The remains of the Wishing Star.
There’s a sharp intake of breath, then a hush, as we huddle closer. We’re standing in a sacred space: the core of Estelia’s power. The source of its magic – my magic – within touching distance. I curl my hands into fists to stop myself reaching for it.
The others are shielding their eyes, but I’m able to look directly at the star, deep into its flickering depths. They put those of even the brightest jewel to shame, seeming to go on forever, speaking of eternal secrets and other worlds, but there’s darkness at its core, threads of Shadow choking its otherworldly brilliance: the Sickening maintaining its stranglehold.
It’s a broken thing, and my chest aches the longer I look at it, but the entire cave still oscillates with its energy. The vibrations thrum my body like rumbles of thunder, starsong pealing in my ears. The Celestial Chain hangs heavier around my neck, drawing me forwards, like iron pulling towards a lodestone. I cup the pendant and light bursts from it, stronger than ever before. My hands sparkle too, and I twist them, marvelling. They aren’t my hands anymore – I’m wearing a cielsylph’s incandescence. A shiver of dread dances up my spine as I remember the Reliquary portrait.
These aren’t a cielsylph’s hands. They’re Noelani’s.
I’m less tired too – sharper. Reviving in the star’s presence as Blayze once described drought-withered smoketrees reflourishing in the Oralian Waste after a sudden desert storm.
The longer I gaze upon the star, the deeper I fall under its spell, swept along by the same heady current of bliss I experienced drinking the waters on Nimbi. Only this time, that current is stronger. Star-Aether envelops me now, threatening to drag me under. I could stare into these depths for eternity and never tire of it. I could drown in the star, fall into its orbit and never escape that pull.
I shake myself, tearing my gaze away. The effort it takes scares me. I remember the stories of those poor lost souls wasting their lives searching for Nimbi, and glance sidelong at the others. They wear the same glazed smiles of stupor that wreathed their faces on the banks of the Fade Falls.
‘We have to go.’ I shout the command as loud as I can. My words must break the star’s spell, for they stagger back, expressions turning more lucid.
Serafine swoops in front of me as I lead the Quaternity behind the star, towards the entrance to the passageway which, according to Noelani’s map, will lead to the second cave.
This tunnel is narrower. Two can walk abreast, but only just. I suck in a shallow breath, count backwards from a hundred, and try not to imagine the walls crushing us, burying us alive. Despite the smattering of starstones lining the walls, we’re once again plunged into near total darkness.
‘Eyes on the floor!’ I hiss. Night-birds might swoop from the shadows at any moment.
The hum of the Wishing Star ebbs the further we walk, and my courage along with it. Questions, for which I have no answers, crowd my mind, circling in a never-ending loop. What if Blayze refuses? What will become of us if he won’t let Serafine part with her fire-feather?
There are moments I swear I hear the rustle of wings. Each time, my breath catches. Then I remember the map. Not wings. Not yet. It’s water – running water.
*
THESECONDCAVEis long, but narrower and lower than the first, its walls still veined with starcrystal, its ceiling icicled with stalactites. And even though our arrival here means we’re one step closer to the night-birds, my chest relaxes as we step inside. Anything to get out of that suffocating tunnel. Only a handful of starstone fragments are scattered over the walls, but their absence is not due to harvesting. There are no cavities here, no gouged eyes. This cave appears intact – untouched. Orthriel said my ancestors never needed to venture this far through the caves to gather stones for the Starfields. I shiver. We’re walking across territory only a handful of living beings – perhaps only Noelani, the night-birds, and the Dawn Sister herself – have ever set foot in.
The burble of running water grows louder as we move deeper inside the cave.
Maris turns towards the sound. ‘What is that?’
Serafine loops through the cave. The glow of her feathers soon reveals the source of the noise: a narrow cascade of rainbow-hued water, flowing into a circular pool.
‘The source of the Opaline River,’ I say, half to myself, muscles stiffening as memories of the Fade Falls swirl to the surface of my mind. The flail of my limbs, the burn in my lungs, the world darkening overhead as I breathed in water.
Stars save me, how am I ever going to cross it?
Yet, somehow, I must. Passing through the waterfall is the only way to reach the third and final cave.
Delphine is already shucking her clothes and wading into the pool. She splashes water on her face, the fronds of her hair turning from inky-blue to shell-pink as gauzy fan-gills unfurl beneath her ears. Her legs shimmer, skin shifting to scales. Even now, the transformation steals my breath.
‘That’s the source?’ Blayze folds his arms and jerks his chin towards the waterfall, as Serafine resettles on his shoulder.
He holds my gaze and the air crackles between us. Is it possible he’s remembering the last time we stood together in front of a waterfall? Other, warmer memories of the Fade Falls surface. My fingers itch to reach for him. But his gaze hardens, and he turns his back on me.
Perhaps all he remembers is the vow I made. The vow I broke.
The waterfall is underwhelming. Blayze is right about that. Little more than a trickle when compared to the thundering cascades on Nimbi. But despite its modest size, the gush is loud, almost deafening up close. Unease creeps over my skin, settling into my bones, the longer I stand facing it. And not just because of my ordeal in Nimbi, not just because I can’t swim and I’m terrified at the prospect of having to wade through the water to descend to the next cave. We can’t hear the wings of the night-birds, or anything else that might be hunting us, over this tumult.
We’re vulnerable here. We need to move.
I step closer to the water’s edge, steeling myself to cross it. But then I stop. Perhaps this muffling effect can play to our advantage.
The night-birds are on the other side of this pool. Serafine made it clear she’s willing to sacrifice her fire-feather, lowering her head – an unmistakable affirmation – when I asked her at the crater, but Blayze hasn’t agreed to it being pulled. Yet, with this torrent to screen us, now is as good a time as any to carry out the task no one wants to perform.
