Chapter 18 Astraea
Astraea
I suffered five treacherous days of trudging through snow piled up to my knees, each step an act of defiance against the bitter cold cutting like knives through every layer of my clothes.
We had climbed deadly mountains, their icy ledges narrow as threads, and crossed endless fringes where the wind howled, tearing at me as if it could pull me back from our goal.
By now, my breath was barely mist against the relentless white.
Every muscle in my body burned, yet I forced myself to press on.
Nightsdeath, to my irritation, didn’t suffer from the weather and climb, which often soured my mood further.
Finally, through the shimmering veil of snowfall, it finally came into view—a structure that seemed to float against the cliffside, carved out of the rock itself or perhaps out of something rarer, older.
It was a temple, unmistakably so, its spires piercing the sky, casting shadows that stretched long and sharply over the snowfield below.
The building was both haunting and beautiful, an ancient guardian standing resolute against time and weather, as if waiting for those strong enough to reach it.
The sight stole the breath from my chest but wonder quickly turned to dread twisting in me for what we might face lurking within while we retrieved a piece of the key.
As we drew closer, I felt a force pressing down—an invisible hand testing our strength, sensing our motives, judging if we were worthy to even set foot inside.
We had come too far to turn back. And so, with nothing left but my resolve and the promise of what lay within, I tightened my grip on my cloak and took the first step forward, the temple’s shadow stretching coldly across my path.
I kept to Nightsdeath’s side, his darkness a shield against the worst of the weather. At first, I’d tried to keep a little distance, but the closer I was the more tolerable the cold became and so our arms brushed with every step now.
Neither of us gave the closeness any attention, at least not outwardly.
Every now and then I would glance at him and internally sink with the want to link his arm or have him draw his around me like Nyte would.
I missed that caring and tender side of him so much the pain was becoming unbearable.
At times I wondered if Nightsdeath could feel my sinking despair when, contrary to his unfeeling character, he’d asked at least once a day if I was all right.
“At long last,” he drawled.
I stopped walking halfway across the courtyard, not wanting to let go of the cloak I kept hugged tightly around my body, but I needed my magick.
If this temple was like the last, I thought the dragon painting should be under my feet, buried under the thick snow.
Though I didn’t have the means to free it—needing Eltanin’s tears—I couldn’t pass without confirming another ancient dragon was wondrously hidden for millennia right here.
“What, pray tell, are you doing?” Nightsdeath asked irritably.
“I just have to see something,” I muttered absentmindedly as I focused on my thoughts. “You might want to step back; it’s about to get a little too bright for your tolerance.”
I shivered violently when his shadows drifted away from me, cursing the wretched cold as I brought my hands up.
My magick hummed over my skin with a tingling warmth I welcomed and embraced.
A gale of wind and light formed. Pushing my palms down on the ground blasted a wide radius around me that revealed exactly what I hoped to find under the blanket of snow.
Dropping to my haunches, I traced a gloved hand over the blue marks of the magnificent dragon.
My first thought was to curse myself for not asking Drystan how many types and colors of dragon there were.
Would the blue dragon’s breath be different from Athebyne’s searing red flame or Eltanin’s starry smoke?
I groaned in frustration as I rose since I wouldn’t get to know today.
“Of course,” Nightsdeath said, examining the painting. “I learned of the dragons and their whereabouts from Drystan just before the curse took hold. Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I didn’t think it would be important to you. You want the key, not dragons.”
“Dragons are creatures as old as the gods themselves. Some believe they are gods. An alliance with one is an incredible advantage in battle, never mind over a dozen that could dominate the skies if you free them all.”
“There’s no predicting which side each dragon will choose if they bond with a rider.”
“So why risk freeing them?”
I grazed my fingers over the blue paint. “No creature deserves to be imprisoned.”
Nightsdeath cast his sight toward the temple.
“All we can do is get the key piece right now,” he said.
Unlike the temple in Alisus that was dedicated to my guardians, and where I spoke to them, this one was unguarded by the skeletal forms that didn’t speak. I couldn’t decide if it was a relief or more daunting that Nightsdeath accompanied me inside.
There was no predicting what trial the key would manifest for us to claim a piece of it. We couldn’t devise a plan or prepare; this challenge had to be taken in blind faith. The key was smart and very protective of itself, even from me since I was the one to break it.
I didn’t tell Nightsdeath that even if we completed the trial, the key piece we gained could be a fake.
There were sixteen potential temples, and only five true key pieces to be found.
I didn’t know what I was expecting of the interior. This temple had only a few short steps onto a single level with … no ceiling. Except it wasn’t our red-infused night I stared up at, it was the dark midnight holding a million stars I’d missed the sight of dearly.
When my eyes fell back down, I gasped, stumbling, and even feeling for my wings, but we weren’t falling. The ground mimicked the sky now, as if we stood on a sheet of glass and looked down through an endless night.
“How do you suppose we reach it?” Nightsdeath said.
My brow furrowed at his question, and I glanced up, but he still stared down through the glass under his feet.
I crouched carefully, searching through the layers of stars with more precision until …
there it was. The key piece seamlessly disguised as another blinking star.
The only thing that gave it away from such a distance was how it spun, catching a glinting light at perfect intervals.
“Auster took your wings…” I trailed off with bile rising in my throat.
“He took my celestial wings.”
I watched in awe as the shadows swirling around him moved, coming together and climbing his spine before forming into large, stunning wings of darkness. My brow crumpled at the magnificent sight of him.
“You find me more attractive with them?” Nightsdeath queried, studying my reaction.
I find you the most beautiful thing in the world. With or without wings.
I didn’t speak those words; he would only ask more questions about why. Always trying to figure out how emotions worked if only to exploit them somehow.
“Physical attraction is human nature.”
“I am not human, and I find you attractive.” A blush almost crept over my cheeks until he added, “And repulsive.”
My near smile dropped to a glower. “Can we just focus?”
Nightsdeath raised his hand without hesitation, and a blast of dark energy erupted from his palm, hurtling toward the glass in a flash of shadowed light.
The force of it crashed against the glass, which shuddered but held firm, rebounding the energy back in all directions.
The wave slammed into me before I even had a chance to brace myself, knocking me off my feet and sending me backward with dizzying speed.
My back struck the small stone steps behind me, each unforgiving edge digging sharply into my body.
Pain lanced through my shoulder, then my hip, as I tumbled, limbs colliding at awkward angles until I lay sprawled on the cold, rough surface.
For a moment, everything was still, save for the lingering hum of his dark power vibrating through the air. He hadn’t even flinched.
Groaning, I shifted to be sure nothing was broken.
“A little warning next time.” My voice was strained from the throbbing aches.
Nightsdeath wasn’t even looking at me as he wandered up the steps toward a podium I hadn’t noticed before. My irritation swam as I peeled myself off the ground and shuffled over to him.
He held a blindfold, examining it like it was some foreign artifact. On the podium a short verse was carved into the stone.
The dark is unseeing, the light is unfeeling.
It only took a minute of calculation for a breath of laughter to escape me. I straightened from my hunch, trying to stretch out the dull pains throughout my body.
“What?” he asked while I still mulled over my conclusion.
“It’s going to test our trust in each other,” I said, studying the starry sky below, then above.
“What a humorous thing,” he mumbled.
The giggle that escaped me might have been pure delirium, but it chased away some of my nerves. When I looked to Nightsdeath he was staring at me. His frown pinched deep as though he were angry but his amber eyes were searching.
“What?” I asked, touching my face, as perhaps maybe there was a bleeding cut I hadn’t felt from my fall.
His jaw worked. “Let’s get this over with.”
I skipped after him as he descended onto the glass again. “You sure you have it in you to trust me for this task?”
“What is the task?”
That was a good question. I surveyed the blindfold in his hands.
“I think one of us needs to wear that.”
He didn’t hesitate to hold it out to me, and I scowled.
“The dark is unseeing, the light is unfeeling,” I recited from the podium. “I think that means you have to wear it. It’s not like I can kill you.”
“You might be able to retrieve the key piece and leave me.”