Chapter 6
G arrik spoke, but her body had forced her to stop listening long ago. Alora gripped her obsidian dagger so tight she believed it would turn molten.
Chairs shuffled across the wooden floorboards inside Eldacar’s tent. Desks were adorned with open books, while boots hurriedly ascended the swirling wooden stairs and scuffed across bookshelf-cluttered mezzanines.
It was hard to describe the feeling. The feeling that who she had thought she was her entire life had been picked up by the neck, smashed into every hard spine-splitting surface, and viciously hurled across the length of the realm. The feeling of the ground being pulled from underneath her feet and plummeting into an endless pit.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Stars. Was it always this hot in here?
Someone touched her shoulder. The sheer chill of it soaked into the bones under her dusty rose tunic, half exposing her collarbone and death mark. Someone’s soothing, deep voice caressed her ear.
Garrik.
Garrik was there, with both hands on her shoulders, crouching down, looking into her teary eyes.The ice of his hand cupped one of her blazing-hot cheeks, and his thumb brushed the boiling tear that swiftly fell.
She never felt its movement. Hardly felt anything.
His mouth moved again.
She didn’t know that language. Didn’t he understand she didn’t know that language? Couldn’t he speak to her in the common tongue?
Only, he was, and she couldn’t process any of it as she watched his lips move. Bits and pieces made sense. Her name, going, alright.
Breathe.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She tried—had been trying—but struggled. It almost felt as if her fire was pulling the air from the tiny space she occupied atop a rickety wooden chair beside Eldacar’s disheveled bed full of texts and tomes.
The space around her closed in. She was hot— so incredibly hot . A spark—no. Not a spark… A star lit in her other palm, blaring heat against her black pants. A tuft of smoke tendriled from it. A minor burn ate away the fabric.
But she didn’t feel it.
That familiar tingle caressed her mind, and he could easily slip in. Not a flicker of flame erected that fiery wall right now. Instead, it was all fit to burst from her skin as she barely choked a breath down.
Garrik’s stare pierced hers as his hand cupped her cheek tighter. The other lowered, enveloping her smoldering hand to snuff out the embers and press his cold to her burning skin.
Alora. You need to breathe before the library catches fire. Come on, darling, look at me.
She gasped. The breath was as sharp as glass and seemed to knock away whatever clouded her hearing and vision.
Sapphires narrowed out of the haze. Colors brightened. The lettering on books sharpened, and every layer of the library became clearer, more defined.
Garrik’s face … he looked worried. The same look he had given her after she survived the gamroara attack.
“Hello, clever girl.” An icy thumb tenderly stroked the soft skin of her hand. Her chin dipped and observed the touch as his quiet voice murmured, “Listen. Breathe. I am right here. I am not leaving.”
If only it were that easy.
Raking her eyes over the small scratches of crimson on his hand, her survey trailed up his wrist and forearm to the rolled sleeves of his night-dark tunic. Then it moved across his half-hidden chest, which was shielded by white cloth to cover the sea of burns.
Burns. Alora shuddered, remembering what she’d done with … with her …
She could hardly form the word.
“Starfire,” was all she could manage.
Garrik’s eyes darkened; his mouth widened in a smirk.“Pretty fucking incredible, aren’t you? A damn star.” He repositioned his stance but still crouched before her. The fabric of his tunic shifted enough that the star-shaped scar over his heart, the seared tips of the healed dragon claw wounds, and the fading slice from her dagger were visible.
Mere hours before, they were festering wounds mortal enough to call upon Death.
But now …
Her eyes widened. “How?” The word felt like flames scorching Alora’s tongue.
Wonder filled Garrik’s tone as he explained, “Eldacar found that when starfire is unleashed in anger, terrible things transpire.” He placed his hand over the scar at his heart. “This did not heal until you sealed my other wounds. The same as this”—stretching his neck, he displayed the dagger mark there—“Not until burned with starfire. It seems to be the intention behind the power.” Silver glowed brighter, awestruck, as he squeezed her hands.
She hated that look. Didn’t want him looking at her that way. Like she could … what could she do? She had starsdamned starfire? What in Firekeeper-filled-hell did that mean?
And that look in his eyes.
It made her feel as if she was the prophesied savior to all the realm’s problems in every fantasy novel she’d ever wildly hallucinated herself into.
She was no such thing.
Don’t look at me that way.
Forming a harsh line between his eyes, Garrik’s hand lowered from her cheek. “How would you like me to look at you, clever girl?”
“Not like that,” she snapped.
“Damn. And I thought only the stars were this stubborn.”
“I’m not a star—or stubborn.”
“You are.”
“ I’m not .” Shoving his chest, Alora sent him swaying backward with a grin. The prick. “I know what you’re doing.”
Brow arched, mischief danced in Garrik’s eyes. “Is that so?”
He had this way of centering her when she was nervous, and he laced his teasing with much more than taunts. As if he knew his relentless torment was exactly what she needed to calm herself.
Aiden’s annoyance broke through the air, speaking with Thalon, who had his nose close to the pages of a red leather-bound book. “Well, I bloody well don’t know what said long-and-pointy thing looks like.” Hand gripping the railing of the mezzanine, Aiden’s legs swung over it and slammed heavy-footed into the floorboards of the lower library.
Thalon closed the book in one hand with a hollow thump and swung himself over too, bounding after him.
It was strange seeing them together. Like watching two brothers.
Folded, buckled boots stepped across the wooden floorboards toward them.
Garrik twisted up, towering over her sitting on the chair, and watched the incoming generals of his Shadow Order.
Aiden’s ebony hair hung loosely around his face, covering his rounded half-human ears. Ribbons of the dark wavy locks hung in front of his blue eyes, which, in the library light, seemed grayer than anything.
“Lady Starfire.“ Aiden winked, and she rolled her eyes. “If I may?” He bent at his waist, his red sash swaying from a ridiculous curtsy before Thalon elbowed him in the ribs.
Though she had only spent a few hours with Aiden before the gamroara attack and since his return, she truly had missed his dramatics.
Extending his left palm toward her, he motioned for the obsidian dagger she held, as the lantern lights reflected off a ring adorned with black scales.
Alora nervously shifted, peering down at the weapon, thumb brushing over the crystal gemstone set inside the leather.
Life . Garrik had called it Life.
And it was missing payment and Death? Or Blood and Death?
It was an effort not to keep her head from spinning as her eyes shifted to Aiden, who stood smiling and waiting. She eventually lifted her hand—that dagger—to him, watching Life gleam, shimmering an opalescent glare across the darkened underbelly of the mezzanine.
Aiden snatched it so fast that the blade sliced a small cut across her palm, and he demanded, “ Cursed hells. Where did you find this?”
Garrik made a low sound of warning and cradled her hand before Alora attempted to seal the wound with her … starfire . She glanced between Aiden and her High Prince, whose eyes bounced between the dagger and Aiden.
The muscles in Garrik’s forearms shifted as he pointed to the swirling matte embellishments across the dagger’s blade and skeptically asked, “You know what this is?”
Aiden scoffed. “I bloody well should. I’ve been searching for this for decades .”
They stood outside Aiden’s tent.
Alora thought she had imagined it—the odd scent of salt and brine of a sea, but there was no doubting the sound of crashing waves now.
She’d often feel and hear this peculiar sensation. Many nights, sitting by the crackling and popping of flames in their firesite, she’d catch the screech of a gull or a whiff of sand when surrounded by mountains and pine. And ever since Garrik gifted her a new tent, the alluring sounds had lulled her to sleep.
Aiden looked disheveled—frustrated—holding Alora’s dagger. His long black coat with brass buckles had been exchanged for a loose-fit white tunic. The leather cord was untwined past his chest, exposing carved chest muscles and abs.
From under the white fabric, she glimpsed ink. Though much different from Thalon’s, sea creatures of the nastiest proportion were designed there. Females with fishtails swam up his arm. A twelve-sailed ship of such magnificence, too, and she wondered if it was the one he captained. Sitting at his heart, the ink formed a creature she often wore on her leathers.
Her High Prince’s symbol; a dragon unleashing fire.
On Aiden’s left middle finger sat a thick band adorned in molten streams of the brightest colors of autumn laced within polished silver. Alora wondered if it was another symbol for the Dragon’s Legion when Aiden banded his arm across his abdomen and bowed at his waist.
Gesturing to his tent entrance, and with a feisty grin and glint in his eyes, Aiden stared at Jade, then pivoted to Alora with a wink. “Après vous, mesdames.”
Jade only rolled her eyes and stepped inside, knocking a shoulder with Aiden’s as she gripped her spine and coin necklace and passed through. Eldacar and Thalon followed close behind.
When they disappeared into the distant sounds of the sea, Aiden followed, but Garrik hesitated, face covered in disgust.
“What’s that look for?” Alora asked, breaking his stare.
Garrik ran a calloused palm down the back of his neck and answered, “You will see.” With a deep inhale through his nose, Garrik pulled the entrance back and ducked inside.
A simple brush against the canvas later, her world transformed from that of a camp outside Alynthia’s front gates to …
If she thought she was hot before, then the humid coating of mist and sea was something seemingly unbearable, drawing a thin layer of sweat across her hairline almost immediately. How could Aiden stand such a climate?
She stepped from dirt to the slick wooden floorboards of a mighty ship with twelve sails and an endless ocean extending to the horizon, merging with a sky set with the colors of a calm morning sunrise. The sun cast an illuminated path across the waters, resembling glitter, and where the sun touched the sea, its clementine tone stretched to the deck and cast itself on the red oak boards.
It would take practice—walking to the sway of the sea—but somehow, she managed.
Alora spotted a brown and green railing. Its color disturbed from years of relentless waves splashing the wood, and placed her hands on the damp board before she leaned over and greedily inhaled the salt and brine. Scanning the rolling crash of the deep blue waves, she smiled at the darkened silhouettes of the creatures bumping into the ship’s hull.
The appeal was understandable. Especially on calm seas such as this—it was breathtaking.
Yet, someone was retching and emptying their guts somewhere, and she couldn't see who. A quick glance across the deck revealed nothing until she spotted Thalon at a wooden door with square glass windows on the quarterdeck, waving her inside.
With one last inhale of the sea, Alora contently bounded up the sea-slick, creaking steps and followed Thalon through what was perhaps a first mate’s quarters, then a short hallway and door leading her to a grand bedchamber.
Sunrise crept through eight massive windows lined with iron crossed bars. The glass so perfectly clean that if it wasn’t for the sun’s glare, it would appear as if nothing was there.
Alora paused at the door and took in the faint smell of rum as Jade picked at an array of cheeses, breads, and fruits arranged on a rectangular table with six chairs around it.
Eldacar paced along a bookshelf full of leather-bound texts near the desk, eyes gleaming when he plucked one from the shelf and rifled through. A four-post wooden bed with draped scarlet and gold curtains sat to her right with a considerable iron and wooden chest at the foot. The oak walls were lined with swords of various lengths and shapes. Some set at odd, rounded angles, like the one Aiden fancied and carried with him.
Scarlet and golden rugs lined the floorboards and a map of Elysian as big as the wall hung with detailed routes on land and sea. All clearly marked were mostly near land, except for two carrying no markings; The unknown lands of Krysenka and Miratara, a star-shaped island to the east, and to its west, a large red X sat in the ocean.
Alora’s smile lifted. X marks the spot . She would have snorted if it wasn’t for the startling movement behind her.
Garrik opened the door, appearing a sickly shade of green. The slight off-balance of his steps made their way beside her, and his hands rested on his hips, body tense with little breathing.
Furrowing her brows, she asked, “You okay?”
Garrik held up a finger before inhaling through his nose. “Perfectly.”
“Are you…” She grinned, watching him place his hand on his stomach. He … he was seasick. “The High Prince, most mighty in all of Elysian, Heir of Mist and Sea , can’t handle the waves?”
He flashed her a nauseated eye of warning before leaning against the door. With another deep inhale through his nose and a heaving shake in his voice, Garrik spoke, “Aiden, why are we here?”
Aiden’s knees dropped in front of the iron and wooden chest. He pulled a key from his pants pocket and twisted it inside the rusted lock. When the key turned, Aiden pushed open the lid with great effort. The hinges groaned as they ground together.
He rummaged through, dumping the contents of the chest across the rug. Jewelry—some that glowed—odd objects such as gauntlets, cups, pieces of armor, a bottle of lightning, all piled on the floor until his rummaging stopped.
“Soulstryker,” Aiden breathed, lifting a sheath identical to the obsidian dagger. “An ancient blade forged from three sister spirits, not of this land. Held prisoner inside the stones in which it carries. Or had carried,” he corrected and twisted to his feet, eying the sheath as he pulled the dagger from his belt and married the two together with a metallic clink.
Eldacar came up behind Aiden after strolling to the bookshelf and plucking an onyx book from it. His young brown eyes were nothing short of remorseful when their sea captain dropped it open on a wooden desk.
“I knew I had seen this before,” Eldacar murmured, relieved yet … there was something unsteady in his voice. The pages connected with his fingers. His eyes intensely glowed with a look that crossed his face whenever he received a new book. He held his hand there, as if the book spoke directly to him, before he looked up and adjusted his glasses with a quick wrinkle of his freckled nose. “Kerimkhar told you this blade was fated to be used against Magnelis?”
Garrik nodded.
“Sire, did he tell you of the cost?” Eldacar asked.
Her High Prince nodded again as if the act of speaking would loosen his stomach.
“And who exactly will use it?”
“It is yet to be determined.” Garrik’s eyes flicked to Alora, then to Eldacar.
The air in the room fell heavier. Garrik had retreated into his usual silence when something bothered him, and from the look on Eldacar and Aiden’s faces, whatever it was, wasn’t good.
Alora stepped forward, past Jade and Thalon, who leaned against the table, and pressed her fingers to the book, reading:
Whoever wields this blade will bear a heavy payment. For a soul to take is not free, blood shall be given. When the strength of the one who sinks the blade is taken, Life will darken. Blood takes her payment. Death will have her soul. The lifeforce will be stolen, forever obliterated for eternity, never to return.
Shifting on his feet, Aiden rasped, “When Soulstryker is whole and used to spill bleeding guts out, both will die. It’s a heavy price to tear someone’s soul from existence.”
“Then we need to find a way to get this dagger in the hands of one of the High King’s advisers. Stir jealousy, plant the seed that they can be High King. Something. Kill two with the same dagger,” Alora said.
Silence blanketed the room.
Thalon pressed his palms into the table. Glowing golden eyes pierced the wood. “It’s risky.”
“Too risky,” Jade agreed and sat in one of the six chairs, elbows digging into the table.
“Yes.” Garrik broke his silence, crossed his arms, and shakily pushed from the door.
Okay. Maybe it was a foolish idea…
“But Brennus may be jealous enough for this to work.” Alora whirled as he continued, “This dagger must be whole in order to do what Destiny has fated. Until then, we devise a plan to plant it in our enemy’s hand to kill Magnelis. Kerimkhar spoke of Blood’s location. We will find her where four seasons plague one mountain.”
He walked to the map of Elysian and waved his hands across it. Smokeshadows gathered along the continents and seas, then tendriled away to a new view. A map of caves and tunnels inside a mountain.
Garrik turned to Thalon. “Fourtress. The missing stone is there. I will go alone. I need you to bring word to Zanayr and Nalani of their grandmother’s fate and settle them in camp.”
But it was Aiden who answered, laughing, “Oh, you .” He shook his finger at Garrik. “As devilishly handsome as you are, that is a big mountain full of rotting holes to fall into and loads of faerie-eating tunnels to get lost in.”
Jade agreed, “As much as it pains me to say this, he’s right.” Her face was a stone wall as she stalked to the map and studied it. Finger indenting the parchment, Jade traced a tunnel system before her gravelly voice rasped, “This tunnel alone has nineteen breakaways. Any one of them could have you trapped. I know tunnels. I know how to find which paths to take when others would be hopelessly lost. Thalon can portal us out if we run into trouble and Aiden…” She frowned, then added, “Well, we don’t need Aiden.”
“I take offense to that,” Aiden stated dryly.
“You were meant to.” Jade crossed her arms and grinned.
Thalon stood upright and crossed the distance between the table and wall, shooting them a withering look before speaking. “Not to mention the thousands who have gone inside and never returned.”
Eldacar’s sheepish eyes widened as he rubbed his curly red hair, speaking softly, “Or the extreme heat of summer or the damning chill of winter.”
Garrik’s eyes darkened to swirls of ink. Smokeshadows danced at his hands when he made to speak, but it was Alora who broke the roaring silence over the crash of the sea.
“Plus, I have … starfire”—still not used to the word, it felt foreign on her tongue—“and there is no way I’m letting any of you down there without me. Even if all I can do is light the way.” She stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder between Thalon and her High Prince.
“I’m with them.” Their Guardian’s stern voice was low. “We do this together.” There was little room for argument. Thalon extended his tattooed hand toward Garrik’s shoulder and hesitated. Garrik nodded and Thalon clapped his palm down. “Together, brother.”
A muscle flexed in Garrik’s sickly green cheek. And much to their surprise, he conceded, “Alright,” and turned from the map. “Thalon, Alora. Go to Alynthia and escort our new Mystics to camp. Jade and Aiden will make preparations with the map. Eldacar, see if you can find additional information in any of Aiden’s texts on the stones and Soulstryker. See if there is any way to manipulate Blood and offer a different payment. I will return soon.”
“And where are you going?” Thalon asked.
But Garrik said nothing as he turned and walked from Aiden’s bedroom. Only a trail of Smokeshadows danced behind as his footsteps on the wooden floorboards drifted away.