‘But… But my Shadow Mark,’ I whisper, a grisly realisation setting in. ‘How will I withstand four rites?’ Grimacing, I look down at the starstone. After the Starshrine, I no longer fear it exactly, but it hangs heavier about my neck, and I try not to hold it too often. Even though my fingers itch to do just that – ache to cradle it.
Orthriel winces. ‘They told you, then.’
‘You should have told me yourself.’
They hang their head. ‘I was ashamed. I failed in my duty as your Guardian. I should have warned you not to summon starshine, I should have shared my concerns from the beginning. But I hoped you’d be safe from it. I hoped I was wrong. You said you felt no ill effects…’
This time, when I put finger to paper it’s shaking so badly I fear tearing holes in it, breaking whatever enchantment Noelani placed upon it.
One last thing, before I leave you to your task. There is a reason you are hearing rather than reading this: another safeguard, another secret you must shoulder. It is vital no one but you learns of the night-birds. Arden must not be allowed to prepare. It is safer for all of you, and for the future of Arcelia, if you are the only person to carry this burden of knowledge.
An evil, but a lesser evil than the alternative.
My visions suggest we Elemagi may still have a role to play in bringing this sorry tale to its conclusion. Once you have completed your quest, you will possess the power necessary to break the protective enchantments on our island and awaken us from our slumber. By then, perhaps our magic will be restored.
Shine bright, Leilani, and try not to fear.
With you, I have faith we will finally end this.
I stare down at the blank page as the spectral murmurings fade to silence. For a moment I can’t move, but then I screw the parchment into a ball and hurl it at the misty floor.
The parameters of the search have changed. A seismic shift. Our quest is infinitely more difficult, more dangerous, now. I glance through the window towards the summit of the Astral Mountain. We were close, so star-damned close. And now… Not one magical sceptre to find, but four. Scattered to the corners of the realms, in hostile enemy territory. Four blood rites to perform. Four dalliances with Shadow Lore to endure. Four encounters with deadly magical creatures to try and survive.
Stupid. I’ve been so stupid. Trusting Noelani – trusting one ofthem. No wonder my instincts warned caution when I received that first letter. I’ve been used, lied to, betrayed. No matter how good Noelani’s intentions, I’ve merely exchanged my father’s tyranny for hers. I’ve a lifetime’s experience of being manipulated, being forced to do things against my will. No wonder Orthriel doesn’t like to talk about her.
I might have come to accept that our brandmagic can be a force for good, something to be celebrated rather than reviled, and I might need my powers for the foreseeable future, but when it comes down to it, magic is fickle, not to be trusted. Blayze is right. The sooner we can rid ourselves of it, the better.
But how soon can that possibly be now?
I swallow. I’m going to have to take the Book of Mysteries. I can’t trust Blayze with it. Neither of us can afford to lose the advantage being Branded gives to us. Not now. Not yet.
The enormity of it makes my head spin. Panic rises like a crashing wave, threatening to engulf me.
‘Breathe. Count backwards, as I taught you.’
I follow Orthriel’s instructions. Focus on breathing out, stretching each exhalation until my faltering, shallow breaths turn deep and even.
One problem at a time, that’s the only way to preserve my sanity. The night-birds; they’re the first piece of new information I need to digest. We have to find some way to defeat them. Arcelia’s fate might not rest solely on our vanquishing them anymore, but my mother’s life still does.
I could summon starshine to at least cow the flock, though the thought of unleashing something so unpredictable, so deep underground, brings back memories of the avalanche, makes my hands tremble even harder. I remember the thrill of all that power rushing at my fingertips, the crash that came afterwards. We’ll already have to invoke Shadow Lore in the caves with the blood rite. I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to resist the lure of the Dusk Sister’s dark magic once, let alone twice. Not in such quick succession. If only Blayze could fireweave, that might have been an answer.
And then it dawns on me. There is one among us who can summon fire.
Orthriel stiffens as they share my thoughts. Slowly, they nod approval.
I shake my head. ‘No, I can’t ask that. You saw how Serafine was after what they did to her in Galtair. I can’t ask her to sacrifice more Aether. She’s down to her last fire-feather; it could kill her.’ I turn, seeking the staircase. ‘I have to wake the others. We have to find some other way – together.’
Orthriel flits across the room to bar my way, repositioning at such lightning speed I didn’t see them move.
‘What you choose to do with this information is ultimately up to you. We already established I can’t force you to accept my counsel, but Noelani wanted it kept secret. I understand withholding this seems wrong, but if Arden is indeed following you, would you risk her learning this intelligence? Would you risk placing your friends in harm’s way by foisting knowledge upon them that would make them targets for her wrath? She’s not someone to be trifled with; the Arx Magnum’s torture methods are nothing compared to what she’s capable of.’
My chest strains tighter. If I don’t tell the others about the second letter, I’m intentionally blindsiding them, leading them all into mortal danger. Betraying them. If, by some miracle, we manage to defeat the night-birds, how will any of them ever trust me again? Didn’t I promise Blayze there’d be no more secrets? And this affects him more than all the others.
But the memory of the burning rage in Arden’s eyes in that mooncrystal vision gives me pause. Perhaps Orthriel’s right. This is my burden; I should shoulder it alone. It’s the only way to protect them. I shudder. But it’s not only the thought of what Arden might do to the others to extract this information that makes my body recoil, it’s the whispers in my ear, reminding me of the other eyes I saw in a recent vision. My mother’s eyes.
The others might refuse to go on if they knew about the night-birds. I know it’s selfish, know it’s wrong, but I can’t risk that either.
I wrestle with the weight of the decision for long moments before letting my shoulders drop. Grateful for the callous that numbs my heart, hardening in this moment, along with my resolve.
