“Sebastian?” I called out, though he was nowhere to be seen.
I crossed the cobblestone over piles of deceased bodies. Cartilage crunched under my feet as I stepped on the charred skin of someone’s loved one, the corpse still burning when I walked by it.
Hot blood sunk into my eyes, turning my vision red. I looked up towards the heavens. The sky was ablaze, though not with flame, but with death.
Caelestis was under attack. That was the only explanation for this. Draemor finally struck when King Hawthorne refused to hand me over.
I gazed at my feet, watching as the death beneath me was swallowed by fog.
This was my fault.
Recentering myself in the courtyard, I ignored the cracking bones under my boots. The world was being consumed by a thick veil of haze, and I couldn't see anything within a few inches of me.
“My star.”My nickname called to me in a whisper.
My mother—the only one who called me that. I gazed sightless through the haze for her, but she was not there.
Pain swelled in my chest. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the death. The agony. My face twinged with the feeling of false magic—I had no power in a battle this large.
I was useless.
“Maeve,”the same shrouded voice hummed my name. A feminine hand reached out of the clouded space, shining and white, beckoning for me to take it.
I did. Without hesitation.
Spindly fingers of stone weaved themselves between mine.“You can stop this,”the voice said, and though I couldn't physically see a face, I could picture her.
Her image flashed through my mind. Illuminated silver hair flowed down past her back with strands of aqua that matched her glittering eyes. Her lips and cheeks were pale, and her skin sparkled despite the darkness around us. She was ornate with her aura of peace.
“I am too weak.”
“You are far from weak.”Her mineral fingers wiped the blood from my face, her light skin contrasted by the deep crimson.
“You have the stars on your side.”Her voice echoed within the walls of my mind.
I shook my head in denial. “The kingdom’s on fire, and I’m the one who caused it.”
“Maybe so, but you will also be the one to stop it. Do not fight the sacrifice, as it is well worth the reward.”
Her voice faded away as her hand pulled back into the veil of nothingness. She absorbed back into the mist, leaving mealone in the turmoil of war to be swallowed by a bloodcurdling scream.
My own scream.
I shot straight up in my bed, panting and choking on my own lungs. My forehead was soaked with sweat, stray pieces of hair plastered to it. I clutched the star pendant to my chest, rubbing it beneath my fingers as I settled my breathing. My insides burned like they were on fire.
It was just a dream. A nightmare, rather. Though it seemed more real than that. Like a horrific, twisted hallucination.
My gut told me that the woman I saw was the one responsible for my constellastones, but I had not envisioned her face long enough to know for sure.
The horror of the dream clung to my brain like sap. I gagged at the smell of rotting flesh that I swore lingered in my nose.
Although only a dream, it raised more questions about the prophecy, specifically the sacrifice. I'd been meaning to search the archives for more information, but have been too exhausted from all of my wielding. I also worried that I'd find something that I was better off not knowing. Outside my window, the obsidian sky was completely starless, the only light was that of the silver moon. Sleep seemed impossible after what I just experienced, so I decided now was as good of a time as ever to make my way to the archives.
I crept through the soldiers’ corridors, down the staircase, and into the foyer of the castle. The halls were dimly lit, making it difficult to recognize where I was. I’d never really walked the castle this time of night, but was surprised to see there was no one else out for an evening venture. There were guards stationed throughout, but they did a good job at staying hidden. I reached the archives without seeing a soul.
Like the corridors, the library was vaguely lit this time of night. I looked up along the cylindrical walls of books,noticing that one floor was brighter than the rest—the one floor I needed to be on. Of course someone was up there.
I considered going back to my room, but ultimately decided against it. I wasn't doing anything wrong by being out this late. As long as whoever was up there didn't get nosey about my book choices, there was nothing to worry about.
