Page 15 of Fading Sun

Astrophel’s token hums in my pocket like a dark siren’s call with every step.

Back in my room, I pull it out of my pocket and take my first good look at it. It’s a thick crescent with runes etched on its surface, made of an otherworldly metal that somehow absorbs light and shimmers with power at the same time.

It’s a beautiful, terrifying thing. Holding it now, I can almost hear the faint echo of Astrophel’s voice, laced with promises and threats woven together like the vines of a twisted forest.

It’s so you can come to me at night, I remember what he said to me. Like I do to you.

The thought of seeing him in my dreams again makes my heart race in a way it shouldn’t. Because the more I see him, the deeper he’ll pull me into whatever game he’s playing.

But if I want to learn more about him and what he’s planning, isn’t the best way to do that by seeing him?

I have no idea. All I know is that I can’t let anyone find the token.

I also can’t get rid of it.

Which means I have to hide it.

My nightstand drawer seems too obvious. Same with the desk drawer, or underneath the bathroom sink, or anything else of the sort.

Where’s a place no one would think to look?

I move across the room to my dresser, rifling through my clothes until I find what I hope is the perfect hiding spot—the pocket of my least favorite pair of jeans. They’re worn, faded from years of use, and smushed in the back of a bottom drawer. The token will be safe there. It has to be, given that I can’t think of a better place to hide it.

My breath shallows as I close the drawer with a soft click.

Not having the token on me feels cold, like it’s sad or upset with me for hiding it away.

But that’s silly. It’s a token. It doesn’t have feelings.

It’ll be okay until I figure out what to do with it.

And, more importantly, until I figure out if I want to see Astrophel again—and what I’ll say to him if I do.

Amber

My alarm rings bright and early the next morning, and despite how tired I am, I force myself out of bed and down to the gym.

As Damien promised, I’m not allowed in.

So, unwilling to throw in the towel, I make my way to the roof. Going up there is a better plan than the gym, anyway. Because my magic is still weak after the events of last night, and since drinking the potion, I’ve learned that exposing myself to sunlight is the best way to rejuvenate it.

I stand there for a moment, taking in the beauty of the morning sun splashing golden hues across the rooftop. Then, after a few minutes, I envision the sun’s energy as a brilliant light, turn my face to the sky, and coax my magic to the surface.

It doesn’t work.

It’s like trying to catch smoke. Intangible and elusive. I might as well be reaching into a void.

An hour quickly becomes two, then three, then four. But no matter how hard I try, it seems like my magic—along with the goddess who gifted it to me—has abandoned me.

“Trouble with your training?” a familiar voice asks from behind me.

My heart leaps, and when I turn around, there she is.

Morgan, striding toward me with a knowing look on her face. She’s accompanied by Damien and a guy who looks like he’s in his mid-twenties, who I definitely haven’t seen around here before. With his dark curls and the unmistakably haunted look in his eyes, I’m sure I’d remember if I had.

“Morgan!” I call out, and I rush toward her, throwing my arms around her in a hug I didn’t realize I needed until now.

“Hi.” She steps back to look at me, and her gaze is intense, like she’s trying to read my soul. “I’m sorry it took so long to get back. We hit a few snags along the way.”

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