Page 233 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Violet light spilled from the Starshard at Fenn’s throat and closed around Sharyne like a second swaddle. Her nose crinkled, arms pushing against the cloth before sleep claimed her again.

Fenn inspected his shield, giving an approving nod. “She won’t even notice.”

Vesryn’s pupils narrowed to draconic slits. Obsidian scales plated down his arms, glinting in the sun as his wings opened wide. “Then we take the long way.”

“One small shortcut,” Fenn said, seizing both their arms.

The hillside vanished before Serenna could object. Wind tore across her skin as Fenn warped them high.

For one suspended heartbeat, she hung weightless in open blue, the lake flashing like broken glass below.

Then her wings caught, a current snapping through the membranes.

Vesryn swept in beside her, silver hair streaming, while Fenn emerged on her other side with Sharyne bound against his heart.

The world opened before them. Lake. Shore. Spires. Fields scarred by war.

Wounded still, but now theirs to mend.

Serenna beat her wings once, rising into a current. This time, she didn’t fall into the sky.

She claimed it.

CHAPTER 60

JASSYN

Jassyn had stopped reading the Accord’s provisional articles two hours ago.

Neat black rows crowded the vellum spread before him—trade protections, asylum clauses, limits on military command. Grievances trimmed into polite language, demands softened by titles no one had yet earned.

Every line asked the same question in a different way—what shape power should take now that the elven order had fallen.

Two weeks had passed since the sky split open above the Drowned Spires. Two weeks since Galaeryn had left a shattered world behind. Still, those drifting in the wreckage kept arriving at Jassyn’s table in pieces.

He’d planted the Accord in the druid jungle because the surrounding Wastes belonged to no realm. Between the human lands and the druid wilds, Blossom had given their new alliance a place to flourish.

This council chamber hadn’t existed before she grew it. The dragon had raised the room high within one of the great trees, open to the jungle on every side, with a stairway winding through the trunk to the city below. She’d coaxed dwellings from the canopy without felling a single tree, bending wood into columns and drawing branches together into vaulted roofs.

Beyond the chamber, twilight gathered in violet seams between the leaves while green light pulsed through the bark.

Along the table, the argument over trade routes had circled long enough for the voices of Kaedryn’s guildmasters to blur.

The room smelled of rain, damp earth, ink, and the cold remnants of the meal one of Lykor’s wraith had delivered hours ago.

A plate sat near Jassyn’s elbow, quartered apricots from Asharyn untouched beside flatbread dried at the edges. Abandoned dishes crowded the growing stack of dispatches from the human realms—kingdoms that had spent centuries feeding Alari’s appetite now wanting to know what would happen when they stopped.

Someone had thought to pour him tea.

It wasn’t Fenn’s. Too weak with the herbs, too sharp at the back of the tongue, missing the smoky bite.

Jassyn had tried to brew it himself that morning, but three different people had stopped him before he touched the pot. Apparently he could decide the fate of realms, but couldn’t be trusted with boiling water.

He curled his fingers around the cold cup and glanced toward the jungle before he could stop himself. Serenna, Vesryn, and Fenn should’ve arrived days ago now.

A talon struck the table and dragged Jassyn back into the debate. One of Kaedryn’s guildmasters bent over the maps, his claw tracing a border.

“We cannot simply sever these supply lines and pretend the realms will rebalance themselves,” the druid said. “You say that for centuries, grain, ore, timber, livestock, and labor flowed toward the capital. If those channels are to be cut, the goods must be redirected somewhere stable.”