Chapter 31
In the daytime, my necklace offers a faint glow. Hours later, when we’re still trekking through the woods, and the sun begins to fade, it grows into a crown of light.
“It feels strange, being out in the open,” I say, remembering how many nights we spent hiding behind water. Or running.
Raker grunts. That’s the extent of his reply.
“You know, I was starting to get worried that this journey would get boring with the starlight protecting us. But your rousing conversation is definitely going to make up for the lack of danger.”
He ignores me.
This again. I roll my eyes. Let him be miserable. It’s the only state he’s ever known in his life.
The forest is dangerous, even during the day. But the necklace seems to offer us protection from more than just the demons.
There is rustling in the trees occasionally, but no creature or immortal ever approaches. We walk in silence.
Until the middle of the night, when the stillness is pierced by something completely unexpected.
My brows come together. “Is that—”
Music. Voices. Laughter.
We look at each other. Are these demons? Is this another illusion?
The starlight casting a wide protective shield, we unsheathe our blades. It gets louder as we approach. Pots clang together. Conversation spikes.
Then … the smell of something recently roasted. The faelings fed us, but my stomach is already twisting in hunger. It smells good. Well spiced.
We walk through the trees, into the clearing—and everything goes silent.
More than two dozen heads turn to look at us, stopping their lively conversations. At the center of them sits a fire … no, an orb shining just as brightly as my necklace.
Trapped starlight.
They’re all immortals. But they aren’t warriors. They’re dressed in modest clothing. Most don’t even carry swords. Some look like children.
Whispers begin the moment they see the light encasing us. All eyes turn to my necklace.
A man steps forward. He has long braided hair tied back, dark brown skin, and a friendly face, which is rare for immortals, who often look perennially unimpressed. “You wear the light, traveler,” he says, motioning toward my neck.
I turn to Raker. He’s standing perfectly still, as if he’s still assessing the situation.
I gently rub the miniature orbs between my fingers. “You—you know the faelings?”
More whispers. Excited trills. The man shakes his head. “No, no—but that’s where we’re headed.”
His meaning hits me. “You’re trying to find the Traveling City,” I say, looking around at them. There is a cheeriness, a sense of hope, among the group.
He nods. “We have the light to guide us,” he says. “We found it. It’s our destiny to find the city. We have been traveling for a while now, looking.”
In this land of immortals, I imagine a while could be years.
Decades? Guilt flutters through my chest, knowing we just left the place that these people seem so desperate to find.
But I remember how it disappeared once the gates closed, already moving again.
Maybe it’s still nearby. Maybe they’ll find it, if they’re meant to.
“Why?” I ask.
A woman with a long scar down her pale cheek says, voice full of excitement, “If we find the gates … if we knock … they must let us in. Those are the ancient rules.”
I remember Este’s insistence, like there was a code. I want to tell them that the Eldress also insisted we leave. It wasn’t a permanent invitation.
“Have you … have you seen it?” someone asks. A woman with curly hair and light brown skin. Her voice is edged with desperation.
I open my mouth—
“No.” Raker’s voice is absolute. I turn slowly to face him. He doesn’t even look at me. More whispers from the group. Now mostly directed at Raker, who must look like a demon to them in his armor and hood, magnificent sword at his back.
“You are welcome to join us in our search,” the man says, motioning toward the group. “We’re just about to take off again. The more time we’re traveling, the better,” he says, smiling.
I can almost sense Raker about to refuse. My hand clutches his arm. I feel him tense completely.
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much.”
The man nods. “Take a serving, if you would like,” he says, motioning toward the roasting meat. “There’s plenty to go around.”
A few others get to their feet and start cutting some slices off, eager to offer them to us. I think of Stormside, where no one eagerly gives anyone anything. Starving people rarely share. But immortals … they don’t really need food the way we do. It’s an indulgence.
It’s a welcome departure, I think, for them to be so focused on the light around my neck and not the fact that we are human. Though some in the group look more eager to have us join them than others.
A plate is presented to me, and I smile, taking it with thanks, before retreating back to where Raker still stands at the edge of the clearing.
Immortal hearing is superior to ours. I wait until the conversation picks up again to whisper, “I really think we should travel with them. Until we get out of the forest, at least.”
“Of course you do,” he says, his voice as grating as ever.
My eyes narrow at him. “The gods are after us. There is a bounty on our heads. With them … we’ll blend in,” I say, meaning more me than him, since I don’t think Raker blends in anywhere.
“Plus, it seems like they know their way around these woods. We’ve been lucky so far, but we don’t know what other dangers we might come across. ”
Raker doesn’t say a word. He just shakes his head as he walks past me, likely off to go sharpen his blade or some other very him thing to do.
“You didn’t take your plate!” I yell at his back, but clearly he doesn’t care. Fine. More for me.
I sit down on a large rock, eating the spice-coated meat, groaning as the salt hits my tongue.
Flavor hasn’t been a priority for many years now.
But I remember a time when food tasted good, even on Stormside.
When my mother had a collection of spices, passed down through generations, said to have been from here.
I always thought it was a myth, or a lie, but tasting this food …
It tastes like that.
“You’re human,” someone says. I look up to see a woman with light skin and pink cheeks peering down at me. All immortals look young, but she looks especially so, maybe even younger than me.
I blink, feigning shock. “I am?”
That earns me a wide smile. Her teeth are glimmering white, just like the rest of them. “I didn’t know humans could be funny.”
I snort. “Funnier than immortals, I would think, given our constant edge toward mortality.”
She seems to consider that. “What is it like? Knowing you’ll die so soon after birth?”
I smile between bites of meat. “For us, it doesn’t feel short.” I shrug. “What’s it like knowing you’ll likely live centuries? Millennia?”
Her lips purse. “It’s terrifying.” In a flash, she pinches my arm, and I gasp. She nods. “Your skin is softer than ours. Less smooth, less durable. But we too can die, especially at the other end of a blade like that …” She looks at the hilt of my sword.
“Is dying common?” I ask.
“During war, it is,” she says, sitting down next to me.
“But during relative peace … communities typically stick to themselves. Everyone is so cautious. So afraid of another war. So afraid of the gods and their wrath …” She turns to me.
Her heart-shaped face is covered in freckles.
Her hair is the color of hay. “That’s why I left.
I ran away and joined this group. Because I hear in the Traveling City, there is nothing to fear. Death rarely happens there.”
I think about Este and that she lost her mother. Now I wonder how. I want to tell this immortal that death happens everywhere, but I keep quiet.
“I’m Daphne,” she says. “Do you have a name?”
I scoff at the fact that she thinks humans might not. “Of course. Aris.”
Her eyes narrow. “That sounds like a name from here,” she says.
I grit my teeth, wanting to remind her that our lands didn’t used to be divided. The gates didn’t always exist. Humans and immortals lived together once, all beneath the gods.
Instead, I just offer a tight smile.
There’s clamoring as everyone stands. Pots and blankets are packed up. Daphne turns to me. “Watch,” she says, excitedly. “He’s about to choose the next leader.”
Leader?
The man who offered us a spot here steps forward. He walks around the crowd looking at hopeful faces before stopping in front of a tall man with long hair tied back into a single braid. “You,” he says.
The tall man smiles, steps forward, and carefully picks up the orb.
“It’s an honor to be at the front of the line, holding the light,” Daphne explains. “I’ve been picked twice before already. The light …” Her glimmering blue eyes drop to my neck. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
I feel it, against my pulse. An energy. Magic. Daphne’s eyes don’t lift until a drum is beat, and then she stands. “Welcome to the group, Aris,” she says.
The drums don’t stop. Behind the tall man wielding the bright orb, three people play instruments. The music is beautiful but quickly becomes tiresome. I can’t see his face, of course, but by Raker’s stance, he is thinking of ways to kill me for putting us in this position.
But I don’t regret it. Because right after sunrise, we pass a group of Masks, waiting in the trees, clearly searching for their next targets.
Though I would expect them to want to steal the orb, they keep their distance.
Does their god not want conflict with the faelings?
I’m not sure. But we pass without notice or incident.
Daphne finds me in the line soon enough. She stares up at Raker. With her height, I imagine she can see the flash of silver beneath the shadow of his hood.
“What’s the deal with the mask?” she says, speaking to me as if he’s not standing right there.