Page 117 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

Shadowbane

T he mouse perched on its haunches in a sunny patch of grass, nibbling on a sunflower seed as if it had no care in the world.

I cautiously placed my paw on the ground, creeping forward with deliberate slowness, making sure not to emit a single sound.

Saliva pooled in my mouth. Such a tasty-looking morsel, grown fat on the abundant summer harvest around the farm.

I had wisely avoided the house since yesterday, the passionate moans and breathless laughter drifting from the bedroom window indicating that Rada and Noctis were still reveling in their reunion.

A twig snapped behind me. The mouse froze, its pale whiskers quivering, its tiny body tensing in alarm. I pounced. Triumph surged within me as my swift strike found its mark. My claws pinned the little rodent to the ground, preventing its escape.

“Tayshren,” a voice called out, smooth as silk, brimming with amused authority. “Release the mouse.”

A wave of disappointment washed over me as a familiar scent of magic, pine, and lightning drifted into my nose. Still, I obediently lifted my paw, allowing the terrified mouse to scamper away, its squeaks of relief echoing in the air.

Turning around, I summoned my power. Magic coursed through my entire being, from my limbs to the bushy tail of my feline form.

A radiant light burst forth from my skin, enveloping me.

For a brief moment, I was disoriented, floating in an endless void as the magic filled all my senses, before it settled into my new form.

Shapeshifting was second nature for an Anima like me.

One deep breath and I had readjusted to the slim, graceful body of an Elvish male I preferred when using a mortal form, my eyes now much higher above the ground.

Clad in a simple vest and breeches, I met the bright, piercing gaze of the newcomer and pressed a fist to my chest with a respectful bow.

“My king,” I said, my voice raspy from disuse.

For the past decade, I had spent most of my time as a cat.

Even during those rare moments when I returned to my Elvish body, there was no one I could converse with.

After all, I had to maintain the facade of being nothing more than an innocent animal that had found refuge with a woman who was once a goddess.

“It is good to see you in person, my herald,” Aramaz declared, closing the distance between us with swift grace.

His face brightened with a broad smile as he embraced me firmly.

The king was unchanged; his blue eyes gleamed in his sun-kissed face, and his hair cascaded around his shoulders, golden as the threads adorning his white tunic.

His hand clasped my shoulder, and his expression turned somber.

“I know what I asked of you was no easy task, but you have fulfilled it admirably.”

At his words, I had to avert my gaze, a storm of conflicting emotions coursing through me. I knew my task had been necessary, but still …

“Did you receive my last message?” I inquired. The small lyrin -stone I used to keep the king aware of the queen’s activities only possessed enough power to send messages, not receive them. We had decided to restrict my use of magic to avoid detection.

“Oh, yes, I received your messages, all of them,” Aramaz replied, his expression calm. “It was the reason I came.” With a graceful gesture, the king beckoned me to walk beside him, his gaze drifting toward the distant farm. “You were right. Baradaz has aligned herself with my brother.”

To my astonishment, there was no fury in his voice, no hint of the wrath I had expected.

I had envisioned him storming the farm in righteous indignation to bring the queen and his brother back to Lyrheim.

The thought had made me hesitate far longer than I was comfortable with before sending that last message.

“And you do not intend to intervene?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

The king’s leniency toward Noctis and Baradaz was a well-known fact and often a point of contention among the other Anima.

I had defended his decisions more than once, yet even I could not always fathom his reasoning.

The intricate web of love, hate, and deceit binding him to his wife and brother was beyond my understanding.

Aramaz slowly shook his head, a strange gleam in his eyes that I could not decipher, despite having served him for millennia. “Not yet,” he answered. “It is not the right time.”

I swallowed the urge to press him further, knowing he would reveal more when he deemed it necessary. “It might have been wise to inform me that your brother is still alive before I arrived. I was taken completely by surprise. It’s a wonder I did not inadvertently reveal myself.”

A small chuckle escaped Aramaz. “I can imagine. Forgive me, Tayshren.” He sighed, a slightly contrite expression on his face. “Part of me might have hoped it would not become necessary.”

“You thought he would not come for her?” I asked, surprised. Throughout ages of war and imprisonment, and now the loss of his power, Noctis’s obsession with Baradaz was the one thing that had not diminished in the slightest.

Aramaz’s lip twitched in unwilling amusement. “Sometimes even I underestimate my brother’s daring.” He gave me a pensive look. “Baradaz seems to believe he has changed. You shared a house with them for quite a while. What do you think?”

The question should not have been unexpected. And yet I did not quite know what to say. Not after all that I had witnessed in the last moons. Not after all that I had felt.

“Your brother…” I began, only to falter. My eyes avoided the king’s too-sharp gaze, fleeing to the comforting, familiar sight of the green pastures around us. “I do not know,” I finally said.

“Mmm.” Aramaz somehow seemed to understand without me saying more.

He did not probe further, instead gesturing at our surroundings.

“This place is beautiful. Peaceful.” An inscrutable expression flickered across his face as he absentmindedly touched the faint scars on his cheek. “Do you think she was happy here?”

I thought of the many nights I had witnessed Baradaz crying herself to sleep.

Of how often I had curled up on her lap for hours while she sat in a darkened room, staring into nothingness, still as a statue.

Of that one terrible winter when all her stores had spoiled and she had not eaten for days, only Briseis’s timely visit reawakening her will to fight.

Somehow, I could not bring myself to speak about this. I had always done my duty, had never failed to deliver a single report to my king. Yet divulging Baradaz’s suffering without her knowledge was a line I could not cross .

“I would not presume to speculate on the queen’s feelings,” was all I managed to say.

Aramaz studied me for a long moment. “She still does not suspect, does she?”

“No,” I answered truthfully. “She doesn’t suspect.”

Aramaz nodded. “Ensure it stays that way,” he ordered. “Continue to watch them. But do not interfere without my direct order.”

A disbelieving sound escaped me. Had he not said he received all my messages?

“They almost perished because I did not step in,” I exclaimed, my frustration breaking through.

Never had I been more tempted to defy my orders than when Rada had collapsed in the courtyard, her life’s blood seeping into the earth after her battle with the Kritak.

The king knew the nature of the foes that pursued his brother; surely he could not expect me to merely stand by and watch as—

“We don’t believe she was ever in real danger.” The soft rustling of wings, Air stirring around us, informed me who had joined us a moment before the Farseer stepped out between the trees.

“My lord.” Enlial. I had to hide a scowl as I bowed in greeting, not amused by the unexpected presence of the Aurea of Air. My senses were sharp in all my forms, so they must have used their power to mask their presence. They had probably listened to the entire conversation between Aramaz and me.

“Her magic is not lost,” Enlial explained, their voice calm and assured. “It lies dormant, her connection to it severed. In dire need, she might be compelled to revive it.”

“I am not so sure of that,” I answered, a frown on my face. “She was threatened more than once and her magic did not react at all.”

Aramaz’s calm expression did not waver. “None of those threats were insurmountable. ”

A sudden, dreadful suspicion coursed through me. Could the king be contemplating forcing Baradaz’s hand, risking the very outcome of the looming war to bring her back to the Ten?

“The Chiasma and Galator will bring war to Lasgallen and the other realms of Order,” I said. “Do you not plan to rally the armies to stop them?”

“The political situation in Lyrheim is complicated,” the king answered.

“We cannot rely on the High Elves’ army.

Leander Lyrasen is plotting against his older brother, desiring the Sunfyre throne for himself, and he has long since lost faith in the Ten.

The Human realms are weak; the Dwarves have buried themselves deep in the Obsidian Mountains.

And I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it would be to rely solely on magic during a rise of Chaos. ”

I stared at the ground, fighting the dark pull of my memories, of centuries of pain and loss.

“So we simply hope that your brother and Rada”—I quickly corrected myself—“the queen are successful?”

Aramaz’s gaze returned to the farm, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Let Belekoroz be a hero for once,” he mused. “It might do my brother good.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “And if he seizes the Chaoscrown? If he tries to overthrow you once more?”

The king’s smile deepened, his hand pressing reassuringly on my shoulder. “Then we must trust that Baradaz is right, and he has truly changed.”

Before I could respond, he turned to Enlial.

“There is another Council meeting this morning. We must depart.” He nodded in farewell. “Tayshren.” And then he was gone, leaving me more conflicted than ever, my thoughts racing.

“How curious.” It was only when the Farseer’s voice rang out beside me that I realized they had not left. “You seemed quite concerned about the queen’s wellbeing earlier.”

My eyes shifted to the Aurea of Air, noting the severe fall of their black hair and the great white wings spread majestically behind them.

Though I served Aramaz, I had always believed all the Aurea deserved our deference.

But that did not mean I held each of the Ten in equal regard.

Some might find foresight awe-inspiring, but I could not help but wonder how easily it lent itself to manipulation.

And I did not like their all-too-innocent tone.

“Have you told the king you gave Noctis an Air stone to help him find her?” I retorted, watching that ethereal, flawless face. “I didn’t know you worked as a soothsayer now.”

Enlial smiled, not perturbed by the revelation that I knew it had been them Noctis had encountered in Triannon.

“Why didn’t you tell him, king’s herald?

” Those bright wings whispered over the ground as they stepped closer, a few feathers trailing over my bare arm.

The touch stirred memories I wished to keep buried.

“I recall you never had much fondness for the queen,” they continued.

“It must be strange, having her care for you as a beloved pet, only to later divulge all her secrets.”

“My loyalty remains unchanged,” I snapped. “It lies with the king.”

“Of course.” Enlial circled me, their golden-blue eyes fixed on my face, as if my reactions were endlessly fascinating.

Curse them! “Or else you might have to admit that you have come to understand Baradaz much better now. That you have realized duty is a cold substitute for love, and sometimes doing what we think we have to do is slowly killing who we truly are until we cannot even remember what we are fighting for.”

My heart raced as I stared at them, a sudden nausea churning in my stomach. “Don’t…” I pressed out .

They did not heed the plea in my voice, continuing mercilessly. “What was the name of that lover you left behind at the order of the Council? One of my children, wasn’t he? Didn’t he die in the Battle of Laurelin Forest? I don’t remember.”

“He didn’t die,” I whispered, trembling under the weight of all my regrets.

Though I am dead to him.

I thought of beautiful hazel eyes flecked with gold. Of a smile that had been lost to me. Of the gentleness of a healer’s touch as elegant fingers combed through the soft fur of my cat form.

I should be the last being in all of Aron-Lyr to judge others. Few carried the weight of betrayal and deception as heavily as I did.

Enlial’s voice broke through my reverie, snapping my attention back to the Aurea of Air.

“Not many of us receive a second chance in our lives. If we do, we should not turn our backs on it.” They cast an amused glance toward the farm.

“I wouldn’t return to the house just yet if I were you.

They will need more time to celebrate their reunion. ”

A flash of anger cut through the sorrow their words had conjured. “Must be amusing,” I growled. “To move us all around on the playfield of fate.”

That aloof face hardened, piercing eyes suddenly dominating my vision. “No, not amusing at all,” the Farseer said, their voice low and haunting. “Be glad you don’t know half of what awaits us all, herald. Or the despair in your heart might devour you.”

With that they were gone, a bright light in the air signaling their shift into spirit form. Part of me wished I could escape as easily as well. But I was bound. Bound by my orders, and perhaps even more by the impossible wishes of my heart.

For a long time, I stood on the field, my face toward the sun, not fighting the steady flow of tears that escaped my closed eyes. Then I called on my powers, my body falling away and reforming into the familiar shape of the cat called Shadowbane.

The grass rustled. Another mouse. I did not react, though, my nose turned instead to the breeze blowing in from the south. I imagined it carried the smell of blood and ashes with it.