Page 32 of The Scarlet Star

Ryn suddenly laughed. She wasn’t sure what she was still doing here talking about this. She rubbed her eyes, thinking about her bed. Without another word, she turned and headed back down the path, stealing one last glance up at the white dragon swimming in the heavens. Who would have thought the great judge was a fake? A lie she’d believed until tonight.

Her feet came together, and her arms fell at her sides.

It was madness, this lie. Even if Geovani was a little crazy in her approach, she was less crazy than a fake judge ruling the skies.

“What exactly do you want me to do if I choose to follow the Adriel God?” Ryn called back down the path. “Do you really expect me to try and protect myself with the same god that let my mother die?” She hoped El wasn’t still nearby to hear the cruel question. It wasn’t that she was accusing him.

Though, maybe she was.

Geovani chuckled and stood again, brushing the grass off her green robe. “Protect yourself? No! The opposite, actually.” She folded her arms, mimicking Ryn. “I’ve stayed quiet for nearly forty years. I’m ready to make some noise.”

Ryn stared at the harp.

The hallway was dark—all the torches had been blown out hours ago. The palace was asleep, and Ryn should have been too. Only a whisper of moonlight found its way into the hollow space, glistening off the harp’s curve where it rested on a low, decorative pedestal. It wasn’t a large instrument; half Ryn’s height, just big enough to offer a depth of octaves and small enough that she might be able to carry it.

She’d expected to run into Heva guarding her door when she crept from her room, but Heva had disappeared somewhere. Probably sleeping on a bench outside like the crazy woman who’d raised her.

Ryn scratched her head and glanced both ways. It wasn’t like anyone would know if she borrowed the harp. If she carried it through the dark palace.

This was insanity.

She grabbed the harp and almost dropped it when it weighed more than she expected, then she scurried as fast as she could, deciding this was a terrible midnight heist now that she was doing it.

The temple of the Celestial Divinities was open to the sky and city. Ryn inhaled a silent gasp as she entered, taking in the thin gold markings around the domed glass ceiling, and the seven statues evenly spaced apart. There was no back wall; it was a gaping window to the city, sucking in wind that encompassed Ryn and her stolen harp.

Everything in sight was a remarkable tribute to the gods. But as she studied the mosaics in the walls, the star patterns in the floor, and the gilded painting across the ceiling, she began to see other things. Limbs of shadows reached around the statues. When Ryn concentrated, they all appeared at once, turning sharp and clear. They weren’t exactly figures or bodies, just shadows in various shapes with arms and hollow faces. She had the strangest thought.

“Do these creatures serve the Celestial Divinities?” she asked aloud. “Or are these creatures the gods themselves?”

They weren’t beautiful like the statues and paintings depicted. They were darkness, nothingness. Emptiness. They stared at her, watching her. Some of them perked up in interest, others seemed bored and lazy, lounging around the room.

Ryn spotted shadows in the city beyond too, crawling over rooftops, lurking through the streets, winding around roads. Hunting as if they were hungry.

“They’re false gods. The gods spoken about in legends. Their power comes from illusions they create that are meant to make you feel fear.”

Ryn watched the shadows coil and swerve as the voice of El filled her mind, as if they’d sensed it. Her skin tightened as some dropped to the floor and weaved their way toward her like serpents. Their whispers lifted through the room, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“I’m afraid,” she admitted.

“Be strong and courageous. I’m with you.”

“But there are many of them, and there’s only one of you.” She swallowed. “You really wantmeto go to war against these gods?” Ryn couldn’t believe she was asking.

The shadows drew closer, some forming swirling eyes within their hollow faces. One lifted and grew nearly the full height of the temple. It eyed her harp, and Ryn’s hands shook around the wood, her knuckles turning white.

“I’m not a warrior, and I don’t want to be a Heartstealer. I have no skills and no benefactor. I have nothing,” she rasped.

“You have me.”

Warmth brushed along her shoulders. Ryn loosened her grip on the harp and swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t imagine wielding the power of a god. But with all that had happened at the palace, she might not live through the next few days without it. She brushed her hand along the wound in her side as she watched the shadows move in slow, slithering motions. And as Ryn saw what wasreallyhappening for the first time in her life, she knew that no matter where she was, no matter what she chose to do with herself, she would always stand against these gods. She could never be lured into joining them like her father. She would resist them—like her mother.

Shadows drew forward until the whole floor was coated in darkness, apart from a ring of floorspace around Ryn and herharp. Whispers echoed through the space. They invited her to join them with muffled promises of safety. Hands lifted from the black sea and waved her forward.

Lies. An illusion, like their dragon.

A sea of blackness surrounded her, making her feel like she was on an island.

For the first time, she realized why she hated that story about the boy stuck on an island. The boy with no one to help him make the decision: should he starve to death, or should he leap into the poison? Now, she imagined a god like El reaching down to that boy, extending a hand, and offering to lift him off the island and take him to shore.

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