Lunara looked up to gauge Amunkar’s reaction just as his stately image manifested in front of the towering building behind him.
Sorcerit were obsessed with power, even if it wasn’t their own—especially the Imperial Line. They showed their appreciation by enchanting sparkling particles of light to rise up and form colossal, statuesque versions of the people they were honoring. Every evening, for as long as she could remember.
First, each Elder would be displayed in succession, followed by the Imperials. She used to cheer when her parents’ imagesappeared, longing to see herself there. The last time she’d witnessed the spectacle, the Sons had been as young as she, only included in a family portrait where all of them had gathered together as one.
It had likely been many years since they’d stood for their individual renderings to be captured, but Lunara hadn’t been in this part of the Upper Block since her parents had died. She’d clung to the shadowed alleyways instead, only staying as long as was necessary to determine whether her skills were truly needed before escaping just as quickly, without being seen.
In a bizarre twist, Amunkar was currently standing in the exact same position as his massive, rotating likeness—arms crossed, eyebrow raised, feet planted as he gazed upon Starkeep like the emperor he would be.
The portrait disintegrated, bits of light falling to the ground and quickly reforming in Vann’s likeness. “Sisters save us, not me too,” he groaned. “They never get my eye right.”
Instead of wholly black, the particles had concentrated there to make his one eye entirely gold, which was somehow even more unnerving than the reality.
The lights had barely finished shifting again before Thaddeus was gaping. “Ach, Mag,” he groaned, pretending to gag. “That’s just not right.”
Magnus was entirely too proud of himself.
Lunara could hardly believe her eyes. If Amunkar’s had been stoic, and Vann’s slightly unsettling, his portrait was suggestive. At best.
His arms were crossed in his as well, but the cheeky Wolflord had sunk his teeth into his bottom lip mid-smirk and tilted his head just enough that it had made his eyelids heavy. The sleeves were torn off of his ceremonial battle robe, and his tattooed biceps bulged bigger than her head beneath the tattered hems.
He looked like he was trying to tempt all of the Upper Block into going to bed with him.
“Oh, Magnus, that’s…”
Unfortunately, they all realized too late.
The particles fell and rose, and a giant, golden Brand was staring back at her.
“Ah, fuck,” Magnus whispered.
Indeed.
Brand’s arms were down, hands fisted at his sides, like he had no idea what to do with them. His arched brows were furrowed slightly, eyes a little wild and jaw clenched, like he’d barely forced himself to stand still long enough for the image to be rendered.
He looked savage, like every inch of the brutal warrior he was, but Lunara knew in her soul how intensely uncomfortable he’d been. Knew he’d stood there wishing he was anywhere else—somewhere filled with peaceful quiet.
Shitting stars, it hurt.
Fern appeared like a ghost. “You’ll find him, I can feel it.”
Before Lunara could sift through the emotions choking her to formulate a response, Araxis was in front of her. “Come,” he said, gripping her shoulder and turning her away. “I already know what I look like.”
He herded her towards the other side of the fountain and the stations there. She stepped onto one of the levitating platforms waiting to whisk them up to the Elder Halls and forced herself into a mindless state—easier to ignore the thought that it was like being lifted up by her father, his greatest creation thrumming beneath her feet. Still here, though he was long gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Fern slipped through the crystal barrier and pressed in close as Araxis joined them, leaving the others to follow on another platform.
A tear slipped down her cheek as they shot into the sky like a shooting star.
Up into Illamiata’s domain.
“It’s even biggerthan I remember,” Lunara whispered.
She was hardly breathing as she gazed down at Illamiata, nestled in a maroon velvet pillow on its carved pedestal. The clear, drop-shaped stone sparkled beneath the lights, almost fluid, like the glittering Serpent Sea in Straelon.
And yet, even as it dazzled, there was something dark about it.
