My vision shimmers as I study the mechanism, grows hazy. The gauzy blindfold is back, blurring the edges of the niche and the bureau, translating the starcrystal’s soft iridescence to a vivid sparkling rainbow.
It’s happening again. Whateveritis.
I blink, shake my head, screw my eyes tight shut and then open them. But the strange diaphanous film is still there, and something else too. Or rather, someone.
A slim figure hidden in the shadows of the recess.
My stomach drops. Is this who’s been following us?
I start back, clutching the wall for support as the figure turns.
It’s like looking in a mirror. But no – not quite. An imperfect reflection. For the apparition’s eyes are amethyst to my lilac, the streak staining her hair broader than my own. I blink again, but the vision of Noelani doesn’t melt away. She slips a chain over her head. Her chain. I reach for it. The weight of the pendant is still settled over my heart, though not reassuring as it once was. Now I know it contains vestiges of Shadow, it feels heavier – a burden rather than a comfort, its strange crystalline pulse more unsettling than steadying.
Noelani crosses to the bureau, inserts her pendant into its lock. She turns, smiling at me – an encouraging smile accompanied by the faintest suggestion of a nod. And then she vanishes.
I cling to the wall, afraid my legs will give way, gulping musty air till my vision clears.
With shaking fingers, I slip my chain off and creep closer to the bureau. Walking in Noelani’s footsteps, I repeat her actions. The starstone slides into the locking mechanism. But as it settles into position, it flares, and I almost drop it. Sister’s sake! Didn’t I swear never to summon starshine again?
I shield my eyes as the niche is bathed in blinding opal light. The glare quickly fades, leaving only the faintest tinge of ash coating my mouth, the mildest chill swirling my core. A leaf of the bureau springs open, forming a flat writing surface, revealing a series of drawers behind, surmounted by a row of miniature columns, made to resemble the portico of the Starshrine.
It’s too late to worry whether I’ve made a terrible mistake in opening the lock. It’s done now, and answers lie at my fingertips.
I open the drawers one at a time, my fingers numb from cold, shaking, my movements slow and clumsy.
There’s nothing here.
Disappointment winds around my heart like an icy vine, and I can’t help the groan that tears at my throat.
I think of my desk in Meissa, of the secret compartment I put to such good use. Perhaps the cabinetmaker added one here, too. Hope buds in my too-tight chest as I push and pull. Something must be hidden here. Some clue to take us forwards. But after a third round of fruitless searching, the bud withers.
I grip the last of the twelve pillars again, waiting for something to release, for some secret to reveal itself, but nothing happens. My hand slackens, slips, and the miniature column twists. Just a fraction. I twist harder and a concealed drawer pops open. Inside is a single piece of parchment.
I blink but I’m not imagining it. A map of the caves in pristine condition.
The starstone may contain traces of Shadow, but it’s also a thing of Light. And tonight, it’s been a force for good.
I lift the map from its hiding place, lay it on the open leaf of the bureau. The map charts the caves in great detail, indicating the presence of not only the initial cave – the resting place of the Wishing Star, where the bulk of starstone deposits were mined to create the Starfields, and starcrystal harvested to build Meissa – but two additional caves. The caverns are vast, the tunnels connecting them long, and there’s no marker indicating where the lost sceptre lies buried. We could spend moonscycles searching for it.
My mother’s wan face rises like a spectre.
She doesn’t have that long.
I peer closer. There’s no marker, but there is writing – a couplet in Noelani’s distinctive amethyst script, on the top left corner of the map. I bend to read it, but the lettering is clumsy, ill-formed. Illegible. Yet something about it stirs a distant memory. I’ve seen writing like this before. Izarius showed me something similar once. Prismscript. The cyphers used in dove communications during the Plunderings to keep strategic information from the enemy races.
I wrest the Celestial Chain from the locking mechanism and place the starstone to my eye. As I peer through its prism, Noelani’s writing sharpens, resettles into markings I can read.
In the third cavern, beneath the star, lies the lost treasure.
To claim it, first pay in blood, then say: ‘stronger together.’
I bark out a shaky laugh, high and shrill.
I was right to have faith in Noelani. Strength floods back to my tired limbs. We might just have a chance. I’ll be able to save my mother, revoke the Sickening, avenge the neverborns and all the other countless souls lost to the Sickening.
Atonement, redemption, acceptance. All finally within my grasp.
I practically run back to the broken casement, eager to return to the Silver Palace. Hugging the map to my breast beneath my furs so the sleet doesn’t bleed the ink, I scarcely notice the cold as the wind rips tendrils of my hair free, and its icy fingers tug down my hood. For once, I don’t stop to pull it up.
