I wander near the cliff. The wind whips my hair. Rogue, in my arms, nips at it. The tide’s going out, which means I can visit the Sea Fortress and maybe see my brother. I’m anxious for news of how he’s doing. Balmora hasn’t sent me any messages since our last meeting. I keep telling myself that she’s under a lot of stress, taking care of Gabriel. He was in an awful state the last time I saw him. I wish I could help her.
I set Rogue down, and we wander back toward the rows of roses and shrubbery. “Do you want to get some breakfast?” I ask him. He wags his tail, puts his two front paws on my shin, and begins whining. “Oh, you want me to pick you up again, do you?” I reach down and scoop him up.
As I straighten, Reykin rounds the hedgerow near me. I grin. “Good morning! To what do we owe the honor of your presence?” I ask, trying to sound surprised. I’m not. Ever since Reykin gave me Rogue, he’s been with me just about every waking minute. I’m not sure if it’s by his own volition, or if he’s been ordered to stay with me, but he sticketh closer than a brother to me now. Closer than mine ever did anyway.
The corners of his lips twitch, as if he wants to smile back but won’t allow himself to. “How’s our boy?” he asks, approaching. Rogue spots Reykin, and his tail starts wagging wildly. He barks happily and wiggles to get free of my arms.
“He’s a handful,” I reply, “and by the look of how happy he is to see you, I’d say he has horrible taste in friends.” I set Rogue down, and he bounds toward Reykin.
“She’s so mean, isn’t she, boy? Heartless.” The firstborn Star lifts Rogue and allows the little monster to lick his clean-shaven face.
We eventually sit and lay back on the grass, letting Rogue crawl all over us. I giggle when he steps on my cheek. Turning so his paw doesn’t trample my eye, I find Reykin staring at me. He’s riveted. He leans forward, his lips near mine. My breath catches. Reykin takes my hand, and his thumb rubs over my crown-shaped birthmark.
I glance at it, and suddenly cold fear trickles through me. I sit up. The puppy bounces off my lap onto Reykin. I scrub the back of my hand with my fingers, trying to rub away my moniker’s golden light. Maybe it’s the sunlight, I tell myself. I hold my hand at different angles, but its color doesn’t change. I choke, scrubbing harder, raking my hand along the grass. I lift it again. A gold sword. I search Reykin’s face. He stares back at me, his expression unreadable.
“What have you done?” I snarl accusingly at Reykin. The betrayal I feel is horrific. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny anything, he just stares back at me. “What have you done?” I scream. Reykin doesn’t even flinch. “You killed him! You killed my brother!”
He sets Rogue aside and hauls me toward him. I’m sobbing and resist him, but he’s incredibly strong. “You killed him!” I sob against his chest. “You killed him!” I repeat it over and over in harsh hacking breaths. Hot tears wet my cheeks. Reykin holds my head firmly against his chest with one hand. His heart thumps wild and loud in my ear.
A shadow falls across us. Through tear-blinded eyes, I realize someone is standing next to me. A girl, breathing hard. Her face is red, and she’s crying. “Quincy!” I exhale her name.
“You have to come now! She’s asking for you!” Distress puckers Quincy’s brow as she reaches for my hand, tugging me in desperation. “Please! She’s going to jump! You have to come!” Her long blond braid whips the air wildly. Nightmarish fear is etched into every line of her face.
“Who are you?” Reykin demands from the girl. He won’t let go of me.
Quincy sinks to her knees. “He was only supposed to take a little. The Atom told her to give him only a few grams a day, but he found the medicine. He took it all!” She chokes on a sob. “He got so sick, and he turned blue, and we couldn’t get him to breathe. He wouldn’t breathe!” Agony and sorrow shine in her red-rimmed eyes. “She needs you! You have to come!”
I put my hand against Reykin’s chest and push with all my might. Blindly, I stumble to my feet. Quincy takes my hand, and we run in the direction of the Sea Fortress. Soft yipping barks follow behind me. I turn back to get Rogue, but Reykin has already collected him and is only a few paces behind. I sprint ahead.
The sandbar is still covered by water, but the tide is going out. I wade into the waist-deep surf. I’m soaked by the time I reach the stone walls of the Sea Fortress. The sentry guards posted outside appear not to know what’s transpiring within. I allow them to scan my moniker, and then I’m past them, racing across the high-walled courtyard.
The guards won’t let Reykin through, and he shouts for me to wait, but I keep going. Once inside, I accost the first person I can find—an elderly Sun-Fated secondborn carrying a multi-tiered tray full of intricate cakes and pastries. I latch on to her arm, nearly spilling the tray. “How do I get to the top of the tower?” I demand.
Her eyes widen, and the lines around them stretch. She starts to answer me, but Quincy’s small hand on my arm pulls me forward. She navigates hallways—a labyrinth of stone walls—with me in tow. A winding staircase with carved wooden railings spirals up the middle of the tower, its hundreds of flagstone steps covered by aqua-colored carpet. I move toward the staircase, but Quincy yells, “No, wait!”
Near the staircase are several small hover vehicles, some of them rusted around the edges. Most look as if they are whimsical novelties made for children, resembling miniature ancient sea vessels, but a couple are larger—big enough to carry adults. Quincy goes to a two-seater parked by the wall, near a balustrade carved in the shape of a cresting wave. She climbs onto it and activates the controls. The vehicle’s dragon-shaped masthead comes to life, its eyes glowing yellow, and the vehicle lifts off the floor.
I climb onto the glittering golden seat beside her, and she launches the vehicle forward, driving it up the steep stairs. We follow the staircase in a dizzying, ever-climbing corkscrew. Passing stained-glass windows and floors with scores of doors at breakneck speeds, Quincy urges the vehicle on ever faster, slowing only when we arrive at the top floor’s landing. I look down over the railing at the ground floor far below. A commotion is forming. People are gathering there. Reykin is one of them. He probably bullied his way in here, using his connection to Grisholm or The Virtue as a threat.
I rush to the open door at the end of the hallway. Sunlight shines in through the stone terrace overlooking the sea. White curtains flap. The breeze is warm. I’m sweating from the run and wet with salt water, but I shiver anyway, as if chilled to my marrow. Gulls squawk and cry outside. Balmora stands barefoot on the wide, lichen-dappled wall facing the cloudless blue sky. Her beautiful hair is long and loose, flowing past her shoulders and over her white nightgown.
In the bed at the other end of the room, my brother’s body lays against the white damask pillows. My scalp tingles as my hairs rise in horror. Someone has taken off Gabriel’s leaded glove. Apart from his moniker’s golden light, it’s obvious that he’s dead. His ashen skin sags lifelessly over his hollow cheeks.
I ache—a stabbing pain in my chest. Bile rises in my throat and my knees weaken. Hope is a vicious thing. I allowed myself to feel it, and now it’s bent on destroying me. My ears ring as blood pounds through them. Beside me, Quincy pants hard, her chest heaving. Wringing her hands, she implores me with her eyes to do something.
I trudge heavily toward the stone terrace, weighed down by fear, my steps echoing on the flagstone floor. “Balmora,” I say gently.
Wind lifts her hair. “Nothing ever changes here,” Balmora says flatly, without looking at me, from her position on the wall overlooking the sea. “Clouds roll in and roll out. Waves crash in and slide out . . . on and on, day after day, year after year, and I’m always here. Alone. That never changes either. I hate this place.”
“Please come down,” I beg.
“He said it has to be this way.”