Page 116 of Starside

I start at the beginning. I read quickly, to get through as much as possible, flipping through the pages, studying each image. Every description.

And I realize I don’t know anything about Starside. Not at all. Because the greatest weapons here are not swords—

They are beasts.

And some have magic.

Few can use it. Most have it buried in their bones, or scales, or claws, ready to be extracted and smelted into swords or made into medicines. Those are the ones that are most hunted.

The others are the most feared. There are creatures that can turn into balls of flame, flying through forests, burning down entire woods in just minutes.

There are massive scorpions that can trigger earthquakes with flicks of their horned tails.

There are skeletal cats that can walk through objects, fading into shadows.

There are creatures like the immortal said, older than the seeds of this world, that can pry into minds and swallow souls.

Phoenix.

The word has my breath catching, remembering the last time Stellan called me one.

It turns out there are several types.

There are storm phoenixes that form only during the worst downpours, crafted from lightning and thunder and wind.

There are ice phoenixes that melt into puddles, only to rise again.

There are—

My eyelids suddenly feel heavy as iron. The words begin to blur. The sleep serum. It muddles my thoughts. Makes the letters melt together.

As my eyes slowly blink closed, I think that I have been traveling through Starside for weeks. I thought I saw the worst of it.

But this book has made it clear that I haven’t yet seen this world’s teeth.

A knock has me jolting awake, gasping.

“It’s just the rain,” a gentle voice says. “Not to worry.”

I’m still in the immortal’s house. The book is open in my lap. A thickly woven blanket has been draped over my shoulders.

I sit up, blinking, feeling both rested and drained. Morning light is starting to filter in through the window. I slept here all night. The immortal is still working.

I’m not on the floor … which means I didn’t have my nightmares. No. I slept deeply and calmly, for the first time in years.

Slowly, I get up. I fold the blanket and leave it on the chair. With a pang of sadness, I return the book too.

The immortal gives me a long look, before she ducks below her desk. Glass gently clinks together. “The lord here is strict. I can’t spare much, but here.” She emerges with a handful of vials. “For all you find and collect on your journey.”

My throat tightens, knowing this woman doesn’t expect I’ll live much longer … but she’s giving me something so precious all the same.

“I really am sorry about the coin,” she says, as she walks me out of her house.

Rain whispers down the slanted cobblestones; it patters against aluminum rooftops. The rest of the village hasn’t woken up yet. Only the faintest light peeks through clouds so dense, they look like another wall of mist.

I wrap my arms around myself as I make my way down the quiet road. I miss the hearth already, and the comfortable seat, and the book. Something tells me I’ll never be that comfortable again. Certainly not during the Questral.

For a moment … for a moment, I could pretend like I belonged in a home like that. Like I had a home at all that was still standing.