Chapter 30
At first light, I visit the blacksmith. He’s a tall, regally dressed man with perfect posture, dark skin, and long, lean limbs.
Just like everyone else in this magical place, he emits a subtle glow.
He eyes me warily, though that might be due to the hole in his window. And the matching one right next to it.
His forge is built into the base of a massive tree. Swords with clear, crystal blades cover the walls. Silver speckles float within them like trapped stars.
“You don’t use metal,” I say, my lips parting in disbelief. “You don’t actually … forge.” I look around and barely see any of the materials that were crucial to making blades back home.
“There are different ways to forge weapons,” he says smoothly. “And various strengths to different materials.”
He motions at the wall. “Faeling swords are made of pure, distilled starlight.”
Incredible. I would have never thought something like that was even possible.
“How does one forge starlight?” I ask, marveling at the material. In response to my wonder, he motions toward his worktable.
There, at the center, sits an anvil. It glows more than anything in this Traveling City. Beside it sits an equally stunning silver hammer.
“My bloodline is one of only two blacksmiths blessed by the original god,” he says. Original god? I’ve never heard that before. “I claimed these tools—and they claimed me—just as your sword claimed you.”
His skills must be incredibly valued. I can feel the strength radiating off the starblades.
I rub my fingers over the strange material, and the specks of silver stir beneath my touch. “And those?” I ask, jutting my chin toward the opposite end of his workshop.
One wall isn’t filled with blades at all—but with various objects. Bones. Feathers. Sheets of strange metal. Crystals. Gemstones.
“We are the keepers of many of the most powerful materials on Starside. Those who come upon us often leave us with their most treasured possessions. The ones they don’t want anyone else to find.”
It makes sense. I stop in front of a long feather made up of shades of red, orange, and yellow, like a slice of sunrise. “What is this?” I ask, though I already know.
“That’s a phoenix feather.”
My soul snags on a hundred memories. All the times I was called that very creature, by someone I cared for very much. My voice is rough with emotion. “They’re real, then?”
The blacksmith nods. “Real, but rare. One hasn’t been seen in a long time.
” He runs a finger down the middle of the feather.
“Which makes this all but priceless. And dangerous, should it be forged into the center of a sword.” Right.
Because bits of powerful creatures can create weapons that draw from their magic.
“So a sword made with this would have powers?”
He dips his head again. “If it’s forged correctly, then yes. Blades that possess magical abilities are called skylarks. It means they are more than just their metal.” Skylark. Even the word seems to contain a whisper of power.
I want to ask him a thousand questions. I want to stay here and shadow him, the same way I did Stellan. But light is beginning to fill the forge. My time is up.
I present my blade. “Is this … a skylark?” The hunter hinted as much, but I need confirmation from an expert.
He gently takes it in his hands, and it’s strange to see anyone else holding my metal. But he’s careful, turning it slightly. I imagine he’s already studied it, when we were first saved.
“No,” he finally says.
Oh. I feel a rush of disappointment, for some reason.
“This is a godsword.”
The world around me goes very still. My breath gets caught in my lungs.
Then, everything breaks. My mind, my assumptions, my framing of this entire journey.
No. I must have misheard him. There’s no fucking way a godsword claimed me … a mortal hellbent on slaying the gods themselves.
But as his words sink in, it all starts to make sense.
The bounty. The cavalry.
Golden rays pour through the broken windows. I could stand here and refute his words, remain in denial, but I don’t have time to doubt. I just need answers. “What does that mean?” I say in a whisper.
“It once belonged to one of the original gods. It holds their power. It’s the greatest type of sword—and, of course, the rarest.”
No. I haven’t seen this blade have any abilities other than its metal … but I remember what the hunter said. Since I’m mortal, I can’t access its power.
My head is racing, thoughts tripping over themselves, but I manage to ask, “Do you know which god my sword belonged to?”
“No, I can’t be sure. But one might know. The other blacksmith from the original line. The oldest blacksmith among us.”
“Where is he?”
He shakes his head. “He might as well be dead.”
“Where is he?” I ask again, pleading. And—this shouldn’t be important. This is not part of my journey. But I need to know what I’m carrying.
The blacksmith looks up from my metal. “He is known as the Great Betrayer. He left our people to work for one of the Great Houses.”
He hands the sword back to me. “Godswords hold great power … and great power is a poison. People will be drawn to it … and you. They will risk everything just for a chance to claim it.”
I remember the Masks in the woods. The warriors. How they were pulled toward it by an invisible force.
“This sparkling steel,” I say, brushing across the flat top of my blade with my fingertips. “What is it? What do you call it here?” I’m guessing it isn’t called Starside steel.
“You mortals have your high metals and low metals. Immortals have an additional tier of sparkling metals. This one is the rarest, most powerful … and most dangerous, strong enough to contain limitless magic. It’s only found where the gods live. It’s called paladian.”
The Eldress walks into the forge then. Her eyes go from my sword to the blacksmith. Worry flutters across her features, before they settle. “I trust you got the answers you wanted?”
I suppose I did. The most I could hope for, anyway. I also have far more questions than ever before. She motions for me to follow, and I thank the blacksmith, then leave the workshop, blade sheathed against my spine.
It holds an entirely different weight now.
A godsword. Why would a godsword claim me? It doesn’t make any sense.
All I want is to reach the end of this … and now I know for certain the gods won’t stop until they get my weapon.
Fuck.
Dread settles in my bones. The end of this quest is going to be far harder than the beginning of it.
And I only barely survived that.
The Eldress looks over at me as we walk past tree-homes, long oval windows propped open, letting in the crisp pine and mint-swept breeze. Above, the bridges sway slightly with featherlight faeling steps.
As if she can sense my stirring thoughts, she says, “The Astral Queen hasn’t been seen in centuries. This is a sign.”
The dread in me tightens and twists. I fight to keep my voice casual. “A good one? Or a bad one?”
“I’m not sure yet.” She quickens her pace, her movements lithe and impossibly elegant.
I glance at her back—and there they are. Another set of limp wings, long down her spine, mixing with the ethereal fabrics of her dress.
“You can fly,” I say.
“Could fly” is all she says.
A pinch forms between my brows. “They’re … broken?”
“Something like that.” She does not elaborate.
We pass a rock face, part of the palace. There are carvings along it. I slow to study them, mouth opening, then closing. “Are these—”
“Dragons.”
Hardened into stone. Asleep. I think back to mine with a sinking sadness. Is this what she looked like, hidden below, before she saved me? Is this what she looks like now?
“They’re slumbering. We haven’t needed them in centuries.”
I frown. “There’s been peace for that long?”
“There’s never been peace,” she says flatly. “But long ago, we learned not to meddle in affairs. We keep to ourselves. It keeps us safe.”
My eyes narrow. “And the rest of the world? Do you not think it’s a crime to be complicit?”
The gods are not the only ones who forgot about us.
She must sense the anger in my words. She studies me, curiosity written across her features. “We must prioritize our own survival. It’s how we have remained, when so many other ancient beings have long been extinguished.” She tilts her head. “Tell me, Aris. Do you care about the rest of the world?”
I grind my teeth. I’m not here for the magic; I’m not here to help. I’m here to hurt. I’m here for my own selfish reasons. She seems to know it too.
She continues walking toward the gates.
There, Raker, Este, and a grinning Gallie are waiting. She keeps shooting looks in Raker’s direction, but I’m not even sure he notices. His sword is dug into the ground in front of him. He clutches its hilt with both hands. His mask is back on. Of course, it is.
As much as I liked the dress, I had to leave it behind.
Finally, though, I’m in new clothing. Fitted pants, fortified at the knees.
A long-sleeved shirt, tight enough to make fighting easy, without constricting my breathing, with a high collar, that I suspect was specially made after the faelings noticed my preference in style.
A large pile of new undergarments that I keep in my newly gifted pack.
“The Astral Queen has blessed your journey … and so will we,” the Eldress says.
I raise a brow. This is a change from yesterday, when she was about to kick us out into the demon-riddled woods in the middle of the night.
I keep my mouth shut as she takes one of the many strands of her glowing necklaces—and places it around my neck.
It’s made up of hundreds of tiny glass orbs, each containing a small flicker of light.
“The night creatures won’t harm you with the starlight.”
Relief rushes through my veins. We can travel at night.
It will help our pace … and help us avoid enemies, since no one else would dare be out after sunset.
This couldn’t have come at a better time.
We’re twenty-four days into the Questral, and, according to the map, close to the Land of the Gods.
We could actually reach it, and make it back to Stormside, especially now.
“Go,” the Eldress says. “Travel quickly. Avoid the Great Houses at all costs. They all have dangerous partnerships with gods. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
I nod my thanks. Raker does too. Then the wooden gates creak open.
Before we can walk through them, I feel a light hold on my wrist. Este.
I turn to see her looking conflicted. She stares at me, eyes searching for something …
before finally saying, “There is no such thing as a starless night, Aris. Silver breaks through darkness. Every single time.” In her look is a quiet determination, hard as the strongest metal.
A fierceness that does rival the stars. “If you need help, just reach for it.” Her gaze is on my necklace.
I don’t know what she means … but she doesn’t elaborate.
She just steps back into the line. The Eldress gives her a sharp look.
Birds chirp in front of me, pulling my notice. The forest beyond the gates is blossoming. Shards of morning light are piercing through the treetops. I turn to get one last look at the Traveling City—
But it’s gone. As if it never existed.