Frozen By Stardust (Beasts of the Briar #5)

Prologue

The Below

Year Unknown, Age of the Cosmos

Ascreech tore through the dark caverns of a new world. The young fae woman collapsed to the ground, pounding her fist on the stone. Sira, she had been called once. It had been a long time since she’d heard the name. Down here in the dark, they referred to her as my lady.

Or Mother.

“Hideous!” Sira wailed. “Demon! Disgusting, vile, pathetic monster!”

Movement stirred amid the wet pile of sludge before her. Two large yellow eyes blinked up. Moss and muck still cocooned the creature’s small body. Its new lungs gasped in breath, and it looked around, terrified, eyes seeing for the first time. Its gaze found hers.

“M-Mother?” it rasped.

Repulsion roiled in her gut. No, impossible. How could she be Mother to such a revolting creature? Everything from its sharp claws to the mulch making up its body stank of rot.

It blinked, huge ears twitching. “Mother?”

“I,” Sira snarled, “am not your mother. You are a monster. A goblin!” A sob escaped her as she snatched the little beast’s head in her hands, then slammed it repeatedly into the stone. Slam. Slam. Slam.

Now, she was alone with the blood of yet another one of her creations painting her hands.

Sira fell back and wrapped her arms around her legs, rocking. Rocking and sobbing. What else was there to do? She was sure this time, so sure. This one was supposed to be beautiful. Divine.

Yet again, it had come out all wrong.

The space between her shoulder blades ached with phantom pain. She resisted the urge to reach back and scratch at the scarred skin.

There was flapping overhead and scared chittering from the corners of the cavern.

“Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut up!”

I’m surrounded by failure. Despite the sobs racking her body, her inner thoughts were calm. She could command them to kill themselves. A simple amount of will poured into the rose, and they’d do it. Every disgusting one of them.

Through her tears, she looked up. It was easy to make out the outline of the stretched wings, the bodies more bone than skin.

She’d captured a herd of deer that came to drink from a pool at the edge of the cavern and dragged them down here to the dark.

Just for a little while. She’d give them wings—wouldn’t that be beautiful?

—and bring them Above. Imagine these glorious creatures cutting through the clouds and revealing the starlight beyond. How everyone would marvel!

Sira dug her hand into the collapsed skull beside her, squishing brain matter beneath her fingers.

Except it hadn’t worked. Instead of feathered wings, they’d looked like broken bones ripping through a membrane.

The lovely white of their fur had sickened to gray.

Their flat teeth had turned sharp, and the only thing stopping them from tearing out her throat was her will pouring through the rose.

If it wasn’t these hideous gargoyles, then it was the goblins: creations she’d molded herself from the very earth.

She had created this place, torn a hole in the world and carved herself a spot.

And from the loins of the earth, she crafted beautiful little beings.

Yet every time she used the rose to will life into them—

Sira looked down at the dead monster beside her.

Repugnant demon.

She stood, wiping her hands on her black silk dress, and paced. How, how, how could she bring these back home?

For this wasn’t home. This dark hole in the ground, this wet cavern. Yes, it had a bed and a mirror and a wardrobe with all things she’d taken from the Above, but it wasn’t home.

Everyone up there needed to see what she was capable of. She had to show them she could do it. Create something not just good or beautiful but more than that.

Something divine.

Something worthy of the Above.

She would do it, yes, she would. Soon. Then…then Aurelia would see the depths of Sira’s brilliance.

Her gaze shifted to the pedestal against a rock wall. The item upon it emitted the only light in the cavern.

Floating, as if with a gravity of its own, was a red rose. Though red could not truly describe it. For even in the Above, there are no words for a color that gleams with the light of the cosmos. Sira’s lip curled, and she stalked toward it.

“You were supposed to help me,” she said.

“You’re as wretched as all these creatures!

” With a scream, she grabbed either side of the pedestal and shook it as hard as she could.

It smacked against the rock wall. The rose tilted amid its float, the force of the movement knocking it off-center.

Then it toppled forward, hurtling toward the ground.

Sira shrieked, this time out of fear, and lurched forward, barely catching it before it hit the stone.

Her heart hammered against her rib cage.

Unlike when it was attached to the heavenly bush, the rose was now hard, stem and petals like glass.

If it broke, who knew what would become of her creations?

Her…children.

The thought sent such a fright through her that when she restored the rose to its proper rest, she took one of the petals between thumb and forefinger and snapped it off, then tucked it into one of the drawers of the wardrobe for safekeeping.

For so long, she’d lived Above and thought things never changed and that was one of the great facts of life.

But then she’d learned she could change things, and with that realization had come the need to be prepared for the worst.

For the fae Above despised change.

Or at least most change. They didn’t mind at all when Aurelia sat in the Gardens of Ithilias, wearing her dress of gossamer pink, her hair done up in curls, sending clusters of butterflies out of her fingertips, all crafted from blades of grass.

Nor did they mind when Aurelia herded great feather-winged horses into the citadel.

If Aurelia did it, the fae cooed and adored and groveled like maggots at a carcass.

It wasn’t fair. Why? Why could Aurelia do it?

Sira had spent every day at her side; Aurelia was nothing special, not better than the rest. Yes, she was learned and quick-witted.

Funny and clever, sure. And yes, it was true.

Aurelia was a great beauty. But what made her magic so strong?

Why did the Gardens treat her like she was one of their own roses?

Sira had sat there under the petals, trying to absorb their magic. She’d reached up to the stars lining the cosmos and begged for their power. Why? Why did they give it to Aurelia? Why did they ignore her?

She ran a tender finger along the rose’s stem. It was such a little thing. The Gardens were full of roses. If only she had this power, she could make things like Aurelia. More beautiful than Aurelia! And it was just one little flower…

The light flickering within the petals seemed to shine brighter, mocking her.

For merely taking one little rose, her friends, her family, had cast her out. Thrown her off the edge into the dark abyss.

Sira took a ragged breath, hand tightening around the stem, thorns digging into the soft flesh of her palm. Well, what those traitors didn’t understand, too blinded by the light were they, was that things can survive in the dark.

And not just survive but be born anew.

Sira flung herself away from the rose and began pacing. She had a bloom from the Gardens of Ithilias, powerful enough to allow her to not only create but control that which she bore. Yet it was not powerful enough to keep this rot from infecting everything she made.

Striding over to the small area she called a bedroom, she slammed the drawers of her wardrobe, threw the blankets and pillows from her bed.

If only she could create something beautiful! She could bring it to the Above. The fae would fall to their knees in awe. She would bring her divine creations home. She would once again sit in the Gardens of Ithilias and bask in their radiance.

But… Sira peered through the dark. Gargoyles. Goblins. Spiders made of bloody ligaments. Butterflies that screamed, their wings torn full of holes. Trees with black bark that sapped life from the soil. How could the Above look at these and see anything but monstrosities?

Hideous. Pathetic. Repulsive. All of them!

She turned back to her bedroom, gaze catching on the full-length mirror. Skin pale as spiderwebs. Long, black hair. A pointed nose and down-turned mouth.

If everything I create is rotten, what does that mean of me?

Letting out a wail, she shoved the mirror.

Glass shattered, pieces erupting across the ground.

Sira fell to the stone, hands wrapping around the shards just to feel the bite of pain.

Her cries were unstoppable now, tearing through her whole body and echoing through the cavern.

The sense of mockery made her cry harder.

Leaning down, she peered into the shards, her image distorted. Monster.

“Lady.”

She turned to see Faustrius standing in the entrance to her cavern.

“Faustrius,” she whimpered, not even bothering to wipe her tears. What did it matter what he thought of her now?

“Lady.” Quickly, he crossed to her, falling to his knees and taking her hands in his, examining the cuts. His long, blond hair cascaded over his shoulder.

Sira tilted her head, a sad smile gracing her lips. Now, this is beauty. Everything from the pointed tips of his ears to the delicate curve of his hands was beautiful. The light of the rose poured over his skin, making him appear all the more radiant. He is a work of art. Starlight given form.

“You’ve hurt yourself.” Faustrius grabbed a handkerchief from within his silken vest and began to wrap her palms, but she pulled out of his grasp, instead grabbing the sides of his face. He seemed even more beautiful painted in her blood.

“Faustrius,” she cried, “how is it possible everything I touch turns to darkness? Must it be true then? What she said to me?”

The memory that haunted her every waking moment flitted through Sira’s mind: Aurelia’s golden gaze peering out from among the rosebushes as the Gardens of Ithilias curled and writhed with pain. All the while, Sira stood just out of reach of their briars, clutching her little rose.

“All you shall ever create is suffering.”

Faustrius tenderly wiped the tears from Sira’s cheeks. “My lady, my people followed you down from the Above because of your heart. If your heart holds darkness, then darkness is what we need.”

“But my creations…” Sira sobbed. “They’re monsters.”

Faustrius took a breath, then closed his eyes. They are the color of the sky, Sira thought, then questioned herself. I don’t remember what the sky looks like.

“The creatures you create stem from the rock and root of this world,” Faustrius said. “Perhaps you need something that stems from the rock and root of a realm made of stronger magic.”

“What are you saying?”

He took her hands in his and clutched them. She didn’t mind the sharp bite of pain through her palms. In fact, she relished it. “You know what I offer you, my lady.” His blue eyes flashed. “My queen.”

Sira stood, a sense of calm drifting through her. This beautiful fae with his beautiful people… Yes, they were of potent magic. And she was their shepherd.

She ran a hand along the curtain of his hair, coating it red. Could she do it? Could she tear off their fleeces and replace them with gold?

Of course she could. There was no other option.

“Come with me,” she said to the fae man before her.

He stood and obeyed.

Sira walked him over to the rose, the image of Aurelia burning in her mind. I will create the divine, and when I return to the Above, Aurelia will weep from the beauty of them.

Aurelia would weep.