Some magic asks for silence.
But this one demands sacrifice.
The stars dimmed.
One by one.
Not from nightfall
But from recognition.
They knew what she was doing.
The Unnamed Spell.
A weave of power forbidden since the First Collapse. A language that pulled from not just light, but from memory. From soul. From choice.
No one had cast it in five hundred years.
Because it demanded a price too cruel for any sane mage to pay
The heart of someone who chose you freely.
Not by magic.
Not by blood.
By will.
She stood alone now. Not by force.
But because the three boys had stepped back so she wouldn't have to look at them while choosing.
But all three knew.
One of them would be claimed.
And none of them begged to be spared.
Kairon stood like a monument, his crown's shadow broken.
But he did not flinch.
"If it's me, let it be clean," he said.
"You were never clean," Eren muttered, barely holding together.
"And you'd rather die for her?" Kairon shot back.
Eren stepped forward, fists shaking.
"I'd rather burn and become the storm she rides."
Sol said nothing. He was already bleeding.
The spell had started feeding. And it fed on certainty.
His eyes were too calm.
"I knew it would come to this," he whispered.
"The day you stitched your first word into the sky, I knew."
Elariax was crying.
But her hands didn't tremble.
Not until the spell spoke back
In her own voice.
Choose.
And she looked up
Only to find that none of them were afraid.
Because they were hers.
And they had always known…
That power like hers would cost something no empire had ever been willing to pay.
"If I do this," she said aloud, "you don't come back."
"Then let it be me," Eren whispered.
"Let it be me," Kairon roared.
But Sol stepped forward
First.
He walked to her without fear.
And smiled.
"You don't get to choose, Elariax," he said.
"I already did."
Then he placed her hand to his chest.
And the spell lit the sky.