Page 46 of Synodic

“Growing tired and weary of the never-ending darkness, where nothing thrived, grew, or even remembered, the Elder Spirits set out to create a repeating pattern of life, for even they had no corporeal form or home to call their own.

“Together, the six Elder Spirits sang a song of life, energy, and balance, of storms, rains, and starseeds; of an interconnectivity in all things no matter how great or small. And above all else, they sang of light.

“From their shared voices, a pure first-light rose in the darkness, casting a glow so mesmerizing the Elder Spirits themselves could barely gaze upon it. Taking great pride, they named their united power the Alcreon Light.

“But a beautiful light does not only shine on that which is pleasing, and the Alcreon Light exposed a great evil—a seventh Elder Spirit growing in the darkness, creating creatures born of ink, and claw, and destruction. Sensing such power, these creatures sought to claim and feed off the Light, slowly eating away at the precious glow that kept the primordial darkness at bay.

“The Elder Spirits, in an attempt to protect the Light’s power from the seventh Dark Spirit and his army of demons, coaxed the Alcreon Light into a shard of crystal, thus forging the Alcreon Stone into existence. Now contained within a faceted surface, the Light projected and broadened its reach throughout the heavens, giving birth to the stars, planets, and moons, filled with wildlife, growth, and beauty, the very light of life itself.

“The stone’s power secured a sacred balance throughout the cosmos,” Nepta said, motioning to the shattered rock, which looked nothing like the stone she described, but more of what I had seen for a split second behind my eyes.

“A people who understood the significance of such a light offered their forces to the Alcreon Stone, guardians who wished to neither own nor possess, but to protect. My ancestors from times long forgotten, to our current tragic plight, have been watching over the stone ever since.

“We are a hidden village, the Alcreon Stone a mere legend. Though that hasn’t stopped all manner of creatures from searching for such power. For centuries, our warriors have kept the stone safe from treasure seekers, demons, and other forces of darkness. Until two hundred moons ago, the Dark Spirit took to physical form and entered our territory.

“Erovos, as we came to call him, marched through our borders with an army of demons the likes of which the Wyn had never seen. Many fought bravely that day at the Battle of the Breaking, sacrificing their lives to defend the stone, but to no avail. Erovos made it through our lines, ravaged our village, scarred our war captain, and was seconds away from possessing the Light. I knew if his hands ever touched the stone, the Light would be forever lost. In a moment of despair, I raised my staff and shattered the stone, hoping the Light would seek a benevolent place of refuge. The Alcreon Light sailed through the sky, taking my sight with it, and was never seen again.

“Without the Alcreon Stone, the balance shifts to darkness as Erovos creeps over the world, poisoning people’s hearts, minds, and the very land they walk upon,” Nepta almost choked, the agony plain as day on her withered face.

Then it hit me all at once. “The dead forest,” I said to Rowen, and we shared a look.

He nodded solemnly. “And it is spreading.”

“Where are the other six Spirits? Can’t they help?” I asked, my heart breaking for all the loss and destruction.

Nepta shook her head. “No one knows their true form, but it is said the Elder Spirits walk the land, taking the shape of water, beasts, or trees. Beings of once-great power have passed on such worries and are merely a watching presence. However, they continue to guide us with messages from heavens. Driskell, our very own star reader scried the Synodic Prophecy.”

Driskell shifted slightly in his seat. “It was a failed prophecy, one I can never reclaim and must live with for the rest of my life. The reading was so clear and crisp. I have no understanding of why it failed.”

“Regardless, word of the Synodic Prophecy spread,” Takoda said.

“What was the prophecy?” I wondered out loud.

“The lost light of Luneth shall return to its synodic beginning when the first six stars align with the stones of shattered ruin. Through blood, bone, and crystal, the marked son will breathe life anew unto the deadened lands of darkness,” Nepta answered with a look that bordered on desperation and hope.

The Marked. I’d heard Rowen say those words before. Could he be the son the prophecy spoke of? But what reason would he have for hiding it?

“This is a test from the Spirits to try our faith,” Driskell insisted with vigor. “The alignment occurred nearly twenty years ago, but my star readings are never wrong.”

“Perhaps just misinterpreted,” Rowen offered unsolicited.

“Impossible,” Driskell nearly choked before regaining his composure. “My readings have never failed. He is out there—this son who carries the Light. I have not given up on him or the Spirits. Have you all?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Driskell,” Nepta scolded. “Many still believe and seek the truth, as do we all. But with still no sign of the Alcreon Light, knowing what is to become of our fate, we must find a way to live in the precarious balance of a failing world.

“Not a whisper from Erovos since the Battle of the Breaking. That is until his creatures began to resurface on our borders. Not a stirring on our doorstep—until you arrived. It is indeed odd timing that Rowen discovered you when he did, wandering in woods full of demons, barely there, not knowing what you are. Has any of what we’ve said sparked remembrance?”

Rowen’s hand was still on my thigh, it had never left, and I clasped my fingers over his. “I truly have no idea why I’m here, but I want to help. However I can,” I said with more conviction than I’d felt for anything in my life.

“She knows too much. With what we know of her, we may as well kill her now to be safe,” Alvar said without a shred of remorse, and Rowen’s seething form shot up from the table. His chair knocked back behind him with a crash, and the Sacred Vale erupted into all-out verbal warfare.

“You would be so careless with a life, Alvar? After all the death you have seen?” Nepta asked forcefully, reining in the conversation that had quickly snowballed out of control. Rowen righted his chair and sat back down beside me, his breath furious. The Summit members quieted and straightened in their seats, pinpointing their focus on Nepta’s small frame, which exuded the authority of a titan.

“Come now, let us also not forget who the true enemy is, or the fact that we may have more than one,” Driskell said, eyeing Rowen. “The false queen, Aliphoura, is amassing quite the following. After her land was fully destroyed, she and her people vanished without a trace. More and more go missing every day, whole tribes and villages never to be seen again. We’ve sent many to discover her whereabouts, but none have succeeded.” The star reader never took his eyes off Rowen as he spoke, and I glanced between the two, not understanding their shared look.

“You know I’ve searched Driskell, every night.” Rowen’s clipped voice rang with dark regret.

“We must assume Erovos is aware of the weakened mare’s presence by now,” Alvar said, keeping with the lovely nickname he’d adopted for me.

---