THEY’REENORMOUS,THESEnightmares made flesh, the span of their wings easily equal to my height. I try to count them, to see how many we’re up against, while still keeping my eyes rooted to the ground.
‘Eight – I count eight.’
‘Nine,’ Blayze corrects me. ‘Nine.’
‘Everyone, stay back!’ Brandishing Serafine’s feather in one hand, and the starstone in the other, I press forwards.
The birds screech, cringing from the light and cowering in the shadowed corners of the cave. The sound is deeper than Serafine’s cries, but it tears at my ears. It’s working though. I make a mental sign of the Star as I take advantage of their retreat to search the cave, scanning left to right.
It’s smaller than the other two, but there are countless nooks where the Starlight Staff might be concealed, yet nothing leaps out at me.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Noelani’s letters, and that couplet she annotated on the map, were intentionally, frustratingly vague. But there was a suggestion our shared gifts would play a part in unveiling the lost sceptre’s hiding place, and as seconds tick by with no such revelation, and the night-birds grow restless, feathers rustling in the gloom, my stomach drops. Maybe Arden has already claimed it; maybe Noelani’s hastily cast incantation hasn’t worked and the sceptre can’t reveal itself; or – worst of all – maybe the sceptre doesn’t consider me a worthy recipient, andwon’treveal itself.
But then the starstone vibrates against my chest. Faster, harder than usual.
Search the left-hand corner.
The instruction settles softly in my mind like first-snow. The edges of the cave shimmer and melt, while my central field of vision sharpens beyond what can possibly be real. My other senses heighten too: the rustle of the birds’ wings becomes trees blown in a gale; my pulse, a herd of galloping zephyrsteeds. I recoil from the noise, from the intensity of the vision, swaying where I stand. Whatever’s happening in this moment has happened before – in Talini.
I lower Serafine’s feather a fraction, casting its light over the bottom left-hand corner of the cave. It glances over an outcrop of crystal shaped like a starburst. The formation seems to throb, radiating an invisible energy. I’m walking towards it. Or some prevision of myself is, anyway. The figure turns, and I almost cry out. It’s my face, but the eyes blaze amethyst. Not my eyes. Not me. Not a premonition at all, but a memory – a place memory, some sort of time-slip. I’m rooted in the present but witnessing the past, simultaneously both here and there, observing the moment Noelani interred her sceptre.
The gauzy veil misting my vision thins, melting away along with Noelani’s shade. I’m left staring at the crystal cluster, unable to tear my eyes from it.
Finally, I know where the Starlight Staff is.
My heart leaps, but quickly shrivels, as wings rush and black talons scrape the surface of the crystals. I start back, lowering my eyes to the ground.
Six talons. Three birds.
How can I retrieve the sceptre without being killed? The glimmer from the feather, the starstone, Serafine herself, took the night-birds by surprise, but it hasn’t driven them back for long. Serafine will need to summon Flame-Aether. I shudder, remembering that entry on emberwings in the bestiary, the one I tore into tiny pieces and collaged into a model of the palace to spite my father. A lifetime ago.
Hopefully Blayze is right, and I can temper the burn when the feather flares. I promised Orthriel I wouldn’t summon starshine again, but I’ll have to unleash it as a shield. It’s the only chance I have of containing the Flame-Aether.
We must pray it works. That I withstand another exposure to it.
A swish overhead. I crouch and clamp my eyes shut as wings brush past me. A scream rings out, shrill and pure. My chest seizes: Delphine, or possibly Maris. I shouldn’t look, in case more birds have taken to the air, but I can taste metal, the mingled stench of blood and feather transporting me back to those childhood nightmares, that were never simply nightmares… I whirl around to see Delphine clutching her shoulder.
‘Now!’ I shout, staring at the inky blood spilling from the wound. No matter the risks, I can’t allow further injury. The next one could prove fatal. ‘Now, Serafine!’
The emberwing beats her wings above me, the drag of feathers stirring the stale air. Her body glows brighter and the fire-feather along with it. It starts to crackle and hiss, to smoulder. I loosen my grip on it and summon a tiny pulse of starshine. A thin layer of opal light spreads over my hand, coating my palm and fingers. It cools my skin, acting as a buffer against the heat radiating from the feather. But resisting the full force of the light is like trying to keep a door closed while someone heavy pushes hard against it from the other side. The starshine throbs in my palms, begging to be released, tempting me with the thrill of its dread power. I have to struggle, strain, bite down on my bottom lip, to prevent that door flying open.
But I can’t let it loose or I’ll kill us all. The avalanche taught me that. Starshine isn’t like my other brandmagic; it’s Shadow-tainted, a force too powerful, too unpredictable, too dangerous, to wield safely. I’m mastering it in this moment, but the tinge of ash coating my mouth, the icy chill spreading through my body, serves as a warning, a reminder that magic like this can never truly be mastered. It comes at a terrible price. Shadow will infect me, eat away at my humanity and reason, destroy all that’s good in me if I let it take root. If I invoke it too often, give in to the lure of its devastating power, I’ll go the way of Arden, of the Dusk Sister herself.
The feather blazes, the glare so bright I have to avert my eyes. Heat sears my fingers. I cry out and fight the urge to drop the feather. Quickly, I release another cooling pulse of starshine, thickening the protective coating of light shrouding my hand. The warmth eases, bearable once more. But only just.
Blayze was right, I can temper Flame-Aether. To a degree, at least.
I take a step towards the crystal starburst, slashing the molten feather through the air in wider arcs, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground. The night-birds screech again, some scatter, doubling back to the shadows, but those guarding the sceptre remain in place. They flinch from the heat, but they don’t move.
It isn’t enough.
In my hands, the feather doesn’t burn with enough power to subdue them. And there’s no one else to wield it. I maimed Serafine for nothing. We’re all going to die here.
‘It’s there,’ I moan, turning to the others, huddled behind me. ‘Right there, under the crystal they’re guarding.’
The scuttle of talons on rock, the hiss of wings, tells me, even without turning, the flock is pressing forwards again.
Two options: abandon the sceptre and retrace our steps to the surface, or rush its hiding place and unleash starshine, hoping it dazzles the flock long enough for us to perform the blood rite and recover the Starlight Staff. We risk our lives either way.
