The dream was a welcome one, like the touch of a summer wind or the kiss of evening coolness. The setting was a familiar room, its scents closer than air, its colours more a part of it than skin or bone. Then the dream spoke. And it spoke with a voice more pleasant than music.

‘This ship sails on a sea of stars,’ said Thalassia. Asphales was eight again and he looked up to see his mother. Her silver strands contoured a gentle face focused on the page. Her tender hands traced lines across the book in her lap. But Asphales could not take his eyes off her. Some deep part of him, in another place, another world, reached out to her. But that touch met only a paralysing barrier. He knew he could only observe.

‘Asphales, are you paying attention?’

‘Yes! Sorry, mother,’ he said. He was glad to hear her talk. ‘But I don’t get it! It doesn’t make sense.’ Asphales bemoaned his lack of imagination, and the deep part of him, the part that looked on, could not help but stifle a laugh.

‘It will come to you as you learn more stories,’ Thalassia said. There was no impatience in her voice. Her eyes, bright and pure amethysts, looked on him with love. ‘When you gaze up,’ she continued, ‘you see all those who have passed on, those whose stories proved worthy. You see those who even now would lend their strength.’

‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

Her mouth moved but no sound came.

A ringing deafness swallowed all. And then the room became more distant. Its colours and its welcome song faded. He begged and prayed that this moment would not slip away from him. He wanted to be in this place with her for a second more. His petitions were met with uncaring silence.

There was a shift in scene, like everything was plunged in the deep. Like a soundless ocean had swallowed all the earth in its tidal maws.

Grey.

Asphales was on that endless sea of grey again.

Give her back, he pleaded. Give her back. I want to see her again.

For one terse moment, he thought that perhaps the room would return with its starlight-warmth. He thought that perhaps he would see Thalassia’s face once more.

Instead, he sank beneath the waves.

No, she is not here, he reminded himself as he fell. She is still out there.

The void rushed past him in a measureless, featureless riot. His only companion was there, always there. Falling, chasing, pursuing, leading. He could feel the blast of its wings, the storm of its breath.

Asphales felt weak, as if the merest touch of this beast would shatter him like frail glass. He feared its touch more than any impact from the fall. He kept his eyes closed, as if he could shut out the dragon’s terrible visage. But still its gaze found him.

The crash came without warning, without pain.

Asphales found himself before that gargantuan gate again. An abyssal portal stood supported by immense and ageless pillars. Four broken sigils, four fractured chains lay strewn around it.

Then out came one in shapes of shadow. It was undeniably a man, and yet somewhat formless, wreathed and writhing in blackened tendrils. The beast came to rest beside him like an obedient pet. Even in the bleary opacity of this state, it was clear that the figure was bound to the gate, as if some energy was drawing him back toward it. As if he was fighting the pull of a mystic force.

‘Arnath’e Anarah? Thénel il Rinulmìr,’ the man said. Asphales cowered before him. His voice was the shadow, the dark. The figure reached a hand toward Asphales, and even from a distance the man’s grip was winter, cold and heartless. A sword coalesced in the figure’s hands, a dreadful blade that emanated intense pressure. Asphales felt the deep crush him. Above all, in that moment he wanted to shut the screaming in his head.

Suddenly, he snapped awake. Asphales woke with lungs heavy from imaginary dread and water, and a deathly chill gnawed at his chest. He was twisted among his sheets. They grabbed at him, desiring to pull him back into that dream. Outside it was still night. Dawn’s inviting embrace seemed far away. The moon peered through his windows and the gentle crash of waves far below carried on unaware.

Asphales breathed. The enveloping calm chased away the phantoms. Why is this happening? What am I seeing in my dreams? But more than the terrors haunting his sleep, the absence of his mother was a thing to be felt this night. As real and yet as intangible as the glow of moonlight. Though he had no idea what the hour was, he lay in bed as the senseless minutes passed and the loud, troubled thoughts swirled.

Asphales rose. He had to leave the confines of this chamber. No strength had come from the stars tonight and he did not want to face those dreams again. His father’s sword, swaddled in its sheath and resting nearby, provided no comfort, either. He could still hear the whisper of the shadowed man’s voice. So, moments later, he was dressed and ready to head out into the silence.

His door creaked open and he snuck into the eerie blue of the night-washed hallway. He made his way along the windows overlooking a sleeping castle and slipped down into the main foyer. The usually lively receiving area of the Hall now rested in a dark slumber. A few tireless servants minded their own business, seeming to pay no heed to Asphales’ scampering nor to the lateness of the hour. What if he ran into Ithilìr? Asphales’ mind played out a terrifying scenario in which his stealthy mission was discovered by the master-servant’s severity. He had already aggravated the poor man enough tonight. Asphales chuckled and walked on toward the exit.

The clear sky and crisp breeze outside were pleasant changes. The scenery was quieter also. With most of the lights around the courtyard snuffed, Fara’ethar’s immensity was dwarfed by the night above. The castle’s grey blocks reached up into an expanse dotted with glimmering lights. He wandered on, eyes gazing upwards into the sidereal depths, without much focus as to where he was going. Asphales was happy enough to be out and about, happy enough to feel the solid ground beneath his feet and the cool air of a world away from his suffocating nightmares.

He could not remember exactly when the dreams started, only that they began to intensify in recent years. What were once hazy visions of mist and shadow had gained unsettling clarity. Until now, Asphales had never been aware of their significance. He never fathomed they would be connected to the story and the struggle he now found himself amidst. He wondered if and when the pieces would all fall into place. He wondered whether he would see his mother again. She is out there. I know it.

His midnight walk took him around the outskirts of the Hall of the Elders until he edged the palace gardens. He grew calmer. The silence deepened in the dead of night, in the cold, small hours when the world sleeps. He was ready to head back, relieved of his nightmares’ malignance. But then and there, Asphales stopped in his tracks. For that is when he saw her. He saw Adélia Amal’ethar, the knight among the flowers, walking in the gardens. He saw a dance of scarlet and emerald swaying beneath the blackened shroud of a starlit canopy.

* * *

The gardens slept under the lullaby of moonlight. Reds and violets, yellows and blues, all faded for the night. Their garish, playful performance stopped, stowed away until the rising sun would rouse them once more.

Yet here among them, Adélia was a flower undreaming. She stepped by the dozing plants like a watchful guardian, dressed in the same pale colours. The palace gardens were not so wild and free like the vast fields surrounding her home in Gohenur, but they were a piece of what she knew. A token, a delicate memento of the things that brought her peace.

A reminder of better times before the cruelty of fire.

But even her enjoyment and delight in flowers, her admiration of these colourful snippets of life, was marred by an ever-present, static black. All the things that would stir and move within her spirit were halted by a pulsing darkness constricting her from the inside. It had been so ever since that day. She had been like a tree that would not grow, dead to sunlight. Like a heavy stone sinking to the depths while the river rushed past.

Becoming an Amarant and gaining strength had not helped solve the problem at her core. It did not change the fact that Adélia was very wrong. She was askew. Perhaps nothing could fix that. Perhaps nothing could mend the painful yearning of her heart.

‘Adélia?’ someone called out. ‘What are you doing here?’

She jumped, startled from her thoughts. She had not expected to hear that name on the lips of another. The voice was familiar. It was like a burst of light intruding into the dark rhythm of her song. She spun only to see the boy with eyes of jasper staring back at her.

‘Hello, Asphales,’ she said, releasing her hold on a clump of purple tulips. ‘Isn’t it a bit late to be exploring the castle?’

Asphales smiled and stepped closer. Memories of their meeting in the forest flooded back. Everything she had felt at that time was in disarray. Even Asphales himself had looked different then. Scared, confused. So lost. And though now he still seemed to walk with a deep uncertainty clouding about him, Asphales appeared more confident also. His face was bright and seemly, and his deep brown locks no longer looked like shelter behind which he would retreat. Some new purpose had changed Asphales Esélinor.

‘I guess it is,’ Asphales said. ‘I would love to keep looking around. I’ve only been here for a day but I don’t feel like I’ve seen enough yet.’

‘I’m sure. Do you like these gardens?’

‘They are beautiful,’ Asphales said as he looked around. ‘Do you take care of them yourself?’

‘When I am able to. I enjoy spending time here because it reminds me of Gohenur. What brings you to the gardens?’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Asphales said. ‘What hour is it?’

‘It is nearly third watch. Windsell, if you’ve forgotten.’

Asphales rubbed his eyes, as if lack of tiredness was not what had been keeping him awake. She sensed an unspoken weight behind his words.

‘You know,’ she began lightly, ‘you can’t always come to me when you need to find out the time.’ Asphales laughed. His voice resonated in the night. Something just shy of a smile tugged at her mouth. It was all she could muster.

‘You’re right. This is not the first time I’ve had to ask you. For the second time I find myself in your debt.’

‘That which is freely given garners no debt,’ said Adélia.

‘And the pleasure of companionship absolves all that is owed,’ Asphales finished, quoting Al’ur the Wise.

‘Good, you remember that story.’

‘Of course,’ Asphales said proudly. ‘But truly, it’s thanks to you that I’m here. I never would’ve made it to Fara’ethar without you.’

Adélia curtsied, accepting his gratitude. ‘Still,’ she said, ‘I was not aware of what part you and Valinos were playing in this. It took me by surprise when I found out.’

‘Believe me, none more so than myself. I discovered many incredible things about me. And about you.’ Asphales’ eyes landed on her fiercely. They were dipped in earthen colours, Adélia realised, but the energy behind them betrayed his true affinity. Restless like the sea. Is that why she had been afraid to capture them in paint? Or was it her inability to truly contain his vitality?

‘Oh?’ she asked. ‘How much do you know?’

‘For a start, I worked out that you are Lady Catena, Amarant of Fara’ethar.’ He sounded both incredulous and awestruck.

‘Yes, I am she.’ Catena. A shield to hide behind. A wall to screen out sorrow. A decoy to divert attention from her true nature.

‘The company we travelled with spoke about the Amarants. Captain Ledner especially held them in high regard. And after running into you I can see why. You made quick work of those bandits, but I only put things together later.’

‘You seem duly impressed by them yourself, Asphales.’

‘Well, yes.’ He paused and the night’s silence quickly filled the gaps for a few ticking moments. She knew what he would ask. ‘Look,’ he began, ‘I don’t know why you have taken on a different name here. I don’t know why you gave me yours. I don’t know all you’ve been through and I don’t expect you to speak of it. But there’s something I need to tell you, Adélia. I know what you are, for we are much alike.’

Adélia drew closer to him apprehensively. This was not what she expected. Yet before he even formed the words, something stirred within her. Some part of her protested and raged, threatening to engulf her in that dark pain if she even entertained the connection she felt with this man, a link that made itself known upon their first meeting.

‘We are children of starlight,’ Asphales said. ‘Children of the Elders.’

Adélia gasped. For a terrifying instant, Adélia felt shorn of her protection, the secrets she wrapped around herself like armour torn and exposed. ‘So you knew.’

Asphales nodded.

‘You are right,’ she said quietly. ‘Menkalinan was my father.’

‘I am Hadar’s heir. I don’t know what that means exactly, but I find myself thrown into something huge.’ Asphales paused, seeming to brace himself for what he would say next. ‘I think we both have to prepare for this. The stories we know and love are more than stories. They’re coming true and unless we’re both ready, the world will fall.’

‘Yes. I grew up knowing the truth of those stories. But like you, I did not suspect I would find myself in them.’

‘I didn’t have that privilege,’ Asphales said. ‘After I lost my parents, none around me believed. It was only when I arrived here that those tales were vindicated. It was Amaleron who told me of these things. He spoke of you also. That’s why I felt I needed to approach you. You probably know more about what being an Elderchild entails.’

‘So this is what Amaleron’s mission was about. Yes, it was Amaleron who found me years ago. He’s always known who I am. And now two children of starlight are gathered. It seems the world stands at a turning point. We’ve both been beset by hardship. Perhaps such is the lot of an Elderchild, Asphales. The two of us have suffered and lost much. But now, I am so glad you are here with me.’

‘Adélia, I’m willing to find out what this means for us. If the evil of the past is threatening to rise, I’m determined to stand against it. I know I am weak. I don’t have the strength or courage of an Amarant. I need you to fight with me.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find you are courageous in your own way. You pushed through and made it here.’

‘I did not do it alone. Valinos is with me. And even though he does not know his role in this yet, he also will stand by me.’

‘Yes, I met him earlier. He seems to be doing better. Who is he, truly? Is he also a—’

‘He is my closest friend. And he may not be like us, but he’s also left behind a life of hardship. He now seeks answers. Whatever awaits his search, Valinos has bound himself to this quest. I can ask no more of him. So I will also help him in whatever way I can.’

‘I knew there was something different about you, Asphales,’ she said. Adélia watched him, absorbing the quiet intensity of his eyes, the gentle passion on his face. ‘You earnestly care for those around you and you don’t expect more than they can give. Thank you. That means more than you know.’

Asphales blushed. ‘Perhaps I am overstepping in my request,’ he said, and his shyness made him appear to shrink. ‘We barely know each other, and yet such a great deal will soon be asked of us.’

‘No, Asphales. Think nothing of it. It would be my honour to fight beside you. We’ll have the full might of Fara’ethar behind us in this.’

‘I’m grateful for that. I do hope it will be enough.’ Asphales shook his head. ‘I can’t even fathom what we’re up against.’

‘Well, we are holding council in just a few hours. Hopefully, with all the recent happenings, things will become clearer then. Now, I would love to continue but I do believe we should be getting some sleep in preparation for it.’

‘Yes,’ Asphales said, then smirked. ‘In the future I’ll try to shift our meetings to a more agreeable time. Anyway, I should get back. I don’t want to imagine what will happen if Ithilìr finds me.’

‘The master-servant? He’s harmless.’

‘Maybe for those who are nice to him. I fear I’ve transgressed the standard of etiquette he’s looking for.’

‘Asphales Esélinor, child of starlight and hero poised to rescue the world, scared off by Fara’ethar’s attendant.’

Asphales gave her a deflated smile.

‘Good night, Asphales,’ she said, then held up three fingers. ‘Starlight guide us.’

‘Starlight guide us,’ Asphales repeated, mimicking the sign somewhat awkwardly. The boy with jasper eyes—no, for he was far more now, a man entwined in starlight—made off toward the Hall of Residence. She watched him disappear in the dimness of the night’s fog.

Asphales Esélinor, the son of starlight. One who knew her. Adélia’s heart careened in shock and surprise. Yet this was also comforting. She felt as if two things had fallen into place, exactly where they ought to be. As if two discordant strings finally played in tune. What would await her—and him also—from here on?

Adélia left her sleeping gardens to the stars’ care and walked toward her Amarant’s quarters. This was not her forest or her home, she knew. She was far from the safety and comfort of Gohenur. And still, there was something in Asphales which brought her peace.

Then the gaping darkness took hold. An all too familiar pain shot through her. She had made herself too vulnerable, peeling back the layers of her heart. But still, so many things remained hidden to him. What would happen should they come to light?

Adélia could not mention how afraid she had been for many years, in the loneliness and confusion that followed the disaster of Luneder. She could not mention how haunted she had been by the phantom who claimed her family and her home, and robbed her of the very force of life. She could not speak of the hate which often consumed her.

For even now she could not escape the barrage of dreams. This undreaming flower was steeped in nightmares. She was swallowed by visions in which forest trees turned to vicious waves and swamped her as she ran. They dragged her off to the depths, and in the cold and dark she always saw the pirate’s face and heard his mocking laughter. His voice, heavier than the tide, followed incessantly. But there was not even a name to focus her distress and anger. There was no trace of the demon which destroyed her childhood. There was only the lingering sorrow, constant and all-encompassing as the rain.

One thing Adélia knew. She had been allowed to live. Now, she would use her life to end his. For Menkalinan. For Cassia. For Luneder.

* * *

The light broke overhead, washing away the last sign of fading stars. A bloody sunrise announced another day, betraying it and concealing its true burdens with deceptive, playful rays. The rising fire caught Amarant Darius on the beach of the Barracks district, already deep into his training. Warm with sweat and effort, the man did not welcome the morning.

Darius continued. His scarred body complained with every exercise. His weary muscles tried to hinder every swing and thrust. His thoughts turned traitorous and whispered failure. But in the end, both body and mind obeyed. Everything surrendered to the call of the awry fire within him and the cold will of his blade, Blackfrost.

Yes, both would be sated soon enough.

With recent events occurring as they had, Darius wondered whether the time had come. Though not all the puzzle pieces were in place, the renewed activity of the Order and the reappearance of the pirate phantom indicated change and acceleration in the enemy’s plans. Darius thought of Lady Catena’s connection with that menace. He had not summoned the courage to tell her of his return. She would find out very soon either way.

But the arrival of the visitors from Silnodìr proved to be the most disturbing development. Shurun’el himself was involved. A haunting name. Someone Darius had rather hoped he would not see again. It seemed that troublesome stain had become associated with far more dangerous things than trafficking and robbery.

An idea lit as Blackfrost sailed through the air and cleaved a target dummy in half. Darius halted. Shurun’el was crucial, yes, but merely a missing link. He could be the first to fall on a trail that would lead to the true target.

I hope you left an ugly scar on that filth, Captain.

Darius immediately rebuked himself. This was no way to honour the memory of the dead. He knelt, offering a silent prayer for his fallen squad. He committed their spirits to gentler snows and continued his routine. Sand kicked up as the Amarant moved through different stances and strokes.

You SWORE an OATH, you fool.

Blackfrost screeched, slicing through both sack and post. The immense metal frame of the blade came down with the ease of a diving hawk.

You left that life far behind you. Dead and buried.

The Amarant screamed as his blade picked up again.

You will protect and serve. You will NEVER go back to what you were.

Darius swung the sword. Sparks followed.

Those around you are not steps for you to tread on.

Blackfrost spun and soared. It cut through mist and morning air once all else was felled.

This fire you carry will burn no others. You will go down with it alone.

Darius fell to his knees as the last target lay crumpled. He dropped Blackfrost. He would never take his Amarantship for granted. He would not let his competing interests cloud his judgment and cripple his duty. Darius was not foolish enough to believe he could relieve himself of this desire that burned within his bones. No. But he was at least wise enough to determine not to drag anyone else into this.

Guldar. El’enur. Darius knew they would follow him. But he could not allow it.

You will go down with this fire alone.

‘Yes,’ he said to himself.

Such were the conflicting thoughts occupying the mind of the Amarant as dawn pushed through and the sun made its slow crawl over the horizon. A tortured silhouette stood ashen still and spent against the morning’s glow.

Later, with the training done and the chaos of the beachfront behind him, Darius headed toward the dormitory area of the Hall of Residence to collect his companions for the council. He rounded the corner to the west of the building, where the families of key personnel were given lodging. It was barely past the seventh hour when Darius knocked at the door of his cavalry division’s sub-commander.

‘Come in,’ Guldar called in his gruff, familiar voice.

Darius pushed through and into the man’s chambers. The décor was as he remembered; simple and settled with stability. No gaudy colours or ornaments were in sight. Guldar lived up to his name, living with the simplicity of the mountains. The man himself was reclining at a sturdy table that looked to be made of more stone than wood, enjoying the one luxury he deemed necessary: coffee. His wife Innareth sat across from him, sipping a blend no doubt as strong as her husband’s own from her mug.

‘Good morning, Darius,’ she said. ‘Come on in, take a seat.’ Guldar’s wife was a woman for whom age was not an unwelcome disfigurement but a stately sign of wisdom and weathered beauty. The creases along her bronze skin spoke of time-tested strength. The grey that peppered her rich, brown hair looked no more out of place than the peak of a snow-capped mountain. She was a perfect match to Guldar’s resilience and easy-going vigour.

‘Lady Innareth,’ he replied with a nod. Closing the door behind him, he moved forward and dragged a nearby stool into place.

‘Mornin’ to you,’ Guldar said after taking a long draught of his coffee. He belched.

‘Don’t be rude, dear,’ Innareth said.

‘Guldar, are you ready? Amaleron’s called for council at eighth watch.’

‘No sense in beating the sun to readiness, man. But yes, yes, I’m prepared now.’

When Guldar didn’t stir, Darius grinned. ‘I’ll let you finish your coffee first.’

‘Thegyou,’ Guldar mumbled with the mug to his mouth. His wife shook her head and smiled.

Suddenly, a rackety commotion made its way to the dining area like a whirlwind. Two young figures, a boy and a girl, rushed to the table, forceful as their father and fair as their mother. Their eyes widened when they saw Darius.

‘Woah, Amarant Darius is here!’ said the girl.

‘Darius! Darius!’ the boy said as he tugged at the Amarant’s trousers. ‘Are you gonna kill anyone today?’

‘Feri!’ Innareth snapped. She looked to Darius apologetically.

Darius smiled and signalled that no trouble was made. Innareth promptly collected the children and dragged them off for a lecture. ‘What stories have you been telling them, Guldar?’ Darius asked.

‘Nothin’ too far from the truth,’ Guldar said, then returned to his coffee. He choked the drink down when Innareth stormed over to hit him.

‘An Amarant doesn’t kill anyone, you idiot,’ the girl reprimanded Feri. ‘They protect people. They keep us safe. You see that giant sword? Anyone who’s smart is too scared to fight against that!’

‘That’s a good girl, Sela,’ her mother said.

Darius admired her purity and naiveté. If only things were that simple. He suddenly sensed the weight of the blade that rested by the door. He felt the gravity of what it had done. What it was going to do. A tap on his shoulder brought Darius out of his thoughts.

‘I’m ready,’ Guldar said after he put his mug down. ‘Let’s go.’ The man rose from the table, and as he did, both Feri and Sela abandoned their post at their mother’s scolding and clung to their father.

‘Bye, father,’ they said in unison.

Guldar bent down to kiss each one on the forehead and smiled. When Innareth walked over, he stood up and kissed her. ‘See you later, love.’

‘Let’s go get El’enur,’ Darius said.

‘What do you wager that he’s sleeping?’

‘Too much simeh has made you a gambler, I see, and I’m no fool to bet against that. But chances are you’re right.’

‘Should’ve expected this,’ Guldar groaned.

‘Be nice to him,’ Innareth called. ‘He’s a lovely young man.’

Guldar sighed and walked out the door with Darius. The two men stepped through the alleys of the castle grounds, heading for the other side of the Hall of Residence where El’enur lived. Given that El’enur had no family, he opted to live in the upper storeys of the Hall with the majority of the younger soldiers comprising Darius’ mane. The Amarant left Guldar on the lower floors, not trusting that he’ll contain himself from breaking the door down should El’enur actually be asleep. As Darius ascended the steps, he questioned if El’enur was even ready. The young man had not taken the loss of his brother well. Soon, Darius’ knuckles rapped against the door of the sub-commander’s chamber.

‘El’enur!’

A short period of silence gave way to rattling inside. He heard the young archer make his way through clutter as footsteps approached the door. El’enur’s head appeared behind a reluctantly opening door. His hair was unkempt and his eyes were cloudy with sleep.

‘Good morning, commander,’ he said blearily.

‘Morning. Do you know what time it is?’

‘Oh! I’m so sorry!’ El’enur disappeared again. Darius had to keep from laughing. A few moments later, El’enur emerged once more, clearly hastily dressed and hair not exactly stylish. His bow was only loosely strapped to his back.

‘How are you holding up, El’enur?’

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, voice still croaky. ‘I apologise again. Sir, I know I acted up yesterday. I couldn’t take it. It won’t happen again.’

‘Don’t apologise for your emotion,’ Darius assured him. ‘Caring for your brother is not your weakness. Now, come along. Amaleron is waiting at the council. And so is Guldar. Downstairs.’

‘Oh, great.’

El’enur jumped into his footwear, locked the door, and joined the Amarant outside his room.

‘You look trashed. What happened to you?’ Darius asked as the two soldiers made their way toward the stairs.

‘Last night?’ El’enur said sheepishly. ‘Uh, I went on a date… of sorts. Drinks at the Commons. One drink turned to three. Then I lost count, and I kind of lost sight of my date as well.’

‘Who was it this time? Mara? Erina? Ren? Any of the others?’

‘Look, commander,’ El’enur began, sounding hurt, ‘I know you don’t approve of my… romantic habits—’

‘To put it mildly,’ Darius interjected. ‘I know firsthand that nothing good comes of such flippant relationships.’

‘—but it wasn’t anything like that. It was Nelesa.’

‘Nelesa is one of my own soldiers,’ Darius said. His tone was ice. ‘What did you want her for?’

‘Oh, I was doing… research.’

‘Research involving several bottles of brandy?’

El’enur laughed. ‘No, I had her look into the Archives for signs of the Order. As in, perhaps the histories will reveal something. These guys are claiming a link with the ancient Order of Seven. Maybe there’re some patterns they’re replicating. It could give us a clue as to what they’re up to.’

‘That’s not a bad idea. But there are no books in Commons.’

‘I knew you’d like it, commander. You can trust me. I don’t want to miss anything. Nel and I are close. So, knowing her, she’ll probably have something by today’s council already.’

Darius looked over the young man in silence. Don’t be blind to what’s in front of you, boy. Don’t you see how she sees you? But he did not say it. This was something El’enur had to work at himself.

‘Good. We’ll see if it’s helpful. Let’s get to it.’

The Amarant and the archer met Guldar downstairs and the three men departed for the Hall of the Elders. It was no longer a bloodied day, a heavy day. The clear blue overhanging them was light, but by no means easy. For the primary task still lay ahead of them. This council would decide what action Fara’ethar’s military should take against the Order’s activities. They were all that stood between light and darkness.

This was the Amarant’s task. This is what he would follow through on. He would not fail the men who stood beside him. Nor would he take their companionship lightly or make a mockery of them. When the fire fell, when the time came to answer the clutches of the flame, he would not drag them down with him.

* * *

The crowd of Fara’ethar’s elite streamed toward the entrance of the Hall of Elders. Soldiers and scholars were funnelled up the stairs of the Hall and in between the ancient pillars of the antechamber. No amount of drinks could have dimmed El’enur’s apprehension in this moment. But there was an exhilarating rush also, a sense of being swept up into something that mattered. El’enur had desired the soldier’s life, not for pay or petty entertainment, but for the chance at significance. As troupers, his family always pretended. They played the roles of mighty saviours and towering defenders, but that had never been enough.

Well, you got what you asked for, didn’t you, El?

Here he was, included among those whom now were called to the impossible. He would not run away again.

‘El, are you alright?’ Nelesa asked as she walked alongside him. Perhaps it was only the residual effect of alcohol, but her eyes seemed especially deep today, and the streaks in her hair peculiarly rich with a sky-touched azure.

‘Hm? Oh, fine, Nel. Just a bit jumpy. We’re only dealing with a group of madmen who are trying to bring about the destruction of the world.’

‘You’re right,’ she said with a smile, ‘it’s not like they prepare us for this in the Academy.’

‘Not sure how much those bookworms do prepare us for.’

‘Hey!’ she squealed. ‘That’s not fair. What happened to the El’enur who learned to appreciate history?’

‘He’s history, probably still at the Commons talking to one of those blue-heads.’ He beamed a smile.

‘You’d probably still be talking to a wall,’ Nel said testily, ‘especially after drink number five. It was not exactly the most sophisticated engagement.’

‘Oh, no. What did I say? I’m sorry about that, Nel. I—’

‘No, please. No need to apologise.’ Her serious face soon crumpled under a smile. ‘Besides, I was quite interested in finding out exactly how you do skin a cat and make shelter using only eggshells and dry cheese.’

‘What? Oh, starlight…’

Nelesa giggled. ‘Not to worry, El. While I didn’t follow your request to teach you how to speak horse, I did look into the Order’s history for you.’

El’enur was sure his face had turned as red as a batch of freshly cast metal. ‘So no hopes of getting a primer on horse grammar?’

Nelesa struck him. ‘You know you could write one given the noises you were making last night.’

El’enur chuckled. He enjoyed the vexation his antics had caused Nel but he was also embarrassed by them. ‘Find anything?’

Nelesa’s face fell. ‘Not much, unfortunately. There’s barely even anything written during Ulmìr’s reign. A few names here and there and a basic overview of their makeup and skills, but that’s it. Then they just vanish for four hundred years. There’s nothing until Feres. Now they’re back and carrying out their duty again? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘That’s a long grudge to hold.’

‘Or someone really knows their history.’

‘Alright, thank you for looking into it, Nel. Looks like I won’t have to read, after all.’

Nelesa smiled. ‘Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself now.’

‘How nice of you,’ El’enur said, but then his attention was caught by someone he spotted not far ahead. Asphales and Valinos were walking together. Those two, as unlike as summer and winter, had somehow bonded. Even El’enur could see that. What had they been through? What part did they have in all this? ‘Hang on a moment, Nel. I’ll be back.’

‘What are you going to do with your old sword?’ Valinos was asking as El’enur approached.

‘Asphales! Valinos!’ he intervened. ‘Good morning.’

The two turned to face him gladly. ‘Hey!’ Asphales said.

‘Look,’ El’enur said, ‘I know last time we spoke I was not… entirely together.’

‘You weren’t the worst of it,’ Valinos said. ‘After you left I ended up irking your Amarant to the point he had me pinned.’

‘Really? If that’s all he did, you got off lucky.’

The three of them laughed in unison until Darius himself stepped past. They promptly adopted more dignified faces.

El’enur patted them both on the shoulder. ‘I wanted to say that I’m with you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Asphales asked. Valinos simply looked on, confused.

‘Serìn saw something in you. He gave his all so you could make it. I will do the same.’

Valinos stood speechless, his wintry eyes unreadable. Asphales looked taken aback. ‘That’s very kind of you, El’enur,’ he said.

‘Please, call me El. But yes, my brother did so much for me. It’s taken me a long time to realise that. And how could I repay him?’ El’enur looked at both of them in turn. ‘The best I could do is trust the people he did and see this through.’

‘Thank you, El,’ Asphales said. ‘Serìn taught us a lot.’ His eyes sheened sadly. Suddenly, there was a hollow echo between the pillars of the Hall. An absence. A lack. But no, there would be no more mourning.

‘He gave you the riddle, didn’t he?’

They both nodded.

‘He learned that during his days as a trouper. As an actor he had to be careful that his role ended when the play did. There was no benefit to continue feigning. It’s a good leadership lesson. Don’t pretend to be more than you are. Work on your real qualities.’

‘And we got a drink out of it.’

El’enur laughed. ‘So you solved it. Serìn could never take losing a bet. Must’ve sulked for hours. Alright, lads, I’ll see you inside. Let’s see what we’re all getting into, shall we?’

As he left them, El’enur caught Darius’ eye. The Amarant held his gaze intently and gave an approving nod. Not for the first time, El’enur marvelled at the Amarant’s uncanny ability to stay aware of everything going on. He chuckled to himself and then drew back to keep pace with Nelesa as the doors of the Hall’s main chamber opened.

* * *

Like heaven’s bodies in the boundless deep

So stand and dimming starlight keep

Amaleron’s voice was stentorian. The council was convened. Even Valinos could sense the solemnity of the moment. Under the gaze of ancients, fewer than twenty people assembled to halt the advance of darkness and change the fate of the world. Those who made their way in now huddled silently beneath the bizarrely pure and gentle light streaming through the stained glass. The irony of the situation made a smile creep onto Valinos’ face. He was here to alter the direction of a story he had not even believed in.

But now here he was. Valinos felt as if he stood on the precipice, moments before a dive. Only this was no recreational dive with Asphales at the Dragon’s Horn. There, all their cares were whisked away by the fall. Here, they were plunging into something far more sinister. Something that would change them forever.

He looked around at those gathered. The Amarants and their sub-commanders remained at post, keen-eyed as if they were preparing for battle. Amaleron paced the pedestal around the throne, looking just about ready to address everyone. A few others, various soldiers, scholars, and political leaders perhaps, hung about nervously.

And of course, Asphales was next to him. His best friend. The fisherman from Silnodìr. Valinos did not begrudge him the role he was about to play. He did not envy him. He merely felt a pang of regret at the hardship he had caused him throughout their childhood. Remorse for the insults hurled at one who clung on to the story when he had lost all else. Asphales had found the truth of this. Was it too much to wish that he, too, would find guidance and direction?

Amaleron stirred and there was a shuffle to attention in the chamber. ‘I thank you all for gathering today,’ the steward began in his commanding tone. ‘It is with some disappointment that I look out and see only our small number, for what we shall speak of concerns all Anardes and indeed even beyond.

‘Lord Elan is absent, for instance, but Taeladran will soon be swept up in this. The Eastern Nations continue in their recalcitrance. I need not repeat the horrors of the Battle of Feres and how our appeals for cooperation were spurned. The matriarchs of Hyadë and Pleiadë have made their choice, it seems.’

‘Semera is insane,’ Guldar fumed, breaking Amaleron’s stride. ‘She exiled her own husband. What would we even gain from someone like her?’

The steward seemed unperturbed by the sub-commander’s vocal interruption. ‘You are right. Negotiations have failed. We have the defector Tel’aren to thank for the information that has leaked to us. There seems to be something far deeper behind the Eastern hostility. At any rate, they are not here.

‘Our Western neighbours, Senhia and Kerena appear to be completely uninterested. There is no chance King Cerus would be in attendance and no delegation has been sent. Perhaps it is that the Order’s influence has seeped so deeply as to affect these nations’ disposition.’

‘There are movements,’ Darius said, ‘like worms beneath the earth. They rear their heads and we attempt to strike, but we are unaware of the tunnelling depths and their entwining links.’

‘And that is what we are here for, Amarant Darius. To try and put together some of those links and, more importantly, to assess and decide what we are to do about it.’

‘How did this all start?’ Asphales asked. ‘I’m sorry, but so much of this is new to me. What led to the division of the nations?’

Amaleron looked around, appearing to gauge approval on a tangent from those to whom such details were well-known. Valinos was glad when he prepared to answer the question. He knew even less than Asphales, given his prior aversion to history.

‘Ulmìr’s halcyon days did not last long. The disaster of his covenant with Anarah and the summoning of the Shadow are wounds from which we still reel. The unification which Ulmìr achieved came undone in the aftermath. Everything he worked for crumbled. But I need to weave in the fate of his children in order to tell this tale fully.’

‘Ulmìr had three children, right?’ Asphales questioned.

‘That is correct. Edériël the Silverflame was the eldest. She was full of grace and kindness, taking after her mother. Elmìr the Lightning, the Dragonking’s only son, was brave and mighty. With Ulmìr’s reclusiveness in the wake of Retela’s death, it was Elmìr who took charge of the military. Ah, he led the Seven at such a young age…’

‘What about Ereden? What happened to her?’

Amaleron fell silent. Valinos noted a peculiar sadness which passed by the old man’s eyes. ‘In his madness,’ the steward said, ‘Ulmìr sacrificed his youngest daughter. He believed that was the catalyst which made contact with the Shadow.’ The old man’s voice wavered as a tear traced a path between the ancient lines on his face. ‘That is when we knew we had lost him. Ulmìr was gone. He had to be stopped.’ Amaleron faced the crowd once more. ‘That is the depth of evil we face.’

Asphales drew a deep breath. ‘I still find it so sad that Ulmìr fell in such a manner.’

‘To none more so than us, Asphales. In many ways, Ulmìr is the Nodirìm’s mistake. Our hearts break to see the damage he wrought, to see all that he marred. We cannot help but be panged by guilt also, with the knowledge that it was we who brought him to power.

‘That sentiment was channelled negatively by others after the War of Sealing, however. With Ulmìr locked away, something had to be done to contain the chaos and confusion. Edériël reigned briefly at this time, but her rule was contested. Something or someone incited those who would splinter and form the Eastern Nations to revolt during her days on the throne.’

‘The Eastern Nations were originally Anardaëan?’ Asphales asked incredulously.

Amaleron nodded. ‘Those who founded the Seven Cities of Pleiadë and the Five Strongholds of Hyadë were the daughters of Daleran, the chief instigator in the civil war. He decidedly opposed Ulmìr’s royal line, and the whole monarchy in fact, for he lost his monopoly on the land when the Anardaëan states became the Empire.’

‘So the whole affair was economic?’ Valinos chimed in.

‘I do not believe so, for Daleran’s hatred went far beyond that. He spoke cryptically of restoring rule and order to where it belonged. He challenged Edériël to single combat, but it was Elmìr who stood in for her and duelled. Daleran lost, and so he fled to the East with his clans. The story goes that he did not marry off his daughters before he died, and hence rule fell to a line of Eastern matriarchs. Anardes had little contact with the East after their exile.’

‘What happened to Kerena and Senhia?’

‘They seized the chance to become independent once more. Senhia, particularly, suffered heavy losses during Ulmìr’s annexation of those nations. The Senhì withdrew immediately afterwards. They are a patriotic and self-seeking lot, but their wariness and suspicion is understandable. They did not weigh in either way. As for Kerena…’

‘Kerena became obsessed with the Dragonking,’ Darius said coldly. ‘By some magic or madness, they were convinced Ulmìr was the true king, the one who would ‘rebirth the world,’ and that he was unlawfully snuffed by the Elders. I grew up with deceitful tales of the Dragonking’s glorious return.’

‘Yes, so Kerena continued to trouble the dwindled Anardaëan Empire for some time. In fact, their persistence caused Anardes itself to repudiate the monarchy when the pressure was too great. Edériël herself was forced to abdicate and the whole affair was erased. The once-regent went into hiding. Elmìr fled also, disbanding what was left of his renewed Order of Seven. In the Kerenani mind, Ulmìr could brook no rivals and so they relentlessly pursued his heirs. Elmìr was killed at sea and his body displayed proudly in Kerena. Edériël was reportedly assassinated as she travelled eastwards. Thus came to an end the offspring of the Dragonking. Both Kerena and the East settled after that, and an uneasy quiet rested over the world for nearly four hundred years. Until now.’

‘What did the Elders do?’

‘We knew that we were targets. Soon enough, the world would figure out that the Nodirìm were the key to holding the Dragonking in his seal. We split, partly to avoid being together and risk detection, partly to attempt informing the people of the true state of the matter. And all the while, we were searching and awaiting the promised of the Eldersong.’

Murmurs spread through the small crowd. ‘What has come of that search?’ an elderly voice perked up. It belonged to a wizened scholar with blue hair. ‘Have we learned the identity of this ‘promised one’ or the timing of their arrival?’

‘Patience, man!’ Guldar piped up. ‘That is why we’re here.’

The old scholar shot Guldar a miffed glare, but said no more.

‘There is no need for that, Guldar,’ the steward said. ‘For here we stand with welcome news. We are few in number, true, but we possess something that I daresay the enemy does not. Those heralded by the Ode of the Nodirìm stand amongst us.’

The murmur grew like a rumble of thunder. ‘How can you say this? How do we know it is true?’

‘This is wonderful!’ another voice said. Valinos recognised Nadros’ cheerful tone. The sailor looked ready to skip with joy. But something was amiss in Valinos’ mind. Did Amaleron hint that there were more children of Elderlight than Asphales alone?

‘The song of sealing,’ Amaleron said, ‘was but the prelude to the grander song that is now being composed. The fragments we possess speak of descendants of starlight itself, children sired by the Nodirìm, who will stand against the Shadow. The only two such children that I am aware of are right here at Fara’ethar. Would you step forward, Asphales Esélinor?’

Total silence fell as Asphales stepped up to the steward’s platform. Valinos had to give him credit for not making the nervousness he surely felt overt. The world’s destiny rested in the hands of a fisherman. Valinos felt a nudge on his shoulder. He looked over to find El’enur accosting him with a dumbfounded stare. ‘Did you know about this?’ he whispered. Valinos could only shrug to relay his surprise. ‘Not until recently.’

‘The other Elderchild has served the Empire for many years already.’ The steward nodded to someone in the gathering. ‘Our own Amarant Catena is an Elder’s daughter.’

That total silence somehow deepened. The woman’s footsteps reverberated as she joined Asphales and Amaleron on the plateau. The knight from the forest, an Elderchild? So she was not only a deadly Amarant but also one empowered by an ancient force. Valinos made a mental note never to cross her again.

‘The enemy has attempted to grasp at these two, but they have evaded the Order’s clutches and now—’

Suddenly there was a scream. A desperate, hopeless shriek. All eyes turned to a scrawny figure who cowered in terror and kicked himself wildly away from the crowd.

‘She’s the fiery one,’ he rambled. ‘She’s the fiery one. She’s the fiery one.’

‘Rast!’ yelled Nadros as he rushed to the man’s side. ‘O blackened bones, Rast! What has gotten into you?’ The man on the ground shoved the Amarant away. Darius and Guldar stepped in to restrain his writhing movements.

‘No, no, no, no,’ Rast said. ‘I don’t want to go there again.’

Amarant Nadros returned and gripped the man’s shoulders. ‘Rast, it’s alright. They are not here. The Order will not hurt you again. You are safe.’ Rast’s whimpering subsided and eventually his motions relaxed. He embraced the old Amarant and sobbed softly. All others in the room looked on with horror.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Amaleron asked.

‘This,’ Darius said as he stepped forward, ‘is the Order’s handiwork. One of the Elders lived in hiding in a small Kerenan town. When we got there, everything had been burnt down and destroyed. Rast here is the only survivor. He managed to hide but clearly he has lost his mind in the process. He is still haunted by what he’s seen.’

In the corner, Nadros was still comforting the shaken Rast. ‘Don’t worry. Lady Catena is not the fiery fiend. She will not hurt you.’

‘Yes, Caph was killed in that Kerenan assault,’ Amaleron said as he shifted his attention back to the gathering.

‘How many others are dead?’ asked El’enur.

‘Is it true that only six seals stand between us and darkness?’ Asphales said.

‘How did you come to know of this?’ a scholar asked.

‘I… I think I see it in my dreams. I’m trying to understand them. Last night I had another and I saw it again. I saw Anarah. And I think I see the sealing place of the Dragonking. How can that be?’

‘Are dreams truly reliable testimony, steward?’ Guldar asked.

‘What you see, Asphales,’ Amaleron began, ‘is the World Departed. It is just as real as the World That Is, yet tragically separated by the veil of death. As one who shares in both starlight and mortal blood, you are able to stand on the brink, on a precipice between this realm and the next. It is there the Dragonking has lain in wait, neither alive nor dead, poisoned by the restless presence of Anarah for hundreds of years. Thence he will return.’

Asphales seemed to shiver visibly at the steward’s revelation.

Adélia darted a worried look toward Asphales. Valinos had not seen such concern on the capable warrior’s face before.

‘So it’s true, then,’ El’enur said. ‘How have we lost so many already?’

‘Yes. Seventeen years ago, Maia was murdered in the East. This seems to be the resurgence of the Order’s activity, but they did not make this open until the Battle of Feres, where we began to glimpse their influence. Five years after that, Menkalinan and Hadar were eliminated here in Anardes. And just recently, Caph was lost in Kerena.’

‘What are we doing about that?’ Guldar asked. ‘I don’t imagine it will go well for us if Elders keep dropping off.’

‘Very perceptive,’ El’enur said. ‘I believe that’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid.’

‘Boy, I haven’t heard a useful thing out of your mouth yet,’ Guldar retorted.

‘Masters El’enur and Guldar, please,’ Amaleron said. ‘This is not the time. For that is not all there is to this. Even in this apparent darkness there is fortuitous light. The Nodirìm who have fallen have left behind their fragments of the new song. Unfortunately, we do not have the words of Maia, but three other pieces are known to us.’

‘And? What do these songs do?’ Guldar inquired.

‘They channel the lifeforce of the Nodirìm. The words carry the strength of starlight, ready to be received by those of Elder blood. This is a song far greater and more powerful than the Song of Sealing. Comprised of ten fragments, this ode will at once reveal the workings of Regulus in the world and empower the heirs of starlight to fight the schemes of Sirius.’ The steward walked over to Nadros and Rast. ‘How is he feeling?’ he asked.

The old sailor looked down at the Rast’s crumpled figure and called his name. Rast slowly uncurled himself and looked around. He proved calmer, his mind more collected. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but I feel better now.’

‘Are you ready to share what you know?’

‘Yes.’

Rast stood up and hobbled alongside the steward as they made their way back to the platform. He straightened himself and addressed the crowd. ‘I saw what they did to the singing man, this Elder of yours, and it ain’t right. He was peaceful.’

‘What did you see, Rast? Who was involved?’

Rast paused before continuing. ‘There were two of them. A girl in red. A man in black. They killed and burned everything. And they answered to one more terrible than both. He… I’m sorry, I do not want to recall. But the one you wanted, the Elder, he sung this just before he died. I hope it will be of some use.’

Rast took up the words of the dying Elder. He did not sing, for his voice seemed too dry to handle a tune. Rather, he recited it.

Fragmented world by avarice and lust

True bravery its pain will cease

‘spite shadowed tyranny and broken trust

The burdened earth shall find its peace

All nature eager looks to heroes just

And free of curious caprice

Alas through patient shifts of time it must

Await vicarious release

Valinos listened on, enraptured despite the man’s lacking voice. The words lodged themselves in memory, where a melody etched itself alongside the stanza.

‘It may not seem like much,’ Amaleron said, ‘but these words will carry a Nodìr’s strength like a river current. Master Asphales and Lady Catena’s lifeforce will grow and be shaped by them. Their potential is immense. Our hope rises with these two. And so, our best course of action—’

‘What about your fragment, Lord Amaleron?’ El’enur interrupted. ‘Won’t that help?’

The steward sighed. ‘My boy, regretfully, I do not yet have access to my part of this song. The words have not coalesced yet. It is… difficult to explain the process, but I believe these fragments are given to us naturally. I cannot concoct it when I wish.

‘But what is clear with the parts we do possess is that the Elderchildren will fight. We must assist them in every way we can. For this reason, our immediate course of action should be to train them. Asphales and Catena, you will be sent to Taeladran in order to hone your skills and be instructed in the workings of lifeforce.’

‘Why Taeladran?’ Darius asked.

‘In the fortress city of Taeladran another Nodìr dwells in hiding. The one who will teach these two has the most advanced grasp of lifeforce and its uses. He may give us the best chance. Amarant Darius, I wish that you accompany them also. Your skill with the blade is unequalled and you have proven an able instructor.’

‘As you will,’ Darius replied.

The steward’s eyes scanned the crowd and landed directly upon Valinos. ‘As for you, Valinos, I know you are still searching. But will you join your friend in this? Training could be beneficial for you also.’

‘Yes,’ Valinos said. ‘I will go where Asphales does.’

‘Good.’

‘What about our enemy, the Order?’ Guldar said. ‘Have we learned anything more about them? What are we to do about their movements? What are we up against?’

‘Given these events and the hunt for the Nodirìm, there can be no doubt that the group calling itself the Order of Seven intends to be seen as a resurrection of the ancient order which swore fealty to Ulmìr.’

‘Yes,’ Nadros said, ‘and Sanaros seems to be their port of operation.’

‘So far, they have been a step ahead every time. They locate and eliminate the Elders for their dark goal of unsealing the Dragonking. Make no mistake, for behind them stands Anarah itself. We are not dealing with simple men, crazed or clueless. Even the old order was so loyal to their king and his purpose the Nodirìm were forced to fight through them. Beside Elmìr himself, only one other stood down and defected. He disappeared in the chaos. Expect the same zeal and dedication. They answered only to the king.’

‘Is there anything of help for us in that?’ El’enur wondered.

‘Hang on,’ a voice cut in. ‘Here, I believe I may have something.’ It came from a young woman near El’enur. Her blue and black hair rocked wildly as she ran up to the platform. ‘Master El’enur has asked me to research the Order’s origins. I dug through the Archives and, while I did not find much, I stumbled upon something which could prove useful.

‘Lord Amaleron, you mentioned that only the king could direct the Order’s affairs, but that’s not quite correct. Ulmìr consulted three military advisors, according to the histories. They divided the Order into three parts, each with respective duties. It only occurred to me now that these three divisions may still exist currently. Rast mentioned that one of those present seemed to be in charge. Potentially, this man may be one of three who rule the group. It’s likely Darius’ group dealt with the Kerenan division.’

‘Nel, you’re brilliant,’ El’enur called out.

‘If that’s true,’ Guldar sulked, ‘we have more enemies than we thought.’

‘More targets to draw information out of,’ Darius said.

‘That is quite useful, and you are right,’ Amaleron said, evidently not minding the young woman’s audacity. She returned to El’enur with a satisfied smile. ‘So we have something else to be mindful of,’ the steward continued. ‘Very well. This will tie in with the second prong of our operations. Amarant Nadros, you know your way around Sanaros and have already discerned much useful information. Will you return and continue monitoring the Order’s activities?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Nadros.

‘Assemble a team, small by necessity, and sail for Sanaros Island. Your task will be to keep track of the Order’s knowledge and discern hints as to locations of other Nodirìm. If the Order is aware of others, we must reach them before they do. It is our only hope at collecting each fragment of their song.’

‘I understand.’

‘You will have to be discreet. I am not comfortable sending you to a location at the heart of the Order’s activity again. There is also the added sensitivity of Kerena’s presence there. Take the utmost care.’

Nadros giggled. ‘Don’t worry, my lord. Discretion is my speciality.’

Guldar groaned. ‘I’ll probably end up going with you, old man, on one of your costumed hunts.’

‘Good,’ Amaleron said. ‘It is settled then. We will make preparations and execute these plans after the Feast Day of Anardes.’

‘When is that?’ Asphales asked.

‘This coming Sunsfell, on the first day of Nìthis,’ Nadros said.

Amaleron smiled warmly. ‘It will be good to celebrate. Fortune is with us. It is best to go into this with our hearts merry, so we have until then to set things in order.’ The steward looked around the room. ‘Concerning what has been spoken here today, I solemnly charge you all and trust you with secrecy. The enemy has already latched on to too many of our plans. We cannot fail here. This council is adjourned. I thank you all for your time. May Regulus’ blessing be upon our efforts. Starlight guide us all.’

‘Starlight guide us,’ the room droned together.

For Valinos, the rest of the day passed rather slowly. He took time out to process the developments from the morning’s meeting. After a brief meal with Asphales at midday, he found himself in his room, pondering his place, as was his wont. His thoughts circled like the tired clouds overhead.

Be content with this, he told himself. Your job now is to assist your closest friend. Even if this did not bring the answers he desired, Valinos understood what an important task befell them. Still, he wanted to carve a path he could call his own. He gazed around the simple yet comfortable holdings of his chamber. The setting sun threw chaotic and fiery light against its walls.

His eyes fell to the two blades resting against his bed. Anfrìr and Gulren. Asphales had returned his sword earlier with gratitude. Since he was now in possession of his father’s blade, Asphales no longer had need of this one. Valinos decided to keep its name even if it belonged to him once more. And there was Gulren, named rashly when his thoughts swirled around revenge. That title would stay also. Both swords looked weary, dulled by their usage and scarred by battle.

Valinos rose, resolved to mend these blades. If they were to serve their purpose again, they would need fixing. He picked up both sheathed weapons and carried them out of his room. He found Ithilìr on the lower floor of the Hall of Residence, intending to ask for direction toward the castle armoury.

‘Master Valinos,’ the statuesque servant said as he saw Valinos approach. ‘How may I be of help?’ If Ithilìr still felt belittled by Valinos’ behaviour the previous night, he made a good effort not to show it.

‘I need to find the smithy,’ Valinos said. Ithilìr raised his nose when he spotted the bundled weapons.

‘I can’t say I approve of this desire to fight, master Valinos, but if you insist, I will take you to Resina, master of arms.’

‘Ithilìr we both fight, in our own way. I may use blades and armour while you make do with bibs and aprons, but we both intend to keep peace and order. There is a certain… decorum to your art form that bears appreciating. I’m simply asking you to help me carry out mine.’

‘Very well,’ Ithilìr said with the slightest crack of a smile. ‘Follow me.’ The master-servant relieved himself from his current duty, delegating his tasks to a few other servants, and took the lead.

Valinos was taken outside Fara’ethar’s walls through the Lion Gate and down the road leading to the Barracks. From this height above Guladran’s districts, outside the confines of the castle, everything looked idyllic. The sea, aglow with orange, nipped shyly at the docks. Endless snaking buildings lazed in the gentle light of sundown. Hardly the look of a land teetering on the edge of collapse, Valinos thought.

In the Barracks region, they passed through groups of soldiers in the final hours of the day’s training. Ithilìr brought Valinos to a building as rough as the materials it dealt with, nestled so completely between the cliff’s rocks it seemed a natural extension of it. Inside, the fire and steam of forges burned, unaffected by the cooling days of autumn outside. Valinos was instantly reminded of Paran’s workshop and his former occupation in Silnodìr.

‘Resina,’ the master-servant called out, ‘I’ve brought someone to see you.’

From somewhere behind the mounds of tools, weapons, and machinery, a woman stepped out. Though Valinos had seen her before, at the tavern, her imposing size was all the more daunting up close. Resina was a solid woman, truly built as one fit for the demanding tasks of a blacksmith.

‘Do show her more respect than is your custom,’ Ithilìr said. And with that, he disappeared. Valinos imagined that the heat inside this armoury would surely melt the master-servant’s sternness if he had abided much longer.

‘What can I do fer ye?’ the blacksmith asked with a voice like forging steel, and in an accent Valinos could not place.

‘I request the use of a whetstone, master armourer. Got some blades here in need of sharpening.’ Valinos unslung the sheaths containing the two swords and held them out.

Resina sniffed roughly. ‘Call me Res, boy. You don’t look like the type to grovel. And anyhow, steel makes a right mockery of propriety.’

Valinos gulped, only slightly terrified. ‘Thank you.’

‘How much do you know? Ever worked a blade?’

‘I know my way around an armoury. I worked for—’

‘Good. Oil and whetstones are out back. Don’t cut yerself. This ain’t the medical ward. Now, I’ll show ye to the station.’

Once he was at the workstation, Valinos fell into a familiar rhythm. The strange, therapeutic motions of working with metal calmed him. Old muscles and habits came to their own. Soon the blades shone with a satisfying, fresh glint. Now polished and sharpened, Valinos sat back and breathed in relief.

Then he picked up both blades. They felt good. Anfrìr in his left hand, Gulren in his right, the blades belonged together. Valinos gave them a few practice swings. They sung a twin song, now a graceful, flowing harmony, now a piercing, staccato unison.

I could get used to this.

A sudden clatter resounded through the armoury. In his eagerness, Valinos’ swords cut clean through a wooden support and knocked over several tools and buckets. Valinos flinched.

‘What’s that racket?’ Resina said as she trudged over. ‘This ain’t a place for— Boy, is that truly yer doing?’

Valinos looked at her, frozen yet glad that the stout woman had decided not to thrash him. ‘Yes.’

‘Give me a look,’ she demanded. He hastily handed her a sword.

Resina ran a careful eye along the blade’s length. ‘You do good work,’ she said in a tone that Valinos guessed came as close to resembling pleasure as it could. ‘If you ever want to earn some coin, I’d be happy for ye to tag along here. Could use yer skill.’

‘Thank you,’ Valinos said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

The blacksmith returned the sword. ‘Alright, boy. Consider it. Now, scram. I’m about to close up shop.’

As if on cue, there was a clamour at the armoury’s entrance. Someone had come in and knocked over more utensils.

‘What in the—’ Resina exclaimed.

‘Sorry!’ came the flustered response. Valinos jumped. He knew that voice. Fen’asel. He clasped the two swords to his belt and hurried over to the intruder. Fen’asel was indeed there, dressed in a night-blue smock. A thick, cloudy-grey blouse covered and complemented her attire. Her eyes lit up when she spotted him. ‘Valinos! You are here.’

‘Uh, yeah,’ Valinos stammered.

‘Master Ithilìr said I’d find you at the smith. Come along, I’ve got something to show you.’ Fen’asel ran in, took hold of Valinos’ hand, and dragged him out of the building. ‘Sorry, Res!’ she called out as they exited the blacksmith.

Outside, the sun had completely set. The sea was no longer a thing alive with flame. The ashen glow of the moon, hemmed by the glitter of a thousand distant fires, lit up the night. The evening air did a wonderful job of cooling Valinos’ heated skin. The two came to a stop beside the main thoroughfare leading into Guladran.

‘What’s this about, Fen? Did you come alone?’

‘Ithilìr offered to escort me,’ she said, sounding almost displeased. ‘But I ran. I have safely lost my tail.’

Valinos laughed. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. He pops up when you least expect him.’

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘tonight there’s a festival in Guladran’s central district. On the week leading up to Nìthis, we celebrate the founding of Anardes. I thought I’d take you so you can experience life here at Fara’ethar outside of meetings. What do you say?’

‘Is this why you arrived like a pillager?’ Valinos said with a laugh. ‘Of course. Lead the way.’

‘Wonderful!’ she said. Grabbing his hand once more, she led him into Guladran. Valinos wondered whether such hand-seizing would become a regular occurrence.

As Valinos and Fen’asel neared the city’s centre, passing through the maze-like makeup of Guladran, the commotions one would expect of a festive occasion rose up around them. Lights of varied alchemical compositions and colours, hung on tall, block-like buildings all around, decorated the plaza around a massive fountain. The bannered Lion of Anardes dangled proudly off most of the structures. Activity buzzed around this central location. Hundreds of figures, mere silhouettes in the overwhelming lights and fires, observed the proceedings. Even more people who were not part of the action at street level looked on from their windows.

Costumed performers and actors, musicians and merrymakers, and other jesters and artisans, all played their part in the parade before them. There was a demand for other services also. Various stalls offering foods and trinkets set themselves up around the plaza’s perimeter.

But the centrepiece drama was carried out on a mobile platform, a stage-like construction erected by the fountain. A lifetime of living with Asphales’ stories enabled Valinos to recognise what was going on. These performers were acting out key moments of the conflict between Ulmìr and the Elders. As he watched, Valinos was struck by a pang of melancholy. Some of this could be very real once again. This story would burst out of its professional trappings and engulf the world.

‘Hey, is everything okay?’ Fen’asel asked beside him. ‘What do you think?’

‘I’m fine. Thank you for bringing me here, Fen. I needed a distraction.’ He let himself be swayed by the morass of lights and sound. His mind needed not dwell on heavy things tonight.

Fen’asel smiled. ‘Wait here just a moment.’

Valinos watched her skip over to a stall. She moved among all this so freely, as if she belonged. She was pure and light. There was nothing tugging at her, derailing. Like a bird freely soaring on the wind, undeterred and unconcerned by the churning of the world. There was something enviable about her.

She returned holding two small bundles. ‘Here, try this,’ she said, handing him one. Valinos looked at the pastry in his hand and took a cautious bite. Fen’asel was already devouring hers.

‘What do you call this?’ he asked, his face twitching at its pleasantly sour taste.

Fen’asel laughed. ‘It’s called Hawkspie. Guladran’s specialty. Its filling is a mix of berries and citrus. How do you like it?’

Valinos took another bite, attempting to restrain his facial gymnastics. ‘It’s very good.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

Valinos downed the rest of his pie as the performance in front of them unfolded. The music accompanying the struggle rose to a crescendo. Ulmìr was surrounded by the Ten, their weapons drawn, their starlight flaring. The crowd cheered for the heroes and poured disdain on the demon.

‘Will you stay?’ Fen’asel asked suddenly.

‘As long as there’s this Hawkspie stuff, sure,’ Valinos said, his attention still on the action ahead.

She chuckled. ‘No, I mean here at Fara’ethar. The friend you came to the castle with, he has a huge job, doesn’t he?’

Valinos turned to Fen’asel. Her eyes were focused onto his. ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘My friend Asphales has a lot to do from now on. Places to go.’

‘So, what will you do? Will you stay?’

Valinos thought about the possibilities. He could find work in the armoury, continue his trade as a blacksmith. He had never thought about the future in Silnodìr, for it was such an undesirable notion. In the fog of his former life, Valinos had no plans for a future beyond escape. But here, there was opportunity. There was a chance to settle. At the same time, there was the nagging question of his place in the Order’s plans. That was not business he intended to leave unfinished, either.

‘Well,’ he began as he tried to organise his churning thoughts, ‘I promised him that I would help. I won’t go back on that. It may mean I travel with him for a while. But I don’t wish to return to where I came from when everything is done. When I am able to, I will stay here in Fara’ethar.’

‘I’m happy with that,’ Fen’asel said. She leaned in. For an instant, there was nothing else around them. No lights, no sound, no frothing thoughts. No song of victory or roaring crowd. There was only the lightest brush of her lips against his cheek. ‘I’m happy with that, Val,’ Fen’asel said. But when she pulled away, a panicked look crossed her features. She rose without another word and departed, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a kiss and the lingering warmth of her presence.