Chapter 34
The exact moment of the Shattering remains disputed. However, scholars and priests alike agree the moment the fallen Stars collided into Stellasaltus (now Celestial Wastes) was shortly after the wraiths also overtook the provinces. Thus, Dominion conquered not only the Empyrean but also the realm.
The Shattering: A History
ASTRAIA WOKE TO AN UNFAMILIAR sensation of closeness and warmth as she lay in the bed. She opened her eyes, looking over at the char near the fireplace to find it empty. Curiously, she shifted her neck to scan the room only to find an arm looped around her waist, locking her against a solid wall.
She froze, eyes wide, then the memories of the night came flooding back to her, and she remembered who held her. Immediately, she relaxed and snuggled as close as she could into his chest. The strength of him covered her, making her feel safer than she had in years.
His arm flexed as he drew her close to him, and he inhaled slowly, his face buried in her hair.
“We probably should get moving,” she muttered.
“And why is that?” he groaned in a husky voice, barely awake.
“We wouldn’t want anyone to find us like this, now would we?” She smirked.
“Let them.” He squeezed her tighter, nuzzling his face in her hair and neck.
A thrilling chill ran down her body, making her skin pebble.
A flush of heat raced to her spine and settled in her core.
The urge to turn around and kiss him was intoxicating, but she bit her lip to quiet those thoughts.
Propriety had been dismantled the moment he had lain in her bed, but that was not what made her hesitate.
He might not care for her in the same way she had come to care for him. The idea of rejection if she acted on impulse made her stomach churn.
Begrudgingly, she wiggled out from under his arm as he groaned in protest. Her feet hit the cold floor, and she was jerked out of the blissful moment.
Gathering her belongings, she crept to the door and opened it.
She glanced over her shoulder, watching as the massive hunter lay sprawled in the small bed, taking up every available space.
Soft beams of light from the window cast an ethereal glow on his bare chest, emphasizing his tattoos and scars.
She smiled, knowing the truth he told her—he would protect her, even from the king.
With that thought, she opened the door and entered the washroom across the hall.
She hurriedly dressed and splashed water on her face from the basin next to the tub.
She had retrieved her dagger from under her pillow and sheathed it in the usual place on her thigh.
Folding up the tunic she slept in, she shoved it down in her satchel and went back to their room.
Draven was standing next to the fireplace, fastening his belt with his dagger to his waist. He had slipped on his own shirt and leather armor, and his broadsword was lying across the chair.
He paused when she entered the room, giving her a small smile, not his usual smirk, but rather a gentle tug at the corner of his mouth.
It took her by surprise, and she could not help the smile she returned.
After gathering their weapons and snagging some bread and meat from the dining hall downstairs, they readied their horses for the final stretch of their journey to Asynjur.
The town had not yet awakened, with only a few people milling about the street.
The sun had just risen, and morning dew clung to the grass and trees.
Astraia pulled her cloak tighter around her to block out the chill as she saddled Orion.
Draven led the way out of town, following the small dirt road that led northeast. They would travel roughly a league on the road before they would have to make their own way through the woods.
The road would veer east to the stardust mines rather than toward their destination.
She felt somewhat wary of blazing their own trail, but it was the fastest way to get to Asynjur.
They did not say much as they rode. Their horses' hoofbeats created a synchronous cadence, eliminating any awkward silence.
She caught herself daydreaming several times.
Sometimes it was of the beaches from her home, or of Elion—but mostly, it was of him.
The way he held her tightly yet gently, the firm muscles of his chest pressed to her back, his breath on her skin.
She would glance sideways at him, and every time, he was already looking at her too.
Her cheeks would flush, and she would snap her head back, keeping her eyes glued to the road.
Draven stopped when the time came to depart from the road, eyeing her steadily. “Ready?”
She nodded, nudging Orion onward.
Hours passed without incident, much to Astraia’s relief.
Her head was on a swivel the entire journey, poised to fight whatever demons decided to cross paths with her that day.
The crunch of the horses' hooves on the forest floor gave away their position to anyone or anything that creeped in the woods.
Yet the only beast they saw was a wild hog grazing on some overgrowth.
By afternoon, the trees had thinned, and they could see the Njord River in the valley below them.
Just on the other side of the river was a town fortified behind a stone wall.
The stone was darker than the white stone of Volpes Manor, but she could still make out a faint shimmer from the stones, likely stardust. In the middle of the wall closest to the river were two large wooden doors standing open with guards posted at either side.
A monumental stone bridge spanned the width of the river, giving them a way to cross.
“Be careful. The people of the Peaks do not take kindly to others of the realm,” Draven said, guiding his horse toward the bridge.
“I am always careful. Besides, your demeanor does not exactly scream ‘friendly,’” she pointed out, trotting beside him with a smirk.
“Ah yes, you are the epitome of safe and cautious. How could I forget?” he jested. As they approached the guarded entrance to Asynjur, Draven lowered his voice and leaned close to her, whispering, “For once, listen to me, and let me do the talking.”
She scoffed, then rolled her eyes, but decided to trust him.
She had never visited Skyforge Peaks, although she had read about their history and culture ad nauseum during her tutelage.
They were a proud people, steeped in tradition.
They believed all should learn to fight and defend themselves, so both women and men trained to be warriors starting at the age of ten.
They were unmatched in skills with a blade and axe, able to cut down ten men to one.
They were also incredibly loyal, living in communal villages where everyone supported each other, raised each other’s children, and defended their loved ones.
But perhaps the most mythical of legends surrounding the people of the Peaks was the unique bond between Drakari and Drengr.
The Drakari had been loyal only to their constellation, Rage, but the Drengr gained favor with the Drakari and fought with them, creating a unique alliance.
Although Drakari had not been seen in years, there were stories of winged beasts flying in the night through the realm, still protecting the Peaks.
Draven approached the massive double doors slowly, bringing his horse to a halt before the first guard. He waited as the guard, holding a spear, walked over to him and stood in front of their horses.
“What is your business?” the guard asked, narrowing his eyes on Draven, then on Astraia. His accent was thick as he spoke the common Astradeon tongue. His arm flexed as he held his spear, angling it toward Draven.
“Vér s?kjum fraenda,” Draven replied, gesturing to the town.
Astraia gaped at him, eyes wide in astonishment. He spoke the native language of the Skyforge people, one that was not readily learned by even the most accomplished scholars in the Celestial Court.
“Hverr maer?” the guard asked, taken aback.
“Bj?rn,” Draven replied nonchalantly.
“Ah. Ja. Hann gengr til drykkjusalunnar.” The guard laughed, and the other guard behind him snickered. He lowered his spear and gestured for them to pass. “Ver á braut tína.”
“Takk. Langt megi year reykja.” Draven nudged his horse forward, Astraia following close behind.
“Heilsa tér.” The guard nodded to them as they passed.
As they crossed through the gate, she rode up next to him and punched him in the upper arm, giving him a start.
“What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his arm and looking at her, bewildered.
“You could have told me you spoke their language,” she snapped, glaring at him.
“You did not ask.” He shrugged, trotting ahead of her.
She huffed, gritting her teeth. “So what exactly did you both say?”
“I simply told him we were looking for a friend who called himself the Bear. He told me the man lingers in the mead halls. That is all. Satisfied?” He kept riding without looking at her.
She huffed, gripping her reins tightly. “This discussion is not over, bounty hunter.”
As she contemplated spearing him with an arrow in his back, she looked around at the town as they rode down the cobblestone path.
The architecture was vastly different from any other town she had seen before.
The wooden homes and shops were all constructed of massive beams of wood, their roofs pointed at a sharp angle.
Affixed to the top of the gables were intricate carvings of Drakari heads, some with teeth and others breathing fire.
At the center of the town was a larger building, at least two stories tall and just as long as the massive merchant ships that delivered goods between the Hollow City and Tenebris.
Smoke billowed from a chimney at the center of the roof, and a cacophony of laughter and shouting could be heard coming from inside.
Draven walked his horse up to the large building and dismounted, hitching his horse to a nearby post and Astraia did the same. Turning to the bounty hunter, she clenched her fists and forced her bonds down, which threatened to flare in response to her irritation.
“Before I go another step with you, I need answers,” she spat, tensing her shoulders.
He sighed, turning back around to face her and crossed his arms, chuckling. His indifference only vexed her further.
She saw red.
Stomping over to him, she unsheathed her dagger and thrust it under his chin, the point nearly breaking skin.
He quirked his brow and smirked.
She nearly flared, yanking hard on her tether to keep from burning the entire town to the ground. “I am tired of the half-truths. So, tell me how you know the language, or I’ll finish what I started in Tenebris.”
“There you go again, making demands when you have no leverage.” His voice was low, rough, intentionally riling her.
Her eyes flared white as she let the gates to Power open, pouring into her hands and down into the Celestial blade.
“I am tired of the games, hunter. You told me once you would protect me from the world. How am I supposed to trust you when you withhold information?” Her voice wavered, her eyes pulsing steadily as she gazed at him.
The small voice of hope she had rekindled was shrinking back, her walls threatening to rise once more.
“Some truths cause more harm than good,” he countered, his own eyes glowing with a faint golden light.
In a flash, he gripped her wrist holding the dagger, the same one he had broken before, and twisted. She stifled a yelp as her grip released, and the dagger was thrown into the dirt, still glowing.
Furious, she formed a fist with her other hand and flung it at his face, but he was too fast. His hand clamped down on her attacking wrist. She cursed and tried to force her knee up between his legs, but he dodged her assault.
A smile pulled on his lips as he pulled her wrists toward him, their bodies dangerously close.
“Good, but remember who your opponent is, Starborne,” he taunted, glowing eyes fixed on her own.
She scowled, flexing her hands in his grip, and licked her lips. His eyes flickered to her mouth, golden rays pulsing from his stare. He leaned in toward her, mere inches from her face. The pine and smoke aroma made her knees weak, and her heart pounded out of her chest.
Her spine was bursting with energy, bonds begging to be set free. She needed only to push up on her toes, and she would finally discover what she had only dreamed—the feel of the hunter’s lips on hers.
Taking a slow breath, she tensed her legs, ready to let him claim her, when the door to the mead hall burst open.
Two drunk patrons stumbled out onto the steps, falling down and laughing.
Astraia pulled on her tether, forcing her bonds back down, the glow of her eyes vanishing in a breath. Draven did the same, his amber eyes cooling, and dropped her wrists. His eyes lingered on hers, a flicker of regret on his face, then he stepped backward.
“Let’s go meet the Bear,” he said, turning and walking up the stairs to the mead hall.
Steeling herself, she took a deep breath before following him. The cloud of doubt still loomed over her. She would either lose herself or lose her life to this man—maybe both.