The memories of the Citadel still haunted him.

A fortress of iron will, its metallic heart throbbing with Ferrex might—its merciless order etched deep into the fog of his fractured consciousness.

Sparks. Steel. Screams.

Each echo fought for space in his mind, drowning out everything else.

Then came silence.

Silence charged with unspoken sorrow, inner turmoil ringing louder than the clamor of battle.

"We... finally... raided the Citadel." His voice faded, but his mind stalled, unwilling to let go. No one had ever touched The Citadel—its secrets held prisoner by Ferrex dominion, a stronghold hidden in plain sight within Saturn's rings.

His mind reeled at the magnitude of what they'd accomplished—this raid hadn't been just another attack; it was the first fracture in the armor of Ferrex reign.

Now, as the pain dulled to a numbing ache, he lay ravaged on the barren wasteland. Only the faint tremor in his fingers hinted at life as a deep cold seeped into his bones.

The stars flickered above him, caught in their last moments, like the fading frames of a dying filmstrip.

Fitting, he thought, that stars and man alike, both burning out, were united in a shared, fading spark.

He found it strangely absurd—the sudden, almost poetic turn his final thoughts had taken.

He smiled inwardly, even as he felt himself dissolving into nothingness. His body lay heavy as stone, each faltering breath anchoring him to the few beats he had left.

His broken state was the final toll for warring against the machines—for daring to challenge the ruthless overlords, robotic scourges dominating all that live within Saturn's orbit.

Convinced his end was near, he labored, forcing out what he resigned to be his last words.

"At least... she... got away."

He clung to that final thread of hope, fragile as it was, thoughts of his team flashing through his mind—the comrades who fought by his side, a friend's last words, a brotherhood forged in battle and then shattered by the smell of blood mixed with scorched metal.

He floated through memories, a wistful smile almost forming. I gave it all; maybe it was always meant to end this way.

As he accepted his fate, the eerie surroundings blurred into twilight—the final glimpse of his resting place.

As darkness closed in, a strange sensation stirred—a shift in the air that refused to let him drift away quietly.

Looming above him was an eternal entity, its presence heavy with untold power—an overwhelming force unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Towering and mighty, it thrust life back into him as if announcing it was not his time yet.

It was not the despair of the Citadel nor the machines that hunted him, but something far older, far more powerful.

"Death has not claimed you yet, boy. Not yet. But it lingers just beyond."

The rumbling voice descended heavily upon him, unyielding—like a collapsing star.

A shiver crawled down his spine.

The boy's eyes pried open, accompanied by pain clawing its way through his limbs—a bizarre solace grounding him in the raw reality of his still-beating heart.

Am I… dreaming? Or is this death? The questions wafted through his mind as he coughed, choking on the sharp, sour taste of blood on his tongue.

"Dream? Death?" The words slithered out, drenched in veiled amusement. "Both, perhaps."

This force, ageless and all-knowing, hovered over his thoughts, savoring each one like a dark secret laid bare. How does it know? His instinct to resist wavered, clashing with the paralyzing fear of the unknown.

"You question the depths of my knowledge," a shadowed pleasure seemed to ripple through the voice. "Your thoughts are not your own here, boy. They swim freely—easy to grasp."

"Mmm..." The sigh shouldn't have echoed, yet it lingered, prickling his senses—he didn’t hear it; he felt its icy chill. Cold, piercing, harsh enough to make his ears twitch.

"Your kind is so bound to those notions. So tethered to a fleeting moment and a reason for its beginning and end."

"No, boy—this is neither the dream you fear nor the death you seek. You are on the edge, yes—but not yet fallen."

For a brief duration, time surrendered to silence as if the whole world paused, waiting for the voice.

Pain… everywhere. It's hard to think. Hard to breathe. Everything hurts... but I’m still alive?

"Not fallen," the rumbling resumed, "but far from standing."

Why? The boy clenched his jaw, discomfort flaring from head to toe no matter how he tried to adjust. Why won’t my body listen? Move—just move!

His hand trembled, fingers clawing through dust, as he forced his body to respond.

The voice... it’s everywhere. No, above me. Or... in my head?

He was doing his best to search out the voice, to follow its presence, as if the sound itself was forming a shape above him.

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Is this voice real, or just the last fragments of my sanity? Finally, he forced out, "Then...why?" Each word burned his throat. "Why are you here?" he demanded, breath hitching, though his eyes hardened with defiance.

"Why does the wind blow? Why do stars burn? I am here because you called to me, whether you know it or not."

The reply wrapped around him, grazing his skin with a frigid caress—like the ghostly touch of a phantom guardian. "Desperation does strange things to the fabric of existence. And you, little one, stand at the convergence of countless destinies."

"The line between life and the void is like mist—fading with every breath. You and everyone caught in the orbit of your life stand on its precipice, nearer than your mind can fathom."

The voice reverberated through the boy, flooding his veins with a pulse of life. Have I dragged her into more chaos? A surge of energy forced a rough breath from his lungs. Is she closer to the edge because of me?

His eyelids fluttered, a glimmer of life rekindling as his mind wrestled back from the edge of oblivion as he contemplated what mattered most to him.

He stared into what felt like a black hole, uncomprehending, brows knit together in confusion. His mind raced, grasping at the words and their meanings—a riddle he couldn’t yet decode.

He looked up, his voice barely a whisper. "You speak of things I... I don’t—I can't begin to understand."

He felt the cold heaviness of death closing in only moments ago. Yet, beneath that feeling, a strange warmth was being pulled forth, spreading through him as if awakening something long dormant.

"Who... are you?" he managed, the words tumbling out, tangled in his own uncertainty.

The voice rang out, stern and cutting, slicing through his hesitation. "Are you not listening, Child!" A powerful shockwave tore through the air, rolling the boy—who had felt as good as dead moments ago—to his feet.

"You do not need to understand. Understanding is for those with time. You have none." The voice paused, its overpowering presence encroaching. "The choice remains—will you surrender, or will you fight to reclaim the lives of those you love?"

His fingers tightened, recalling his sister's laugh, the soft tug of her hand in his. The pain of his destroyed body fell away, replaced by something more profound—fueled with anger, purpose, a fire that refused to die.

There are two things the boy passionately wanted to tell the voice.

First, he thought.

I am no child.

Second, he declared aloud, "I will fight anyone or anything that threatens those I love."

Not yet fifteen, his eyes burned with a molten glow, mirroring the stars above. He made his choice, no longer just a boy.

The voice resonated in reaction. "You sought to fight what you could not conquer. Now you face the reckoning of that choice."

The young man winced at the searing truth of the words. The failed mission, the ambush, the slaughter of his team—it all overflowed with scorching clarity. His fists clenched as he lifted his gaze to meet the unrelenting eyes above him.

"I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for any of it!" He shouted, his voice seething, somewhere between anger and despair.

...

He stewed in the silence, torn between the injustice of it all and the burning presence above.

After a long pause, the voice of the massive beast broke through. "Few ever do," it continued, almost gently, as if this truth was a weight everyone had borne.

The prophetic creature landed before him—a horned serpent, an armored terror wreathed in flame.

The young man composed himself, marveling at the awe-inspiring sight.

The winged colossus stood still, its expression unreadable. Its voice was a simmering hiss, hot and merciless, like bubbling magma creeping down a mountainside. "Sovereignty seldom bows to sanction."

As he stared at the beast, a quiet understanding began to take shape, the words sinking in slowly. Power rarely seeks permission—a truth he was all too familiar with.

"But what you want is irrelevant." The creature let the silence hang. "In your readiness to transform lies the heart of your journey." Its eyes gleamed—fixed upon him, not angrily, but with the intensity of timeless knowledge.

Under that gaze, questions and realizations churned within the young man—a voiceless barrage battling for truth. There was a time I believed I did, but do I have the power to decide the fate of so many?

He looked up, his voice softer. "If the journey lies in what I am ready to become, then guide me—show me the path."

With a sharp flick of its tail, a fiery spray erupted as it swung, illuminating the darkness in dazzling, otherworldly hues.

"The star you chase is caught in the storm's eye. Her pain will ripple outward, a harbinger of the breaking dawn—the light destined to summon shadows and unmake the world." The beast's voice swelled.

"No... that can’t be true." His voice trembled, eyes wide with disbelief. "You’re lying!" he spat, anger swelling like a storm within. "She’s not a harbinger of destruction—she’s my sister!"

Unmoved by his fury, the ominous proclamation continued. "You can die here as a forgotten child of the universe, letting the void swallow you whole. Or… you can rise. Rise with the fire of the stars in your soul."

After staring death in the eyes, the young man clutched his chest, his fingers digging into the blood-soaked fabric. The revelation of his sister's peril burned hotter than wounds that once marred his body.

There's only one choice, he thought. Someone he loved—someone more valuable to him than his own life—was at risk.

I'll stop the storm. The young man's determination was quiet but stubborn. I'll save her, no matter what it takes.

His lips part, but he says nothing, cut off by a wave of power crashing over him, swallowing his words and filling the air with a fierce, unspoken truth.

"Do you feel it? The spark. The cinders of power rising from within." The creature's voice almost coaxed the unfamiliar sensation to life within him.

"I could fan it into something far greater. Something far beyond your wildest dreams." The celestial creature paused, letting his words hang in the air, thickening the silence around them.

"But make no mistake—such power comes with a price," The beast warned, its voice stilling the air around them.

His stomach twisted—was it worse to step willingly into the void or to realize that an ancient and incomprehensible force had claimed his fate?

A fate reaching far beyond the Citadel and his battles with the Ferrex.

Challenges I'd thought I'd lost. Battles that left me broken. A somber reverie enveloped him.

But now? Now, a mythic, primal force wouldn't release him.

Seeking meaning in the beast's eternal eyes, the young man asks, "What price?"

Fire from the creature's mouth curled into a knowing smile.

"Ah… always the price. Mortals and their bargains."

A resounding crash sent tremors quaking in all directions as the beast's tail hammered the ground.

"The price is not something I can tell you," a softer, almost contemplative tone followed. "It is something you will come to know in time. Your choices carve the paths you tread. Power reshapes, but it also consumes. It changes what you are."

Something in him stirs—something that refuses to die here, alone and forgotten.

"I've sacrificed too much already. Damn the price. I won't allow fate or power to devour me here, not like this. My end will be mine alone."

A deep chuckle vibrated through him. "Spoken like one who still has much to lose."

The eyes of the Dragon—the last of his kind—glinted with a dangerous approval, a timeless recognition of fierce defiance as unyielding as the stars themselves.

"Very well, you shall be reborn." The Dragon began to shine with a brilliant light. "I will give you a piece of my flame. But remember this, my child… fire is loyal to no one. It consumes, heedless of who wields it."

A blistering inferno swept through him, engulfing every nerve with searing, unrelenting heat, burning away weakness, forging him anew.

The air itself vibrated, bending and fracturing.

The Dragon’s boundless power coursed through him, reshaping the world around them.

His vision blurs again, not into darkness but a bright, consuming light forged from an unstoppable flame.

The Dragon's voice seems distant as the young man's consciousness ebbs away.

"Rise, Scar!" The command struck like a pulse, igniting a mighty flame within his chest, marking his rebirth.

The Dragon's voice was commanding, resonating with promise and purpose—as if binding Scar to a destiny beyond himself.

"Rise, Moonscar Starborn—ignite the very darkness itself. Scorch away the shadows that seek to claim you."