The eclipse held its grip over the canyon, a black veil shrouding the moon as Kade Shen stood over Darius Vane’s corpse, the saber’s tip dripping red into the dust. The warlord’s scarred face stared blankly skyward, his jagged blade shattered beside him, shadows gone—his reign ended in blood and ruin. The orbs pulsed in Kade’s pack—pure and dark, their hums merging into a single, unsteady note, a weight that pressed against his chest. Lila Mei leaned on a scavenged rifle nearby, her duster torn, blood seeping from her side, her breath ragged but her eyes sharp—alive, defiant, a survivor like him.

The stronghold’s collapse echoed in the distance, a dull rumble of stone and fire, Red Talon’s remnants fleeing into the night—rats scattering from a sunken ship. The outcasts were gone—five brave souls reduced to ash and memory, their chaos the spark that broke Vane’s line. The Crow’s sacrifice burned hottest—Starfall’s last, his blood a pyre in the cavern—and Kade felt it all: victory, hollow and heavy, a debt paid but a cost carved deep.

He sheathed the saber—Starfall steel, Jian’s legacy—its weight a comfort against his hip, and turned to the orbs. The pure one glowed soft, silver as the moon’s edge reemerging; the dark one flickered, its taint fading but unstable, a crackling heat in his hand. Vane’s ritual had warped it—twisted Starfall’s heart—and now it trembled, a bomb ticking in the silence.

“Kade,” Lila rasped, limping closer, rifle barrel scraping the dirt. “That thing’s trouble—both of ‘em. What now?”

He held them up, their light casting long shadows—eclipse waning, stars piercing through. “Jian died for this,” he said, voice rough. “Kept it from Vane—kept me alive for it. Can’t let it sit.”

“It’s power,” she said, eyes narrowing, blood streaking her cheek. “Vane proved that—damn near broke us with it. You holding ‘em—it’s a target now.”

Kade’s jaw tightened, the visions flashing—Jian’s stand, the ranch’s flames, for him. “Not keeping it,” he said, low and firm. “Not for power—never was.” He turned to the canyon’s edge, a crater where the stronghold’s fire had gouged the earth, and stepped toward it, orbs in hand.

Lila grabbed his arm—weak, but fierce. “You sure? Starfall’s yours—Crow said it, Wei too. Could rebuild it, something new.”

He met her gaze—saw the fight in her, the scars of Vane’s shadow—and shook his head. “Starfall’s gone—Jian, the Crow, all of ‘em. I’m no guardian—just a man who avenged his kin.” He pulled free, kneeling by the crater, the saber’s hilt warm at his side. “This ends here.”

The orbs flared—pure and dark clashing, their hums a scream—as Kade pressed them together, light searing his palms. The ground trembled, dust swirling, and he thrust them into the crater’s heart—stone cracked, heat blooming, the hum peaking into a wail. He drew the saber—Starfall’s last piece—and stabbed down—steel piercing the orbs, a final blow echoing Jian’s will.

A blast erupted—white fire, blinding—hurling Kade back, Lila diving beside him. The saber melted—steel liquefying, fusing with the orbs—its etchings glowing one last time before sinking into the earth. The light died, the hum silenced, and the crater smoked—empty, sealed, Starfall’s power burned out, beyond Vane’s reach, beyond anyone’s.

Kade rose, hands singed, the saber gone—a hollow ache, but right. Lila stood, rifle slung, staring at the crater. “Hell of a choice,” she muttered, a faint grin breaking through. “No regrets?”

“None,” he said, dusting his hands, the weight lifting—grief, rage, purpose spent. “It’s done.”

The eclipse faded—moon full again, stars blazing—and the canyon lay quiet, Red Talon’s threat shattered. Lila nodded, slow, her grin softening. “Guess we’re free—wherever that takes us.”

“Yeah,” Kade said, glancing at her—bloodied, unbroken, a partner forged in fire. “West, maybe. Away from this.”

She laughed, sharp and short, wincing at her side. “West works. Need a drink first—something strong.”

“Earned it,” he agreed, a smile tugging his lips—first in days, small but real.

They turned from the crater, the canyon stretching wide—Vane’s ruin behind, the peaks ahead. Lila’s path diverged—her own ghosts to chase, her own dust to settle—and Kade let her go with a nod, no words needed. She limped west, rifle over her shoulder, a shadow fading into dawn’s light, free as she’d promised.

Kade stood alone, the saber’s absence a scar, but his hands were his own—toughened, steady. The ranch was ash, Jian’s legacy dust, but he’d carved their vengeance into Vane’s end. The wind kicked up, carrying smoke and silence, and he walked—west, into the wild, a man remade.