“I think…” I struggle to swallow past a lump in my throat. The words come unbidden, half prayer and half confession.
“She’s a beginning.”
2
The Starmap Truce
When Resh and Zarrek returned to their mounts, the sky had turned a savage crimson. The Bleed rolled across the horizon, warning of the coming Cycle of Dark. The sun, dipping low, bore a dark shadow across its breadth.
Astenos stood exactly where Resh had left him. He could have been a statue. Still, vigilant, alert. Zarrek’s beast grazed beside him, calm beneath the war steed’s ever-watchful, glowing eyes.
“Still alive,” Resh said, relieved.
They hadn’t meant to be gone so long, and Zarrek’s horse looked parched. Astenos needed neither food nor water, surviving solely on mana from Resh’s runes.
“We’ll make a half circle back to the fork in the path. There was a stream not far from there.”
Zarrek grunted in agreement, silent as Resh swung astride Astenos. He shifted the woman carefully into place, keeping his gaze from lingering too long. They continued their descent, Astenos's six hooves unnaturally surefooted despite the slick stone. The roaring winds among the Spine had stilled, leaving only the hush of steady rain—soft, exhausted.
The woman remained unconscious. She hadn’t stirred once since their departure—her breathing shallow, her skin cold despite the cloak Resh had wrapped around her. He carried her in his arms, head tucked beneath his chin. The rain slicked down his back, drumming against his armor. Thecold did not bother him. Not the wind. Not the chill. Nothing made it past the numbness of the Runesgram carved into his flesh.
Nothing but the enigmatic warmth radiating from the center of the woman's chest. Each time she shifted, his heartstuttered. Her silver hair, matted to his collar, brushed against his face.
Zarrek took point, his gaze cutting through the fog as they crested the ridge just before dusk. He’d activated the runes on his battleaxe, and the symbols glowed on the blade, ready to answer its master’s call. Resh’s grip tightened—not just to steady himself on the slick path, but to keep the woman anchored against him.
His Second hadn’t spoken another word in protest against Resh’s verdict to take her back with them. Now and again, he glanced back as they rode south, his body coiled like a spring ready to burst at the slightest change in pressure.
“She’s not going to come awake and bite my throat, Zar,” he grumbled when the warrior turned around for the thousandth time that day.
Zarrek glared. “It’sdangerous.”
Resh frowned. “What part of her looks dangerous to you?”
“The parts you’re not considering,” Zarrek snapped back. He turned his mount to face Resh and stopped. His face darkened, his aura so hostile that even Astenos snorted and sidestepped. “You see a woman when you look at that creature. But think of where we dug it out from. Thatplacewasn’t meant to be found.” His eyes slid lower. “Thisthingwasn’t meant to wake up.”
Resh didn’t answer. Every word rang true—but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t leave her, couldn’t find a reasonable explanation for the events that had led them here. Not since he saw her waiting in that pillar like a star embodied—floating in magic outside of time. Zarrek wasn’t wrong. They knew next to nothing about who this woman was, yet he was bringing her home. To his men. To his city.
To Shu’Khan.
All treasures and rarities found on the Resh’Agar’s Campaigns belonged to the Sovereign Flame.
He grimaced at that last thought.
No.
This was the one treasure he wouldnevergive his brother.
On the evening of the third day, their destination flickered on the horizon.
The town of Brackenrood was a tiny hamlet nestled in a crescent of jagged stone. Resh and his company had saved these people from a Shade invasion months before. Grateful, the residents treated them as honored guests with an invitation to stay for as long as they wished—an invitation which had lined up conveniently with Resh’s plans to travel to the hidden caverns in the Spines.
Brackenrood was a popular stop for trade flowing between the Ebon Sanctuary and the Shivering Vale, and its economy revolved around barter and serving caravans and merchants. It boasted rows of colorful market stalls, peddlers selling anything from vegetables to the most curious of items from Northern Elendria.
As Zarrek and Resh approached the hamlet, smoke plumed upward from the cookfires and inns within. Men stood at sentry points. All belonged to the Resh’Agar’s company—the Kelvasari. Some waved. A few spotted them and stiffened, hands going to weapons.
Zarrek raised his arm in signal. “All’s clear.”
They passed through the outer perimeter in tense silence.
