Chapter 56 #2
“No need. No one of note is in there tonight.”
“What?” Lunara narrowed her eyes on Cordelia. “Why?”
Her look was impish. “Someone may have told the Council that the Keeper has been found. They’re all at a party celebrating the young male before he receives the Tear Stone tomorrow morning.
And because they’re desperate, no one has thought to check that the mark on his arm is real.
” Her wink was wicked, and Lunara had the insane urge to laugh.
It can’t possibly be that easy. Why is she suddenly helping? How do you know it isn’t a trick to capture you?
She didn’t, but there was something in Cordelia’s face that drew her in. A mix of sorrow and love and regret that—paired with the twinge in Lunara’s gut—said she could be trusted.
Lunara looked up to gauge Amunkar’s reaction just as his stately image manifested in front of the towering building behind him.
Sorcerit were obsessed with power, even if it wasn’t their own—especially the Imperial Line.
They showed their appreciation by enchanting sparkling particles of light to rise up and form colossal, statuesque versions of the people they were honoring.
Every evening, for as long as she could remember.
First, each Elder would be displayed in succession, followed by the Imperials.
She used to cheer when her parents’ images appeared, longing to see herself there.
The last time she’d witnessed the spectacle, the Sons had been as young as she, only included in a family portrait where all of them had gathered together as one.
It had likely been many years since they’d stood for their individual renderings to be captured, but Lunara hadn’t been in this part of the Upper Block since her parents had died.
She’d clung to the shadowed alleyways instead, only staying as long as was necessary to determine whether her skills were truly needed before escaping just as quickly, without being seen.
In a bizarre twist, Amunkar was currently standing in the exact same position as his massive, rotating likeness—arms crossed, eyebrow raised, feet planted as he gazed upon Starkeep like the emperor he would be.
The portrait disintegrated, bits of light falling to the ground and quickly reforming in Vann’s likeness. “Sisters save us, not me too,” he groaned. “They never get my eye right.”
Instead of wholly black, the particles had concentrated there to make his one eye entirely gold, which was somehow even more unnerving than the reality.
The lights had barely finished shifting again before Thaddeus was gaping. “Ach, Mag,” he groaned, pretending to gag. “That’s just not right.”
Magnus was entirely too proud of himself.
Lunara could hardly believe her eyes. If Amunkar’s had been stoic, and Vann’s slightly unsettling, his portrait was suggestive. At best.
His arms were crossed in his as well, but the cheeky Wolflord had sunk his teeth into his bottom lip mid-smirk and tilted his head just enough that it had made his eyelids heavy.
The sleeves were torn off of his ceremonial battle robe, and his tattooed biceps bulged bigger than her head beneath the tattered hems.
He looked like he was trying to tempt all of the Upper Block into going to bed with him.
“Oh, Magnus, that’s…”
Unfortunately, they all realized too late.
The particles fell and rose, and a giant, golden Brand was staring back at her.
“Ah, fuck,” Magnus whispered.
Indeed.
Brand’s arms were down, hands fisted at his sides, like he had no idea what to do with them. His arched brows were furrowed slightly, eyes a little wild and jaw clenched, like he’d barely forced himself to stand still long enough for the image to be rendered.
He looked savage, like every inch of the brutal warrior he was, but Lunara knew in her soul how intensely uncomfortable he’d been. Knew he’d stood there wishing he was anywhere else—somewhere filled with peaceful quiet.
Shitting stars, it hurt.
Fern appeared like a ghost. “You’ll find him, I can feel it.”
Before Lunara could sift through the emotions choking her to formulate a response, Araxis was in front of her. “Come,” he said, gripping her shoulder and turning her away. “I already know what I look like.”
He herded her towards the other side of the fountain and the stations there.
She stepped onto one of the levitating platforms waiting to whisk them up to the Elder Halls and forced herself into a mindless state—easier to ignore the thought that it was like being lifted up by her father, his greatest creation thrumming beneath her feet. Still here, though he was long gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Fern slipped through the crystal barrier and pressed in close as Araxis joined them, leaving the others to follow on another platform.
A tear slipped down her cheek as they shot into the sky like a shooting star.
Up into Illamiata’s domain.
“It’s even bigger than I remember,” Lunara whispered.
She was hardly breathing as she gazed down at Illamiata, nestled in a maroon velvet pillow on its carved pedestal. The clear, drop-shaped stone sparkled beneath the lights, almost fluid, like the glittering Serpent Sea in Straelon.
And yet, even as it dazzled, there was something dark about it.
Fitting, since the bauble was allegedly the first tear each Sister cried, joining together and solidifying as they hit the ground, holding the deepest of their sorrows within.
It made her nervous. There was too much power in that first drop of regret. That first piece of glimmering evidence that the ones who’d released them had changed their hearts and been willing to admit it through their weeping—before they’d died.
Legend said it had been swept away as the Realm Rivers formed, riding the current all the way to the Evesong. Some claimed it was the reason for the endless night here, their despair radiating out from Illamiata and denying Solyrian’s shining rays.
If that was true, then Nachthelliae was nothing more than a shrine of sorrow. A tomb of funereal darkness, ever mourning the loss of its creators.
As if reading her mind, Cordelia sidled up to her and said, “It’s a rock, Moonweaver. An important rock, yes, but don’t give it influence it doesn’t have. It holds enough already.”
“What do I do, Cordelia?” She blew out a slow breath through pursed lips. Another. Calm settled over her like a too-thin blanket, panic thrashing beneath the surface. “Just… grab it?”
It’s fine. You’re fine. Breathe.
“Come,” the Elder said, moving away. “Take a moment to find your focus.”
The Tear Stone was held in an enchanted room above the Elder Halls, at the very top of the central, solitary spire that crowned all of Starkeep. It boasted no windows, no walls—nothing more than a mystical barrier that blocked the wind and weather, and kept visitors firmly inside its confines.
A monstrous ring of crystal was suspended in the air overhead, sharp shards of the same resting on its edges—six massive splinters that shot upwards and joined together like a dagger made of glass, the spaces between left open to the sky.
From down here, the peak mimicked a brilliant star as it loomed and glimmered against the perpetual night.
When the moons aligned during Nachthelliae’s Occurrence, their light would shoot down as if forcibly pulled to that highest point, power refracting from every piece and funneling into whichever Keeper held the stone. Or, at least, so she’d been told.
All that power in your body, at your fingertips. What if it eats you alive? Burns you up? Breaks you apart?
Shaking herself, she followed Cordelia to the low wall serving as an infinite bench around the room. A place to rest and absorb the unimpeded, full-circle view of Starkeep and beyond.
She’d only been up here once as a young girl, and it felt exactly the same as the first time.
Dizzying. Nauseating. Breathtaking. Like one wrong move would send her spinning away into the unending cosmos.
She sat near Cordelia, ignoring the yawning drop behind her. “I came barreling in, so sure. Now, I’m terrified all over again.”
The others had stayed behind, distracting the guards with the honor of their presence as she’d slipped by with Cordelia.
A good thing, she’d thought. She’d wanted to do it alone, as she’d done almost everything else in her life.
To climb the steps and face her fear in peace.
If Brand couldn’t be here, she didn’t want anyone else.
Lunara wasn’t sure how she’d found herself surrounded by so many she cared for. How she suddenly had the choice of whether to do something on her own or have companions to support her. How she had four brothers waiting below for any word they were needed.
She’d wanted to do it alone, but she’d been wrong.
“For what it’s worth,” Cordelia said, resting one elbow on the bench-back, “I have never, in all my long life, felt power like yours.” She sighed and met Lunara’s eyes.
“It’s bundled up inside you, screaming to break free.
Even before you found your Brandir and accepted his gift, the bond, it was a force.
Now?” She scoffed, a breathy sound that encompassed her disbelief.
“You could probably feed the Evesong on that well of power alone. For years. After the trial all Keepers must face, Illamiata will only help you, and I have reason to be confident your fate does not lie in the culling. You are different. Trust me on that.”
Something in her eyes…
‘Only poor choices shaped the others, and you are not the same… Trust me, I would know.’
Shitting stars.
“You hear her, too. The Oracle.”
Cordelia hummed, looking away. “A story for another time, but yes. Since just before you were born. Not that the mad creature made much sense. Not until—” She shook her head. “Another time.”
For some reason, Lunara couldn’t muster even an ounce of surprise.
Brand first, answers later.
Illamiata first. Or have you forgotten why you’re here?
Right. Yes. Face her greatest fear to find her fate. Easy.
Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
A hand landed on her shoulder. As if she’d summoned him, Lunara looked up to find Magnus standing above her.
“Thought you might be needing us about now, witchling,” he murmured.
“H-how?”
He smiled and sat beside her, allowing her to see everyone else filtering up from the stairs as he hiked a thumb at Amunkar. “Ask him.”
“It was the right time.” The First Imperial Son had a strange look as he gazed out over the city. “It is time.”
Magnus shifted, his arm wrapping around her. “Besides, did you really think we’d let you do this without keeping an eye on you?”
One-by-one, Brand’s remaining brothers crowded in close as Amal guarded the stairs, Fern unseen beside her.
Vann knelt and laid a hand on her knee. “Brand would be right here, if he could be. We’ll do no less in his place, little sister.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“Ach, you’re the fiercest lass I’ve ever met.” Thad gripped his nape. “You’ll be fine, aye?”
He sounded about as sure as she felt.
Araxis threw his shoulders back, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment thickening the air.
“You are the rightful Keeper, and the stone will not harm you. Not once have your predecessors suffered ill effects in the beginning. The rest will come later, and we have time for that if or when it happens. Brand…” His jaw clenched.
“Brand does not have time for you to be afraid.”
No. He didn’t.
“You’ll stay? You’ll be here when it’s done?”
Magnus gave her a little shake. “Aye, witchling. Right here.”
Looking at them, tucked in close and supporting her, gave her the strength to rise on trembling legs. They parted, clearing the path that would take her to the pedestal.
One foot in front of the other and she was suddenly there. Somehow, Illamiata didn’t seem quite so large anymore. Didn’t feel as daunting as she stretched her shaking fingers towards it.
For Brand.
As if from a great distance, she faintly heard Cordelia say, “Keep to the perimeter, Your Highnesses, and brace yourselves.”
Just before contact, Lunara heard the faintest laughter.
And then the world exploded.