Page 21

“You realize,” she informed Caelyn, “that if I fall into the sea and die, Sister Agatha will never let you know peace again and bury you in endless library duties.”

A scoff echoed from him. “She already does that, though.”

That made Elowynn pause, and she snorted out a laugh, amused. “That… is quite fair.”

Caelyn glanced back toward her with the beginnings of another grin, pleased to have made her laugh. Elowynn wrinkled her nose at him as if his mirth disgusted her.

Eventually the path widened into a narrow overlook tucked beneath the cliffs far below the abbey. Elowynn slowed her steps upon seeing it.

A hidden garden stretched between the rocks. It was not cultivated like the upper abbey gardens; this one was untamed and wild. Sea flowers bloomed between weathered stones while bleached winter grass swayed beneath the wind. Ruins were lined near the cliffside wall—little more than broken pillars and collapsed archways half-swallowed by the moss and ivy.

Overhead, suspended between two leaning stone columns, hung dozens of small lanterns fashioned from astrylite, much like those in the abbey libraries.

Elowynn looked up in wonder as blue-white light glowed through the crystals, casting shifting patterns across the stone.

“Caelyn…” she breathed.

“I found it during last Frostmere,” he said, setting the firewood aside near one of the broken stone benches. “One of the old cliff paths collapsed during the storms and uncovered the entrance.”

Elowynn stepped farther into the hidden alcove with slow, reverent steps. The moss and sea ivy crawled across much of the stonework while faded Astrari carvings remained barely visible beneath centuries of weathering. She stared at it, mouth agape.

“What is this place?”

Caelyn shrugged, looking around. “I asked Agatha.”

She waited for him to say more before finally having to prompt him. “And?”

“Well… she said it used to belong to old observatory scholars before parts of the abbey collapsed centuries ago.”

Elowynn drifted toward one of the broken columns with awe written plainly across her face. Faded Astrari script spiraled down along the stonework, and she brushed her fingertips gently across the worn carvings.

“They used resonance lanterns,” she murmured. “Look.”

Caelyn stepped close beside her. Thin veins of astrylite were threaded through the ruined stonework, still luminous and glowing after so long.

“They are beautiful,” Elowynn whispered.

Caelyn looked at her instead of the lanterns.

“Yes,” he agreed after a breath.

Elowynn turned toward him and blinked, her cheeks taking on a deep flush as she stared at him. Soon, his own cheeks turned a shade darker, and he cleared his throat.

Quickly, Elowynn straightened, then moved deeper into the ruined alcove.

Caelyn watched the transformation happen in real time—the way her eyes glowed with curiosity, the way her posture straightened whenever she discovered something new and she hurried over toward whatever it was that caught her attention.

It happened with her around books too.

And stars.

And resonance diagrams.

Caelyn suspected Elowynn came most alive around things that were rich with information or mystery. Things she could gorge herself on to fill her soul with knowledge.

“This symbol,” Elowynn said while kneeling beside one of the broken pillars, “I saw something similar in the lower archives.”

Caelyn walked over and eased down into a crouch beside her. The symbol resembled overlapping celestial rings surrounding a central starburst.