Page 87 of Starside

The Prism Path.

Endless, towering mountains ripple in steep waves, all covered in that light green grass, as if the god that created this place coveted the color. In between each sit long, thin waterfalls, like towering blades, sunlight skipping from one to the next in rainbow arcs. I’ve never seen so many colors. I didn’t think the world could look like this.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

Raker makes a sound of contempt next to me.

Soon, we’re in the middle of it, walking through a valley. I feel so small down here, just a pebble compared with these mountains that stand tall like rows of knights, wielding their sparkling swords.

There’s an energy to this place, a pull. Something different from everywhere else I’ve been. Even if I wanted to ask Raker if he feels it too—even if I thought he would respond to anything I say, and if I even wanted to speak to him in the first place—I wouldn’t know how.

The feeling is wordless. It’s pure emotion, bleeding through my chest. An ancient, long-lost sense, awakening.

We walk a mile through the valley, until Raker turns, shifting our path into the mountains. I know better than to ask where we’re going. He stops in front of one of the many waterfalls. A cave sits just behind it. Raker unceremoniously throws his pack through the water and walks away, in a different direction. He’s gone before I can even think about speaking.

“Bastard” is what I eventually say, far too late for him to hear it.

Slowly, I unpeel my makeshift bandage, wincing, but grateful that I don’t see any signs of infection. Yet. I carefully wash off the blood and dirt in the cool water, before wrapping my hand again. The inside of the cave is dark, smooth stone.

I sink down onto it. The cold is a balm against my sore calves.

If only I still had my dragon, I wouldn’t have to do this all on foot. I wouldn’t have to work with Raker.

More than that … more than the help she offered …

I miss her.

My stomach twists with hunger.

I glance over at Raker’s pack and have half a mind to search it for food, before deciding against it. He’s made it very clear how he feels about me touching his things.

Figure it out.

To forage is to survive on Stormside. Barely anything grows. You have to be clever and patient enough to seek out the small fertile patches. It’s late afternoon. I still have an hour or so until sunset.

I leave the cave, then follow the slope of the hill, down into a forest.

Mushrooms are rare on the other side. I once found a bundle beneath a rotted tree stump and felt the joy of discovering gold in a rock.

Here—here, they’re everywhere.

Some are as large as my hand, others are thin and small, bunched together in a bouquet. Some have thick stalks and curved edges. There must be hundreds of them.

Relief rolls through my empty stomach … along with a flash of bitterness. This is all untouched. This place … it’s abandoned. How many villages could this forest feed on Stormside?

I look up at the sky. If the gods were fair, they wouldn’t allow this all to go to waste. They wouldn’t allow one side to be brimming with food while the other goes hungry.

And maybe I’m no better than the immortals, because when I see all this food …

I take it. I grab it all, tucking everything I can fit into my pockets. Then, I keep wandering, until I reach a streak of color.

Berries. A rainbow of them. Purple, blue, pink, red. Red. The same type my dragon found for me. Just like I did then, I grab them by the handful. I put some in my mouth.

I bite down and groan.

They’re sweeter than the previous berries, even. Anything on Stormside is a cheap comparison. Watered down. This is straight from the source. Perfect, a sugar that melts through my marrow. I groan as juice slides across my tongue. I pack as many berries as I can into my pockets.

Wildflowers bloom in a petal-swept trail, and I follow them into a grove, filled with blossoms.