Page 39 of Favored By the Stars

A nightbird called overhead, its cry eerily similar to laughter.

"Ah," Van said, leaning against a tree whose bark spiraled in impossible geometries. "I was wondering when we'd arrive at this particular crossroads." He unslung his lute, his fingers danced across the lute strings, weaving a melody that seemed to make the forest itself lean closer to listen.

"Tell me, Thorn, in all your years of service to the Sun Court, did you never question why the artifacts were separated? Why the courts themselves split apart?"

"Ancient history," Thorn replied, though I noticed a flicker of uncertainty cross his face. I hoped it had more to do with us not knowing about these damn artifacts until a few…hours ago. Had it really only been that long? Thorn's voice brought me back from the edge of that specific spiral of anxiety as he continued, "The Sundering happened generations ago."

"And yet," Van countered, "we live with its consequences every day." His eyes found mine. "Some more directly than others."

My Mark pulsed painfully, as though responding to his words.

"The artifacts you seek and the ones I speak of are one and the same," Van continued, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if there was some kind of magic at work. After all, he was a bard. Were the notes of his lute casting a spell over us? Making us more susceptible to his ideas? I didn't think so, not after seeing how he was in the court before. "Names change over centuries. Truths become legends, legends become myths, and myths become whispered half-truths in the dark."

"You're saying the Crescent Diadem is the Eclipsed Crown?" I asked, realization clicking before he'd even finished speaking.

Van's smile was all the answer I needed.

"But why lead us to the Twilight Gardens specifically?" Thorn pressed. "Why not directly to the artifact?"

"Because," Van said, his voice softening, "your bonded is not ready to wield it yet."

Anger flashed through me, hot and sudden. "I'm tired of being told what I'm ready for."

He gestured to my Mark, which was now visibly pulsing with alternating silver and gold light. "Do you really question it? Surely, you feel it, don't you? The battle raging inside you? Moon and sun magic were never meant to coexist in one vessel, at least not as their current incarnations. They're tearing you apart from within."

The truth of his words struck me like a physical blow. The conflicting sensations had been growing stronger since the temple. Cold silver fire one moment, burning gold the next, never settling, always fighting for dominance. Considering for most of my life my mark had been something I'd had to hide, something that I'd thought of as a curse, and had been completely inert, along with my magic, this new situation was taking a bit to adjust to.

"The Gardens will help stabilize you," Van continued more gently. "It's a place of balance, where opposites exist in harmony. It will teach your body what it needs to know before you attempt to wield the Diadem."

"And if I don't learn this...balance?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.

"Then the Diadem will destroy you the moment you touch it," Van replied simply. "As it has destroyed others who sought its power without understanding its nature."

Silence fell over our group. In the distance, something howled, not a wolf, but something with a voice that carried both bestial rage and human sorrow.

"Feral fae," Thorn murmured, his head turning toward the sound. "The corruption spreads even here."

"All the more reason to continue," Van urged, his face grim as he slung his lute back across his shoulders. "The Gardens offer safety. If we can get to them."

ChapterFifteen

Senara

The howl came again, closer this time. A chill crept up my spine that had nothing to do with my mark. At this point, we had encountered feral fae more times than I cared to remember. The sight of a once beautiful creature twisted by corruption, its eyes vacant yet somehow filled with hunger, its movements jerky and wrong, made my soul ache with grief for the fae that it had once been.

"How much further?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

"Not far," Van replied, his earlier nonchalance replaced by urgency. "Half an hour at most, if we move quickly."

We picked up our pace, no longer slowing to marvel at the strange wonders of the forest. The luminous fungi and floating soul sparks seemed less enchanting now, more like beacons announcing our presence to whatever hunted in the darkness.

The howl came a third time, joined by another, and then another, a chorus of corrupted voices that seemed to surround us.

"They're hunting in a pack," Thorn said grimly, drawing his sword. The blade caught the bioluminescent light, its edge gleaming with a faint golden glow, sun magic, ready to be unleashed. "Van, lead the way. I'll guard our rear."

For once, the bard didn't offer a quip or riddle in response. He nodded sharply and quickened his stride, leading us deeper into the forest. The path narrowed, forcing us to walk single file between towering trees whose roots twisted above ground like grasping fingers.

My Mark throbbed with increasing intensity, the alternating pulses of heat and cold coming faster now. Each surge sent waves of dizziness through me. I stumbled, catching myself against a tree trunk. Its bark felt strangely warm beneath my palm.

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