Then for some reason my eyes held on the blank canvas above us and I wondered…
“There’s more to our stars, isn’t there?” I whispered.
“Long ago the archangels worked for me. They would cycle souls to my realm. Until Dusk and Dawn created their own image of such angels: the celestials. Instead, these new imitations would cycle souls to your stars, which created an unparalleled cosmic power in your realm. You will not have heard of the Divine War in which the archangels, those with black wings, were annihilated by the new celestial breed.”
“Some are still born that way,” I said, piecing together things I knew. “With black wings. They’re not a celestial curse, not a brand of sin.”
“No. Those born with black wings have archangel blood in their heritage that awakens. The four High Celestials swear to enforce and hold in secrecy this knowledge when they are chosen by Dusk and Dawn, so the tales of their predecessors are never known.”
“But the souls we cycle to the stars get a chance to come back in new forms,” I said.
“A poetic notion, I agree. Hope is powerful, and when crafted into deception, it is lethal. It is not true of the souls that reside in your stars. For thousands of years, they have served as a power source to heighten solar magick. When they finally have no energy left, what remains falls. Mortals discover the weak pieces of soul energy, and those with magick found they could use it. Starlight Matter, I believe you call it.”
“Cassia and Calix…”
If what Death told was true…
Oh gods, what had I done?
“You have a chance to right this unbalance, Maiden, though it will take your ultimate sacrifice.”
“What does that mean?”
“Those whose energy still charges the stars can be laid to rest in peace. It is my purpose. You have my vow that I will grant passage to the souls who linger in your stars, but time is running out. Your true stars are falling. Soon your land will become just as desolate as mine.”
“I just need my key back, then I can kill the gods who made me with it?”
“You will need their true names. They will take mortal form temporarily; after all their failed creations and alliances they will move to rectify the land themselves. In their quest to dominate they will make themselves the most vulnerable a primordial can ever be.”
“What are their names?”
“I do not know. It is our most guarded secret. The greatest weapon against us when spoken by a mortal becomes a chain of obedience to them.”
“There has to be a way to find out.”
“If only there were a creature with a sight into minds. But beware: the mind of a god is no easy passage. It is not ventured into without consequence.”
We reached a void of light that began to grow, and I knew my consciousness was awakening in my own realm. I turned to Death, unafraid.
“Can I ask you one thing?” He had no eyes to hold, but in an eerie sense, the primordial still seemed like a person. “What does come after death?”
His hood turned to watch the light grow over us. Over me.
“That, dear Maiden, is the most exciting unknown.”
20Nyte
Waking was like plummeting from the heavens, my soul hurtling downward only to be crushed into a body too frail to withstand the impact. Consciousness returned in pieces, cutting through the darkness. I could see, just barely—a fractured haze of light and shadow hovering above me—but no breath came to fill my lungs. My chest felt as though it were encased in stone, each rib straining against some invisible weight that pinned me down, holding me captive within my own flesh.
Every muscle was locked tight, frozen in shock, as if my very bones remembered the fall, the ground rushing up to meet me. My fingers twitched, a faint echo of life pulsing within them, but no more. My lips parted, aching to form a word, a sound, anything to break the silence, but even that simple effort turned to dust.
Panic stirred beneath the stillness, a faint, fluttering thing buried deep within me, but my body refused to heed it. All I could do was stare up at the hazy shapes above, caught in the terrible stillness, bound to a form that felt foreign—as though I were a stranger trapped within my own skin.
And in that moment, suspended between the waking world and whatever lay beyond, I wondered if I had truly returned… or if some part of me had been left behind in that endless fall.
Sound trickled into my senses with part of an answer to the questions of where I was and why. At first, there was a gentle wind and shaken foliage. Then peace turned to violence with the mighty unmistakable roar that rattled through my body. The dragon’s cry was a rope to grapple and pull myself out of the void I was drifting in.
“We waited as long as we could. Astraea is right: this is the best hope for now.” I knew that voice. The little rogue vampire was here—Nadia.
