Fitting, since the bauble was allegedly the first tear each Sister cried, joining together and solidifying as they hit the ground, holding the deepest of their sorrows within.
It made her nervous. There was too much power in that first drop of regret. That first piece of glimmering evidence that the ones who’d released them had changed their hearts and been willing to admit it through their weeping—before they’d died.
Legend said it had been swept away as the Realm Rivers formed, riding the current all the way to the Evesong. Some claimed it was the reason for the endless night here, their despair radiating out from Illamiata and denying Solyrian’s shining rays.
If that was true, then Nachthelliae was nothing more than a shrine of sorrow. A tomb of funereal darkness, ever mourning the loss of its creators.
As if reading her mind, Cordelia sidled up to her and said, “It’s a rock, Moonweaver. An important rock, yes, but don’t give it influence it doesn’t have. It holds enough already.”
“What do I do, Cordelia?” She blew out a slow breath through pursed lips. Another. Calm settled over her like a too-thin blanket, panic thrashing beneath the surface. “Just… grab it?”
It’s fine. You’re fine. Breathe.
“Come,” the Elder said, moving away. “Take a moment to find your focus.”
The Tear Stone was held in an enchanted room above the Elder Halls, at the very top of the central, solitary spire that crowned all of Starkeep. It boasted no windows, no walls—nothing more than a mystical barrier that blocked the wind and weather, and kept visitors firmly inside its confines.
A monstrous ring of crystal was suspended in the air overhead, sharp shards of the same resting on its edges—six massive splinters that shot upwards and joined together like a dagger made of glass, the spaces between left open to the sky. From down here, the peak mimicked a brilliant star as it loomed and glimmered against the perpetual night.
When the moons aligned during Nachthelliae’s Occurrence, their light would shoot down as if forcibly pulled to that highest point, power refracting from every piece and funneling into whichever Keeper held the stone. Or, at least, so she’d been told.
All that power in your body, at your fingertips. What if it eats you alive? Burns you up? Breaks you apart?
Shaking herself, she followed Cordelia to the low wall serving as an infinite bench around the room. A place to rest and absorb the unimpeded, full-circle view of Starkeep and beyond.
She’d only been up here once as a young girl, and it felt exactly the same as the first time.
Dizzying. Nauseating. Breathtaking. Like one wrong move would send her spinning away into the unending cosmos.
She sat near Cordelia, ignoring the yawning drop behind her. “I came barreling in, so sure. Now, I’m terrified all over again.”
The others had stayed behind, distracting the guards with the honor of their presence as she’d slipped by with Cordelia. A good thing, she’d thought. She’d wanted to do it alone, as she’d done almost everything else in her life. To climb the steps and face herfearin peace. If Brand couldn’t be here, she didn’t want anyone else.
Lunara wasn’t sure how she’d found herself surrounded by so many she cared for. How she suddenly had the choice of whether to do something on her own or have companions to support her. How she had four brothers waiting below for any word they were needed.
She’d wanted to do it alone, but she’d been wrong.
“For what it’s worth,” Cordelia said, resting one elbow on the bench-back, “I have never, in all my long life, felt power like yours.” She sighed and met Lunara’s eyes. “It’s bundled up inside you, screaming to break free. Even before you found your Brandir and accepted his gift, the bond, it was a force. Now?” She scoffed, a breathy sound that encompassed her disbelief. “You could probably feed the Evesong on that well of power alone. Foryears.After the trial all Keepers must face, Illamiata will only help you, and I have reason to be confident your fate does not lie in the culling. You are different. Trust me on that.”
Something in her eyes…
‘Only poor choices shaped the others, and you are not the same… Trust me, I would know.’
Shitting stars.
“You hear her, too. The Oracle.”
Cordelia hummed, looking away. “A story for another time, but yes. Since just before you were born. Not that the mad creature made much sense. Not until—” She shook her head. “Another time.”
For some reason, Lunara couldn’t muster even an ounce of surprise.
Brand first, answers later.
Illamiata first. Or have you forgotten why you’re here?
Right. Yes. Face her greatest fear to find her fate. Easy.
Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
