Page 60 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Ledgers and scrolls lined the lower tiers, marked with family names. Jassyn recognized the taxonomy without needing to read a single page.

Lineages. Breeding records. The knowledge of how to build creatures like him.

Across the polished floor, hundreds of crystal urns rose as tall as his chest, brimming with Stardust in obscene abundance. Enough to drown an entire realm in rapture or ruin.

And at the center of the chamber, a pedestal stood bare.

Jassyn’s pulse kicked faster. The Heart of Stars should’ve been there, waiting among all this hoarded power.

An illusion rippled.

And by then, it was too late.

Kyansari soldiers flickered into existence, tearing free of glamours he hadn’t felt through the magic already choking the chamber. They appeared one after another, until two dozen closed in around him, steel and Essence sealing the way out.

Jassyn went cold as Blossom roared behind him, the sound rattling the dome overhead.

Too many for coercion.

The ranks parted and Farine stepped forward, sunlight clinging to her like a coronation, her eyes already locked on him, glacial and triumphant.

Beside her stood Elashor, the Heart of Stars blinding in his grasp. The moment he lifted it, Blossom’s roar strangled into silence.

No.

He’d been so close.

Hadn’t he?

Or perhaps they’d simply allowed him this much. Permitted the ruined corridors, the broken foundations, the brief bright lie that destruction meant progress. The estate could be rebuilt. The servants replaced. Hope was easiest to break when a prisoner had almost reached the door.

Coercion clamped over Jassyn’s mind, tightening like a hand around his throat. His limbs locked, refusing him.

Panic surged feral—his or Blossom’s, he didn’t know—and thought splintered.

Jassyn lashed out, telepathic Essence flaring wild, clawing for control, for one unclaimed corner of his own mind.

Elashor’s command crushed the strike.

Jassyn’s magic buckled against it, chains yanked taut from the inside.

So he turned inward, past his locked limbs, past the compulsion, reaching for the wild tangle of Blossom’s gift.

The bite of root and rot. The snarl of earth buried in stone.

If this was the end, he wouldn’t kneel for it.

He’d take everyone with him.

No time to plan. No time to think. Jassyn slammed his will into the earth before they could strip him of it forever.

The sanctum cracked. The floor detonated upward, marble shattering as roots tore through the ground in jagged spears.

The urns.

Enough Stardust to poison the air.

Before Elashor could stop him, Jassyn drove the roots through the vault in a chain of violent blooms, bursting urns apart and flinging Stardust into the air in choking plumes.