The newly ignited Fifth Anchor burned like a beacon within Orin, its flame bright and pure. Five stars—the Skybrand, now whole—radiated across his chest, each point representing a key moment in the creation of the universe: Fire, Root, Shard, Heart, and now, the missing Origin.
The Flame of Origin was different from the others. It did not burn with force or violence. It flickered with an almost serene energy, a quiet yet unstoppable current of creation itself, older than the Skyborn and older than the Hollow Star.
The Forge around them shifted, adjusting to the presence of this new force. The Warden stepped back, as though recognizing something ancient stirring within the Forge's walls.
"Now you understand," the Warden spoke in their minds. "The Hollow Star was born from a creation that forgot its origin. It is the wound of a forgotten beginning. Without the Fifth Flame, it cannot be completed."
Orin reached out, his hand trembling as the Fifth Anchor pulsed within him. He had not known what to expect, but the answer was here. Not in destruction. Not in binding. But in healing.
Mira, watching closely, stepped forward. "So… it's not about fighting the Hollow Star anymore? You're saying we can undo what happened?"
Kaelen's face softened with understanding. "It's about remembering what was lost. The Hollow Star isn't an enemy—it's a forgotten part of the universe, something that was never meant to be separate."
Orin's breath deepened as the Forge responded. The Fifth Flame twisted around his hand and began to spread—golden threads of light spiraling through the vastness of the Starforge. It felt like an old song being remembered, a tune that had been lost in the silence between the stars.
But even as the light spread, the Hollow Star—far away, in the depths of space—sensed it.
Its presence grew stronger.
A shadow fell over them. The Forge itself began to hum with an energy that wasn't entirely of creation. The Warden's figure flickered, becoming less defined. The Forge was fading, as if the act of reawakening the Origin was unraveling the walls between worlds.
Orin looked up, heart pounding. "We have to finish this."
"Yes," the Warden said, voice echoing as the walls cracked. "But it will not be without cost."
Suddenly, the Forge doors slammed shut behind them, and the light of the Fifth Anchor flared brightly, momentarily blinding them. When the light dimmed, they were no longer in the Forge. They were standing before the Hollow Star itself.
The final confrontation.
The Hollow Star watched them with a thousand fractured eyes—eyes that pulsed with all the grief, hunger, and rage of a being that had been torn apart by the universe itself.
And as it gazed down, Orin realized something more.
It was not a singular force.
It was many.
They had been wrong all along.
It was not one thing that had fallen, but a thousand.
The Hollow Star was an entire constellation of fallen gods.