Then Noah turned to Gabe and Bastian, pairing them together. “Gabe, no shapeshifting unless you feel up to it. I know it still causes immense pain. Instead, help Bastian channel his magic into creating weapons that you decide on, and test how they hold up against your fighting. Think of unusual weapons to expand his inventory in case we need something out of the ordinary.”
Noah shifted his attention to Steele and me.
“And you two,” he said as his eyes wrinkled slightly at the corners and his lips pursed momentarily, “need to figure out whatworking togetheractually means for your affinities.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Steele’s brow furrowed, and though his hand brushed lightly across my lower back, he didn’t speak. We both watched as Noah pulled a thick, weathered book from the satchel slung across his shoulder. When he flipped it open, the pages were crowded with notes and half-faded symbols, the ink smudged with age.
“As we’ve discussed,” Noah began as his eyes drifted across the pages, “Rune Makers and Star Keepers were meant to function as one. The Maker crafts a rune that connects to the Keeper’s personal star. That rune becomes a bridge—somethingthat can be etched onto a weapon, armor, even the skin—to channel celestial power without burning through the Keeper.”
He nodded to himself once before his expression tightened. “Most of the records were destroyed, but what remains—like the tome you and Gabe stole from the archives before falling—suggests the rune stabilizes the Keeper’s magic. It draws the power from their star and filters it through the Maker’s rune. Without that tether, the Keeper is unable to control the vast energy.”
Steele’s gaze met mine. “And what if a Star Keeper has more than one star?”
“Or thousands,” I murmured quietly. “Hundreds of thousands, actually.”
Noah grimaced. “Exactly the problem at hand. A Rune Maker can only sustain so many runes at a time before the connection fractures, since each one draws directly from their own power. Creating one for every star you need to connect to would kill Steele before he finished—if it didn’t destroy you first.”
“Encouraging,” Steele muttered, making me huff out a laugh.
My head shook at the insurmountable odds stacking against us. Nothing could ever be simple or easy.
I exhaled, glancing toward the glass overhead as I did. “Then before we do anything else, let me try reaching them. If I can find the stronger stars, maybe Steele can anchor to those first in a test.”
Noah hesitated, frowning. “It’s possible,” he said after a moment before adding, “and it would give us somewhere to start.”
I closed my eyes and reached inward. “I’m going to tether.”
The pull came instantly—a chain unfurling from somewhere deep behind my ribs, links of light threading upward through the dark. It climbed higher and higher, until the weight of my body felt impossibly far away.
Above, the world opened into a vast, silent expanse. Thousands of stars stretched in every direction, so bright and close it felt like I could reach out and touch them. The power behind the shimmering light filled me with a fierce, trembling awe.
But not all of them burned the same. Some flickered weakly, their glow thinning at the edges. Others hung dim, barely visible, as if they were fading into eternity itself.
And unlike the times I’d traveled to the stars before—back when I hadn’t yet carried the Star Keepers’ power—I couldn’t help but notice that even the brightest stars had no runes now, no sigils, no markings. Only raw starlight scattered across the dark, beautiful expanse. The sight hollowed the air from my lungs.
My eyes snapped open, my stomach dropping as the truth hit me. “The stars are there—but the runes are gone.”
Steele's shoulders tightened with tension, his frown deepening. “Gone how?”
“They’re not around the stars anymore,” I said quietly, looking between the two of them. “If I had to guess, they’re inside me. When the Star Keepers gave me their power, the runes didn’t disappear, they became part of me.”
The silence that followed was thick, alive with the weight of what that meant.
Noah rubbed the back of his neck, the book in his hand shifting as he seemed lost in thought for a few moments before nodding to himself. “Then we’ll have to make something new.”
A huff came from Steele as Noah pinned him with a heavy stare. “Steele, I think you’ll need to craft a rune not for one star, but for all of them.”
My eyes widened as Stelee’s lips parted in disbelief, his jaw tightening a moment later as he forced himself to speak. “And what would its purpose be—what would itdo?”
“That’s what we need to figure out,” Noah said, his voice low, uncertain. “I’ve been translating this old text—it’s the only surviving record we have of every rune ever made. Maybe it holds a clue, but even then…” He hesitated, eyes unfocused, as if thinking his way through the unknown.
“The stars have gone untended for centuries. Without their Keepers, they’re falling—and when they do, that power will crash down. Our world won’t survive the impact.” He paused, his gaze flicking between us. “Whatever you make together has to ensure Kieran survives the stars’ fall. We need to give her as much time as possible to see how to get the stars back in the sky and stable.”
The gravity of his words sank in, heavy and cold. My pulse ramped up with a surge of anxiety, and I folded my arms across my chest as if I could hold myself steady.
Noah exhaled slowly and held up a book to Steele, its edges frayed and ink faded from centuries of existence. “None of this has ever been done, and while I hate to admit it, I’m as much in the dark as both of you.”
Steele shifted his weight, eyes locked on the book, like sheer focus might drag the truth out of it. I stayed quiet, catching the faint tremor in Noah’s hands as he turned the page.
