Waves rose and fell around her as she floated through the waters, weightless and without direction. She plunged her hands into the inky blackness, reaching for her tether, beckoning it from the void. Her fingers danced across a thin but sturdy strand, and she grabbed hold, tugging on the thread. It strengthened, firming in her fingers, then a golden glow broke through the blackness. It stretched before her, extending beyond the surface and shooting to the horizon.
Twinkling in the distance, as her anchor, were the Stars. Her Stars. Power and Sacrifice, woven into the tapestry of her soul.
She waited, still in disbelief they survived. In another breath, she sent her thoughts down the tether, all her fears of the unknown and for the fate of Astradeon.
Please, guide me. Help me protect Astradeon.
It was a prayer, a whisper in the darkness to the Stars who defied death.
The Stars answered, “Hold fast, Starlight. You are not forsaken.”
***
For the first time in many nights, Astraia dreamed. It started much the same as it had for five years. In a room she wished to forget, and the flare she yearned to take back.
She stood in the corner of the room, her back to the door as she watched her father and brother argue. Elion rolled his eyes, ignoring their father’s rebukes. Shouting, their father’s face turned blood-red. His chair crashed onto the stone floor as he jolted from his desk. He gestured to Astraia, then pointed his finger at Elion, bellowing his commands.
Elion jumped to his feet, cursing him, flinging a hand outward in front of Astraia as if to shield her.
No sound came from their mouths, only muffled roars. She tried to yell back, but it was always in vain. Her mother emerged from the shadows, her eyes narrowed on Astraia.
Then the thunderous shaking of the room.
The brilliant white light.
Astraia stretched out her hand for Elion, as she had thousands of times before, still fighting the dream—fighting against memory and fate. Only this time, her hand met another’s.
A warm, rough hand grasped hers through the blinding light, pulling her through the colorless oblivion. Weightless, she was guided through time, through her memories, through sorrow and pain and repentance. Every regret and offense was laid bare before her in the white radiance, but she was not allowed to dwell on the marks on her soul. The hand pulled her, forbidding her to linger.
Years of her life, all over in the blink of an eye—then time stopped. Her feet found solid footing, though the blank canvas remained, surrounding her. Peering down, she saw a familiar scarred and tattooed hand intertwined with hers. Pine and smoke consumed her, melting away all uncertainty and fear. She raised her head to find a familiar figure standing in front of her.
Draven.
He was here.
He was resplendent. His golden hair tied back, rough stubble clean-shaven. He was wearing the white tunic he had given her to sleep in—the one she still slept in every night. A familiar half-grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. And his amber eyes, they were ablaze, a ring of fire dancing in his gaze.
“There you are, Starborne.” His voice was low, rough, claiming.
“How are you here?” she asked, glancing around the vacuum of her dream.
“You tell me.” He smirked, stepping closer to her, holding both of her hands in his.
A spark jolted through her body as their skin touched.
Astraia paused, trying to remember how her thoughts had turned to him and why. There had never been a time when her nightmare was left fragmented, unfinished. She gazed up into the glowing pools of molten fire, letting them consume her entirely, body and soul.
“I knew you would come. You always do.” Her voice trembled. “You have saved me in more ways than you know. You made me want to live again. And I knew on my darkest day, you would be my light.” Tears streamed down her face with her confession. She gripped the bounty hunter’s hands tighter.
Draven looked at her, smiling fully, then drew closer. His heat blanketed her, sending a wave of calm through her bones. Gently, he kissed the top of her forehead, his lips soft and warm. Her skin tingled at the touch.
She sobbed, letting years of grief pour from every deep crevice of her thoughts. Strong arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in an embrace. Her knees buckled, but he held her upright.
He breathed deeply before he spoke, his voice a whisper in the void.
“I will always be your light. Just as you are mine, Starlight.”
Astraia gasped as she jolted awake, and her eyes flung open. It was just before dawn, a grayness covering the camp with the sun not yet cresting the hills. The other soldiers were all still asleep. Caelan lay next to her, his breaths even as he too slept.
