Chapter 19: Arcturus

“This one is nice,” Mr. Zelione said as he handed the wooden charm to Cassiopeia. She gently took it in her hands, staring at it with somber eyes. Arcturus peered for a closer look, taking in its intricate, familiar details. He instantly recognized the charm, an exact copy he had been studying the day Saros showed them the box.

Apart from a broken window, the woodcarver’s shop was left practically untouched by the raiders—they had somehow known to go for the cart instead. Warm candles lit up the room, with arrays of figures aligned on its shelves basked in its warm glow. The usual scent of wood shavings and cinnamon filled the air. As much as he wanted to believe it, it almost seemed like nothing had changed at all.

Yet, everything had changed. Instead of Fabian, the cranky yet lovable woodcarver at the front counter, it was Heidyn, his son. A young man in his twenties with the same frisky brown hair and beard as his father. Instead of Fabian’s focused gaze, Heidyn’s was one of sadness, his eyes swollen and broken with the death of his father. He quietly arranged items in the back, observing the sullen group every few minutes.

And instead of the sounds of rustling in the back room, of Fabian’s apprentice dropping crates and tools, of laughter even after his mistakes, there was silence. There was no one to expertly carve a new trinket, to sell charms to young children. There was no apprentice to call Arcturus’s friend. No Saros to visit. There was nothing but his echoing memory and fading aura.

Cassiopeia gently set the ornament back down on its shelf. With heavy eyes, she turned around and headed for the exit, accidentally bumping Arcturus with her shoulder on the way. Mr. Zelione and Arcturus exchanged a quick glance, before Arcturus took a deep breath and followed her out the shop.

As he gently pushed the door open, he looked down to see her huddled on the steps, her back hunched forward as she tightly clutched her knees. She stared off into the streets, her mind clearly elsewhere as bustling villagers wandered by.

Arcturus hesitated before sliding in next to her, and she quickly turned her head away at his sight. Strands of her silky hair hung down her cheek, masking her pale face from his view.

With a deep breath, Arcturus gazed out into the marketplace. The sounds of hundreds of villagers laughing and talking filled his ears. Smells of every sweet lingered in the air, as the darkness of the night was combated by thousands of lanterns and lights. This was the summer solstice festival he remembered, the one he would attend with his family and friends. The one that everyone looked forward to every year.

Even with a large portion of the marketplace destroyed in the raid, most of the villagers didn’t seem to mind. They decorated the scarred parts with banners and light, casting the jarring scene aglow. Even whispers of the supposed element were drowned out by raucous laughter and stolen kisses in empty corners. They would get through this together, rebuild together, and celebrate together. Just as they always have.

“How do you do it?” Cassiopeia suddenly asked, her chin resting on her knees. “How do you manage to stay so strong? You keep working and talking and making an effort. How do you manage to stay unbothered, even after—” She stopped herself, refusing to say it.

“I…well,” he stammered nervously. The truth was, he wasn’t strong. He wasn’t unbothered. Saros’ death shook him to his core, leaving him to spend countless hours drowning in his guilt, in his sorrow. He and Saros had been inseparable friends for so long—how could Cassiopeia possibly expect him to stay strong?

“You want to know the truth?” he said reluctantly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I try not to think about it. I push it away. I want to forget that it ever happened and that everything is normal and—”

He stopped as his eyes began to water, his voice breaking. “But that isn’t how I want to face it. I wish I were strong enough to battle it, but for now, I don’t have that strength. So you’re not alone, Cassiopeia. Neither of us are alone.”

He looked at her fondly as she wiped a hand across her eyes, a slight smirk forming on her lips. “Call me Cass,” she said, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

Arcturus furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “I thought you didn’t like nicknames?”

“People can change, Arcturus.” She rolled her eyes, the familiar sight comforting to him.

“‘Cass’?” he said as he looked down. “That will take some getting used to.” He glanced up again and gave her a smile. “Now, how about we stop moping on these stairs and go enjoy the festival? Just like old times.”

He picked himself up off the staircase, dusting off his clothes. Arcturus extended a hand down to her, the invitation lingering.

Cassiopeia hesitantly looked down, sighing heavily.

“It’s…” He took in a deep breath. “It’s what he would want.”

She looked up into his eyes, reluctantly nodding in agreement. Cassiopeia gently placed her hand into his before he pulled her up with a jolt. The two of them exchanged a small smile, before heading back inside to Mr. Zelione.

Enjoy yourself, Arcturus. It’s what he would want.

Before long, they found themselves strolling the crowded streets, following the stream of excited villagers. The cobblestone path lay at their feet, trailing along the side of the road and leading them to the ends of the marketplace. Usually, pedestrians would stay on the path, leaving the streets for horses and carriages riding by, but the festivals were different. Villagers crowded along the roads, with vendors and carts selling treats and souvenirs right at the sides. Mr. Zelione bought Arcturus and Cass each a scone from one of the bakers, and Arcturus held the half-eaten dessert in his hand.

They passed by the prominent marketplace fountain, circling around it as they followed the path. Two little girls lingered at the edge, their matching auburn hair twisted in elaborate braids. With their similar skin tone and identical eyes, Arcturus suspected they were sisters, maybe even twins. The girls peered into the water, dipping their hands in its cool ripples.

Arcturus had spent the daytime with his family, as they finally had a holiday off from work for the first time in months. They had watched the morning village parade together, Taryn and Hesperos carrying Arcturus on their backs so he could see. Arcturus laughed quietly to himself at the thought. They hadn’t done that since he was a child, but it was a nice benefit to being significantly smaller than them.

After night had fallen, Arcturus had met with Cass, like he usually did every year. And even though it was so much different this time, he wanted to make the best of it. He had promised Mr. Zelione that he would take him to the festival, that he would have a good time, and he wasn’t about to break his word.

“Feast your eyes on the mystical abilities of the Great Giro! Prepare to be amazed! Fascinated! Bewildered at his marvels!” a cheerful voice called out through the crowd.

Arcturus turned his head, his eye catching an eager mass of people gathered around an empty stage. Red drapes hung at the sides, held back by tightly coiled ropes. Small children lined up against the front, practically hugging the stage.

“What’s going on over there?” Cass asked over his shoulder.

“Let’s find out,” Arcturus said as he headed towards the stage.

He led them through the streams of walking villagers, politely maneuvering through them as they reached the back of the crowd.

“Stars,” he groaned, bouncing on his toes. “Why does everyone have to be so tall?”

He walked along the side of the crowd, ushering Cass and Mr. Zelione along, before finally finding a spot where he could see. Just as he approached his position, a horn began to blow, and a puff of smoke erupted on the stage.

A strange man in a large hat suddenly stood in the middle of the platform, stretching his arms out proudly. He wore a loosely fitted shirt with a ruffle down his torso, and baggy, brown pants with rounded leather boots. A dark mustache curled above his lips, and a tall, black hat sat atop his head. The crowd clapped with great excitement, clearly amazed by his entrance.

“Welcome to my humble performance! Tonight you will witness spectacular feats of magic, never seen before! Watch as I, the Great Giro, astonish you with my bewildering talents.”

“A magic show?” Cass whispered, nudging Arcturus. “You know, it’s all just petty tricks and illusions. Nothing impressive or worth our time.”

“Oh, come now, Cass. Let’s give him a chance.”

She rolled her eyes as she turned to the stage, an impatient look on her face.

The Great Giro reached for his hat, swiping it off his head in a swift motion. “For my first trick, peer into this hat. Nothing seems to be inside!” He lowered the hat to the children at the front of the stage, who gathered around eagerly for a glance. The Great Giro turned it upside down, and shook it violently. The hat was undoubtedly empty.

“Now, watch as I pull hundreds of ribbons out from this very hat!” He reached his hand in, dropped the hat to the ground, and his hand was suddenly gripping a string of tied, colorful ribbons. He pulled on at the chain, tugging and tugging endlessly at the trains of brightly colored cloths, yet the ribbons wouldn’t cease to emerge from the hat. The crowd watched with fascination, the chatter of children in the background, before The Great Giro finally reached the end of his ribbons, a large pile sitting near his feet.

“Anyone could have done that,” Cass scoffed, still not impressed. Mr. Zelione chuckled at that remark.

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The magician bent down and wrapped the ribbons around his hand, gathering it into a thick coil. He reached into a pocket in his coat, quickly pulling out a large white cloth. Giro fluttered the cloth in the air, laying it gracefully onto the pile of ribbons at the floor.

“Perhaps you weren’t satisfied with the first trick,” he said with a smirk, slyly glancing at Cass. She folded her arms with a scowl, Arcturus stifling a laugh. Giro continued, “But prepare to be astounded by this next one!”

With his fingers gripped tightly on the cloth, he swiftly whisked it away, pulling it back in a circular motion. From the floor of the stage, dozens of birds flew into the air, playfully dancing around each other, their vibrant colors blending together like paint smeared on a canvas.

The flock flew up into the clouds, the crowd watching them in amazement. Arcturus glanced back at the stage from where they erupted, and saw nothing in their place—the ribbons had disappeared without a trace.

The Great Giro took a bow as the audience erupted into a wave of clapping. Arcturus smiled and cheered along with them, before something pulled his attention away. His gaze slipped to the barren street behind them, only dimly illuminated with a few lanterns, with a giant piece of stone in the center of it.

How did I not notice that earlier? Maybe the crowd had blocked it out?

Arcturus quickly glanced at Cass and Mr. Zelione, both of them captivated by the magician’s show. He subtly stepped away, inexplicably drawn to the mysterious rock. He circled around the large crowd with ease, and stepped onto the cobblestone path, following it along to the stone. It felt much more peaceful trailing along the path when there wasn’t a wave of pedestrians with him.

The stone was sleek and polished, glinting in the light of the lanterns, and rose to just below his head, spanning wide across his body. It was carved in an odd shape, not rectangular nor spherical, but some abstract mix of the two. Infinite grey and white particles melded together in a burnished figure, the specks of individual colors popping out at his eyes. Yet what was most intriguing to him was the writing carved in it, clear and refined, evidently done with great care.

Names, he realized. Thirty-six of them. These must be the names of those killed in the raid.

His hand brushed against the engraved stone, tracing through the crevices. He wondered how the artist was able to craft such a detailed creation in so little time.

Notley Abalwen, Fabian Alden, Brys Allver, Roystan Borne…Tyerra Faden

He stopped at the last one, already knowing what came next.

Saros Falrem.

Arcturus lifted his hand away, folding his arms over his stomach as he stared at the writing. A simple plaque could never be enough. Saros deserved more than this. Saros deserved more than the stars could offer.

But more importantly, Saros deserved justice.

“Arcturus?” Cass said behind him, startling him out of his thoughts. “What are you doing here? You left me and Zelione alone with that fool. You can’t just go wandering away like that.”

Arcturus sighed, quickly glancing at his friend. “Oh, right…I’m sorry. I just…” He tripped on his words, turning back to stare at the stone. “I got curious is all.”

Cass stepped forward, intrigued by the engraved writing. Her eyes read it slowly, taking a sharp breath when she reached one particular name, immediately realizing what the script was. The meaning it carried.

“There are so many of them,” she whispered. “I…I never realized… All those people, their families…”

Arcturus nodded sadly. He glanced at her with a sympathetic smile. “See, I told you. We’re not alone.”

Cass sadly smiled back, before her face turned into worry as she went back to the list. “Oh…oh no.” Her hand brushed against the stone script, her eyes on the verge of tears. “Ralin Drydan, Salene Drydan, and both of their children Deven and Ari Drydan.”

“No,” Arcturus gasped. They were just young children, with so much life, so much potential. How could that have been stolen from them like this?

“Vanira Caen,” she continued. “Yanthus Enan. The man who owned the shoe store just along the road. I remember he used to offer us coins to throw in the fountain when we were younger.”

“I remember that too. Wasn’t his son a Aquae Court Council attendant? Mr. Enan used to brag all about him. Said he was bound to become a councilman one day.”

“Well, it seems that will never happen,” she said quietly. “His name’s here too.”

Arcturus stepped forward to see, reading through each name again. “Look, another family. The Capanos.”

“They were the blacksmiths weren’t they?”

“Yes…” Arcturus started, a thought suddenly forming in his mind. “But they were also one of the key swordsmiths for the Terris Court. Their family was one of the suppliers for the Terris Court Guard.”

Cass’s eyes narrowed as she pondered at that thought. “Hmm…You’re right.” She circled around the stone, reading over the same script again.

“Ralin and Salene Drydan,” she repeated. “They were scrollkeepers for the Terris Court. And Thika, Ralin’s sister, was a scholar for the Aquae Court.” She frantically skimmed through the names, before stopping with a horrified look. “And there she is. Thika Drydan”

Arcturus started to pace, his eyes hardening. “Fabian. He and his father were guardians for the Terris Court. Remember? That’s how he had the box.”

“You’re right. He used to brag about that all the time. How could we have forgotten?”

Arcturus pushed back his hair from his eyes, sweat beginning form on his face. “Cass, what if…what if this wasn’t just some market raid? What if this was a planned attack?”

Cass locked eyes with him, a skeptical look on her face. “You think they made it look like a massive raid, just so they could target members of the Courts?” She turned to the stone again, peering over it with contemplation. “That doesn’t make sense. What about everyone who wasn’t involved in the Courts? Ari and Deven Drydan? Brys Allvar? Saros?”

Arcturus pondered at the question. “Well, Saros wasn’t even targeted to begin with,” Arcturus said, replaying the painful memories in his head. He brushed away all emotion, trying to weave together the thin strands of thought in his head. “Fabian was the one the raider wanted. Saros was…Saros was in the way.” He let out a sigh. “And Ari and Deven, they were probably killed alongside their parents.”

“So you’re saying that Court members were attacked, along with anyone else in the way? There’s still so many people…how can we be sure?”

“Think, Cass. Who else do we know that’s involved in the Courts? Camus Arduino, right there. Georgios Gambale, here. Alada Fen.” He scanned over the names, frantically searching. “Oh, she’s not there.”

“See, it was a good theory, but—”

“Wait,” Arcturus cut in. “Alada Fen doesn’t fit in to begin with. She’s a messenger of the Ash Court. Everyone else was from the Terris and Aquae Courts.”

“No, no, no. This can’t be political!”

“But it makes so much sense!” Arcturus said desperately, even as the idea twisted his stomach. “Cass, this could mean something entirely different. What if the attackers weren’t some petty raiders or bandits? We know they were organized by someone powerful, someone rich, but we never took into consideration that they were employed by one of the Courts!”

Cass’s eyes were full of shock, still contemplating as Arcturus spoke. “Which Court do you suspect is behind this then?”

Arcturus examined the names again, before one in particular caught his eye. “The Ash Court,” he said confidently. “Look, Serlah Rhokka, a Council attendant for the Zephyr Court. Her name is right there, and I guarantee you there are more from Zephyr in here. We already said Alada Fen’s name isn’t here, the only Ash Court member we know.” He took to look at Cass, facing her with a grave stare. “It’s the Ash Court, Cass. It has to be. They’re the only ones who didn’t lose a member. Everyone knows about the tensions between them and the Terris Court! And look how many members they lost!”

“But do you think they would go so far to actually kill villagers? Just for political power?”

Arcturus gripped Cass’ shoulders, his distress heightened. “It has to be them. And you know it. All the evidence points to their involvement in this.”

Cass looked into his eyes, still refusing to believe. Arcturus opened his mouth to speak again, but paused at something over her shoulder: two men shuffling into a dark alley, glancing around suspiciously. One of them had a mop of blond hair, the other’s was an intimidating black. Well-crafted swords hung at their hips, and Arcturus instantly recognized their red uniforms, their sashes and emblems undeniable.

Ash Court guards.

Cass noticed his distracted stare, and started to turn her head to look.

“Wait,” Arcturus said sternly, tightening his grip on her before she could take a glance. Once the men were out of sight, Arcturus started towards the alley, dragging Cass along with him.

“Where are we going?” she whispered as they crept beside the wall. Arcturus scooted closer to the edge, attentively listening for any sign of the men. Cass stood behind him nervously, silently flinching as the sound of a large crash came from the corner. Arcturus peeked over the edge, barely able to see, as he gazed over at the guards.

“I swore my allegiance to the Ash Court Guard. Not whatever terrorist band this Ember Legion is!” the blond one said aggressively, his fists clenched. His square-shaped eyeglasses seemed to slide off his nose as he backed away.

His partner shot him an angry glare with bared teeth. “In only a few short weeks, there will be no difference between the two. The Ember Legion will make sure of that. We will emerge victorious, and your precious Guard will be irrelevant. I’m offering you a chance to join the victors when that happens. You don’t want to end up on the losing side, do you?”

The blond one stepped back, shaking his head vehemently. “It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about killing innocent people. The attack had gone too far.”

“That attack?” the black haired one spat. “That attack was just the beginning! Just a taste of the power of our weapon. And those people? They were not innocent—they were the enemy! There is a war brewing, my friend, and there’s nothing that can stop it. Trust me when I say it is best if you ensure your position now before it becomes too late.”

The blond one opened his mouth, hesitating.

His companion sighed in disappointment, shaking his head. “My friend, you have been blessed by the stars to be born in the Ash Court. We are superior to the rest of those low Courts—why do you not recognize your place? As the conquerors, you belong among our ranks.” He stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But if you will not accept, you know I have my orders.”

The man reached for the sword at his side, the blade sliding out smoothly without a sound. He slowly brought it up to the man’s neck, hovering a few inches away from his exposed skin.

“I accept, Piere!” he said desperately. “I accept, all right? I will join your damn Ember Legion.”

Piere dropped his sword, sliding back into its sheath. “I knew you would make the right decision,” he said with a wicked smile. He laid an arm on his chest, right over his heart.

“For ashes and honor.”

The blond guard shakily followed his stance. “For ashes and…yes.”