Page 35 of Fading Sun

I’m inside a small room, the walls a solid gray stone that chills the air, despite the early morning sunlight spilling through the arched windows.

Damien sits on a radiator unit along the wall, next to a small sign that says, Please no sitting.

“Amber,” he says simply. “You’re awake.”

I don’t need to ask him what happened. I already know. It’s six in the morning, which means the fae realm transformed back into our realm while I was sleeping, dropping us off in Belvedere Castle.

“We need to get back.” He stands up, ready to leave. “I have to attend to the preparations for the ceremony tonight.”

The ceremony.

Our wedding.

Tonight.

How is this happening?

Oh, right. Because I accepted his marriage proposal. Because I’m going to become his wife.

I nod numbly and follow him out of the castle, walking beside him through the park and back to the Fairmont. He tells me a bit about what to expect tonight, although my mind’s only half there, still trying to process the fact that I agreed to go through with this.

I’m so spaced out that I can barely recall a single sentence he said.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t kiss me goodnight. Or—more accurately—good morning. He just drops me off at the elevators, says he has something to attend to, and leaves me there in a confused, overwhelmed mess.

The moment I’m back in my room, I hurry to my dresser, pull out the jeans from the bottom drawer, and feel around for the token.

It’s there. Of course it’s there. No one was coming into my room in the dead of night to search through my belongings.

Still, it’s good to see that it was safe in its hiding place.

And, as I hold it, it pulses with a life of its own. A darkness—one that calls to me, like Astrophel’s soul each night I saw him in my dreams.

I have to see him.

I have to tell him that I’m marrying Damien.

I don’t know why. I owe him nothing. But I can’t help feeling like it’ll be betrayal if I don’t.

And it won’t be betrayal when I look him in the eyes before killing him with the Solar Scepter? I think, although I stash that into the “to think about later” part of my mind.

I also have no idea how the token works.

But, given that it allows me to see Astrophel in his dreams—assuming he was telling me the truth about that—laying down and closing my eyes seems like an obvious way to start.

So, I do just that, clutching the token and focusing on its pulse, syncing my heartbeat to its rhythm. It’s like tuning into a distant radio frequency, searching for the right signal, and finally finding it.

The comfort of my bed fades into an icy chill, and I’m standing in a vast, dark space. The air’s tinged with the scent of mist and shadows, the sky swirling with stormy clouds.

I’m still orienting myself when Astrophel appears. He stands amidst a nebula of stars, his eyes reflecting the cosmos, a stark contrast to the void left by Damien’s cold indifference.

My heart quickens at the sight of him.

“Amber,” he says. “I was hoping I’d see you soon.”

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

“Simple,” he says, and as he approaches, there’s an undeniable pull between us, a magnetic force that draws me closer. “I felt your touch upon the token—your call across the stars.”

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