Page 169 of Starside

Oh. I feel a rush of disappointment, for some reason.

“This is a godsword.”

The world around me goes very still. My breath gets caught in my lungs.

Then, everything breaks. My mind, my assumptions, my framing of this entire journey.

No. I must have misheard him. There’s no fucking way a godsword claimed me … a mortal hellbent on slaying the gods themselves.

But as his words sink in, it all starts to make sense.

The bounty. The cavalry.

Golden rays pour through the broken windows. I could stand here and refute his words, remain in denial, but I don’t have time to doubt. I just need answers. “What does that mean?” I say in a whisper.

“It once belonged to one of the original gods. It holds their power. It’s the greatest type of sword—and, of course, the rarest.”

No. I haven’t seen this blade have any abilities other than its metal … but I remember what the hunter said. Since I’m mortal, I can’t access its power.

My head is racing, thoughts tripping over themselves, but I manage to ask, “Do you know which god my sword belonged to?”

“No, I can’t be sure. But one might know. The other blacksmith from the original line. The oldest blacksmith among us.”

“Where is he?”

He shakes his head. “He might as well be dead.”

“Where is he?” I ask again, pleading. And—this shouldn’t be important. This is not part of my journey. But I need to know what I’m carrying.

The blacksmith looks up from my metal. “He is known as the Great Betrayer. He left our people to work for one of the Great Houses.”

He hands the sword back to me. “Godswords hold great power … and great power is a poison. People will be drawn to it … and you. They will risk everything just for a chance to claim it.”

I remember the Masks in the woods. The warriors. How they were pulled toward it by an invisible force.

“This sparkling steel,” I say, brushing across the flat top of my blade with my fingertips. “What is it? What do you call it here?” I’m guessing it isn’t called Starside steel.

“You mortals have your high metals and low metals. Immortals have an additional tier of sparkling metals. This one is the rarest, most powerful … and most dangerous, strong enough to contain limitless magic. It’s only found where the gods live. It’s called paladian.”

The Eldress walks into the forge then. Her eyes go from my sword to the blacksmith. Worry flutters across her features, before they settle. “I trust you got the answers you wanted?”

I suppose I did. The most I could hope for, anyway. I also have far more questions than ever before. She motions for me to follow, and I thank the blacksmith, then leave the workshop, blade sheathed against my spine.

It holds an entirely different weight now.

A godsword. Why would a godsword claim me? It doesn’t make any sense.

All I want is to reach the end of this … and now I know for certain the gods won’t stop until they get my weapon.

Fuck.

Dread settles in my bones. The end of this quest is going to be far harder than the beginning of it.

And I only barely survived that.

The Eldress looks over at me as we walk past tree-homes, long oval windows propped open, letting in the crisp pine and mint-swept breeze. Above, the bridges sway slightly with featherlight faeling steps.

As if she can sense my stirring thoughts, she says, “The Astral Queen hasn’t been seen in centuries. This is a sign.”