“What exactly are we looking for?” Lucille inquired. She put her hands on her hips and looked around for anything that might be hidden within their surroundings.
“I’m not sure,” Lace admitted. “When the man in Salek gave us the amulet, he told us to go within Windwere, find the endless drop, and summon the moon.” She frowned. She knew her words made little sense. When the shopkeeper had spoken them to her and Killian, it hadn’t made sense then either. It had taken several favors owed and even more quiet conversations to interpret the vague meaning thus far.
“And exactly how does one summon the moon?” Victoria cocked an eyebrow. “I feel like it’s too busy hanging out in the sky, minding its own business, to help us.”
Lace let the amulet fall from her palm, the chain wrapping around her fingers. She could see the imprint the stone and silver had left upon her skin from clutching the jewelry so tightly. Silently, she wondered if it would remain there always, a reminder of their failures. She prayed this wouldn’t be another one.
The light from the moonstone beamed outward, driving the shadows of the night away. Even the shadow at Killian’s side cringed. Lace threw it an apologetic smile as she held the amulet high above her head toward the moon. She waited several seconds, but nothing was happening. Reaching higher, she prayed the moon would hear her silent pleas.
Killian frowned. His gaze traced the gem before floating to the moon above. “Maybe Victoria’s right. Maybe the moon doesn’t care about helping us.”
“Or maybe you’re just impatient,” a croaking voice said from behind them.
Lace turned on her heels so quickly she nearly lost her balance and Killian threw out his arm to keep her from tumbling off the cliff. Her heart thumped loudly against her chest as she willed her vision to see past the dense trees they had just escaped. Extending the necklace outward, she let its light permeate the area.
A woman adorned in a tattered brown cloak walked into the clearing. Her face was completely hidden, her back hunched impossibly low. Long, dirty, gray hair hung from beneath her hood. She stumbled forward. If Lace hadn’t already been backed up against the edge of the cliff, she would have taken a step away from the woman.
“Who are you?” Killian asked.
The old woman chuckled. It was a dry, hacking sound. “What a question to ask.” She shook her head slightly, her hair swaying back and forth. “What a question to ask when you are the one who has come to summon me.”
“Summon you? We were calling upon the moon.” Lace motioned toward the sky as though to prove her point. “How can a woman be the moon?”
“And how does a human born not of magic come upon chaos itself? Not everything before you is as it seems.” The old woman grasped her cloak, and in one single flick of the wrist, it was thrown from her body and into the air. Lace’s mouth parted. She watched with childlike wonder as it stretched outward and blanketed the sky. Holes gave way to stars and the cloak became the night itself.
Lace looked back toward the old woman to find she was not old at all. In place of her gray hair was now a white so bright, it resembled the very lunar being above them. Her glowing eyes resembled the cosmos and seemed to stare through them all, seeing beyond the physical.
“Gods of Arcanya…” Victoria whispered. No one made a move as they took in the woman before them.
“Not the gods,” she said with a hint of music on her lips. “My name is Saryrn.” Her presence was strangely intoxicating, and Lace found herself swaying against the sensation.
Realization dawned on Killian. He turned wide eyes toward her. “The sorceress and embodiment of the moon.”
Saryrn smiled warmly. “Yes. And I know why you have all come.” Her gaze dropped to the amulet Lace still held.
“May I?” Saryrn asked. Lace nodded, holding the amulet out for her. The sorceress gently laid it across her palm and encased it entirely with her other hand. A soft glow escaped from between her fingers and her head fell back. The moon pulsated and grew larger, reaching out to lend strength to the sorceress. Wind flowed in from somewhere deep within the wood, meeting them on the cliff. Faint wispy words floated on the current, invading Lace’s senses. She closed her eyes against the melodic hum and felt herself being drawn toward the chaos surrounding them. Her body felt weightless, as if gravity had been pulled away. Just as she was about to float, the feeling fled, and the wind calmed.
“That didn’t feel like chaos,” Lucille said, breaking the silence.
“Because it’s not contained chaos like Pandemonium holds,” Saryrn said. “It is the chaos of the moon. Wild, feral, ancient. Something no mortal will ever hold.” Opening her clasped hands, the moonstone amulet was gone. In its place, laid a pearl white hairpin that resembled the very stars above them. The sorceress held it out and laid it on Lace’s palm.
“What is it for?” Lace’s gaze was lost on the pin as her fingers caressed the smooth surface.
Instead of answering her question, the sorceress smiled weakly and said, “I don’t envy you for what lies ahead and the choice you will have to make.”
Lace’s head shot up. She could see sorrow behind Saryrn’s glowing eyes. It was as though the moon itself was weeping. “What do you mean?”
“Throughout humanity, many cages have been made, and though yours has unlocked, not all have.” Her eyes drifted toward the moon before falling and locking with Lace’s. “Be mindful of the bars that have been placed around others, whether you can see them or not.” The cloak detached from the sky and fell like a meteor, wrapping tightly around the woman. Without another word, she vanished, leaving Lace feeling lost.
Chapter Three
Intricate silk wrapped tightly around Lace’s abdomen as she spun wildly downward toward the stage. Grasping the fabric firmly, it wrapped around her leg, jerking her to a stop at the last moment. She extended her arm outward, trying to prove she could be graceful in the act.
“Good,” Harrah, one of the aerial artists, said. Her sharp chocolate eyes drifted over Lace’s form, giving her an approving nod. “Now, let your fingers run up the silk and grasp it where it’s not easily seen by the audience. Once you get a good grip, lift yourself upward using the leverage your legs have against the fabric.”
Lace reached upward, her fingers brushing against the fabric. She’d been practicing the acts of the show almost daily, but her strength still failed her after long, arduous sessions. She grunted. Her muscles strained against the forced movement before giving out. Her body fell from the gathered cloth, and she slammed into the wooden stage. All air left her as she laid there unmoving, letting her eyes flutter closed. Vaguely she could hear Harrah’s melodic alto voice speaking, but her mind fled to other places. Though she fought it, the tangible world slipped away as her mind returned to the one thing she couldn’t seem to let go of—the missing silver card.
It was still out there somewhere, hidden away. For months, they’d spent time trekking throughout the lands of Arcanya searching, but it was to no avail. Falhaven, Salek, Valkrian, and now Elkiate had all proven to be dead ends. The only place they hadn’t looked yet was Dryston. A cold chill swept through Lace. It was the one country she did not want to enter. Until a peace treaty was signed with Falhaven, she wasn’t willing to chance entering Erik’s home, even if he was dead.