Page 171 of Starside

“It feels strange, being out in the open,” I say, remembering how many nights we spent hiding behind water. Or running.

Raker grunts. That’s the extent of his reply.

“You know, I was starting to get worried that this journey would get boring with the starlight protecting us. But your rousing conversation is definitely going to make up for the lack of danger.”

He ignores me.

This again. I roll my eyes. Let him be miserable. It’s the only state he’s ever known in his life.

The forest is dangerous, even during the day. But the necklace seems to offer us protection from more than just the demons.

There is rustling in the trees occasionally, but no creature or immortal ever approaches. We walk in silence.

Until the middle of the night, when the stillness is pierced by something completely unexpected.

My brows come together. “Is that—”

Music. Voices. Laughter.

We look at each other. Are these demons? Is this another illusion?

The starlight casting a wide protective shield, we unsheathe our blades. It gets louder as we approach. Pots clang together. Conversation spikes.

Then … the smell of something recently roasted. The faelings fed us, but my stomach is already twisting in hunger. It smells good. Well spiced.

We walk through the trees, into the clearing—and everything goes silent.

More than two dozen heads turn to look at us, stopping their lively conversations. At the center of them sits a fire … no, an orb shining just as brightly as my necklace.

Trapped starlight.

They’re all immortals. But they aren’t warriors. They’re dressed in modest clothing. Most don’t even carry swords. Some look like children.

Whispers begin the moment they see the light encasing us. All eyes turn to my necklace.

A man steps forward. He has long braided hair tied back, dark brown skin, and a friendly face, which is rare for immortals, who often look perennially unimpressed. “You wear the light, traveler,” he says, motioning toward my neck.

I turn to Raker. He’s standing perfectly still, as if he’s still assessing the situation.

I gently rub the miniature orbs between my fingers. “You—you know the faelings?”

More whispers. Excited trills. The man shakes his head. “No, no—but that’s where we’re headed.”

His meaning hits me. “You’re trying to find the Traveling City,” I say, looking around at them. There is a cheeriness, a sense of hope, among the group.

He nods. “We have the light to guide us,” he says. “We found it. It’s our destiny to find the city. We have been traveling for a while now, looking.”

In this land of immortals, I imagine a while could be years. Decades? Guilt flutters through my chest, knowing we just left the place that these people seem so desperate to find. But I remember how it disappeared once the gates closed, already moving again. Maybe it’s still nearby. Maybe they’ll find it, if they’re meant to.

“Why?” I ask.

A woman with a long scar down her pale cheek says, voice full of excitement, “If we find the gates … if we knock … they must let us in. Those are the ancient rules.”

I remember Este’s insistence, like there was a code. I want to tell them that the Eldress also insisted we leave. It wasn’t a permanent invitation.

“Have you … have you seen it?” someone asks. A woman with curly hair and light brown skin. Her voice is edged with desperation.

I open my mouth—