Page 2 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)

One

Live, Love and Eat Stew

SOL KNEW TWO things for certain: the stifling, humid Yavenharrow heat might kill her, and her knives were dull.

Steady. Breathe. Throw on an exhale.

She repeated Leo's guidance in her mind, adjusting her form and stance with each mental instruction.

The forest grew silent as Sol rolled her shoulders and sent the blade flying. It sang through the air and slammed proudly into the evergreen she aimed for. Just as she began to smile in triumph, she tilted her head.

The knife didn’t hit the bull’s-eye.

"You're getting lazy, Sunny."

Sol frowned and wiped at the sweat on her brow with her sleeve,

then eyed Leo as he stepped up beside her. "I need to sharpen them. They always miss when they're dull."

"Knives aren't sentient." He gave her a casual smile. "Last I checked, weapons are only as good as their wielder."

In a smooth dance, he retrieved an arrow from his quiver, nocked it into his bow, and shot it right into the hilt of her dagger, all without taking his golden eyes from her face.

Sol looked from the tree to her now broken knife on the forest floor. "You owe me a knife."

It's not like it was the first knife that had succumbed to Leo's lessons, but it was the first time it was one of her favorites. She’d brought her mother's old knives out to play this time, hoping Irene's spirit might gift them some luck on their hunt.

It hadn't.

Surely the animals were scarce due to the season—Yavenharrow spring was dreadful. The animals felt it. The town felt it.

Sol also felt it as she gathered her belongings from a nearby cluster of stones, stray hairs from her braid plastered to her neck.

By the time she and Leo made it out to the Hunter's Lands, Yavenharrow’s best hunting ground, the sun burned overhead, but the promise of rain lingered on the horizon, making the breeze sticky and humid.

"I keep begging you to let me get you all-metal ones instead of flimsy wooden ones," Leo said, collecting his bag of weapons.

"But every time I offer, it's like I've said a personal insult.

" His tanned skin was flushed, and his short ebony hair was glued to his forehead with moisture as he took her bag from her hands and retrieved his arrow from the tree.

Before Sol could protest, he led the way deeper into the woods, forcing her to swallow her remarks and follow.

Typically, she accompanied her best friend on hunts to practice her aim, never really engaging with the “killing” part of the activity.

She often provided snacks and miscellaneous anecdotes about the herbs they came across, some so obscure her aunt Lora would send her right back to pick them for her tonics and salves if Sol ever recounted the discoveries to her.

She plucked interesting things from the forest regardless, her last find being a cluster of poison berries from a Sadenberrie bush. That had been a fast, valuable lesson from her aunt the second Sol placed them on the dining table.

Sadenberries and blueberries were unfortunately very similar.

They continued their walk in companionable silence until the familiar trickle of Jasen Lake signaled the halfway point of the land— and usually their landmark to return to town. Anything beyond the lake was too unexplored for either of their skills.

Leo halted, forcing Sol to shift sideways to avoid a collision. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "I hadn't been out here since..." His eyes flashed and his grip tightened around his bag of arrows.

Sol looked back to the river, knowing exactly the memory it brought.

It had been here that they found Holden. Yavenharrow's most seasoned hunter and explorer, he had always known to be prowling the lands for whatever adventure Erriadin gave him next.

Two weeks ago, though, the town had been shocked speechless when the details of his death spread like a plague.

The shops in the town square began to close at dusk instead of midnight, the taverns at midnight instead of dawn.

Sol hated seeing her lively town gloom in terror at the realization that one of their own had been murdered doing what he loved most.

And what he was best at.

Second best, and now owner of Holden's archery shop, Leo had been forced to answer all the questions the townsfolk flocked him with—to the best of his abilities.

"Is it true a beast slew him?"

"We heard his insides were missing."

"Someone said he had no blood when they pulled him out of the Jasen Lake." It had truly been a nightmare of a week.

Sol placed a hand on Leo's forearm. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know."

"Do you?"

He sighed. "I do. But it will always feel like it was."

Instead of being with Holden that day, Leo had been with Sol,

helping her home after a difficult shift at the Hound. If his death was anyone's fault, it was that wretched place for keeping her so late they weren't there to walk him home.

She tugged Leo forward and knelt by the water, gently tracing the ripples with her fingertips. "What do you think did it?"

He sat beside her, gaze far away. "Not anything human."

"An animal?" Sol shivered. Mountain lions were common around Yavenharrow. Bears sometimes wandered from the mountains too.

"None that we've ever seen before."

She dropped the subject. The edge of emotion in his voice was something Sol didn't want to push.

Leo must've felt the same, as he said, "Do you work today?"

Of course she did. There wasn't a miserable day she didn't work at that Inn, and though she despised it, it was the only place in town that took her in with minimum questions and respected her desire for privacy.

Even her mother had remarked on its sleaziness when she was alive, which had made Sol all the more curious to know what went on behind the doors of Yavenharrow's primary stop for travelers, sailors, and anyone else who desired a taste of the town’s oldest kind of fun.

Now that she knew it was nothing of interest, she wished she could bop her younger self in the head for even approaching the place to begin with.

Five years later and she had yet to find anything better.

Picking up a lonely stone to toss over the water, Sol sighed. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“Do you want company?”

“I’m fine.”

Leo shook his head, outstretching his arms. “Please quit that

wretched place. Keelin treats you terribly, and it’s always filled to the brim with scummy people.”

She shrugged. “Those scummy people give great tips.”

“I can fend for us just fine, you know. Or you can take Lora’s allowance—she’s been trying to give you it for years.”

“I want to finance my own education.”

“She loves you, Sol.” He leaned closer. “She says she makes good money selling as a healer, let her take care of you.”

Sol had this discussion often with him and Lora. She knew she should just sit at home, tend to the gardens, and take the coins given to her. Unfortunately, Sol couldn't do it. She had tried, truly.

But the uneasy stillness she felt was the sort she didn’t want to take the time to decipher.

Boredom called to the mind. The mind called to memories, and her memories had claws.

Sol had only ever really wanted to study, entranced by all the lectures Leo recounted after his days at the town school. Unfortunately, her mother had been against her attendance despite all the tantrums and pleas Sol made.

“It’s too dangerous,” Irene would say. “You’re too special.” Whatever that meant.

The prohibition to study only made Sol get her thirst for knowledge sedated through other ways, sneakier and more unfiltered. She dared say the stories she heard from the citizens made her a different sort of educated.

Sol sighed. “Keelin pays well. I’ll quit when I can afford a ship to the Scholar Towers.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “It’s compensation for the abuse of labor.”

She shook her head and flicked the flat stone over the lake. “It’s an overnight shift anyway. You have morning duties in the town."

Stocking shifts were Sol’s favorite, though still dreaded. She could at least pick at the food and bread undisturbed as she organized the shipment of ale and vegetables for the week.

Leo splashed water over his face. “Even more of a reason to have someone else there. You shouldn’t be alone at night.” “Lora was gonna swing by after her rounds so we could walk

home together.” Sol nudged his shoulder. “Plus, I can take care of myself.”

He nudged her back. “Holden probably thought the same thing.”

SOL AND LEO parted ways a few hours later, ultimately deciding squirrels and lazy birds were not worth prowling the forest, especially as it still held an air of eerie mystery.

Leo made his way back to his cottage, neighbor to Sol's, to help his sister prepare for what he swore was going to be a rainy evening. Before he let her go, though, Sol had to promise she would stop by on her way home, if only to let him know she was alive. He even

bribed her with the promise of fresh stew.

Sol took the long way to the Hound Inn, deciding to prepare for

what presumably was to be a boring night.

She detoured to the Yavenharrow Archives, the town’s epicenter of knowledge and folklore.

It was also the town’s oldest building, and history claimed it had once been some sort of temple for the gods, long before civilization bloomed on the continent.

It was a domed, stone-carved monstrosity in the center of Yavenharrow, its entry archway depicting Erriadin’s gods.

The original legends—the ones her mother sang as lullabies—told the origins of the four gods, the Creators and gifters of all magic.

In all illustrations and statues, they were in a frozen dance: the males showcased their physical strengths while the females gazed at each other as if they knew secrets Erriadin didn’t.

Later came the fifth and most mysterious god, one most of Erriadin still spoke of only in scattered whispers.

Irene was devoted to him, constantly sharing how his blessings were worth more than all others combined.