Chapter 9
Walking into Starside is like stepping into a diamond.
Everything glimmers. The sheen of magic is a paint, a lustrous stroke over us all.
Even the sun feels different—the heat revitalizing, instead of draining.
I tilt my face up to the sky to revel in its warmth, only to be met with a shock of the brightest blue I’ve ever known.
My lips part in wonder. The sky isn’t gray on this side. It’s the color of the morning glories my mother had in her book of dried flowers, collected over generations.
With a world-shuddering tremor, the gates begin to close behind us. There are challengers still on the bridge. Most are bleeding out. Screaming.
“Fifty days,” Zane says, watching the intricate designs of the metal as they perfectly lock together.
“What?”
“That’s when they’ll open again. At sunrise. They’ll close at sunset.”
I knew the quest usually took around two months, but an exact timeline is the type of knowledge I had hoped Stellan might share with me.
Zane’s from a Great House. I should ask him a hundred more questions about what he knows, but one spills from me before I can think of anything else. “Why did you save me?” He risked his own spot to secure mine.
He just shrugs a shoulder. “You’re less likely to kill me than one of Cadoc’s friends.” His gaze dips to my ruined clothing. “And I saw what you did with the blood. It was smart. I want to work together.”
I don’t pretend that my new sword doesn’t also have something to do with it. He knows I’m stronger with it … Or maybe he’ll kill me, to try to claim it.
I consider his words. Now that we’re not fighting for fifty spots, we aren’t rivals.
Even so … we all want to make it to the Land of the Gods. He might betray me in a second, if it meant reaching the end of the journey.
My eyes drift to the rest of the Fifty. Teams are being formed. The only person who is striding into the unknown alone is Harlan Raker, the black cape of his hood curling in the wind.
I can’t trust anyone. But to make it to the other side, and to survive possible encounters with these teams … I’ll need one of my own.
I face Zane again. “Only if Kira can join too.”
Zane frowns. He seems to be considering the same thing I already did, that Kira could slow us down.
But she’s survived this far. And Kira is here for her sister. That motive alone, knowing she will do anything to succeed … it’s valuable.
“Fine,” he says.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t hesitate,” Kira says, glaring. She looks him up and down. “What exactly do you offer, other than wielding that ax?”
Zane reaches into his bag. Uncurls a scroll. We all watch as ink spills across the blank parchment, shapes and letters forming before our eyes.
A map. Part of one, at least. It’s just a single path, all the way from the gates to the Land of the Gods.
“Fuck. Okay, that works,” Kira says. I nod in agreement. It’s a huge advantage.
He quickly puts it back in his bag. The last thing we need is other competitors taking it. But before he did, I saw a mess of mountain ranges, rivers, and something called the Storm Woods.
Fifty days total. Anyone making it back to the gates will have to do the entire journey to the Land of the Gods in twenty-five. Seeing the landscape … I’m not even sure that’s possible.
Kira has a clump of green in her hand. Grass, she ripped from the ground. She sighs deeply. “At least we get to die in a beautiful place.”
Ever the optimist.
Yells sound to our left. Cadoc’s group is huddled around someone covered in blood.
One of the Enders. The eldest. She must have been wounded by the beasts on the bridge.
She’s screaming out in pain. I watch as Cadoc lifts his blade—and drives it through her heart.
She goes still. Her siblings … they did nothing to stop him.
They don’t do anything now either but stand still, as if waiting for instruction.
Forty-nine Questral challengers remain.
“Let’s go,” I whisper, hoping Pagnus or Cadoc doesn’t turn our way.
Zane nods. He leads us southeast, to where his map starts. The same path someone successfully made the journey on.
We walk the first few steps—and then we run.
Hours later, the blood on my face has dried into a painful crust. My energy begins to wane.
The sun dims, and so does the brilliance of everything around us.
Just when I’ve started to think this entire side’s ground is made up of one color, the grass gives way to a shimmering pool of blue.
“Finally,” Zane says, and he runs into the water, ax still on his back. Kira is right behind him. She dives forward, soaking the crown of her head, before angrily scrubbing her face.
I glance down at my clothes. If the material gets wet, will they see my skin?
Do secrets matter anymore, on this side?
I take a careful step forward and gasp at the coolness of the pool. My canteen was drained a while ago. I swallow, throat rough with thirst, knowing I can’t drink this. It isn’t running water. But do the same rules from the other side apply here? I’m not sure. Best not to test them so soon.
I walk until the water is up to my waist, feet firm against the bottom.
Water.
So much of it.
Clear water. Not the cloudy liquid from the well. Not the rare bucket of bitter rainwater.
“This can’t be real,” I whisper, letting it pool in my hands.
“It certainly feels real,” Kira says, sighing as she dips her head back and then shakes her hair, droplets spraying all around us.
I slowly lower myself back, and relax. The cold is a welcome relief, weaving across my scalp.
What would it be like to sink into it? I close my mouth, plug my nose, and slowly, hesitantly, bend, until my knees reach the smooth bottom.
And the world goes dark and quiet.
Underwater is thoughtless, emotionless, problemless. Nothing can reach me here, I think, until my lungs constrict, and I have to surface again.
I break through the water, sputtering, blinking too many times, before my vision settles. My eyes meet another pair, across the pool.
A pair that glimmer like gemstones.
My hand immediately goes to the sword on my back, though my muscles are so spent, I doubt I could even take it out of its scabbard. There’s a scraping as Zane’s ax leaves its sheath.
The man only inches closer. And when he’s at the edge of the pool, I see that his skin is too smooth. His limbs are lithe and just slightly too long. The way he moves is almost feline.
And his eyes … They are a sparkling violet, like an amethyst.
He doesn’t have a weapon. He doesn’t seem too concerned about Zane’s ax. Does he not need one?
I wonder which of the legends are true.
Are immortals faster than us? Stronger than us? Could he, unarmed, kill us all?
His body is lanky, devoid of muscle. He isn’t in a defensive stance. He’s wearing a gray robe made of rough fabric. He takes another step forward, and I stand very still. He stops just short of the water.
Silence. None of us makes any move. We just stare at each other. I hear Kira swallow behind me.
“You’re … immortal,” I finally say, stating the obvious.
The immortal grins, showing white teeth. His eyes are gleaming with excitement. His voice is practically quivering with it. “And you … you are not.”
I finally unsheathe my sword, arms drooping with its weight. I can’t imagine ever being able to hold it without both hands.
Still, I ready myself to fight this creature, to learn through battling him the extent of immortals’ mysterious abilities.
That only makes him grin wider.
“What do you want?” Zane demands.
The immortal motions behind him. “To extend an invitation. My dwelling is just beyond the forest.”
I was so focused on the water, I barely looked at the trees. Now I see that they’re ancient and twisted, roots knotted together.
“You’re … offering us a place to stay?” Kira says, sounding the words out slowly, as if she still can’t make sense of them.
The immortal nods. “You’ll die out here,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Why?” Zane demands.
“Night is a deadly time, even for us.” What does that even mean?
Nothing in life is given freely, regardless of which side of the gates we’re on. I know that for certain. “And in exchange?”
The immortal’s purple eyes twinkle in the growing darkness. “Let me see your clothes. The contents of your pockets. Tell me about the other side.”
I blink, having expected anything but everything that just left his mouth. Also—why would an immortal care about our pockets?
“I’m not letting you see my clothes,” Kira practically spits at him.
The immortal shrugs. “Have it your way.” He turns his back to us. “I’ll search your bodies tomorrow. If there’s anything left.”
Then he makes his way back into the forest from which he came.
Zane looks over at us.
“He could be lying about night being deadly, just to get us to go with him,” I offer.
“Yes, but what if he’s not?” Kira retorts. “We aren’t close to the first village on your route, are we?”
Zane shakes his head. “We won’t reach it for days. I assumed we’d camp outside.” Because we didn’t know about the threat of night.
The person who made this map clearly didn’t face the same challenge, given their path. It could be proof the immortal is lying … but the last Questral was half a century ago. Things could have changed. I turn. The sun is almost touching the horizon.
My stomach twists with hunger. Already.
I wonder if the strange immortal’s offer comes with food. They don’t eat, do they? Would he have anything for us?
Evening wind whips the strands of hair that have gone loose. Chills ripple down my arms.
We all look at one another.
Without another word, we rush out of the pool and into the forest.
We catch up to the immortal quickly, and he brightens. “Good. Yes, good. Alive is better. I have so many questions for you.”
I frown. “Why?”
He glances at the sinking sun and hurries his pace, making me think the threat might actually be serious. “I’m a scholar, of course. Do they have those on the other side?”