Page 104 of Hunted in the Shadows
It was with a dizzying kind of certainty that I knew what lay ahead in that darkness. Charged gemstones—more than one.
“How did you do that?” I asked, folding my wings to walk beside Marcellus. My hushed voice caught oddly in the hallway. “You didn’t speak a word. That takes decades of practice.” His amused stare made me suddenly flush, questioning Elysian training yet again. I finished in a smaller voice. “I mean, doesn’t it?”
Marcellus held out his left hand to me. His tanned fingers were dripping with rings, and for the first time, I noted thegems in each—emeralds, rubies, topaz. I let my fingers graze the gilded bands reverently. Only then did I notice faint, silvery scars webbing over his palms and the backs of each finger. When my touch strayed to one of the metallic scars, Marcellus pulled away sharply, setting us back at a brisk pace.
“Each of those—they’recharged,” I breathed, looking up at him sharply as I matched his stride.
I frowned, realizing the stone around my own neck may have clouded my ability to sense their individual auras. The entire village felt like a fog of powerful, pulsating magic.
Marcellus’ eyes fixed ahead, and he let his hand drop to his side. “I didn’t always live in Veloria,” he said. “I once belonged to a village many weeks’ flight from here. A troubled place—plagued by corruption and predators alike. Warriors were drafted to protect our fragile peace. I didn’t have a choice.
“I was only twenty-five summers when I was forced to defend our home from a rabid wolf. It was sick, but that made it all the more difficult to subdue. In the end, I was separated from my attachment in a cavern for days, without food, my wing torn in half. I thought I would join so many of my peers’ fate.” He paused, giving me a sidelong look. “It was in my darkest moment that I found my first gemstone. My salvation. Deep in the recesses of my prison, there were half a dozen of them, calling out to me. When I answered, everything…clicked.Power not only to heal my wings down to their very fibers, but to reinforce them against the elements. Spells flowered at the very thought of my intention—no guiding incantation required.”
I shuddered at the very concept, aware of the cool, earthy air biting my exposed skin as we walked side by side. “So, not decades,” I said, injecting tentative levity into my voice.
“I spent nearly a dozen years more honing the practice,” Marcellus corrected, adjusting a sapphire ring on his left hand. “Power demands discipline and sacrifice.”
“I’d say you earned your warrior rune many times over.” I shook my head slightly, frowning. “It’s funny, I grew up hearing a story like that from my father. The usual old gem scavenger myths—I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share. Father loved those larger than life figures like Karolyn the Gilded, Cael Firesong, Edin the Valiant…”
Marcellus’ gait faltered, his eyes cutting over to me. There was a sparkle of humor there I didn’t understand.
“What?” I demanded.
Marcellus coughed, suppressing an undignified laugh. “It’s quite a title, isn’t it?The Valiant?Sounds so pompous. I never cared for it.”
I snorted. “Why would the title of a centuries-old warrior bother you?”
But even as I said it, a strange thought scratched at the back of my mind. My smile fell. Those old stories about gem scavengers turned warriors living for centuries…
Was it possible one was still alive today?
The golden orb of light moved forward, pulling my attention with it. I followed. The hallway yawned open into a chamber so vast that the light couldn’t touch the walls. The orb split and scattered, illuminating the rest of the room. My breath caught as I scanned my surroundings, nearly too overwhelmed to process what I was seeing.
The chamber reminded me of the blood ritual caverns and the old church combined into one. The stone walls glittered with geodes embedded deep within. Symbols and carvings were too numerous for me to note all at once.
“Welcome to the Starforged Sanctum,” Marcellus said, coming to a stop beside me. I felt his eyes on me, watching my reaction.
I forced my gaze to slow, tracing what I could understand. The twelve sacred constellations were the main fixtures on the walls, clusters of geodes tracing the patterns—and each constellation hada gemstone that represented its major star. These were not slivers or even palm-sized chunks—but twelve full, pulsing gemstones that each glowed a different color. Each would have been large enough to cradle in both hands.
My first steps into the Sanctum were tentative, but I soon found myself hurrying to the wall, taking wing to look closer. The gemstones burned brighter as I passed each one, as though they were welcoming me. Upon further inspection, I noted the tiny chunks carved out of them. I was certain I could match the indents to the stones on Marcellus’ rings and the gift hanging around my neck.
The air felt different here, too. Whispers of a breeze made the hem of my dress flutter. “This place isn’t as contained as the rest of the cavern,” I said, squinting up.
“You’re perceptive,” Marcellus said with unguarded admiration. He waved his hand in an arc, summoning another wordless spell with a flex of his fingers.
The tightly woven vines overhead pulled apart to reveal the clear night sky. I braced my hand against the stone wall, mouth agape as I glimpsed many of the same constellations that were honored in the Sanctum.
I didn’t realize I was sinking out of the air until Marcellus was at my side. He guided me down until my feet touched the ground.
“It must be overwhelming,” he said kindly, leading me to one of the many benches that circled throughout the Sanctum.
“An understatement if there ever was one,” I said with a weak laugh.
As I sat, I tore my eyes away from the constellations and gemstones to scan the other carvings on the wall. Some images were so faded, I could barely make them out. But I could see figures with wings and others with fins. A mixture of them were clustered together, surrounded by constellations.
Marcellus followed my gaze. “Prophecies spoken by the stars,” he said in a soft, reverent voice.
I shook my head. “Prophets haven’t spoken for the stars in…” I trailed off and turned to face him fully. The longer I looked, the more I allowed my previously impossible thought to surface. Marcellus didn’t look all that different from the rare illustration I found of Edin the Valiant in Elysia’s archives. Breath catching, I swept my gaze around the constellation stories carved around us. Etched faintly in the dark stone was a solemn profile, a male stern and timeless—the resemblance was vague but unmistakable
