Page 43 of Favored By the Stars

The water before me swirled, forming a small whirlpool that glowed with increasing intensity. Something was rising from its depths, not the Diadem itself, but a pedestal of twisted crystal that broke the surface with barely a splash.

Atop it sat a single silver chalice.

"Drink," Van said simply.

I reached for the cup, my fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the cool metal. The liquid inside was clear as water but shimmered with flecks of gold and silver that swirled together without mixing.

"Senara," Thorn's voice was tight with concern. "Are you sure about this?"

I met his gaze, sensing the fear he concealed. "No," I admitted, "but I'm doing it anyway." I lifted the chalice and swallowed thickly a goblet of mysterious liquid that seemed made of light. What could possibly go wrong?

ChapterSixteen

Senara

I lifted the chalice to my lips, the liquid within catching the dual light of moon and Everdawn. It swirled hypnotically, neither mixing nor separating, much like the conflicting magics within me.

"Thorn," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "if something goes wrong..."

"Nothing will go wrong," he interrupted, the muscle in his jaw tightening. "And if it does, I'll be right here." The leather of his sword hilt creaked slightly as he squeezed it, trying to keep his emotions under control so they didn't overwhelm me through the soul bond.

His certainty gave me courage though, and with one last deep breath, I tipped the chalice and drank.

The liquid was neither hot nor cold but somehow both, sliding down my throat like liquid starlight. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the world exploded into prismatic color.

I gasped as my knees buckled. The Gardens shifted and blurred, colors bleeding into one another until I could no longer distinguish tree from sky, water from earth. Through the kaleidoscope of sensation, I heard Thorn call my name, but his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

My body felt weightless, suspended between realities. The conflicting magics within me, sun and moon, fire and frost, no longer fought for dominance, but danced together in a pattern as old as time itself.

"The first part begins," Van's voice echoed, though I couldn't see him anymore. "Balance what has been divided."

Before me materialized two orbs of light, one blazing gold, the other shimmering silver. They circled each other like wary predators, never touching, always maintaining distance.

Instinctively, I reached out with both hands, one toward each orb. The gold light warmed my right palm while the silver cooled my left. I could feel them pulling away from each other, straining against my grasp.

"They don't want to merge," I said, though I wasn't sure if I spoke aloud or merely thought the words.

"They have been separate too long," came Van's disembodied reply. "They have forgotten they were once one."

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of both magics flowing through me. Instead of forcing them together, I let them flow into me, through me, becoming a conduit rather than a container.

The magics coursed through me, distinct yet connected by my flesh and blood. I drew them closer, not by force, but by acceptance. The gold and silver lights trembled, resisting at first, then gradually yielding to my will.

"That's it," I whispered. "You're two halves of the same whole."

As the orbs neared each other, their light intensified until I had to squint against the brilliance. When they finally touched, there was no explosion, no dramatic flash, just a soft sigh, like the universe exhaling after holding its breath for eons.

The merged light pulsed once, twice, then floated into my chest, suffusing my body with warmth that was neither burned nor freezing but perfectly balanced. My Mark responded, the intricate whorls, bumps, and circles flaring with newfound harmony.

"The first part is complete," Van's voice announced. "Now comes the second. What was broken must be reforged."

The scene shifted again. I stood before a forge unlike any I'd seen before. Its fires burned with that same dual colored flame, gold and silver intertwined. On an anvil lay shattered pieces of metal that gleamed despite their broken state.

"The Crescent Diadem," I realized. "It's been destroyed."

"Not destroyed," Van corrected. "Unmade. There is a difference."

I approached the anvil, studying the fragments. Each piece called to me, singing with remnants of ancient power. When I touched the first shard, visions flooded my mind, memories not my own but belonging to the artifact itself.

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