Page 254 of Starside

“I’m going to kill her,” I tell Stellan. “The goddess with the silver-red eyes.”

He looks over at me. I’m twelve and can barely hold up even the smallest swords in his forge.

“And how are you going to do that?” he asks.

His doubt makes me sit up straighter, as if I could make myself seem more capable by adding a half inch to my stature. “I will cut off her head.”

“And if she has many heads?” he asks. “She is a goddess. She is a being of many forms. Of many faces.”

“Then I will cut off every head,” I say through my teeth. “And every arm, and every leg, and every heart she has, I will cut them off and up and I will burn them.” My voice changes, becomes something I don’t recognize. “I will burn them all.”

Stellan looks over at me. “And if you burn too?” he says.

I give him a rueful smile. “Then I’ll rise from the ashes, just like you taught me.”

The glimmering cave falls into focus the second I step through the arch. Goblets cover the ground, made of every metal. Some look like crystallized flame. Others look forged of ancient bone. Some are carved straight from priceless gems.

Most are piled high, in the corners.

The one blocking my path is made of pure, sparkling silver, just like my sword. I kneel. And the second I wrap my fingers around its stem, it begins to fill with silver liquid brighter than the sun, gleaming like a galaxy, swirling with shredded stars and melted down power.

Pure magic.

It doesn’t stop until it reaches the goblet’s rim.

I lift the cup from the ground. I test it, moving it to the side.

But the liquid does not spill. Even when I turn the goblet over completely.

One promise, finished. I got the magic. I will have my dragon take it to Kira’s sister, if it’s the last thing I do.

Now, it’s time to finish this.

One hand holding the goblet of magic, I use the other to reach for my starblade. I slice my palm across its glimmering edge. My blood spills into the sparkling dirt.

Then, I dig my sword into it, my mind filled with a name that’s haunted me this entire journey.

The gates are ruled by unbreakable magic. They cannot be opened by anyone—even the gods—outside of every fifty years.

Except, maybe, by the god who made them.

The god of journeys, and gates, and in-betweens. The god of the Questral itself.

“God of Travels.”

Great Houses weren’t the only thing I researched in Vander’s library. I also looked up anything I could about summoning gods. They can ignore calls anywhere besides their own land. That’s why they make it so hard to get here—why the archway is closed to anyone but them, outside of the fifty days of the Questral.

A moment later, a goddess steps in front of me, looking just like she does in my worst memories.

Her pale skin gleams like my sword. Her hair is the silver of the gods; she shines with ethereal and otherworldly beauty. Hundreds of gems decorate her skin as if growing out of it, in a multitude of brilliant colors. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds, stones I can’t begin to name.

All this emotion, all this rage, has narrowed into an arrow-like focus as I lift my weapon. I’m surprised my voice comes out steady, but it does. “Do you know who I am?” I ask.

She looks bored. Her perfect face is expressionless. “Of course I do. The one that didn’t burn. You’re here to kill me,” she says simply, glancing at the starlit blade in my hands.

I don’t care how she knows that. I don’t care at all. None of it matters.

“I am.” I take a step forward. “I have wanted to kill you every moment from the first time I saw you.” Every word is edged in rage, the sharpest swords I have ever forged. This unmatched fury uncurls within me, my veins lighting with its fire. But my voice is steady. “You killed my entire family.”