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That is what’s become of the ones before us. Spires crumbling. A tower, split and leaning like a snapped tree. The central dome of the castle has caved in, and ivy spills from its highest windows. The outer walls bear scorch marks and clawed gouges, as if attacked by some horrible beast.

No one says a word.

All we can do is stare.

There’s no need to ask what happened. No need to voice the name. We know.

Sira did this. The Above didn’t fall. It was torn apart.

And if we don’t stop her, this is what will become of the Enchanted Vale.

18

Caspian

The stars are the same.

Same constellations. Same silvery shimmer. Same little cluster I always mistake for a fox, though it’s probably something far grander.

But there’s something different about the stars here. They feel closer.

Wrenley and I sit on the edge of a shattered balcony, legs dangling over nothing. Below us, the city sprawls in its ruin. The clouds billow above, around, and below.

Earlier, we walked the streets in silence. Rosie kept drifting ahead, her gaze faraway, like she was trying to see the city as it once was. Ezryn scanned every scorched wall and fallen beam, looking for clues as to where the forge might be. Dayton, predictably, touched everything—statues, relics, collapsed furniture—while Keldarion trailed behind, scolding him, which worked about as well as scolding a tide.

And Farron, my sweet, curious Autumn boy… My personal mission became keeping him on task; otherwise, we would have never made it to the palace in a timely manner. I had to drag him away from every mosaic, inscription, and moss-covered bench.

We explored the palace once we were sure it wouldn’t collapse on our heads. Some rooms were hollowed-out husks. Others still held shape, dusty and hidden by vines but undamaged.

We also found a near replica of the Celestial Landing. Not that it will do us any good unless we can figure out our divine weapons situation. It was a miracle we made it up here in the first place, and though I love to cheat the odds, even I’m not so naive as to think we’ll have such luck again.

In one of the higher wings, we found what can only be described as a closet, though that word doesn’t seem worthy. It was a full chamber of clothing, preserved by magic or luck.

The clothing here is strange, but not in a bad way. In fact, I quite enjoy the delicate fabrics that shift color in the light, the sleeves so long they touch the ground, and capes that ripple like mist. I’ve always thought capes should be more widely popularized.

We also dug out what must have been an old servant’s outfit, a short, frilly thing with an apron and billowing capped sleeves that made Dayton snort and suggest it would fit Farron perfectly.

We decided to change, the weather up here warmer than we anticipated. The air is thick and humid like late summer. Is it always this way, or does the Above shift with seasons like Castletree?

I chose a court robe, fastened at the waist by a woven black belt. The sleeves are much too long, but I can hide any number of weapons up there.

Without my thorns, I need a great number of sharp things.

Rosalina and Farron have chosen a relatively undamaged room and begin setting up our bedrolls. Ezryn insisted on being first watch, even though no one has been here for thousands of years.

But that’s not true. Not entirely. There are birds and bugs and little lizards lying in the sun. Fruit and vines grow. This place was destroyed, but it’s not dead.

Clattering sounds from the kitchen below. Dayton’s trying to get it cleaned up. He insists on “making it feel like home,” but Kel won’t let us forage any food here. Our dinner was simple rations from the Vale: dried fruit, hard bread, and nuts.

“So,” I say, glancing sideways at my sister, “what do you think of the Above?”

Wrenley has her chin tilted up, hair in two short braids, eyes narrowed at the stars as if she’s trying to pick a fight with them. “I’m wondering why Kairyn was so obsessed with getting to this wasteland.”

I hum. “I’m sure he had a beautiful, tragic reason. He usually does.”

One brow raises. “What about you?”

“What about me?”