Page 9 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

I can’t sleep. Is she mad?

As we lie in the grass, out in the middle of nowhere under the stars, I think over all the episodes I’ve kept to myself, all the split moments of pain or the thoughts or feelings that seemed to invade my mind.

Are they what Lyle thinks are signs? Some premonitions of some dormant power breaking through? She said Awakening, didn’t she?

Lyle can hold light in her hand. How is that anything like what I’m experiencing? How is that deemed not powerful? Having visions, emotions, the ground trembling, none of that feels the same.

Even after Lyle’s breathing evens out, I can’t escape my mind running over every new piece of information. Ceremonies, power, a Goddess, Advocates and training—will I have to go through all of that? Is this what she’s taking me to Kirrasia for?

Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, but I fight it because waking up will mean I’ll be faced with all the unanswered questions lurking in my mind. And they’ll reveal just how much Lyle has lied to me.

“Welcome to Kirrasia,” Lyle announces.

We had another night camped under the stars, and still, after setting off this morning to continue our trek, I saw nothing new, just more green.

We hadn’t passed over or through anything that I could see. And I was beginning to understand why people thought this was the end of Estereah. There was nothing here as far as I can see. Just more of the same.

“I don’t see anything different,” I reply crankily. Hungry, uncomfortable and angry at, well, everything, doesn’t foster good conversation. But then something washes over my skin, a faint brush causing my skin to pebble with gooseflesh under my shirt.

I might not be able to see anything, but I can, to my astonishment, feel something in the air.

And where I saw nothing but more hills a moment ago, I can now see the hills run off into a sandy expanse and, in the distance, a tall silhouette of a building or castle, as if growing out of the ground.

It’s far, far away still, with huge shadowy mountains towering over it all.

It’s rich and inviting, with shapes and colours I’d never seen before, all piecing together before my eyes.

And not just my eyes. It’s like something is set alight in my veins. Like a new thrum of energy, a pulse.

“That is The Court. The building spire at the centre, which you can just see, is The Chamber Tower. Come. If we ride a little harder, we’ll make it by nightfall.

” There’s an eagerness in her voice I haven’t heard in a long while, and I can’t help but feel curious now that I can see it before my eyes.

All of this is hidden, kept a secret. Why?

She pushes Sara into an easy trot, and Nettle follows without encouragement, sharing in their newfound spirit.

We clear the last of the green pastures of the Jade and keep going on the invisible path as the ground turns firm and dusty under the afternoon sun.

“What’s that?” I ask as a tall tree-like structure comes into view.

“It’s the watch tower. There are many positioned over Kirrasia and the border, all manned by groups from the Warrior Order.”

I ignore this new reference, filing it away with the rest of the information I don’t yet know enough about.

“They’ll let us through?” My question turns to one of practicality.

The tower has a small camp at the base and is a cylindrical tower of brick, three times as tall as our house, but we’re too far away to make out too much detail.

“Yes.”

“How will they know we’re safe to pass? If no one is meant to know about this place, shouldn’t they be guarding it more closely?”

“They have their ways. Plus, they know who all the Watchers are. They’ll recognise me.”

As Lyle says, we make it past the tower unimpeded.

“How do they know? What would they do if we weren’t friendly?”

“They are Warriors, and they have many different magics, including sight, speed, and strength. They place officers at strategic locations depending on their gifts.”

I swallow my shock at the rare information she gives so freely.

The shock must show as Lyle almost smiles towards me.

We continue, and if I were more stable on a horse, I’m sure Lyle would have had us galloping the remaining distance.

Instead, she has to settle for a clumsy attempt that fades into a trot after a few hundred yards.

And repeat.

The land once more changes as we grow closer to The Court.

Grasses, trees, and other signs of life come forth, and the air feels warmer, alive, and I’m left a little in wonder—the spectacle dampening the anger I’ve been holding onto.

My first impression that it looked like a castle was fair, but it’s much more than that, much bigger.

Closer, I can see windows and roofs, lights and trees, all aligned to make up the outer parts of the structure, with the spire and other turrets of the castle protected in the centre.

Another watch tower comes into view as we begin to steer directly for The Court.

The closer we get, the more I notice. Several hundred yards away, three large circles are marked out, interlaid with one another to form a pattern big enough for a dozen people to stand in each section.

I look over to Lyle, but she offers no explanation.

Two large stone buildings, bigger than our cottage multiple times over, curve around the furthest of the circles, and I wonder where everyone is.

Passing the three rings, we ride a short distance with The Court towering over us to our left.

A river flows directly around the base of the outer stone wall, thick and intimidating.

The walls look formidable, and with the river adding to the natural protection, I hate to think of what’s inside that needs this much protection.

Kirrasia’s city looks impressive, but the people within seem to still be a mystery, though a protected one. If no one from Estereah knows about this place, what are they protecting themselves from?

The first people I see are three individuals, guards, maybe, blocking our path over a small bridge: two women, one man.

My heart picks up a beat, wondering if they’ll stop us from going any further.

My eyes run over them all, and I quickly see their weapons, camouflaged against their body but all within easy reach: a sword and daggers at their hips.

They’re not wearing armour like the guards I’ve seen who would stop in occasionally, travelling up from Nestegarth or Osanor.

Lyle said they kept order in the town but were seldom needed, more a mark or a reminder.

Now, doubt clouds those words, as she said that Kirrian’s help to keep the peace in Estereah, so why were there guards at all?

Those in front of us are dressed in black, leather-like, with dark cloaks over their shoulders, held in place with small, detailed gold clasps.

They move subtly, changing formation, and I watch each one make a physical connection with the other.

It doesn’t look aggressive, though. The woman at the front nods her head, and they all, as one, move aside to let us pass.

No words. No explanation.

When we’re clear of the small bridge, I ask, “What was that about?”

“You noticed?”

“How could I not? It was strange. Are they guards protecting The Court? The place you’re taking me.”

“Yes.”

“Nobody seems to worry about me coming here. They keep letting me walk right in.”

There’s a smile threatening on her lips as if she wants to let me in on a secret, but she doesn’t say anything. I shake my head and grit my teeth. I’ve come this far in the dark. What is a little further?

But my bad mood vanishes as we ride closer to the wall of The Court and round the arc of the wall because the most breathtaking scene strikes me.

Huts, stalls, and small buildings litter the area close to us, as though the city has spilt out and can’t be contained.

To one side, I see the edge of a forest, trailing into thick and lush foliage, but what’s most impressive is beyond the walls of The Court, slabs of dark stone rose from the ground, forming mountains, for they are far too big to be described as hills.

Small and green in the foreground, they lose their elegance the further I look, revealing sharp edges, snow-lined peaks—huge and monstrous in size. My neck aches from looking up so far.

I had never thought I’d see something as beautiful, so vast, with so much all in one view right in front of me. It snatches my breath as I stare in silence.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Lyle whispers in my ear.

I blink at the awe threatening to bring tears to my eyes and grasp to hold on to the anger that she hid all of this. She can’t placate me with beauty and wonder. But I can’t help wanting to catalogue every little detail I can.

Lyle leads us towards a stable amongst the buildings spreading from The Court, and what she said was the entrance. We leave the horses, and she meanders back through the many dwellings.

We follow the curve of the outer wall that pulls us in as the shape turns into a spiral, continuing the protected ring.

Every step is a wonder, and I thirst to drink it all in.

As we round the natural curve, the edge of one of the mountainsides casts us in shadow.

Beneath it, homes and buildings made of stone, with thatch roofs and simple windows, remind me of our own home, and I wonder if Lyle lived in one of these when she was here.

We continue further, the gradient rising as we climb inward.

Candles and lanterns are lit by people as we pass, illuminating buildings and houses that are set into the walls.

Different designs and different shapes of buildings, all crammed inside the spiral.

I realise these were what I could see as we approached from the outside. A tapestry of life.

We walk, and I remember what Lyle said to me about The Court, that she called the spire The Tower. I guess that’s where she is taking me. Everything is bigger than I had first thought. Big enough to contain all of Osanor within the giant spiral wall.

Finally, when only the light of the buildings around me can show us the way, we arrive at the centre—the end.

Part of me registers that there is only one way in or out of here, and that sends a shiver down my spine.

The spire I can see is the crowning point of an opulent castle beneath, set in a half-moon shape of buildings many storeys high, with arched windows glowing from within.

Grand and intimidating, I now stand before it, a courtyard area at the foot of stone steps. The spire, or Tower, beyond.

A shadowy figure, craggy and hunched over, with thinning hair, stands at the foot of the spire.

She is cloaked and has a gnarled stick to complete the witch aesthetic that I draw to mind.

She raises her head to reveal a haggard-looking face.

Her eyes, hallowed and dark where they should be, are sealed shut, her skin sagging and wrinkling.

She is… like something out of a fairy tale book, and not in the princess kind of way. But none of that worries me.

It’s the voice that scares me.

The voice I hear inside my head.

“Welcome, Ever Hart.”