Page 128 of Reign of Stars and Fire

“I-I do not have the key.” Avian flushed. “Frode barricaded it inside.”

“He is there? Frode!” Eryka shouted again.

“My Lady,” Avian went on, “all the holies are in there. They locked themselves in to protect the repository from falling into the wrong hands. The front entrance is completely blocked by boulders. We spoke through the door for a time—”

“Is she telling the truth?” I nearly shouted at Junius.

“Yes.” Junie nodded. “I taste no lies.”

“How long ago did this priest speak?” Stieg said, voice rough.

Avian let out a long breath. “Two nights.”

Dammit. Before I had a chance to promise grand writings of her name in the poems and histories by pleading with her to dig once more, Hodag shoved through and jabbed her claws between a crack along the frame of the oak door.

The troll grunted and cursed and mumbled. Her blocky arms pulsed from exertion; her wiry hair stuck to her skin in sweat. Exhaustion would claim her soon enough, but if we could just have a little more time, a little more luck . . .

“Open, my sweetlings.”

I released a ragged breath. She’d dug an opening wide enough we could slip between the door and its hinges.

“Do you have water for the troll?” I asked Avian.

The priestess nodded and led Hodag into her hidden crag.

I took the lead and shimmied through the broken doorway, watching the snag of my swords and boots on the jagged rocks.

First, I swallowed the reek of flesh and refuse and piss. I coughed against the burn of death and covered my mouth and nose with the crook of my arm. Second, I heard the eerie hum somewhere deep in the cavern.

“Gods.” Stieg slipped through behind me and yanked his tunic over his nose.

The others did the same. Eryka retched but froze when she took in the room. Half full clay oil lanterns kept a faint flicker of light in the round cavern. From floor to ceiling were shelves of parchment, ink, and quills. Thick leather books and twine-bound husk sheets with paintings of prophecy lined every shelf.

In the center was a round mirror built into a painted stone table. The mirror was positioned below a circular opening that was covered in iron bars, but let in enough moon and starlight it could shine through and guide holy fae on their seeing journeys.

“Why do you suppose the creature didn’t come through there if he wanted in so badly?” Stieg pointed to the opening.

“As I said, only certain bloodlines can enter,” Eryka said. “He could’ve tried, but wards around the repository would turn folk away.”

The cavern had been a beautiful space until now. The lanterns revealed dozens of bodies strewn about the repository. Dressed like Avian in simple robes with shaved heads, the priests and priestesses of the star court had sacrificed themselves to keep their key hidden from Davorin.

“They taught me how to listen, how to star speak,” Eryka whispered, kneeling beside a stout woman whose eyes were pointed toward the sky. “Why would they do this?”

“What sort of prophecies are here?” Hagen asked.

“Nothing so extraordinary.” Eryka closed the woman’s eyes. “At least not that I know. There are certain areas only the High Priest ventured.”

“Davorin believes something is here he can use,” I said, irritated. “And gods, where is that damn humming coming from?”

“What humming?” Rune asked.

“You can’t hear that?” Hells, the pitch was growing to the point it rattled in my ears.

“Ari, we hear nothing.” Stieg came to my side, scanning the room. “Where do you hear it?”

I felt like a bleeding fool. The hum was less hum now, and more of a screech. I covered my ears, wincing. “That way.”

I pointed toward a pitch corridor.