Page 89 of Darkness Births the Stars #1
He smiled, noticing my renewed interest. “We call them ice oats. The grains we knew from the south didn’t grow here.
While the stone is a formidable weapon, it excels most at changing things.
After a few tries, I found a combination of plants that works well.
” Another proud look flickered over his face.
“These oats can grow underneath the snow, like the lichen covering the plains.”
I picked up a few grains, rubbing them between my fingers. “That is fascinating,” I said slowly, my eyes shifting to Masir, who had leaned forward, his green eyes gleaming .
Fenrik had no idea how ingenious his little experiment really was. He had created something new, when the power of creation had always been the sole domain of the Allfather.
The young thane licked his lips nervously. “So you will grant me another lyr -stone?”
“No.”
Fenrik’s face fell at my curt answer, his shoulders slumping in defeat. A sly smile tugged at my mouth.
“Better,” I continued, my voice filled with promise. With a wave of my hand, the grains floated to my second-in-command, who examined them closely. “Masir and I will help you create enough grain to supply the entire north.”
Fenrik’s eyes lightened with an amber glow as the realization of how much that would increase his influence among the other tribes dawned on him.
I snapped my fingers, the sound echoing sharply in the grand hall. “First, something else,” I said, in a low, commanding growl. “Come closer.”
He approached reluctantly, tense but obedient despite his fear. I moved with otherworldly speed, gripping his jaw in a vise-like hold. He instinctively tried to pull away, his lips lifting in a snarl that revealed elongated canines. I didn’t allow him to escape.
“Those seeds weren’t the only thing you changed, were they?” I asked, my smile deepening.
A soft whine escaped the Human, but after a moment he relaxed, submitting to my questioning.
“When a boy becomes a warrior, he hunts alone on the ice plains. The prey he catches shows his strength. Only the bravest go after the great hunters: the bear, the wolf, the snowcat.” His wolf-eyes blinked, reflecting the dim light of the hall.
“I was never the strongest, but with the lyr -stone… ”
“You thought it would give you an advantage.” I released him and leaned back on my stool. “Did it?”
Fenrik shook himself, a wry look on his face. “In a way. It had some… unexpected side effects.”
I laughed. “Power always does.” I scrutinized him, taking in the coiled strength in his body, the potential simmering beneath his weak mortal flesh. A potential that had come to me like an unexpected gift—a potential I could use.
“I might give you another lyr -stone after all, Fenrik of the Frostfang tribe,” I decided, my tone thoughtful. “Choose the warriors of your tribes you trust most and take them on a hunt. A few with abilities like yours should be sufficient to defend your lands.”
The thane’s face twisted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. He seemed less content with my orders than I had expected. “And what if they use those powers to overthrow me?”
Ah, the great fear of those who had so little: losing it all to someone just as ruthless. “Lesson number one,” I told him. “If you rely solely on brute force to keep your subjects in check, your reign will be short. Rely on your mind; it will serve you better.”
I signaled Masir to fetch another lyr -stone. He did so swiftly, though I noticed a pensive shimmer in his eyes.
“Tell them this is a gift from their god that you have secured under great risk,” I advised, handing the pulsing stone to Fenrik. “It should make them quite grateful to us both.”
After the Human had left with many bows and exclamations of thanks, I turned to the Anima beside me.
“You disapprove?” I asked.
Masir didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he brought forth another lyr -stone, filled with Darkness and Chaos, its shadowy flames tinged with amethyst and emerald.
It had taken us many attempts, but together we had mastered capturing the essence of our powers inside the stones.
The Anima had proved nearly as skilled as I was in weaving Chaos magic, bending it to his will.
While the stones he created lacked the raw power of mine, they were still useful.
We called them lyrin -stones, little lyr -stones.
“He claimed the soul of a snow-wolf, preventing it from ever returning to the Allfather’s light to be reborn,” Masir said after a moment.
“Indeed, that is the most logical explanation,” I commented. “Though if he dies, both souls should return.”
“But changed,” Masir said, his expression still unreadable. His singular golden-green eyes met mine. “Not as they were created. With Chaos already strong in Humans, there’s no way to predict how this will alter their very being. You might be creating—”
“A new race. A race of warriors, as cunning as they are strong,” I interrupted, excitement rising within me at the thought. I had balked at the plans the Allfather had wanted to impose on me. But to create beings of my own…
“Stronger than all the other races of Aron-Lyr,” Masir said, his voice filled with awe.
“Second thoughts?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He grinned, the same excitement and ambition burning within him that spurred me on. “No. Just realizing we must be very careful. The Council will not like this.”
I took the lyr -stone from his hand, letting its power flare up and cast a dark glow around us.
“We will be careful as long as we have to be.” The look in his eyes as I grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip, pressing my forehead against his, was close to reverent.
“I promise you, one day the Council will have no choice but to answer to us.”
The next time Masir interrupted me, it wasn’t during training; it was while I was in my forge.
Located in the deepest heart of my fortress, it was my refuge, a place where only those I trusted most dared to disturb me.
The icy walls and dark surfaces were adorned with dozens of weapons in various stages of completion, the tools of the craft scattered around—hammers, tongs, and an array of various gleaming ores and glittering gemstones.
The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and the faint hum of magic.
I had not given up on finding a way to better harness the power of the Other.
My eyes fell on a large lyr -stone set in the middle of a ring of dark iron.
With the help of M’tar’s former master of the forge, I had come closer to my goal than ever before.
Today, however, I was occupied with a different project—a foolish distraction, really, but one I could not cease before bringing it to completion.
Magic pulsed between my hands as I shaped a small flower, the energy gleaming on the rubies and emeralds on my workspace.
Earth and Fire had always come easily to me, almost as easily as my power over Darkness.
But this piece defied my will, never as perfect as I envisioned it, as I remembered it.
The setting of the stones was too crude. I set my work down with a vicious curse, quickly hiding it and turning to face the Anima with a gruff grunt. The alarmed look on his face made me pause.
“Your brother,” he gasped, his usual calm demeanor shaken. “The king. He is here.”
For a moment, I could only stare at him in incomprehension. The fire in the forge flared as panic coursed through me. “My brother is here?” I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper. I had far too many secrets. “Where?” I snapped at Masir, already moving toward the door.
“I left him at the gate. I thought it best, considering… ”
Considering Aramaz would surely detect the presence of Chaos magic the moment he stepped into my stronghold. The threads woven around the gate alone were likely enough to condemn me in his eyes.
“You did well. Prepare something to drink in the great hall,” I instructed Masir while we hurried down the dimly lit corridors of my fortress. After he had left, I hesitated a moment in front of the gate, taking a deep breath before opening it with a flash of my powers.
The sky was clear, though already dark at this time of year, the moonlight casting a soft, silvery glow on the king’s face and his pristine white tunic.
The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, but I usually avoided coming out here on nights like this, as the sight of them stirred too many memories I preferred to keep buried.
Unsurprisingly, Aramaz’s gaze was fixed on the pulsing lines of Chaos around the gate, his jaw set in a harsh line.
“So you are using it,” he said instead of a greeting, his tone filled with sorrow rather than anger.
I had told myself I would not explain myself to him and the others. Their judgment meant nothing to me. Yet, faced with my brother’s disappointment, I couldn’t help but step closer, compelled to defend my actions. “Aramaz. Listen…” I hated the pleading in my voice, the weakness it exposed.
His eyes met mine, astonishingly calm given how we had parted ways. “I am,” he said. “Listening.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “I promised her I would, no matter what I found here.”
Ah. I should have known. Baradaz was far too stubborn to let things rest. She must have persuaded my brother to attempt a reconciliation. The thought was more comforting than it should have been, a flicker of warmth in the coldness that had settled in my chest for centuries .
“I understand that you and the others fear the power of Chaos, seeing only its potential for destruction, not its possibilities,” I said.
“Yet you seem to have found uses for it.” Aramaz gestured to the gate, the lines of Chaos shimmering in the moonlight. “Perhaps you should show me. Convince me I am wrong.”