Page 48 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)

Molten Gold

T he cabin looks exactly as I remember it.

The front window still bears two long cracks, spidering across the glass like old scars.

The white-painted door hangs crooked on its hinges, weathered and slightly ajar, as if waiting for someone who never returned.

Inside, the mustard-orange couch sags in the middle, its cushions worn thin by years of use and quiet conversations. It’s all just as it was.

This one-bedroom shed, tucked at the northernmost edge of Goldenpine, sits surrounded by eighty acres of dense forest. Nickel built it with his father a decade ago, cutting and stacking every log with care and calloused hands.

Sometimes he let me help. Laying floorboards, choosing quilts at the market, pretending it was ours , if only for a moment.

Two of those quilts still remain, one slung over the back of the couch, the other folded neatly at the foot of the narrow bed. Little anchors of memory, untouched by time.

The air inside is cold, every breath a visible puff in the stillness. The hearth is dark.

How can nothing have changed here and yet so much has happened?

Heru launches into the sky, and I gather wood for the fireplace. Thankfully, there are still dry logs stock piled high outside under the overhang.

“I miss you, Nickel,” I say to the room that saw many late nights, the stove that cooked hundreds of overly salted bowls of onion soup, the couch where I had my first kiss.

Nickel was more than just a friend. He always knew how to make me laugh. In a terrible way, I am glad to be here, somewhere familiar, for a while. Well, as glad as you can be on one of the worst days of your life.

With no tears left to fall, I walk over to the small corner kitchen and open the cabinets to find canned goods and moldy bread. I throw the moldy bread out and get to work heating some of the contents in an iron pot over the fire. Onion soup.

Snow begins to fall outside as Heru returns with a few small rabbits dangling from her bloody beak. She pecks on the side of the cabin until I open the door.

“Thank you Heru. For everything. You can fly back to Garrot now; I’ll be staying here for a while.”

The overgrown bird did not take to that well, almost piercing my shoulder with a quick snap.

“Okay, okay, you can stay. Make yourself at home.” I hold my arms wide and roll my eyes.

A full-sized roc wouldn’t be able to nestle by the woodpile under the overhang, but Heru is smaller than her kin.

What might seem like a disadvantage for most can be a strength for those open to conquering it. She rests her head and closes her eyes.

I ache all over, physically and mentally. Never before have I wanted to live off the grid on my own. A simple life. But now, that seems appealing. No responsibilities beyond your own everyday needs. It is so, so tempting.

No one to worry about.

No one to lose.

The heat from the fire finally has warmed the cabin enough that my trembling subsides. The wind gently rustles the window frames as I tuck myself into bed after scratching a single hash mark into the wall with the sharp edge of my golden pendant.

I layer the two quilts and curl on my side, watching the flames dance in the fire. The fire crackles and pops like the flames that destroyed so many homes in Redrock. I wince and turn to the other side.

Embers flicker in the fire as I wake. Early dregs of sunlight poke through the windows. I slip on a woolen shirt that Nickel left behind and add a few more logs to the fire. The stockpile of wood should last a few days, which is perfect.

I want to be alone.

Away from Redrock.

Away from the Watch.

Away from anyone I care for, because it seems wherever I go, a path of destruction follows.

I walk toward the river with two large pails to gather water for a bath.

The Dolan River rarely freezes over, even in the coldest of winters, because of its strong current.

I begin filling my bucket. Heru splashes happily upstream.

Fish startle and jump at her destruction, and she easily plucks at them with her beak one by one until she’s had her fill.

I chuckle at the sight. Even a beast bred for war is just a silly bird inside.

I lower my second bucket into the stream and am surprised to see a flower. A lily, beautiful white and blue. I have a feeling if it were night, this bloom would glow.

Atlys.

My stomach clenches. He acts like he likes me, like he genuinely wants to help me. Yet when a rogue Underworld clan attacked Redrock, he remained seated. I can still see the strained look on his face as he sat still on his royal ass.

I throw the lily back into the river and watch as it bobs up and down along the surface until it disappears, then stomp back to the cabin only to find another lily in the empty tub and a third in the sink!

Plucking each lily from the places throughout the cabin, I throw them out the front door and slam it shut so hard, one of the hinges pops loose. The door is now dangerously close to falling off entirely.

“Fuck!” I grunt in frustration and search for the tool to fasten the hinge.

Just as I finish fixing the door, a soft yipping sound comes from the corner of the room. I freeze and strain my ears.

I snatch the broom leaning against the wall and turn in one quick movement, poised to strike at the intruder.

Sitting in the center of the woven rug is the last thing I expected to see when I turned around. “Nightmare! What are you doing here?”

The brown groundhog-looking dog just blinks innocently at me with those round teal orbs and extends a paw with a note attached. I grab the rolled parchment. Nightmare looks satisfied then starts to disappear into the floor.

“Wait!”

Nightmare pauses.

I quickly scribble a note to Ramona. It’s been a day since the Battle of Redrock. I explain that I’m fine. That I needed to see Goldenpine, and that… that I need a few days alone to process everything. I hand Nightmare the note. “Take this to Cadet Ramona Mitchell, please.”

His eyes fill with an understanding, and he carefully takes the note with his teeth then trots through the wall.

I’ll never get used to that.

I manage to ignore the small scroll, sealed with black wax with the insignia of house Terraguard, for the remainder of the afternoon. My coward of a sponsor can go fuck himself.

I stomp about the cabin and try to make myself busy, mending a hole in the quilt and reinforcing the rocking chair’s leg that looked suspiciously close to falling off.

By nightfall, I’ve fixed almost everything in the cabin.

The floor is mopped and not a single dust particle is in sight, and yet all I can think of is a certain white-haired Underling.

Not sure what else to do. I return to my instincts: music.

I grab two wooden spoons from the drawer and begin tapping a rhythm on the table, testing and trying until I find just the right beat for one of Marrow’s old favorites.

I sing until my voice goes hoarse as I stare at the golden staff now leaning against the wall.

“Your music moves me,” a deep voice resonates from behind me.

I stand and spin, tipping the edge of the wooden spoon at the throat of my intruder.

Atlys has the audacity to look at me with something like admiration. “Hello, my Sunrise.”

All I can see when I look at Atlys is the cold, unfeeling Underling Lord that chose to sit idly instead of save innocent lives attacked by his own fucking people!

“Get the fuck away from me!” I yell and slap the wooden spoon on this chest. It breaks. I huff out a cry of annoyance and throw the pieces aside. I resume my assault, pushing and pushing, not caring that tears leak down my face. Despite my relentless attempts, he doesn’t move.

“Akemi, please stop! You are going to hurt yourself.”

I see red and shove him with all my might, screaming when I feel a small bone in my wrist snap.

“Damn it!” I cradle my hand and back away from his massive figure until the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. I sit down and hug my wrist tight. Amongst all of the questions swirling in my head, all I can muster is, “Why?”

“I’m sorry.” Atlys takes a small step forward, then stops himself, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long black trench coat before approaching any further. “That I couldn’t assist with the defense of Redrock. My kind has… limitations. I promise to explain.”

I laugh coldly. “What’s hard to explain about helping innocent people from being murdered for no reason?”

“Akemi—”

“No. I will talk now,” I assert and Atlys stills, patient and listening. “When we were called to battle at the end of the second task, all second and third-stone humans heeded the call. Elves from both tribes heeded the call, and yet the Underworld delegations just sat there. You sat there.

“I waited for you to stand, to join us. You act like you care about me, and yet when other human lives— my people’s lives —are at risk, you don’t seem to care one bit!” I’m yelling at him by the end, chest heaving and breathless. Somehow, I’m closer to him.

I continue, “How can I trust you? How can I know that you won’t leave me to die like half of Redrock? How could you do this to me? ”

Now only a foot away, I look up at Atlys, letting him see the scope of my hurt and disdain. He swallows.

“I told you about my history, the attack on Goldenpine, and you promised that you would try to make a change! You promised that your people would do better! But look what happened. They attacked another human village… and for what? To pillage and kill? To torture and capture? What could a nation surrounded by gemstones possibly need to take from those less fortunate?”

With each question, my rage spirals, hot as the sun. “You were complacent, and the people of Redrock suffered because of it, for what? To win the Summit? Gain the political leverage you so desperately seek? Because that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Political power over innocent lives!”

I’m shaking. My heart pounds beneath the locked cell of my constricting ribcage. Flashes of the Rose & Raven fill my vision: red blood coating the wood floor, Marrow’s lifeless stare, crashing and clanking of weapons, the screaming children.

I wipe away my tears angrily and look back at Atlys, only to find the silver tendrils of his eyes flicking over me with concern.

“Akemi.” Atlys clears his throat. “Your eyes!”

Near the side of the bed is a small frosted mirror. Oh gods!

My eyes are glowing, molten gold, as if a piece of the sun itself was contained inside me. “What is… what is this?” I sway on my feet, suddenly feeling dizzy.

It is dark, the moonlight the only source of light. I am both here, and not here, like floating somehow between these two places. I can feel my feet planted firmly on the ground. Atlys’s arms hold me upward in Nickel’s cabin, and yet I’m also here, at a different time.

“Quick, hand me the cloth!” Rosie yells to Nickel as she clutches Row tightly to her chest on the floor of the cabin.

My heart stumbles at the recognition of my old friends, but the elation is replaced with fear as I watch, unable to tear my eyes away.

Nickel rummages through a cabinet, retrieves a strip of cloth, and hands it to her. “Here!”

Row’s normally tanned skin is pale and covered in blood. His hand holds in his intestines from a gash in his stomach. He moans as Rosie moves to grab the bindings.

“He’s losing too much blood!” Bane calls from the door.

He looks outside once more, then turns to come inside.

“There aren’t any Underlings in sight. I think we lost them.

” He sheaths his dagger and runs toward his injured friend.

“Let me help. Keep him still,” he instructs Rosie and takes the bandages from her.

Rosie strokes Row’s bald head and begins to hum a familiar tune while Bane begins wrapping his stomach. The one Marrow dedicated to me the night he died, I recognize with a start.

Nickel makes himself busy while Bane and Rosie care for Row, making a fire, laying out fresh clothes and blankets, then prepping some food in the kitchen. “Is he going to make it?”

Rosie lifts her chin to regard Nickel. Her red curls are matted with sweat and tears streaming down her face. “I do not know.”

I slip back into the present, and Atlys removes his arms from supporting me. He remains behind me, ready to catch me if I faint again. I feel a flood of emotions as I stand in the same small cabin I was just dreaming about… or was that a vision? What is happening to me?

As if Atlys could hear my thoughts, he says, “I was wondering when you would let your light shine.”

In the reflection, our eyes meet, a clash of silver and gold. “What do you mean, my ‘ light ’?”

“Akemi,” he whispers, “you’re a Starwatcher.”