Falling Stars, Lost Light
Chapter 4: The Voice That Calls
They did not twinkle or move.
It was as if they were waiting.
Kassalyn stood suspended beneath a sky of deep blue fading into violet-black, scattered with constellations she did not recognize—yet felt as though she had always known. There was no ground beneath her feet. Only the quiet certainty that she was being held.
Slowly, a symbol formed beneath her—familiar, yet foreign, like everything she had encountered since arriving in this world. And yet, it was incomplete.
That was when Kassalyn realized she still held the glowing blue crystal in her hands.
Without warning, it vanished from her grasp and appeared within one of the empty circles of the sigil below her feet. The moment it settled into place, it erupted into a towering pillar of light that blinded her to all else.
Fire and meteors rained from a blood-red sky.
The devastation was absolute—terrifying in its clarity of purpose. This was not chaos. This was annihilation.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the vision ended.
Then she heard it—the voice that called with longing, steeped in an aching, desperate sorrow.
Before her drifted a massive presence—almost omnipotent, yet gentle and warm. Kassalyn floated closer, wary, yet unable to deny her curiosity.
A giant crystal pulsed calmly in the sea of stars.
“I am Hydaelyn. All made one.”
“A Light there once was that shone throughout this realm… yet it hath since grown dim.”
“And as it hath faltered, so hath Darkness risen in its stead, presaging an end to life.”
“But why was I chosen?” Kassalyn asked. “Why was I brought here?”
“This star cries out for salvation.”
“You alone possess the strength to hear its plea.”
“That is why you were chosen.”
“The power to banish the Darkness dwelleth within the Crystals of Light. These crystals only you, the chosen, may wield.”
“You were brought here to save us all. For should this world collapse, it shall drag all others into ruin alongside it.”
Kassalyn nodded—then clenched her fists.
“But I did not ask for this,” she said, tension threading her voice. “I did not choose this world. Nor did I choose to be taken from my own.”
The crystal pulsed softly.
“Nor did the star ask to be sundered. Yet it needed be done.”
Resolve settled in Kassalyn’s chest—not defiance, but refusal to turn away from those who suffered.
“Journey forth,” Hydaelyn bade her. “Lay claim to the Crystals. By thy deeds shall they reveal themselves to thee.”
Kassalyn noticed then—others were here.
Faded. Familiar. Phantoms she felt she should know, yet could not recognize. They drifted around the great crystal, countless and silent.
Then she turned away from them, drawn toward a growing golden light above.
Softly, Hydaelyn’s voice echoed within her mind:
“Only believe. For the Light liveth in thy heart.”
“Go now, my child, and shine thy Light upon all creation.”
The light flared once more—
Kassalyn screamed and bolted awake.
A moment later, sensation returned. A hand braced her shoulders, holding her firmly in place to keep her from surging upright. She lay upon cool stone beneath the Twelveswood canopy, breath ragged, heart thundering as though she had been dragged back from the edge of the world.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, indifferent to the weight pressing behind her eyes.
“Well,” she said lightly, “that looked unpleasant.”
Papalymo stood a short distance away, removing his goggles as he grounded his staff. His expression was grave—confirmation rather than surprise.
“You saw her,” he said quietly, already scanning their surroundings.
Kassalyn swallowed. “The light… I only picked up a crystal.”
Papalymo closed his eyes briefly. “Then there is no longer any doubt.”
“Right,” Yda said briskly. “Echo business. That explains the timing.”
She tilted her head, offering Kassalyn a hand. “So—what’s one like?”
“Not the time nor the place. We will discuss this later—somewhere private.”
“Yes!” Yda chirruped. “Preferably with drinks and chairs.”
Kassalyn shook her head faintly at their banter as she steadied herself.
“I should report back to Galfrid,” she said, lifting her bow and quiver into place. “I need to finish the task I was assigned.”
Later, after leaving her companions, Galfrid waited near the edge of the Bannock, arms folded as Kassalyn approached.
“You’ve returned,” he said. “What did you find?”
“The source of the disturbance,” Kassalyn replied evenly. “An Ixal blade embedded in a fallen tree. The aether around it was… wrong. Agitated.”
Galfrid grimaced. “Then my fears were justified.”
“There was more,” Kassalyn added carefully. “The forest reacted violently. Whatever imbalance exists, it’s spreading.”
He nodded slowly. “That confirms what the Elementals have been warning us of.”
After a moment, he inclined his head.
“You’ve done well. I’ll see that this is reported to the proper authorities.”
Kassalyn bowed—measured, respectful, but not submissive.
Task done, Kassalyn returned to Quiver’s Hold. The familiar rhythm welcomed her back—bowstrings snapping, footfalls measured, breaths controlled. Discipline in motion.
The scent of polished wood and oiled leather grounded her more than she expected.
Yes. This had become her place.
Silvairre noticed her immediately.
He noticed her every time, as if drawn by some unspoken signal.
“You’re late,” he said flatly, looking her over. “And you’re thinking too loudly.”
“I completed the assignment,” Kassalyn replied as she greeted her fellow students, then retrieved a fresh bowstring from the cabinet beside him and sat to restring her bow.
“Mm,” he grunted. “And survived it. That’ll do.”
She said nothing. She had long since grown accustomed to his gruff manner.
His gaze lingered longer than usual.
A short time later, within the inner hall, Gods’ Quiver murmured with low music and quiet conversation—song and strategy intertwined. Bow Lord Lewin Hunte presided, smiling warmly as he waved her in.
“We’ve been awaiting you,” he said. “We received the reports.”
“We?” Kassalyn echoed.
A tall figure leaned against the far wall, half in shadow—dark armor worn smooth by use rather than polish.
Not curiosity. Not surprise.
They inclined their heads to one another.
“You heard something today,” he said calmly.
Kassalyn tilted her head—but did not deny it.
“That’s how it begins.”
He straightened to his full height.
“And now,” he added quietly, “there is no going back.”
As Kassalyn bowed to the Bow Lord and excused herself, she and Zayne walked out together.
No matter how much she wished to return to routine, to the familiar cadence of bow and breath, the path lay open before her.
And it would not allow her to remain only an archer of the Gods’ Quiver.