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Bile rose in his throat. Destiny. Fate. The mere insinuation sent his blood to ice. He said nothing.
“And her father?” Barith pressed. “You think him a mage?”
Pain laced Levian’s expression, and it gave Sirus pause. It struck him suddenly how invested they all were in Gwendolyn and her fate. She was no longer a mere curiosity or a contract to keep entertained. He could sense it in Barith and Levian and even Niah. They cared about what happened to her. They did not wish her to feel pain any more than he did. Only they all knew the same truth: pain was a part of this life and could not be outrun by mortals or immortals alike.
Levian’s face was brushed with a familiar knowing that sent his hackles rising. “He knew what she would be,” he guessed, barely containing the disgust in his own voice.
The mage’s violet eyes widened and met his. For a moment, she was unveiled and raw, but she quickly recovered. “There were a few mages some years back who disappeared without any word. It may not have struck anyone particularly strange, except one was on Council. Jacard was his name.” Her face turned pale. “No trace of him has been discovered since. Gwendolyn would have been an infant around the time he disappeared.” She braced a hand on her stomach. “He was whispered to dabble in dark magicks. There was gossip he was of Dökk blood.”
Barith hissed. Niah shifted in her seat. Sirus was leery to ask what more she held on to, but he knew it must be done. “What more?”
Levian glanced up; she looked nearly ill. “I found a picture of him.” She shuddered. “They have the same eyes.”
That ghostly touch manifested over him until he felt shrouded in a cold veil. It did not unnerve him like it might have another. Sirus was used to such feelings. For Gwendolyn, he felt the prickle of ice that came with it. Her mother was dead, likely her father too. He ached for her.
“You believe he did something to her?” Niah continued. “Her father?”
Frustration flared in Levian’s face, and she shifted in her seat uneasily. Sirus expected her to withhold, as was her nature, but she spoke freely. “I don’t know if he cared for her mother, if this was all planned and arranged, or if it was just the Fates at work…” She stood suddenly and went to the fire. She glared down into the flames as if they held the secrets of the cosmos and she wished to douse them out of spite.
“I cannot say what he felt for Gwen, but I know she was not born this way,” Levian admitted. “The power within her is not a power she carried in the womb. I believe he put this burden upon her head.”
All this time and talk. All this chatter and doubt. Sirus could see it in the mage’s face. The truth and uncertainty of it all at once. “She holds a Star,” he guessed. The words came hollow and cold.
Levian looked pained as she met his eyes. Pained and angry. “She is a daughter of Fate and a mage of Dökk blood. Where better to hide one?”
Sirus could not breathe under the weight of it. His skin tingled, and his mouth ran dry. Gwendolyn’s magick had been unlike anything he’d ever known. It tasted of life and magick itself. He’d thought her a Goddess this very day as she’d stood on the edge of the hot spring, beckoning him to her. She was as close to one as could be, he recognized. A Star made flesh.
“That’s impossible,” Barith snapped.
“How?” Niah pressed, leaning forward in her seat. “How could it even be?”
Levian began to pace before the wide hearth. “The Dökk,” she replied eventually. “They had spells to harness all manner of magicks. Why not a Star? Hell, they thought themselves capable of harnessing time itself and everything in between. So much of their spellbinding is now lost, but it’s not improbable they discovered a way to harness a Star or at least part of one. They were destroyed because of their hubris, but that is not warning enough for some. Power is an intoxicating mistress, drawing you in with coy kisses and smiles. Showing pieces of herself slowly, until you are nothing more than a lapping dog at her feet, begging to see more and more. Not realizing that she is laughing at you all the while, waiting to eat the flesh from your bones.”
“If she does contain the magick of a Star, what does it mean for her as a mortal?” He had not wanted to ask the question, as he felt he already knew the answer, but he must. He had to hear it.
Levian stopped her pacing. She did not need to speak. It was written plain on her face.
Sirus did not let his emotions show, but a shiver of true fear slithered up his spine. He might not have ever felt such fear in his life if not for Gwendolyn. Fear of an enemy he could not fight. That alone was enough to undo him, but there was more to it. This was a hard truth that was always looming. Each day, Gwendolyn marched closer to her death while he slipped between its fingers. She would die. She was mortal. He had known it, but only then did he truly feel the truth of it. It was sobering.
Barith cursed and stood suddenly, going over to pour himself a drink.
“There is so much I still don’t know,” Levian admitted. “I cannot be absolutely certain that any of this is true. But if it is, and she truly somehow possesses one of the Celestial Stars…she is in danger. I can only assume Jacard had a plan that was foiled in some way, leaving Gwen to carry this burden on her own.”
The dragon downed his drink and filled his glass once more. “Can’t you do something?” he asked, turning to face her.
Levian let out a deep sigh. “It’s magick vastly beyond what I know,” she confessed. “Perhaps there is a way to contain it or bind it somehow. That may even be what was done to her at the start. I cannot understand why the mage would have done such a thing, but I’ve not allowed myself to get too far down that particular rabbit hole. There are only a few people I could even think of who might be able to help, and to take her to any of them would be a great risk.”
“The dryads would be able to help her?” Niah asked.
Levian nodded. “The Veil is said to hold a Star itself. Terra. If that is so, it’s possible Iathana would know ways to help her, ways I do not. If she agrees to take her. For now, though, I think she is safe here. The dampening spells around Volkov are old, and they seem to do the trick to keep her magicks at bay. She’s had a few little flares, but nothing of much substance.”
Sirus recalled the little flare of her power in the springs. How that magick had licked over him, sending his entire body burning with pleasure. Guilt tore through him. It was best she did not have any flares at all, and he’d brought one of them on himself.
“So, what do we do?” Barith snapped with impatience. “Just wait for either Iathana or Nestra or some other power-hungry prick to come knocking on the door?” He cursed again and downed his drink.
“There is another option,” Levian offered with a hint of distaste. “There’s only one person I can think of who might actually know and be willing to help.”
Barith eyed her with confusion. “Who?”
