The church smelled of burnt incense and blood.
I lay on the altar, my body a ragdoll of pain. My chest felt hollow, as if someone had carved out a piece of my soul to plug the crack in the sky. Claire's tears had dried on my cheeks, her hands still clutching mine—her fingers cold, like she'd been holding ice for hours. Edmund was crouched beside me, his white hair falling into his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a prayer… or a curse.
"You shouldn't have done it," he said, voice cracking. "You're not a martyr. You're a bridge."
I tried to speak, but my throat was ash. My palm still burned—the Ursa Minor constellation now glowing through my skin, as if my flesh had become a window to the stars. Above, the shattered roof gaped, and the sky… the sky wasn't right.
Stars.
Too many stars.
They'd multiplied since the Leviathan's fall. Thousands upon thousands, crowding the void like a swarm of fireflies, their light sharp and cold. None of them twinkled. They just… stared.
Claire stirred. She'd been dozing, her head resting on my shoulder, but now she lifted it, her blue eyes wide. "Zhou? Can you hear me?"
I blinked. Her face was blurry, like a watercolor painting left in the rain. "Claire…" I croaked. My voice was a stranger's.
She smiled, relief softening her features. "You're alive. The anchor worked—you sealed the crack. The sea's calm now. The… things are gone."
Edmund grunted. "Gone? Don't be naive. They're just… waiting. Like vultures." He stood, his boots thudding against the marble floor. "I'm going to check the alchemists' vaults again. If there's another Anchor, we need to find it." He hesitated at the door, glancing back. "Don't die on us, Starwatcher. We need your bridge."
The door creaked shut.
Claire leaned closer, her hand brushing my forehead. "You're burning up," she whispered. "Your skin… it's like starlight's trying to burn through you."
I looked down. My arms were translucent, veins pulsing with a blue-white light that wasn't human. The Ursa Minor constellation had spread, its stars now etched into my collarbones, my wrists, my ankles—like a map of the cosmos drawn on my body.
"Claire," I said, my voice steadier now. "What… what did I do?"
She hesitated. "You became the anchor. Not just a vessel—the anchor. The book… it's changing. The words are moving. Look."
I turned my head. The Stellar Fragments lay open on the altar, its pages no longer paper but something alive—glowing, shifting, as if written in stardust. The illustration of the Starwatcher now showed a figure with constellations for skin, their body a bridge between earth and sky.
And then… I heard it.
A whisper.
Not from the church, not from the stars. From inside me.
"You have awoken," it said. A voice older than time, smoother than moonlight on water. "The bridge is not a path. It is a key. And you… hold the key to the unmaking."
I sat up, pain lancing through my chest. Claire yelped, catching my arm. "Zhou, stop—"
But I couldn't stop. The voice was pulling me, a tide stronger than gravity. I stood, my legs steady despite the weakness, my eyes fixed on the shattered roof.
"The Leviathan's eye," I said. "It's not gone. It's… watching."
Claire followed my gaze. "What do you mean?"
"The note," I said. "'The tide will rise.' The Leviathan wasn't the tide. It was the messenger. The real tide… is coming."
A shiver ran through the church. The air grew colder, and the stars outside dimmed, as if someone had blown out a candle.
Then, from the shadows beneath the altar…
A growl.
Not a voidspawn's shriek. Not a beast's roar. A human growl, low and guttural, like a man choking on rage.
Claire froze. "Edmund—"
But Edmund wasn't there.
I stepped forward, my hand outstretched. The glow from my skin lit the darkness, revealing a figure hunched behind the altar—a man, but not a man. His skin was gray, his eyes black voids, his mouth stretched into a grin that showed too many teeth.
And on his chest… a locket.
Edmund's locket. The one with the shattered pocket watch.
"Hello, Starwatcher," the thing said, its voice a mockery of Edmund's gravelly tone. "Did you think I'd let you seal the crack without a fight?"
I recognized it then.
The Leviathan hadn't sent a herald. It had sent a pawn.
And this pawn… was Edmund.