Chapter Six
“Isk! Ronyn! You’re okay!” Seren shrieks.
Her excitement hits me like a burst of light, sharp and overwhelming, after the darkness of The Tannery. Before I can take a full breath, she barrels into us, pulling us into a tangle of limbs and nervous energy.
“What happened? Were there guards? What happened to your face?” she asks, her words tumbling over one another in a rush. “Oh, Stars, you were gone for so long I thought—”
“We’re fine, Little Star,” I interrupt softly, brushing her hair back the way I always do when she’s worked up. “See? Safe and sound.”
“Well...” Ronyn drags out the word, edging away just enough to dodge my elbow intended for his ribs. “Safe is maybe pushing it a bit. Sound? Debatable.”
I roll my eyes, scoffing.
He grins at me, all teeth and mischief. “What? I’m just saying, your rescue methods could use a little... finesse.”
“Rescue methods?” Seren pulls back, blinking up at me. “What’s he talking about?”
Before I can stop her, she turns toward the trapdoor and shouts, “Revryn! Get up here! Something happened!”
Revryn appears at the top of the ladder, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “I take it you didn’t stick to the plan?”
“Define ‘plan’,” Ronyn says innocently, dropping onto one of the blankets strewn across the floor.
“The plan,” Revryn says dryly, “where Iskara gets you from The Barrier District quietly, without raising half the city’s guard force.”
Revryn used to serve in the Royal Guard—back when swordsmanship, not the constellation in the sky when you were born, earned you a place in the ranks.
Swordsmanship is a skill. The constellation you were born under?
That’s just luck. After King Thalmyr’s decree that only Starborn could serve, he was cast aside like so many others.
For twenty-five summers now, he’s worked the forges in the slums, crafting weapons for the same crown that exiled him.
“Ah,” Ronyn says, scratching his jaw. “Yeah, no. Definitely didn’t do that.”
Revryn sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, someone explain. Now.”
I shift uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Ronyn got caught.”
“Hey, in my defense,” Ronyn says, holding up his hands, “It was a very high-level operation—I was practically invisible.”
“Invisible?” I say, incredulous. “Must’ve been a hell of a trick, considering they saw you, caught you, and locked you up.”
Ronyn grins, unbothered. “Details, Isk,” he winces as he says my name, but pushes past it. “Don’t get caught up in the details.”
Ronyn and I have always squabbled like siblings. I met him in the slums of Virellin when I was twelve summers old and had just learned how to steal without getting caught. He, on the other hand, had not.
I was crouched in an alley, keeping low and waiting for the right moment to snag a loaf of bread from a baker’s stall.
It was my first chance to eat in two days, and I wasn’t about to mess it up.
But then he came barreling through, all gangly limbs and wild chocolate brown hair, with two very angry traders hot on his heels. He nearly tripped over me.
“Move!” he hissed, glancing back at the men chasing him. “Unless you want to get stabbed.”
Even then, his tone was more cheeky than panicked, though I could see the fear in his eyes.
I almost let him keep running—he was a walking disaster, and I didn’t need the extra attention—but something about him made me hesitate.
Maybe it was the way he was clutching a stolen bag of dried apples like they were the only thing keeping him alive.
Or maybe I just knew, somehow, that this fool was about to become my problem.
So I stayed. Waited until the traders rounded the corner, then shoved a broken barrel into their path.
The bigger one tripped and crashed to the ground, swearing loud enough to make a merchant across the street jump.
The other stopped to help, giving us just enough time to disappear down the twisting alleyways I knew better than anyone.
When we finally stopped, both of us breathless and filthy, he gave me a lopsided grin—the same one he still flashes now, like he’s the Stars’ gift to the world. “Thanks for saving my life,” he said. “Want an apple?”
I should’ve walked away right then. But instead, I took the apple and sat beside him in the shadows, eating in silence.
That night, we didn’t talk about why we were alone or how we’d ended up stealing. I didn’t tell him about my parents, and he didn’t tell me about whatever he’d lost either. But by the time the moon reached its peak, we were a team.
Ronyn was loud, reckless, and impossible not to care about. And as much as I hated to admit it, he made surviving a little less unbearable. He taught me how to laugh again, even when there was nothing funny about our lives. I taught him how to move quietly, how to listen, how to fight.
Now, more than a decade later, he’s still loud and reckless, and I’m still saving his ass. Some things never change.
Revryn interrupts my nostalgic thoughts, “So, are you gonna tell me how you got out of there?”
“It involves a magical device, a mysterious Shadowweave, and her,” he jabs a finger in my direction, “setting a voidroot wagon ablaze. Are you sure you want to know?”
Trust Ronyn to lead with the most outlandish parts of my plan.
“Holy fuckin’ Stars, you two. You don’t do things by halves, do you?” Revryn drags a hand down his face, exasperated by us and our... adventures. “Okay. Start from the beginning.”
“Well, I arrived at The Barrier District and couldn’t find Ronyn. I knew Gellesk would know—he has eyes everywhere throughout the district, and he owed me a favor—”
“Not that counterfeit crook, Isk. You know better than to dally with street criminals,” Revryn sighed.
“Rev, I am a street criminal. Anyway, I went to The Underbelly—I needed to drop off Tess somewhere safe, but I also knew he’d know where—”
“WHO!?” All of them interject at the same time.
Oh Stars. “Long story, everyone. Tess. Her father sold her to The Flesh Circuit, and I just... couldn’t leave her.
” Rescuing women—girls—from The Flesh Circuit is our unspoken law.
I met Seren being loaded into one of the Flesh Circuit wagons when she was just twelve summers old.
I used the blade I commissioned from Revryn at The Black Stream markets to send the wagon master back to the Stars, and Seren and I haven’t been apart since.
Seren’s eyes widen, and her hand floats to her chest in understanding. “Anyway, I got a bit... stabby.”
Ronyn snorts. “When aren’t you?”
I smirk—he’s not wrong. “He told me Ronyn was being held at The Tannery with Bloodbond guards, but I needed to get across the zone of wagons, so I,” I bite my bottom lip, preparing myself, “Kind of blew one up and used it as cover to get across.” I grimace, knowing this will set Revryn’s paternal instincts into overdrive.
Revryn sucks in a breath, seemingly speechless, so I continue.
“I fully intended to rescue Ronyn with stealth as my method, but ahh... the plan changed. Anyway,” I draw out the word, “I... disabled a couple of guards—”
“With a knife across the throat,” Ronyn interrupts with pride, as if slashing weapons across necks is commendable.
“But I couldn’t find a way into his cell. The lock was enchanted, of sorts,” I say cautiously.
“Enchanted?” Seren’s curiosity piques at that.
Revryn doesn’t say anything—just closes his eyes in exasperation.
“And that’s when Shadow Boy arrived,” Ronyn quickly adds.
“I’m gonna need more than that. Isk? Ron?” Revryn is barely able to keep a leash on his need for answers.
“Shadowweave. Bends shadows to his will. Cloaks people in darkness. Creates terrifying illusions. Yeah, anyway... he helped,” Ronyn offers nonchalantly.
“He had a magic device that unlocked the cell, and proceeded to help us escape under the concealment of his shadows, and well... here we are!” Ronyn claps his hands together, as if that’s the end of the conversation.
“I’m obviously very relieved that you’re okay, but who is this Shadowweave, and why did he help you?
Why was he at The Barrier?” Revryn’s questions tumble out frantically.
“There is only one Shadowweave in all of Virellin, and he is the right-hand man to the King, far behind The Lightborne Barrier. What do we know of this person?” His scepticism is palpable and hangs in the air.
I have known for my entire life that this conversation was inevitable. I have carried this moment with me, heavy and unrelenting, like a stone in my chest. I have known that someday, I would have to stop pretending.
Pretending that I am just Iskara, a street thief with sharp knives and sharper wit.
Pretending that vengeance isn’t the fire that has kept me alive for twenty summers.
Pretending that the blood on my hands hasn’t always been a means to an end.
I glance around the room, at the faces of the only people who have made me feel like more than a mouth to feed.
They’ve made me feel like someone—someone who matters.
Revryn, with his gruff but unwavering guidance.
Seren, the little sister I never had. And Ronyn—Starsdamned Ronyn—who looks at me now with curiosity instead of judgment, as if he can already sense that whatever I’m about to say will change everything.
My chest tightens, but this time it’s not from fear. It’s the mark. The Lightborne magic clawing its way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged. The faint warmth beneath my ribs flares, a cruel reminder of what I’ve hidden, of what I am.
But I’m not ready. I’m not ready to see their trust splinter into doubt, their love twisted into fear or anger. I’m not ready to be cast out of this fragile thing we’ve built together—a life that feels like safety, even if it’s an illusion.
Revryn’s voice pulls me back. “Well?” he presses, his eyes narrowing. “What aren’t you telling us, Isk?”