Reality was torn by the descent of the blade.
Instead of falling into the ground, Mara fell into memory through the empty grave.
She caught sight of:
The Thirteenth Duskheir. She was a girl, not a monster, just a little older than Mara, her hollow eyes wide with fear, her bark-skin still fresh with sap.
She ran away from the circle of standing stones, holding onto a knife, the original void-blade. Eleven sisters behind her let out screams as they were devoured by hunger.
The false star watched from above.
Waiting.
The distorted vision revealed:
At the edge of an unnamed river, the fugitive fell, slamming the knife into her chest. Not to die, but to cut.
The blade broke in two, with half still embedded in her flesh and the other half...
Mara took a sharp breath.
...given to a passing traveler with Ravenscroft eyes.
Mara pulled the void-blade away from the ground as the creature jumped forward.
Metal met hunger and held.
With its form alternating between horror and woman, the creature from the mound let out a cry.
"Traitor!" it exclaimed. "She betrayed us all!"
On the standing stones, Jarek's blood was still fuming. His gaze met Mara's over the trembling body of the creature.
"The knife was never meant to kill them," Mara said out loud. "It was intended to set them free."
The boy touched his thornmark.
"But the hunger was their choice."
…..
When the dark fragment on the glass plane finally moved, a window rather than a reflection was visible.
A cave by the sea.
A woman of bark and bone, kneeling before a crude altar.
Her hands are empty.
Her chest split open around a familiar thorn.
Ethan grabbed it.
The emptiness stopped resisting.
…..
Black veins spread like porcelain cracks as she trembled at the edge of the standing stones.
She was surrounded by the other marked kids, whose golden thorn marks beat in time with hers.
"She comes," the girl gasped.
Not the Thirteenth Duskheir.
The Star.
The heavens rumbled.
…..
Before Mara said a word, Jarek knew.
"The traveler," he whispered. "The one who took the other half of the blade."
Mara felt pain in her fused arm.
"Your ancestor."
The sound of the creature's laughter was like bone splinters.
"And what did he do with his gift, Ravenscroft? He created chains.
There was a moan of agreement from the stones.
…..
Mara was not finished with the vision.
One final glimpse.
Standing before a different circle, a ring of kneeling figures wearing Ravenscroft cloaks, was the Thirteenth Duskheir, who was now centuries older.
She placed her thorny hand against the forehead of the first man.
"You will remember," she said in a low voice. "When the knife returns, you will remember."
Then—
Tearing the thorn from her chest and throwing it into the air. It became a part of the star that was watching.
With her last words, the memory vanished.
"Find the other half."
…..
Mara's blade hummed.
Not with hunger.
But with distinction.
She looked over at Jarek.
"There's another grave. A real one."
The marked children gasped in unison.
The unmarked girl screamed….
as the emerald light destroyed her eyes.
The heavens ripped above them.
…..
It wasn't the full Thirteenth.
Not yet.
However, the eye-that awful, ravenous eye—pressed up against the rift, staring at Mara.
On the blade.
On the boy.
"MINE," it whispered.
The mound creature let out a triumphant roar.
Jarek grabbed Mara's fused arm.
"Where?"
The answer blazed through her thornmark.
"By the sea."
…..
Instead of resisting, the void-blade twisted in Mara's grasp and pointed.
Toward the east.
In the direction of the cave.
Toward her.
Mara made the final choice.
"Run."