Chapter 12 - The Hunt for the Starheart

The undercity of Aeltharion buzzed with chaos, its neon-lit slums a labyrinth of shadows and desperation, the air thick with the stench of oil and blood. King Zevryn Thaloryn descended into this underworld, his white hair tied back, his violet eyes burning with resolve. His obsidian armor gleamed under flickering lights, his silver tattoos pulsing with starfire, a mark of his dual kingship over Aeltharion and Varenthia. Beneath his armor, his royal dick—now more veiny, an extra inch added to its already massive length—rested heavily, a formidable weapon that had secured alliances and claimed lives, though Zevryn's focus now was the hunt for Mira Tselvar and the Starheart she'd stolen. The artifact's instability threatened to unravel the empire he'd fought to unite, and he would not let it fall.Lysara Veyne moved at his side, her shadowweave armor shimmering, her dark hair a midnight cascade, her amber eyes sharp with determination. Her shadow magic coiled around her like a living thing, sensing the Starheart's chaotic energy in the slums. "Mira's close," she said, her voice low, her mistrust of Zevryn's recent actions—his use of "fuck power" with Seris Vorn—still lingering, though their shared goal united them. "But the undercity's a maze. She'll use its gangs to cover her tracks."Zevryn's political intelligence assessed the terrain, his mind a battlefield of strategy. "We'll flush her out," he growled, his voice a thunderclap, his new title as King adding weight to his presence. "The Starheart's energy signature is too strong to hide for long. We split up—cover more ground." He glanced at Lysara, his violet eyes softening for a moment. "Stay sharp, princess. I need you." She nodded, her amber eyes flickering with warmth, though the rift between them remained a silent wound.The undercity was ruled by the Iron Fang, a brutal gang led by Ryn Vex, a wiry man of thirty-five with a cybernetic arm and a reputation for cruelty. Zevryn tracked Ryn to a derelict warehouse, its walls scarred with graffiti, the air heavy with the scent of plasma burns. Ryn stood amidst his enforcers, his cybernetic arm whirring as he gripped a plasma blade, his gray eyes narrowing at Zevryn. "King Zevryn," Ryn sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come to slum it with us? Word is, a thief's got your precious Starheart. Maybe I've seen her—maybe I haven't. What's it worth to you?"Zevryn's starfire flared, his tattoos glowing as he drew his starfire sword, its blade igniting with a fiery hum. "Your life," he replied, his voice cold, stepping forward. "Tell me where Mira Tselvar is, or I'll burn this shithole to the ground with you in it." Ryn laughed, his enforcers fanning out, but Zevryn moved like a storm, his sword slashing through the first thug, blood spraying as the man's torso split, the stench of charred flesh filling the air. Ryn lunged, his plasma blade crackling, but Zevryn parried, his starfire burning through the weapon, severing Ryn's cybernetic arm in a shower of sparks. The gang leader screamed, collapsing, blood pooling from the stump."Talk," Zevryn snarled, pressing his blade to Ryn's throat, drawing a bead of blood. Ryn gasped, his defiance breaking. "She's… in the old foundry… east side… paid us to stall you…" Zevryn nodded, withdrawing his blade, leaving Ryn alive but broken, a message to the undercity: the King of Aeltharion and Varenthia was not to be trifled with.Lysara, meanwhile, navigated the western slums, her shadow magic sensing the Starheart's pulse. She encountered a rival gang, the Shadow Claws, led by Vira Nox, a lithe woman of twenty-eight with crimson hair and a penchant for poisons. Vira smirked, twirling a poisoned dagger, her blue eyes glinting. "Looking for the thief girl?" she purred, her voice a taunt. "She passed through—left a trail of chaos. But you'll have to go through me, shadow bitch."Lysara's shadow magic erupted, tendrils lashing out, wrapping around Vira's wrist and snapping it with a sickening crunch, the dagger clattering to the ground. Vira screamed, lunging with her other hand, but Lysara's shadows crushed her ribs, blood spraying as she collapsed, gasping. "Where is she?" Lysara demanded, her voice a hiss, her amber eyes blazing. Vira choked out, "Foundry… east… with the tech scavengers…" Lysara released her, leaving her broken, her path converging with Zevryn's.They reunited at the old foundry, a rusted husk of steel and ash, its interior glowing with the Starheart's unstable light. Mira Tselvar stood at the center, her ash-blonde hair wild, her green eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance as the artifact pulsed in her hands, its energy crackling. Tech scavengers—outcast engineers who repurposed ancient tech—surrounded her, their plasma rifles trained on Zevryn and Lysara as they entered."You can't stop this," Mira shouted, her voice trembling but resolute, the Starheart amplifying her words. "This power—it's mine now. I'll remake the galaxy, starting with Aeltharion." The artifact's energy surged, a shockwave shattering the foundry's walls, debris raining down as the scavengers opened fire.Zevryn moved like a comet, his starfire sword deflecting plasma bolts, his tattoos blazing as he cut through the scavengers, blood and metal flying in equal measure. Lysara's shadow magic joined the fray, tendrils crushing rifles, snapping necks, her amber eyes locked on Mira. The thief dodged, her agility enhanced by the Starheart, but Zevryn cornered her, his blade at her throat. "Surrender it," he roared, his voice echoing, "or I'll end you."Mira grinned, a desperate edge to her expression, and activated the Starheart, its power erupting in a blinding flash. Time distorted, the foundry warping, Zevryn and Lysara frozen as Mira slipped free, vanishing into the slums, the artifact's energy leaving a trail of temporal rifts in her wake. The distortion faded, and Zevryn cursed, his starfire flaring, his political mind already planning the next move.They returned to the Starlance, the weight of failure heavy. Lysara touched his arm, her amber eyes soft but fierce. "We'll find her," she said, her voice a vow, her shadow magic calming him. Zevryn nodded, his violet eyes burning, his royal dick stirring at her touch, its extra inch and veiny power a reminder of his dominance, though he restrained it, their mission taking precedence. "We will," he replied, his voice a growl, "and when we do, she'll pay."Selene Mirath awaited them on the bridge, her golden hair loose, her starry eyes wide with alarm. "The Starheart's rifts are spreading," she reported, her voice urgent. "They're destabilizing Aeltharion's core—Varenthia's too. If we don't stop Mira, both empires fall." Zevryn's dual kingship now hung in the balance, the betrayal arc unfolding with galactic stakes.