Chapter 1 Grave Circumstances
Grave Circumstances
Three days before her wedding, Aurora Finch rose early to visit the grave of a man she’d never met.
She slipped out of the small stone cottage while the rest of her family slept, a dying fire in the hearth providing the only light.
She found her thick wool cloak on its hook, put on her gloves, and silently pushed through the door.
The biting cold hit her instantly, stinging her skin, and she pulled her hood up over her head.
The Starmaker had yet to pull in the light for the day, and Aurora held a small lantern that illuminated the space in front of her.
Her boots crunched through the snow, and she tugged her cloak tighter around her as she made her way to the outskirts of the village.
Aurora quickened her steps, hoping to be far away by the time her family woke, not wanting them to know where she was going.
Especially her sister. Elsie had been touched by the Frost a fortnight ago, and though she wasn’t getting worse, she wasn’t healing as she should.
Aurora had assured Elsie that there was nothing to worry about and that she would soon recover, but there was an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach warning her that Elsie’s condition was dire.
Aurora had known the Frost was a threat since she was old enough to read.
Perhaps even longer. Their home was closest to the peaks, tucked right against the face of the mountain, and not even the Starmaker could angle the light enough to reach them.
There was sufficient magic in the land for them to survive, but the absence of sunlight meant that the Frost was a constant threat, and it had come for Elsie first.
Every night since, Aurora had dreamt of the way her sister had screamed.
Every night since, Aurora had woken in a cold sweat she could feel deep in her bones.
She wanted to postpone her wedding until Elsie was well, but Elsie wouldn’t hear of it.
And though Mama would never say it, Aurora knew she was depending upon the glare line that would form between their home and Farren’s as soon as the wedding took place. They all were.
The lines were a gift from the Sun, a magical connection between the two homes a couple came from as well as their new home together.
They magnified the magic in the land, and every couple received one as a wedding present.
And because of the location of their home, Aurora’s family was truly dependent upon the glare.
Living in total darkness did have its advantages, though.
They had the most land of any family on the mountain, and over time, they had learned to tend it well.
Aurora had been fascinated by mirrors since she was a girl, and she’d realized at an early age that if she set up enough mirrors to reflect sunlight onto their land, they could put their fields to use.
They could grow certain crops and even sell the surplus at the market.
Aurora had collected mirrors ever since, large and small, rusted and cracked; it didn’t matter what they looked like so long as they could reflect what they saw.
The Finches’ closest neighbors were in the path of the light, and they let Aurora’s family lease a sliver of their land for their mirrors.
Over time, Aurora had put more than one hundred to use, all reflecting precious light onto her otherwise shadowed land.
Her family would never be able to afford a plot even half the size of their current one if it was touched by sunlight, and even if they could, Mama would never agree to leave their home.
It was the house she had shared with Papa before he died, and she refused to live anywhere else.
Aurora’s mirrors had taken the day-to-day uncertainty out of living in darkness and tending to soil that was unreliable at best, but still, it was not the same as working light-filled land.
Growing up in the shadow of the peaks had never bothered Aurora, not until the Frost had found Elsie.
Aurora had bought all kinds of herbs and tinctures at the market, but nothing had made much of a difference.
The doctor had said that only time would reveal the extent of the damage, but Aurora was entirely unwilling to leave the fate of her sister to time.
And so she walked through the darkness to the grave.
Finally, the dim lights of the village came into view.
Candles with orange flames outlined the rooflines of shops and flickered in the streetlamps, all of them perpetually lit due to the magic in the land.
The fireflies were out in droves, taking advantage of the hours before the Starmaker lit the mountain, and there was a soft haze in the air that morning that made Reverie look as if it was glowing.
Aurora smiled to herself. She loved this mountain and this village wholeheartedly.
Reverie stood in total isolation, the village cradled in a valley tucked into the highest peak.
There was no way on or off the mountain, but Aurora had heard stories of the outside world, of villages and towns that did not need a Starmaker, towns where the Sun was not out of reach.
But even if there were a way out of Reverie, Aurora would never take it.
There was no other place in the world as magical as Reverie, no other place that survived solely because the Sun had decided it should.
Reverie had lost many people, animals, and dwellings to the Frost, which had almost decimated the village entirely, leaving nothing but cracked white ruins.
But then the Sun had fallen in love, changing the fate of the mountain town.
Now, with three Starmakers buried and another pulling the light each day, the Frost was only a threat on the darkest parts of the mountain.
The Sun had given up her greatest love so that his home would not perish, and Aurora thought it a painfully romantic story, one that twisted her insides with grief whenever she thought of it.
Aurora followed the perimeter of the village until she reached the grave site.
It was enormous, a white stone monument of a man reaching up toward the heavens, golden flecks inlaid in the stone that seemed to shimmer even in the darkness.
It was remarkable, as if the statue itself was filled with magic, and Aurora swallowed hard.
The very first Starmaker.
The statue was much taller than Aurora, and she had to crane her neck to see the top of it.
It somehow looked just as romantic in the darkness as it did in the light, surrounded by fresh flowers and dozens of candles, letters, and even a few gold silks draped at its base.
Aurora had been here many times before—it was common for the villagers to give thanks to the Starmakers, who protected their home—but she usually came with her siblings at their mother’s insistence, fidgeting while Mama laid flowers or herbs at the grave.
Today was the first time Aurora had ever visited alone.
The Starmakers were not gods, and yet many people prayed to them as if they were. Aurora had never been one of those, but Elsie’s condition had changed that.
She was glad she was the only one here. Aurora loved the lore of the Starmakers, but she didn’t know how to pray to one.
It probably didn’t matter, though; Aurora didn’t have much hope that this would heal her sister, but she had tried everything else, and living without Elsie was not something she could accept.
Aurora cleared her throat. “Please heal my sister,” she said, ignoring her self-consciousness.
“Elsie Finch. She was touched by the Frost a fortnight ago, and she is not improving.” Aurora reached into her cloak and pulled out a bundle of daisies, Elsie’s favorite flower.
She laid them at the base of the statue, swallowing hard.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’ll give anything. ”
After several moments, Aurora looked down and ran her fingers over the crystal plaque in front of the statue.
HERE LIES THE FIRST STARMAKER,
WHO LOVED THE SUN AND WAS LOVED IN RETURN.
THANK YOU FOR THE LIGHT.
The Starmakers were never known by their given names.
Mama had told Aurora it was because the original Starmaker didn’t want his lineage to be seen as more special than anyone else’s, but Papa had always said that when you loved someone the way the Starmaker loved the Sun, you wanted that love to be your legacy.
He always smiled when he said it, because he had loved Mama that way.
Aurora wasn’t sure how long she had stood in front of the grave site, begging for healing for her sister, before she heard the market come to life behind her.
The village had been built just south of the statue, as the burial sites of the Starmakers were some of the most magical places in all of Reverie.
The only area that held more magic was the castle, but it was far up the face of the mountain, away from the rest of the town.
“Aurora?” a voice said behind her, and she whipped around to see Aspen.
“Brother,” she said, pressing her palm to her chest, trying to steady her heart. “You startled me.”
“That was not my intent.” He placed his own bouquet of daisies at the base of the grave, and Aurora had to fight against the sting in her eyes. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Yes, well,” Aurora said, her voice quiet. “I came for Elsie.”
“As did I.”
Aurora nodded. Aspen was the most religious in their family and had always held a deep respect for the burial sites.
He took a step back and looked up at the statue, his face full of reverence.
Without speaking, he reached out and took Aurora’s hand, and they stood that way for several breaths before finally turning away from the grave.
“Please don’t tell Elsie I was here,” Aurora said. “I don’t want her to know how worried I am.”
“It will be our secret,” Aspen assured her. He looked at her with understanding, his blue eyes soft and kind, and Aurora gave him a small smile.