Page 90 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

His offer left me no choice. A strange sense of vulnerability washed over me as I led my brother into the heart of my domain. I wished his opinion didn’t matter to me, but I couldn’t deny that it did.

Aramaz remained silent as we walked through the golden-veined corridors into the great hall. Under the ethereal light of the high arched ceiling, he finally spoke.

“This place is beautiful, brother. You’ve truly made it your home, haven’t you?”

His words warmed me more than I cared to admit.

Masir soon joined us, bringing two tankards and a cask of mead gifted to me by one of the Northern chieftains.

He set them down on a nearby table with a bow and poured the mead, the honey-rich scent filling the air.

Aramaz waited until the Anima had left, an amused glint in his eyes as he remarked, “Do you have any idea how furious M’tar is that he joined you? ”

I couldn’t suppress a smug smile as I took a sip of my mead, enjoying the sweet flavor on my tongue. “Perhaps he should have valued Masir more when he still served him.”

Aramaz took a gulp of his own drink. “Sometimes we only realize what we had after we’ve lost it,” he said, his tone wistful.

After a moment of hesitation, I retrieved one of the lyr -stones and a handful of the ice oats that Masir and I had created, inspired by Fenrik’s example.

True to his word, Aramaz listened as I explained how the lyr -stones—and the Chaos magic they contained—had benefited the Humans living in the north.

I refrained from mentioning the changes to Fenrik himself.

While I was willing to test my brother’s newfound readiness to listen, I was no fool. Some things were better kept secret.

“That is fascinating,” Aramaz said, letting a few grains trickle from his hand.

“Humans prove to be the most resourceful of all our children.” Before I could comment on how my accidental interference in their creation might not be entirely negative, he continued with a sigh, “But granting them lyr -stones? The Council won’t approve. ”

I scoffed. “The Council is far too cautious.” Leaning forward, I gave Aramaz my most innocent smile. “Besides, I’m very careful who I give them to.”

“Why do I doubt that?” He shook his head, but there was no bite in his tone. Tilting his head, he scrutinized me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. “Why did you do it?” he finally asked. “Why did you try to control the power of Chaos? You must have known the risks.”

I looked away, gathering my thoughts. Admitting that I had always felt drawn to that power, that I hoped it would make me the most powerful of the Aurea, was out of the question; it would only reawaken his suspicions.

“Chaos is a part of this world, whether we like it or not. Instead of trying in vain to contain it completely, we should aim to understand it. Then we can decide how to deal with it.”

“That is exactly what Baradaz said,” my brother commented, his voice thoughtful.

A surprised laugh escaped me. “The queen is a very wise woman.”

“My.” A strange gleam appeared in Aramaz’s eyes. “That might be the first time in our entire existence I’ve heard you praise someone.”

Unease rippled through me. This conversation was far more pleasant than anticipated, but there were so many unspoken things between us, things that could shatter this fragile peace. Like the fact that the woman he would soon be bound to had been my lover.

Aramaz picked up the lyr -stone, letting it catch the light. The stone’s dark, swirling energy reflected in his eyes. “Are you certain of it?” he asked.

“Of what?”

Only my quick reflexes allowed me to catch the stone as he threw it at me. “Are you certain it can be controlled? That you can control it?”

I had never allowed doubts to hinder my pursuit of power, not in the Other, and not here in my exile. Yet, under my brother’s piercing gaze, I hesitated. “Yes,” I finally stated, my confident tone betraying no hint of my momentary uncertainty.

Aramaz stared at me, then nodded slowly. “Fine, then.”

I gasped in genuine astonishment. “You’re not forbidding me to use Chaos?”

He gave me a resigned smile, lines of worry etched deeply into his face.

“We both know that forbidding it would only make you more determined to use it.” He raised a hand to stop my interruption.

“There are conditions, though.” His expression hardened, his eyes suddenly like cold, bluish steel.

“You must come back with me to Lyrheim.”

My refusal was immediate. “I won’t abandon everything I’ve achieved here.”

Aramaz shook his head, his expression thawing slightly. “I won’t stop you from returning. But only when I’m convinced that using this power poses no danger.”

These were generous terms. It seemed my brother genuinely wanted us to reconcile. Still, I wasn’t pleased with his offer. “And what am I supposed to do in Lyrheim?” I asked, my tone full of sarcasm. “ Besides sitting through boring Council meetings and enduring glares from Sha’am and M’tar?”

“Hardly.” Aramaz pointed at the stone in my hand. “I want you to take over the investigation of the lyr -stones. M’tar has acquired new ones from the Dwarfish mines, but he hasn’t achieved what you have—a way to use them.”

A vicious satisfaction spread within me. I should have known this attempt to lure me back wasn’t entirely selfless. “So you need me.” The opportunity to flaunt my success in front of the proud Smith definitely sweetened the idea of ending my self-imposed exile.

“It’s actually why I came here,” Aramaz said mildly. He pressed his lips together, suddenly hesitant. “And because I need your help regarding the Kritak. The Veil between the worlds has thinned once more. They have returned. Baradaz is doing what she can to close the gates, but she is alone and—”

“You’re letting her go to the Other alone?” I was out of my seat before I realized I was moving, my powers awakening in my agitation, shadows swirling around us in a wild dance.

My brother remained unmoved by my outburst, faint amusement on his face. “Like you, any attempt to command her actions only makes her more determined to decide for herself.”

Maker, could I not leave that impossible little spitfire alone for a moment? She had nearly died in the Other once before. Had she learned nothing?

When I didn’t sit down, pacing up and down with a growl rumbling in my throat, Aramaz pulled something from his tunic. A letter. “She told me to give you this if her actions incensed you.”

I practically tore the piece of parchment from his hand, breaking open her seal, the golden wax showing the eight stars of her brightest constellation. She thought she knew me so well, didn’t she?

Belekoroz, the letter began in her small, neat handwriting. Aramaz is not to blame. It is my decision, and besides, I am every bit as capable of dealing with the dangers of the Other as you are.

I had to take a deep breath as the shadows around me pulsed with anger, growing darker and more restless.

Stop scowling. If this bothers you so much, you will just have to cease your childish sulking, return to Lyrheim, and help me. And…

She was mistaken if she thought I would follow her commands after she had turned against me. If this foolish insistence on going to the Other alone was an attempt to manipulate me, I would teach her…

A dark blot of ink marred the page, as if she had set down her quill to think. Beneath it, there were only three more words.

I miss you.

My hand clenched around the parchment, crinkling it. A violent surge of something I couldn’t name rushed through me, leaving me breathless. She… I…

I couldn’t go back to Lyrheim. I shouldn’t. And yet, fighting the insane urge to press the letter to my face to catch even the faintest hint of her scent, of her Light, I knew I would.

My gaze met Aramaz’s. I wondered what he was reading on my face, but he did not comment.

It was wise to go with him, wasn’t it? An easy way to dispel his and the Council’s suspicions. Who knew—perhaps this time things would be different. And if not, I would be prepared.

I offered the king my hand with a smile. “I will come back to Lyrheim with you, brother.”