Page 10 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Leon

“ I ’m still not sanctioning a mission to the holy city without more of a plan,” Harman says.

“Last time I checked, I don’t need your sanction,” I growl.

“Here we go again,” Tira sighs. She sits with my soldiers at a table in the rebel’s cave. It’s the best place in Tread for us to hold large meetings, and Harman has called up all the key members of the Hand for this gathering.

My first emotion when I saw them all was resentment. It’s no business of theirs how we go about finding Ana. But then Alastor reminded me how much Harman regrets her capture, and that includes going overboard by asking everyone in his network to pull together and help in the search.

If forced, I’d admit that we could benefit from their input. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take orders from any of them.

“No one’s telling you what to do, captain,” Alastor says. “But you have to accept that we’re operating blind here. All we know is that Ana’s in Qimorna. We’re looking for a needle in a very dangerous, cleric-filled haystack.”

“So?” Tira says, crossing her arms. “If that’s what it takes to find Ana, then I say we get digging. We’ll go through the people of Qimorna one by one if we have to. Eventually, one of them will be able to tell Alastor something. ”

Alastor told Harman about his sensic ability— without consulting me. I look at him now, wondering not for the first time whether this new friendship between my friend and the Hand’s leader is going to cause me problems.

“Or we could go straight to the heart,” Mal, the half-dryad rebel, suggests. “Let’s start at the high temple. There’s got to be someone there who knows where she is.”

“That place is more protected than the palace at Elmere.” Harman shakes his head. “We’d never get out of there alive. Whatever we learned would die there with us.”

I consider this idea. Bringing the entire building crumbling down is certainly tempting, but I can’t ignore that it would probably start a war between Filusia and Trova. And more importantly, would it be the fastest way to Ana?

“I agree with Harman,” I say. “Striking at the high temple would be a waste of time. The bearer in Hallowbane said she wasn’t there anymore, and Caledon will probably move her again if we announce ourselves.”

Alastor makes a choking noise, and I look at him with concern.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought I just heard you agree with Harman.”

“Desperate times,” I comment archly.

Our banter breaks some of the tension in the room. A few of the rebels laugh, and Harman hides a smile behind his hand.

“Alright, so we still need to narrow down our search area,” Esther, Harman’s first lieutenant, says. “And we need to do it as efficiently as possible.”

I share a look with the serious woman. I like her. She’s smart and to the point, and it’s clear she understands Ana probably doesn’t have much time left. There’s only so long Caledon will hold her before he won’t be able to resist taking her power for himself.

“Now you have a better idea of where she is, can’t you use your sensic abilities to find her?” she continues .

I have, on occasion, been able to sense someone’s dreams even when they were many miles from me. However, I must be very familiar with their mind and have at least some vague notion of their location.

“I’ve reached out to the city, and sometimes I think I get close,” I say. “But the connection’s not strong enough.”

Every night, I search the dream realm for her. Every now and again, I sense an echo of her mind, but it’s like trying to pick out a single melody in a room of a hundred orchestras.

Every day, I’m forced to wake up with the knowledge that I’ve failed her again.

“And what if we got closer to the city?” Harman asks. “Would that help?”

“A bit, but the distance isn’t the real problem. The Temple probably has some protections on her that are blocking my magic from reaching her.”

“And let’s say you could get through to her,” one of the rebels, Cettar, interjects. “What then? How would that help? She probably doesn’t even know where she’s being held herself.”

I give him a long, hard look. He has a point, but Cettar has made it clear he doesn’t trust us, so I don’t trust him. “She might at least have some clues,” I say.

Out the corner of my eye, I see Alastor stiffen. I can tell something’s just hit him. He swings his head around to me, eyes wide like he’s surprised by his own idea.

“Speaking of connections…there might be another way to locate her.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Alastor licks his lips. “What about a sawlamoor ritual?”

I stare at him. A mooring? That’s drastic.

But it could work.

I look to the rest of my soldiers, ignoring the empty seat where Eryx should be. It’s too painful to acknowledge it. Phaia and Hyllus look tense, Damia unfazed, and Stratton is nodding at Alastor .

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Stratton says. “If the captain’s willing, of course.”

“Phaia?” I ask, wondering what she’ll say on this point. She’s the one with the most experience with the sawlamoor after all.

“It’s not without its consequences, captain. But I also think anything is better than not finding Morgana,” she says.

Didn’t I just say times were desperate? If ever there was a reason to invoke something as powerful as the sawlamoor, it would be now. The side effects can be guarded against if you’re careful. Frankly, if it’ll get Ana back, I’m happy to do this and worry about the consequences later.

“Are any of you going to explain what a sawla-thingy is?” Tira demands.

Initially, I’d worried that Ana’s disappearance would break Tira.

Instead, she’s thrown herself into training—by day with the rebels, and in the evening with my soldiers.

She looks stronger and more confident now, and she’s certainly not afraid to speak her mind—though I suppose she’s been strong in that way all along.

“The sawlamoor is an old bit of fae magic,” I say. “It can tie one person to another. If it connected Ana to me, I’d be able to use it to pinpoint her location in Qimorna.”

“And what about the consequences Phaia mentioned?” Harman asks.

I work to keep my expression neutral. “They can be contained,” I say decisively.

I won’t let it get out of hand , I think to myself. And as long as Ana’s safe, we can deal with the rest.

My tone seems to be enough for Harman not to question the issue further.

“There’s just one problem everyone seems to be forgetting,” Damia says. “The sawlamoor ritual requires the princess’s blood.”

My heart sinks as I frantically run through options. “We must have something. We only need a few drops. Maybe a piece of clothing she was injured in or?—”

“Or we could just use the vial I have,” Mal says. As quick as it sank, my heart leaps. “I still have most of the sample I took for the kin test,” the half-dryad continues.

“And why would you have kept that?” Damia asks darkly. Barb emerges from beneath her collar and starts to wind her way down Damia’s arm.

Mal shrugs, uncomfortable. “I just did.”

He’s lying. Agathyrians mostly avoid blood magic—nearly all branches of it are seen as morally dubious. But Mal’s made it clear he has no such qualms.

“Think again,” I say, fixing him with a hard stare. “Your viatic power is blood magic, and you just happen to have kept some of Morgana’s? What were you planning to do with it?”

Despite the green tinge to his skin, the rebel goes pale. “Nothing, I?—”

“ I asked him to keep hold of it,” Harman says.

“Why?” I ask.

He sighs. “I wanted it as an insurance policy.”

“Against Ana?” I narrow my eyes.

“For myself. Now my father’s dead, I don’t have much proof of my heritage. I thought it might be smart to have some irrefutable evidence I am Alaric’s son.”

“Smart, and very useful in this case,” Alastor chimes in. “Seeing as that blood is going to help us find Her Highness.”

My friend looks at me pointedly, and I let it go. Harman’s secrets, and my friend’s increasing obsession with defending him, are not my main concern right now.

“Alright then. We’ll do it tonight,” I say.

“Why wait?” Harman asks. “Mal could fetch the blood now.”

“Because I can’t do the ritual entirely on my own.

Once we’ve made the connection, Morgana has to take the final step to lock it into place.

When the mooring is nearly complete, I should be able to reach her in her dreams, but she still has to be asleep for me to get a message to her and guide her through it. ”

“What about the Temple protections? You said they were hindering your magic,” Esther points out.

“The sawlamoor will be able to overcome those,” Phaia says. “It’s powerful stuff.”

I change the subject to what we’ll need to perform the ritual. I don’t want the humans dwelling on just how powerful this connection might be.

This is for the best. I know it is.

Still, I’m on edge that night when we gather in the cellars of Tread. Mal is there waiting for us, a small glass tube of crimson liquid in his hand.

“Thank you,” I say, taking it from him. He nods but doesn’t move.

“That’ll be all,” Damia says coolly.

He raises his eyebrows. “You mean I don’t get to witness this fancy ritual to save the day?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Damia says. “The sawlamoor is an ancient, sacred magical act. It’s not open to just anyone.”

Mal pouts but ducks his head. “Suit yourselves. And don’t use it all,” he gestures to the vial before slouching away.

“Alright,” Phaia says. “Let’s head outside.”

The moon shines brightly over Tread, bathing everything in a silvery glow. We walk out beyond the outskirts of the settlement, making sure no one follows.

“Here, this is a good spot.” Phaia stops beside a patch of exposed earth lit by the moon.

There are three steps to invoking the sawlamoor: mind, body, and soul.

We have the body—our blood. The soul is represented by the two elements our magic manifests as.

In my case, the earth. In Ana’s, the stars and planets.

And finally: the mind. That’s the part Ana will have to complete—if I can reach her and convince her to accept it.

Phaia steps up to the patch of earth and starts to intone the words that fae have used for millennia. As I christen the moonlit earth with drops of my blood and hers, I picture Qimorna, and Ana’s face sleeping somewhere among its ivory walls .

Then I unfurl my dream magic out into the night sky, letting it call to the woman I love, praying to the gods that she’ll answer.