Chapter 17
Gold. Gold conquers. Gold topples nations. Gold brings about ruin. Gold forces Kings to their knees. Gold once glittered in the Empyrean. Gold now paid with Starborne blood.
Starless Night
Neither of them spoke as they set off down the road, the horses’ hooves the only sound to break the tension.
She was still processing her reactions during the training sessions and did not trust her tongue to be bridled this early in the morning.
Her bonds had been muted, and still she felt warmth and electrifying energy whenever he got near her.
Yet dark thoughts managed to taint those feelings.
She stood once more on the edge of her mind, peering down into an endless black void.
A dark, ominous voice rose from the depths, weaving discord.
Anyone who she had valued in life, who brought her joy, had been destroyed or betrayed her.
True happiness was not a luxury life afforded her. Not after what she had done.
You deserve your reward, the darkness snarled, vibrating the walls of her mind.
Letting the cold reality settle over her, she straightened in the saddle, taking a deep breath, and tried focusing on the road before her.
The landscape was changing as they neared the center of Virellia and the city of Volpes.
Trees became thicker, flowers bloomed in abundance, and all manner of shrubs and plant life coated the roadside.
With the morning sun peeking through the trees, a golden glow blanketed the road and covered the plants, making it look ethereal.
Since the Shattering, most of the realm was cloaked in dark, cloudy days and dying lands.
The entire center of Astradeon, where the stewards fought in the final battle of the Celestial War and where the Stars collided with the earth after their fall, was the Shardlands.
A dark, rolling desert of black Starshards, rocks, and barren lands.
Only the Shardborne and Tredecim zealots ventured into those regions, in search of Starshard fragments for unnatural bonding.
The only part of Astradeon that recovered after the Shattering was Virellia.
Some texts claimed that Desire placed a mythical shield around her favorite place in the realm, preventing the fallout that destroyed the rest of Astradeon from scorching the gardens.
Whatever the reason, Astraia was thankful some piece of the realm could experience rebirth and growth.
Although she could not help but pity the rest of the citizens, scrounging for food while Volpes basked in excess.
She blamed the regent king and his ruthless regime.
A small flicker of her bonds licked her spine. This was not the usual warmth she felt around a certain bounty hunter. It was a warning.
Astraia smelled death before she saw it.
Sacrifice rose to the surface of her skin as the smell of wood smoke mixed with iron coated her nose and throat. Her bond pulsed stronger as the stench intensified.
“Do you smell that?” Astraia asked, glancing at Draven.
His eyes were fixed ahead, trying to see between the trees for the source. “There’s a town. Just ahead.”
His shoulders tightened. But Astraia already knew.
“Maybe we should—” He began to slow his horse when the sounds of shouting and screaming broke through the trees.
She kicked Orion into a gallop, not waiting to see if Draven followed.
Her bond screamed. Her pulse roared.
As Orion sped forward, she dove deep into both bonds, unsure if what she would face meant repairing or retribution.
Within seconds, she could see black smoke billowing over the treetops, blotting out the sun and swallowing the clouds, but she did not slow her approach.
The forest blurred as she let Power unfurl—heightening her senses, sharpening every breath. Coming around a bend in the road, Astraia gasped, pulling hard on Orion’s reins to stop.
Pure chaos unfolded before her. The town was ablaze, but as Astraia looked more carefully, she could tell the flames were not natural. Red-hot flickering blazes licked the sides of the buildings, twisting and turning as though a snake of hellfire was consuming the streets.
The townspeople were running between houses, trying to douse the flames with buckets of water, but to no avail. The water evaporated before it even hit the flames.
Several people laid lifeless in the street, their loved ones wailing over their bodies.
A boy knelt beside a woman’s body, his hands stained with ash as he shook her.
“Mama,” he sobbed, over and over. “Mama, wake up.”
Astraia’s throat burned. Sacrifice flared white-hot in her chest.
The rest hit her like a wave—flames, smoke, bodies. Dominion had already claimed too many.
But the Stars be damned if she let him take one more soul.
Somewhere beyond the flames, something shrieked—high-pitched, unnatural. The kind of sound that didn’t belong to anything living.
Astraia’s head whipped in the direction of the shriek, at the center of the town where the smoke was thickest.
A flicker of red tore through the smoke, then another.
Astraia’s pulse quickened as she realized it was a pair of molten red eyes peering through the billows directly at her. Her mind reeled at the eerie similarity to the wolves she had only just encountered a few days before—the same hunger and evil radiating from them.
Stepping from the black abyss, a monstrous form took shape, the owner of the unholy eyes. At first glance, it appeared to be a massive man, towering over seven feet tall, but as the smoke parted with his steps, her heart stopped.
The formidable figure was wearing black steel armor and a hooded, tattered cloak that was black as pitch, darker than the starless skies.
Only part of the creature’s face was visible, dark gray skin, cracked with black fractures—as though it burned from the inside, fissures forming from the combustion.
And eyes gleaming red. Red as the blood of those slain at the creature’s hand.
The horrifying monster carried a dark iron sword, black smoke billowing from the edges of the blade.
Realization hit Astraia like a cold wave.
Wraith.
Once stewards of Dominion, the Constellation that started the Celestial Wars eons ago. But Dominion had fallen, shattered according to Astradeon history, along with his stewards.
Yet here, in a small town on the outskirts of Volpes, was the very figure made of nightmares.
The wraith moved deliberately, each step pounding the earth with a force that would make even the bravest soldiers in Astradeon tremble. Sparks of vile fire spewed from the impact of each boot, eager to take hold of the nearest townhome.
Several of the women around Astraia screamed as they pointed to the unholy creature gliding through the smoke. Men stopped bailing water, throwing down their water buckets, grabbing their wives and children and fleeing into the woods behind her.
The monster paid the fleeing crowd no mind, his attention focused on Astraia.
Astraia steeled herself, stepping into the town square directly in his path. He was still several yards away, but she was not going to give him the luxury of gaining ground.
She forced her tether down, into the earth, into the sky, into the trees, into the air she breathed—anchored to the soul of Astradeon. Her mind opened, the lid to Power unhinged, and pure force poured into her.
The world slowed as her senses sharpened, white light pouring into her hands and surrounding her body. She could feel her eyes glowing white, her hair standing on end as Power engulfed her.
She did not know how a wraith came to be here, but she would not allow its path of destruction to continue.
She nicked an arrow, aiming directly at the wraith’s red eyes. She took a deep breath, forcing Power into her aim, praying to the Stars that no longer answered that she hit her mark—and released.
White light trailed behind her arrow, now a blur as it scorched the air, permeating the smoke.
The wraith did not move, did not even flinch, as the arrow sailed toward him. Black shadows and smoke erupted from him, stretching forward and disintegrating the arrow before it even grazed his face.
Astraia swallowed, her mouth dry, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
She grabbed another arrow from her quiver, nocking an arrow once more. Stepping forward as she took aim, she fired, releasing waves of Power with every arrow. Again and again she fired, trying to hit any part of the wraith left exposed by the iron armor.
And every time, the arrow never made it past the smoke screen.
Within seconds, she had fired almost all of her arrows, to no avail, and the wraith was now only a few yards away. Smoke threatened to suffocate her as the distance between them lessened.
Astraia placed her bow on the ground, unsheathing her dagger. The black blade reflected the white light around her, still pulsing from her bond.
If she could just get close enough, she could shove her dagger between his armor plates, and with Power coursing through her and the blade, it would be a swift end.
It had to be. Or she was dead.
Letting her bond surge forward, the blade warmed in her hand as it was imbued with strength. She would need to be quick, even with her heightened senses.
She took a deep breath, steadying her hand, remembering every hour of training with Elion as he helped her master the celestial blade.
The early mornings spent running miles on the beach, working through drills with her blade and bow, teaching her about balance and strategy—were all for this moment.
You are Starlight. You will not fall.
Elion’s smile flashed before her mind, calm resolution washing over her, as she ran toward the red-eyed demon.
Her bonds flared around her in response to the evil that defiled the earth. The wraith raised his sword, grasping the hilt of the blade with both hands, ready to rain down wrath on the Starborne.