Page 38 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)

“Our Mother has been closely watching you, Queen of Wielders,” the forest sang in unison.

“Our Mother has a warning.” The path to the next fork seemed endless, but Sol didn’t mind.

She traced the lovely plants with her fingertips and sang with them, lost in the lull of the Kerproot.

She couldn’t remember why she was so bewildered by it before—it was fantastic.

Her limbs were feathers, and the world was gold, alive and brutal and gentle all at once.

“Why is—” Sol’s words trailed into incoherent babbles as an orb of iridescent glow hovered at the center of the next fork.

It was the glow of the moon on the darkest of nights, of falling stars. Green tendrils swirled around, and Sol walked to it, entranced. As she neared it, a curious figure appeared within its center.

“Yarrow,” the figure said. “Daughter of Wards, come closer.”

Sol obeyed. She floated closer to the green essence. “What are you?” she whispered.

“I have come to issue guidance, Daughter of Wards.” The figure’s voice was clear as bells and all around her, as if Sol was encapsulated within it. “You must close the Jinn gate before the moon shields the sun, Yarrow. The event will work in your favor.”

Sol watched the sparks of gold dance around her face as she said, “I will.”

“You will not do it in time, Yarrow.”

Sol pulled a deep inhale, holding it in the pit of her belly. “I must—I must do what my mother said.”

The figure within the orb pulsed sapphire. “Your mother failed. She did not heed our warnings; she sought another way.” The figure grew and morphed into a body. Faceless, featureless, but daunting. “There is no other way. Close the Jinn gate as dictated in the skies.”

Sol’s hands burned. They dripped. Her skin, her bones—they melted.

Her words were sandpaper against her mouth as she said, “Her note, it said—”

“There is NO other way,” the figure boomed. Around her, the temperature flamed. “Your humanity will doom you, just like those before.”

The golden light of the forest dimmed, turning into a muted violet. The humming leaves hushed in a gasp, and the tea beneath her feet turned to mud.

Through the haze, Sol looked up. She met the figure fully. “I will not fail.”

“Why are you here, Daughter of Wards?” The figure ebbed and flowed an emerald tone, circling around Sol. “Your mother had a duty. She was on the throne since she could Wield. She then fled to save you. And now you return, after all that trouble. Why?”

Electricity sizzled as it leaned closer. “Why are youuuu here?” That’s when Sol lost it.

The sky muted, and the air stilled as the words echoed, digging into the corners of her mind, and burrowing.

“Why are you here?” Why are you here?

Why?

The words pulsed like a heartbeat as Sol sank to her knees. “I—I’m here to finish what my mother started.”

“Wrong answer,” the voice thundered, and the orb faded into nothing, dispersing into gray mist. As the figure faded, it whispered, “The gods don’t need someone like you on the Rimemere throne.”

Sol sank further into the mud and sobbed. Because the voice, whether real or Kerproot induced, was right.

What was she there for? Because a note from her mother told her to be?

Her mother’s wish and instructions had gotten her this far, but would they take her far enough?

She was no Queen.

She had no magic.

She played the facade well, but gods knew she grew tired of trying to fit into their molds, clear by her defiance toward Gina. Her kingdom hated her, and the people who didn’t were weeks away, abandoned when they needed her the most.

Like she had done with her mother on the day she was murdered. She had left her to die then, too. Left everyone she loved to die, while she played pretend in a role she was doomed to fail.

Fail.

Failure.

Her sobs broke through her chest as if her heart itself begged to be let out of a body that couldn’t bear it.

Sol threaded her hands through her hair and pressed her forehead to the ground, heaving heavy breaths while begging herself to get up.

Falling apart wasn’t an option. Even if that was all she had wanted to do since the day she left Lora and her town behind.

“Sol,” the wind whispered her name. “Sol, come on. You can’t let the Kerproot win.”

Branches—no, fingers—wrapped around her arms, forcing her to look up.

She knew this man. This man with midnight hair and eyes of moonlight. Still, she sank further into the mud, her face burning with tears.

“What am I doing here? Who—who am I,” she shook with each sob. “I don’t know who I am.”

The man knelt in front of her. He shimmered like fog at midnight and smelled of sage.

His name… his name.

“We need to keep going, Princess. We are almost at the end of the path.”

She pulled out of his grasp. “Who am I? If I don’t even know, then the floating orb is right, I’m useless.”

The man sighed. “You really shouldn’t have taken a double dose.”

Failure.

Failure.

Your mother failed, why would you succeed?

Everything around her shifted and swirled. The leaves that once sang now hissed, the sky that was gold instead turned a mossy green. And inside her, everything bled, everything cried.

“Sol? Sol.” Hands, warm and soft, grasped her face, and she was met with silver eyes. “You need to get it together.”

Her tears were acid as she whispered, “Who am I?”

The man pursed his lips, his brows furrowing. “You’re Sol Yarrow. You’re a barmaid who makes terrible tea. You’re stubborn, but fiercely loyal.” Sol exhaled.

“The rest will come with time, Princess. For now, know we are all glad you’re here,” he continued. “And those who aren’t are the

exact people who shouldn’t be.” She angled her head.

Cas. The man’s name was Cas.

The memory of him spread like a sigh.

“Have you always been so handsome? Can you carry me out of here, or are your muscles just for show?” She lifted her hand, tracing the soft edges of his jaw.

Cas laughed, but his eyes drifted closed as he leaned into her touch. “You’re going to be very embarrassed when the Kerproot wears off.”

Sol traced lazy circles over his skin, resisting the urge to smile when his eyes pulled open to watch her. “I remember thinking you were mean. Are you mean?”

A small laugh vibrated between them. “Sometimes, I suppose.” “Nope.” She shook her head, then let it drop against his chest. “I remember you being always mean.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. To Sol’s surprise, he wove his fingers into her hair, holding her close before responding.

“I’m sorry, Sol. For what I said yesterday.

For not even trying to help Phil back there, or Felice and her brother.

..” He sighed against her, his breath sending a wave of shivers through her.

“I—I can’t risk making a mistake to help others and in turn losing you. ”

She peered up at him. He was so close she could make out strings of cobalt in his gray eyes, and the slight sadness that swam within. Despite the pull of the Kerproot, she whispered, “I can’t let the bad people win again.”

Cas clenched his jaw, as if he might have said something more.

But the flash of contemplation left as quickly as it came.

“Come on.” He pulled her up. “Let’s get out of here.”

To Sol’s dismay, he did not carry her the rest of the way.