell the others about some of this,” he whispered, “I’ll be there the whole time. Then you’re taking a nap until it’s time to leave.”

“I also have presents–” She whispered, “But yours isn’t done yet–and I was making one for Kael. But I don’t have the materials to finish either of yours right now.”

“What kind of presents?” He looked at her curiously.

“You know how I got in trouble for taking those books?”

“Where is this going?”

“Because I have mana now…” she started fiddling with her sleeves, “I can enchant now. I knew how to do it in theory before, but I never had the ability to”

“So, you went mad scientist and made us gifts?” he was actually excited; he never really got to appraise new things.

“Garran and Myra got me a really neat quill.” She shrank back, “So I tinkered something together for them.”

“What did you make?” He brightened.

“I’ll uh. I’ll go get the gifts, and you can go tell them whatever. I just–If they yell at me, I’ll disappear.” She was serious, he didn’t even ask.

“I highly doubt they’d even want to yell at you,” Rowan laughed, “Okay, if you’re not there in ten minutes, I’m sending Garran after you.”

“Wha–”

“You run when you don’t know how to handle things. I’ve seen it first hand.” Her head hung.

“You’re not wrong,” She mumbled.

“Ten minutes.”

“Okay,” she said softly. She left before he did. He had to prepare to tell Myra and Garran, he knew they weren’t going to take it well.

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Rowan found them sitting together at their usual table—Garran halfway through a sandwich, Myra animatedly chatting about some dumb training game Kael made up.

“Hey,” Rowan said, sliding into the seat beside them. His tone was quieter than usual.

Garran blinked. “You good, dude?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I just… need to talk to you both about something. About Crow.”

Myra tilted her head, her smile softening. “She okay? She looked wiped out earlier.”

“She’s… she’s okay,” Rowan said, choosing his words carefully. “But there’s stuff she hasn’t told anyone, she’s not been sleeping. Like to the point she has status conditions.”

His voice got low, “one of her enchantments? Makes her mana regen cut in half while she’s sleeping.”

He could feel the shift in their focus—Garran’s sandwich now forgotten, Myra leaning in slightly.

“How does that even happen?” Myra whispered.

“She’s been through a lot,” Rowan looked up. “Like, a lot. And some of it… isn’t just personal. It’s important. For all of us. She has a subclass—Twilight Alchemist—and I’ve never heard of it before, it’s some kind of combat alchemy, judging by what she showed me. She’s unlocked almost all of its base skills.”

Myra’s eyebrows rose. “Wait—combat alchemy?”

“She can store glyphs in her body. Cast them straight into her skin and hold them there. She showed me.” His voice dropped even lower. “There were sigils glowing in her arms. Stuff I’ve never seen before. She called it Ruinic Memory. It’s like she’s walking around with spell bombs, just… ready.”

Garran let out a low whistle. “No wonder she always looks like she hasn’t slept in ten years. Because she’s not.”

“Exactly,” Rowan said. “She didn’t tell Duskbane. She was afraid. Of being yelled at, or benched, or—worse.”

Myra frowned. “Why would we yell at her?”

“Because she’s used to being punished for being smart,” came a voice behind them.

All three turned. Crow stood just a few steps away, a small bundle in her arms. Her eyes were tired, but clear. Resigned, but also—maybe, just a little—hopeful.

“I’m not trying to be a threat,” she added quickly. “Or lie. I just… I didn’t want to be another problem.”

Myra’s expression softened instantly. “Crow…”

“I made you guys something,” she said, stepping forward. “If that helps. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but—I wanted to try.”

She carefully laid the small bundle on the table and unwrapped it.

“You’re good,” Rowan murmured as he saw her shake, “just breathe.”

Crow nodded, barely.

“I… um,” she started, then looked at Myra. “I fixed some things for a leatherworker in town, and he used some hide I brought in to make your bag,” she said, holding it out. “And a blacksmith helped make the gauntlets,” she added, passing them to Garran. “I did the enchantments, but… they’re not, like, professional stuff or anything.”

Myra opened her mouth, probably to interrupt with something cheerful, but Crow was already rambling—Rowan-style, if anyone was keeping score.

“Your bag can hold, uh, about as much as half my quarters without getting too heavy,” she said quickly, still facing Myra. “I haven’t cracked the enchantment that makes them totally weightless, though. Still working on it. Oh, it can change colors, but I think I have to do it, I haven’t quite figured it out.”

Then she turned to Garran. “I know you don’t need gauntlets, but these are built to be comfortable and durable, and they absorb shock. Every punch or block should put less strain on you. I also… experimented. There’s a rune on the palm—if you activate it, it releases the stored force in a forward blast. Not explosive, but, you know… forceful. You’ll need to brace for it.”

Silence.

Myra picked up the bag delicately, like it was made of glass. “You made this… for me?”

“I know I got in trouble for taking those books, but I used them for this,” Crow said, voice barely above a whisper. “I was gonna do Rowan’s next, but I ran out of materials.”

Garran slipped the gauntlets on without hesitation. “Crow. This is… This is so manly, I might cry.”

She blinked, stunned. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” he beamed. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” Her voice cracked a little. “You guys were nice to me. No one’s really… nice to me.”

Myra stood up and walked around the table, throwing her arms around Crow. “You’re one of us now, okay? You don’t have to hide stuff like this. Not from us.”

Crow froze for half a second, then slowly returned the hug, her cheek resting against Myra’s shoulder.

Rowan exhaled, tension bleeding out of him. This had gone better than he thought.

Way better.

“Ten minutes on the dot,” he said, almost teasing