Page 139 of The Starlight Savior

Her life would be meaningless.

Moore Manor sat vacant and dark at the end of the road. It looked exactly the same. The two-story brick structure and wooden doors loomed before her. The front garden had grown wild and tangled. Dusty curtains covered all ten windows, top and bottom floors. If she needed to hide for a day, she could do it here. Saige was sure the Moore family left for Yethor the moment rations began.

She felt no remorse as she slammed a rock into the back door window. Using her cloak, she shielded her skin with the thick fabric. Sharp edges of broken glass threatened to slice her arm as she reached for the handle. It opened with a soft click, giving her a moment of sanctuary.

She stepped into the kitchen and surveyed the space. It was evident that not a single soldier had stepped through the manor, raiding the Moore’s provisions. It was exactly as she remembered. Shelves in the kitchen were lined with canned fruit, pickled vegetables, and dried herbs. Bags of grain sat stacked in the corner. Jugs of water lined one wall. In an ice chest, Saige knew she’d find rotting butter, milk, and cheese, the Moore family not even considering the prospect of their food spoiling.

Saige barked a bitter laugh. The storm-wielders would never allow such food to be hoarded or wasted. They would’ve divvied it up, providing for the endless refugees searching for sanctuary. She’d have to move these out front. Maybe the soldiers would find it or lucky citizens on a stroll.

Putting a handful of food in her bag, Saige strolled to the sitting room. When she was employed, she often questioned the importance of her work. She’d clean a room each day, scrubbing floors and dusting window sills. The rare moments when Lizabeth and her son were here, she’d cook stews and bake pies. But with the absence of Saige’s presence, the manor looked sad and abandoned. With the lack of life and ventilation, everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Saige brushed off Lady Lizabeth’s enormous plush chair and plopped in it, coughing at the floating debris. She bit into a hard piece of dried meat, staring off into the red brick fireplace, orange embers glowing lightly.

Time went by slowly. Light streamed through the slits in the curtains as the sun rose. Saige’s head lolled to the side as sleep overtook her, but every time she heard the whisper of the wind or the house creek, she’d be alert and awake once again.

Sighing, she pulled her book and map from her bag. Her finger trailed along the parchment, through the Redolf Mountains, landing on the trigger point. If she were to travel by foot, she’d either have to go through or around the mountains. Saige didn’t have time for either. She’d have to return to the abandoned cellar and step through the portal once again. Hopefully, it would spit her out as close to the river as possible, and she could find her way.

As she waited for the sun to lower, she replayed her plan in her head. Get to the portal, imagine the trigger point, use her magic to push back the mist. Even if she was a little successful, it would give Etrane and Brevil more time.

It all seemed so daunting. She wasn’t supposed to be here alone, deciding the fate of Opela. Yet that was often Saige’s predicament.

Rising to her feet, she buckled her cloak and raised the hood. Her bag was secured against her hip, the wolf hilt dagger biting into her hand. Saige was about to move the food and water outside when she stopped. In the distance, Saige could hear the unmistakable sound of voices. Someone was outside and coming towards the manor.

Saige cursed under her breath as she knelt. Were people staying here? Had the soldiers taken over the manor too? Maybe that was why there was so much food here. She had been foolish not to scout the whole space. But she hadn’t expected to need to. It wasn’t like she was utilizing the manor for more than a day.

Boots echoed from the front of the home as the door clicked open. Saige’s body hit the ground as gracefully as she could, hiding behind the kitchen table and under the maroon cloth trailing the wooden floor. Maybe they were only stopping by, receiving food. But more feet sounded from the front hall, and Saige knew she was in trouble.

All she could do was hold her breath and pray. She had been so close to leaving, but of course, the village would be searching for her. Hadeon probably reported back to General Kadence, informing everyone of her return and treachery.

Her breath echoed hot around her hand. If only Saige had studied more of the symbols in Etrane, learned how to forge the very enchantments her father had placed on her. Protection, concealment, silence. Anything that could help her.

The sounds of approaching soldiers came closer as they rounded the corner towards the kitchen. She allowed a single finger to lift the edge of the cloth, revealing two sets of feet. One in heavy boots, the other in leather slippers. They paused right before the table, sensing Saige’s presence. There would be no graceful exit for her. She’d have to use her only resource.

“Fuck it,” she murmurred as she opened the chasm of her magic. Pools of warmth formed in her palms as she slid out from under the table and outstretched her hands. The room was blinded by her light, obscuring the two figures. But the distinct sound of feminine screams filled her ears. These weren’t soldiers, they were—

“It’s us!” one of them shouted.

Her hands fell to her side, sending the starlight towards her feet. Large brown eyes and dark curls met Saige’s face. The woman’s hands were held up in surrender.

A joyous laugh exploded from her chest as she tugged Althea into a hug. “What are you doing here?” Saige murmured into her shoulder.

Another set of arms wrapped around her body. She turned, heart thundering to a stop at the soft wrinkled hands resting on her cloak.

“Judith?” Saige whispered before crumbling into a mess of tears and joy.

Chapter 53

The three of them sat before the crackling fire. Judith had prepared cups of tea, residue from heaping spoonfuls of sugar lingering at the bottom. The grief Saige continued to bury had come flooding back in the form of encompassing relief. She didn’t understand how Judith was alive, considering the rest of Denholm believed she surrendered before the mortal king. It was almost an illusion, the feeling of Judith’s thin hand in hers.

When Saige was taken from Denholm, Moore Manor became an enchanted sanctuary at the hands of Cylas, the wielder who had taken hold of Judith. Judith resided in the empty safe house, not a single being in Brevil aware she was there.

There were only a handful of safe houses scattered across Brevil. Any wielder or mortal at risk of King Brennus’s deathly laws could be granted safety, if they were lucky enough to stumble upon one. Or, like Judith, a wielder could use magic upon a space, similar to wards. Judith had been living here ever since, provisions delivered anonymously each full moon.

“How has King Brennus not found these places?” Saige asked. If he knew there were perceived criminals living under his nose, his armies would hunt them down instantly, then burn or hang their bodies in the village squares.

Althea shrugged. “There seems to be a protective barrier around it. It’s as if Moore Manor doesn’t even exist. The people look right past it.” She poked at a log in the fireplace, blowing on the embers.

Saige cocked her head. “So they think this manor doesn’t exist and that Judith is dead?”

“Yes,” Judith said with a heavy sigh. “Whether they orchestrated my death or enchanted a whole village, Judith Damar is gone.” Her voice was small as she spoke. “I spend all my time here now. It gets lonely, but the protective barrier extends all the way to Lizabeth’s gardens. A kind gesture from that warlock.”