The black ridge loomed like a scar across the peaks, its jagged spine cutting the sky as Kade Shen and Lila Mei climbed toward the Starfall ruin. Two days since the Red Talon hideout, two days of pushing through rain-slick trails and thinning air, the Crow’s map a damp weight in Kade’s pack. His thigh ached where the bullet had grazed him, wrapped tight but tender, and his ribs grumbled from the gulch’s bruises, but the saber at his hip drove him on—reforged, blooded, a piece of his father pulling him to answers. Lila kept pace, her limp gone but her duster stiff with dried blood, her silence heavier than ever since the Crow’s warning.

The sun was a pale disk sinking west when they crested the ridge, the ruin sprawling below in a shallow basin. Crumbled stone walls rose from the earth, their edges worn smooth by time—towers toppled, arches cracked, a temple or fortress lost to the wild. Vines snaked through the rubble, and a faint hum pulsed in the air, low and strange, tugging at Kade’s chest. The Crow had called it Starfall’s last stand; the bookkeeper said Vane was digging here. No smoke, no voices—just stillness, broken by the wind’s mournful howl.

“Quiet,” Lila muttered, crouching beside him, her sticks drawn. “Too quiet for Vane.”

“Maybe we beat him,” Kade said, scanning the basin. “Or he’s already gone.”

“Or waiting,” she countered, eyes sharp. “Move slow. Eyes open.”

They descended, boots crunching on shale, the saber unsheathed in Kade’s grip. The ruin’s heart loomed—a domed chamber, half-caved, its entrance a black maw framed by cracked pillars. Scuff marks scarred the dirt—boots, dozens of them—and a broken pickaxe lay discarded, its handle splintered. Red Talon had been here, but the silence gnawed at Kade, a predator’s pause before the strike.

Inside, the air thickened, cool and damp, the hum growing to a vibration that rattled his teeth. Torchlight flickered ahead, casting shadows on walls carved with faded runes—swirling patterns like the saber’s etchings, stars falling in spirals. Kade’s pulse quickened; this was Starfall, raw and real, his father’s shadow etched into stone. Lila followed, her sticks tapping softly, her breath tight—warier than he’d ever seen her.

The chamber opened into a vault, its ceiling pierced by a shaft of dying light. At its center stood a dais, cracked but intact, and atop it—a sphere, no bigger than a fist, glowing with a soft, silvery pulse. The orb. It shimmered, its surface rippling like liquid starlight, and the hum sang louder, a call that sank into Kade’s bones.

“There it is,” he whispered, stepping forward. “Vane’s prize.”

Lila grabbed his arm, her grip iron. “Wait. Something’s off. No guards, no traps—just sitting there?”

“Bookkeeper said they’ve got it,” Kade said, pulling free. “Maybe they pulled out—took what they could carry.”

“Or left it for a reason,” she hissed, but he was already moving, drawn to the dais. The orb pulsed faster as he neared, its light bathing him in cold silver. He reached out, fingers trembling, and touched it—smooth, warm, alive. A jolt shot through him, sharp and electric, and the world blurred.

Visions slammed into him—flashes, jagged and bright. A man—Jian, younger, his saber flashing—fought shadowed figures under a starry sky, blood streaking the ground. A voice, low and fierce: “Keep it safe, for him.” Then fire—his ranch burning, Vane’s silhouette laughing through the flames, the orb clutched in his hand. Stars fell, a temple crumbled, and Jian stood alone, his final stand, saber raised as riders closed in. “For him,” he gasped, falling, and the vision snapped shut.

Kade staggered, gasping, the orb still in his hand. Lila was at his side, sticks up, eyes wide. “Shen! What the hell—”

“It’s… him,” Kade rasped, clutching the sphere. “My pa—he died for this. Hid it from Vane.”

Lila’s face tightened, her gaze flicking to the orb. “Starfall’s power?”

“His last fight,” Kade said, the visions searing his mind. “He guarded it—for me.”

Before she could answer, a shadow shifted—boots scuffing stone. Kade spun, saber rising, as a figure stepped from the chamber’s edge: the Crow, his coat flapping, blade sheathed but eyes glinting. “Knew you’d find it,” he said, voice low. “Vane’s a day behind—coming hard. He’ll kill for that.”

“You led us here,” Kade snarled, stepping forward. “What’s your stake?”

“Balance,” the Crow said, echoing his valley words. “That orb’s Starfall’s heart—power to shift fates. Vane twists it, we all bleed.” He nodded at Lila. “Ask her—she knows.”

Lila stiffened, sticks twitching. “Shut it, Crow.”

Kade turned, saber steady. “Knows what?”

The Crow smirked, stepping back. “Her scars ain’t just from bar fights. She ran with Vane once—his blade, his shadow. Ask why she’s here.”

“Enough!” Lila snapped, lunging at him, but the Crow slipped into the dark, gone as quick as he’d come. She froze, breathing hard, then faced Kade, her eyes blazing. “He’s a liar—”

“Is he?” Kade cut in, the orb warm in his grip, his voice cold. “You’ve dodged me since Hollow Bend. The Crow, Wei, now this—spill it, Lila. Were you Vane’s?”

Her jaw clenched, rain-soaked hair clinging to her face, and silence stretched—then cracked. “Yeah,” she said, low and bitter. “Years back. I was his enforcer—ran his dirty work, broke his enemies. Left when it got too dark—too much blood, even for me.” She met his stare, unflinching. “Been running since. Found you, figured I’d balance the scales.”

Kade’s grip tightened on the saber, betrayal biting deep. “You knew he killed my pa—burned my home—and said nothing?”

“Didn’t know it was Jian,” she shot back, voice raw. “Not ‘til Wei said Starfall. Vane’s hit dozens—your ranch was just another mark ‘til now.” She stepped closer, sticks down. “I’m here to stop him, Kade. Same as you.”

He glared, the orb’s pulse syncing with his rage. “You should’ve told me.”

“Would you’ve trusted me?” she asked, sharp. “I barely trust myself.”

The chamber hummed, the truth settling like dust—Lila, Vane’s blade turned against him, bound to Kade by blood and guilt. He wanted to swing, to cut through the lies, but her eyes held no deceit now—just pain, mirrored in his own. The saber lowered, slow and heavy.

“We stop him,” Kade said, voice steel. “Together—or you’re gone.”

“Together,” she agreed, nodding once. “Orb’s yours. Let’s move—Vane’s close.”

Kade slipped the orb into his pack, its warmth a tether to Jian’s sacrifice. The ruin’s walls loomed, Starfall’s ghost alive in the stone, and Vane’s shadow loomed closer—a day away, the Crow said. Kade gripped the saber, its edge a vow renewed, and led Lila out, the night swallowing their steps as the hum faded behind.