Page 48 of Cursebreaker

Rook clears his throat, raising his hand, and Owen turns to face him.

“What kind of magic did you use to escape the Burning Lands?” he asks, eyes narrowing. “I’ve known plenty of windwalkers. None are capable of leaping across great distances in the blink of an eye.”

A grin tugs at Owen’s lips. “I don’t leap. I manipulate the wind to propel me forward. It’s not instantaneous, and the distances I’m able to travel are limited by the Manan I’m able to expend. When I do it, it’s almost like time slows, and I’m flying very, very fast, but I need to be able to see where I’m going or else…” He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, shrugs. “Splat.” He hesitates, his eyes suddenly hard. Haunted. “My people once called it a vortex.”

Diana tenses, her eyes wide. “You’ve mastered a vortex?”

Owen dips his head, his mouth pulled tight in a frown. “Morana has attempted to teach the skill to the windwalkers in her regime for centuries, rather unsuccessfully,” he says, hugging the bowl of stew to his chest. “Until me. The others—the Manan it requires…” He sucks his teeth. “They don’t survive.”

Eliza’s knuckles turn white as she grips her spoon, her face screwed up. I wonder if she’s thinking about Will when a tear drips into her stew, and she quickly wipes her face before she thinks anyone can see. “Lewis says you know what Morana’s planning,” she says, lifting her gaze to meet Owen’s, her brows drawn. “Tell us what we can do to help.”

Owen’s expression is grim, but his eyes soften. “Long ago, Morana sent General Azeron out in search of a treasure,” he starts, cutting a hesitant glance in my direction.

“The Lightbringer,” I say, my throat tight. “He was looking for me.”

Owen winces. “She wanted the power of the Lightbringer, yes, but,” he says carefully, hesitantly, “that power is useless to her without the Relics of Night.”

My heart skips a beat. The Relics of Night. Will had mentioned them once, when he was still aboard the Starchaser—when I still thought he was cursed. And again, in Morana’s throne room. He said I could help to guide their search.

The sun dips below the horizon, washing the Starchaser in burnt-tangerine light. Our party casts harsh shadows on the deck.

Boots thud, and a new, looming silhouette emerges from the companionway.

“The Relics are a myth,” Titus says, sauntering toward us. He leans against the mainmast, his arms folded, examining the dirt under his nails with what appears to be rapt interest. “Even if they are real, no one’s ever come close to finding one.”

I glance at Diana, Rook, and Gabriel in turn, all looking at Titus as if he were more myth than man himself. And with his cold, haunted eyes, sharp jaw, and lithe, muscular frame… he looks like a statue carved from the moon. A Star given flesh.

A Star covered in dirt and dried blood, reeking like sweat.

There’s a tense moment in which Owen and Titus seem to be appraising each other, until finally, both extend their hands at the same time.

“I never got a chance to thank you,” Owen says, “for saving Aster.”

From the Deathwail, I realize.

It almost looks as if Titus’s cheeks flush pink. “I think we can call it even.”

The two of them shake hands.

Owen clears his throat, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “I can assure you,” Owen says, and it sounds almost like an apology, “the Relics are very real.”

“Relics?” Charlie asks, a crease forming between his brows.

Owen heaves a sigh. “The power of the Lightbringer was not the only gift the True King bestowed upon Hildegarde. Six hundred years ago, humankind was cursed for their greed because they sought the means to enter Elysia—to go beyond this realm and obtain power that was never meant for them, magic that was never ours to wield. A Sorcerer fashioned the Relics—imbued with Manan he obtained through… questionable rituals. First, the Helm to see the gates of Elysia, the Key to unlock the gates, and the Sword to vanquish the being that guards the passage between realms.

“He triumphed, and when he entered Elysia, he was granted one wish by the True King—his prize for being clever enough to succeed. But where he could have wished for peace—for goodness—he wished for power and control. He wanted to rule over the beasts of the night—the Underlings that had been locked away at the dawn of our world.”

Owen’s eyes darken. “Bound by his promise, the True King granted his wish, setting the Underlings free. In his wrath, the True King planned to destroy the Relics so that no one could ever enter his realm again. But Hildegarde petitioned the True King to let her hide the Relics, and because he looked favorably on the human queen, he agreed. Hildegarde enchanted two means of finding the Relics, passed down through generations—ordinary objects of unspeakable power known, collectively, as the Elysian Navigator. A map and an instrument used to interpret it. Useless alone, but together… one could find the Relics of Night, enter Elysia, and demand their own wish from the True King.”

“A wish?” Charlie asks, his brows knit. “What kind of wish?”

“The kind of wish that could help us defeat Morana,” I say quietly. “If we had the Navigator—if we could find all three Relics—we could turn the tides of the war.”

Lewis nods slowly. “We could win the war.”

Titus cocks his head, fixing Owen with an appraising stare. “How do you know the Navigator exists?”

Owen frowns. “Because Aster had one piece of the puzzle.”