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Spirits, he was so wrong.

“One day, you’ll see that you have” was all I said, because he’d given me more conversation than he had in weeks, and I was afraid of forcing him away again so soon.

Cypherion cleared his throat. “The memories I have from those early years in Palerman, that security from when my friends took me in, really helps with”—he paused; I peeked over my shoulder, and he waved a hand around the jungle—“all of this we’re facing.”

My heart tugged, and elation swirled through me, knowing he’d retained that sort of love and acceptance in his life. But it combined with sadness that I hadn’t. And a bit of fear that we were heading right back into all of those memories, rocking the unsteady foundation of myself.

“That’s beautiful,” I said quietly. “You’re lucky to have them.”

I wasn’t sure what part of my comment did it, but Cypherion’s shields snapped back up so quickly, I practically heard the metal doors of his mind slam.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “We’ll eat, and I’ll head out soon, but you can remain hidden if you’d like.”

Hidden? I may be afraid, but I would not cower.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, lifting my chin though my form fought to crumble.

Cypherion opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut again. Swallowed. “Right. You’ll take care of yourself. I’ll just…do what I have to.”

Shocked, I nearly pulled my horse to a stop to ask what he meant, but spires pierced the azure sky up ahead, and my remaining strength was punctured by each gleaming point.

So I whispered, “As you must.”

As the trees broke, and Lumin came into view below vine-covered cliffs, Cypherion took the lead on the path, allowing me a moment of reprieve. A moment to breathe in a city I hadn’t seen in sixteen years and exhale all the poison it left in my veins.

And though neither of us said anything, I followed as he led us the long way around the city toward the location of the fighting rings, on a path that avoided the temple.

Chapter Six

Cypherion

Objectively, Lumin was a beautiful city. The lake was nestled against the mountains, the jungle surrounding it broken up by pockets of buildings that filled sloping hills down to the crystal blue water.

Various shades of pale stone comprised the city itself, homes and storefronts fitting together like puzzle pieces in slightly different hues that complemented each other. Mosaics covered the walls and greenery poured out of the jungle to tangle around pillars and homes.

But it all crawled beneath my skin.

Before I’d ever laid eyes on this city, I’d heard the pain of a young girl tied to a temple. I’d heard of the tears she’d cried at night and the marks left on her body.

Vale had painted a picture of serenity and bliss with her stories of fruit and swimming in the lakes, and that had been my goal. To give her something beautiful to remember as she entered a place she loathed.

But I couldn’t see past it. As we left the inn, and I followed Vale through the city, I had a feeling she couldn’t forget it either.

And I wanted to burn it all down.

“Just this way.” Vale’s voice was stronger than I’d anticipated. When I turned to face her, she was clear-eyed.

Guard up, Stargirl.

She waved a hand down the block, and we continued quietly. The city bustled, though. Shoppers ran down cobbled streets, bags drooping from the market as they headed home to prepare dinner. Kids screeched, releasing bouts of energy they’d likely kept bottled up during their lessons all day.

Normal life did exist in Lumin, I guessed. Despite what went on in the temple, despite what we were currently here to do. It was an unsettling reminder that everywhere, every day persisted around us no matter what shit we were in.

Vale turned a corner, and the next street was shadowed by a large structure, white stone glowing in the setting sun, and a mosaic dome glinting proudly with its silver spires.

“Vale, why?—”

“I had to face it,” she muttered. And she strode across the street with her chin high, pressing one hand to the smooth wall.