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“Then I’ll stay until that happens. We’ve got enough food for three days. Is that enough?”

“I won’t need that long to fix the break. But I’ve no idea about the words coming back.”

The staircase narrowed as we descended. It wasn’t carved clean like the hall above. It was older and rougher. The stone was uneven beneath my boots, worn in the middle by centuries of use and almost untouched at the sides. The air grew warmer and more humid. It was different from Skyworld magic in the hall and workshop.

“Where are we going?”

Aster didn’t slow. And I followed close behind, one hand brushing the wall, the other still resting over the books as if they might try to leave me.

The walls rumbled again. “You feel that?” I asked.

Around another corner, there was a small wooden door, which Aster went to and pulled a key from his pocket. “You have a room here?”

“I have rooms all over the cursed lands. The rebellion has safe houses in every city. You know that.” He frowned at me.

I did, but he wasn’t with the rebellion anymore, was he?

“It’s just… you look so at home in the Ruckus with your cabin and all the tattoos. I just thought…”

“Ah, so that’s it. You thought everything had changed. But it’s more like an evolution. I’ve learned a lot over the past few years. Come on, you’ll like this.” He unlocked the door, and the lanterns lit up to show a small room with a bed shrouded in cloth in the corner and a door at the other end.

Aster moved past me, whipping the sheet off the bed to show blankets and pillows neatly made. He set his bag down on one end and motioned for me to do the same. Then he strode towards the other door before pausing. “Night is setting in. We won’t be under the stars, but the darkness may still be able to reach us…” It was a question. He was asking if I was brave enough to face the Fates.

“This Yule, for the first time ever, I’ve been out under the stars every single night. I think the Gods are used to seeing me now, and the Fates have already done their worst. What more can they do?” It was a foolish thing to say out loud, and Aster shook his head at my challenge.

“I’m not sure if you’ve grown brave in my absence or wildly stupid. I’m going to check on Griffin. Meet you down there.” He didn’t wait for an answer but unlocked the next door, then turned and left the room.

I pushed open the opposite door and hurried along another mirrored-stone corridor before coming to an abrupt halt. I came to stand in the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

The Fifth Night of Yule

— The First Warmth

Mortals celebrate the light and the warmth it brings.

On the fifth night, the cold loosens its hold ever so slowly. There is a warmth where there was none before. The shards of ice covering a frozen river begin to creak and crack. This is the night of false safety and unstable shelter.

There is a fragile belief that a trickle of warmth is the start of true comfort.

But warm comfort comes at a cost that you must be sure you can pay. What feels like refuge may just be a place where you are caught off guard.

Beware those who ask you to stay for warmth, for they may be the ones who make you forget to leave and find the fire.

For on the fifth night of Yule, the world does not chase you; it lets you believe you are no longer running.

The Ashen Grimoire

23

I stopped on the threshold of a gigantic room which was open to the elements all along one side. What might once have been a cave had been skilfully carved out to make the walls smooth, and rounded pillars reached for the ceiling. The space was older than the Grand Library or the manor in the Ruckus. Vines covered in snow wrapped the stone and framed the sprawling snow-capped mountains. The air smelled faintly of minerals and dust, and somewhere beyond the nearest column, water echoed against the stone.

In the distance, poking out of the blanketed Ruckus forest, was a lone Sky Tower. Half of the Tower’s turrets had crumbled, through war or time, and I wondered if that was where Torran and Kit had spent the night with their phoenix. I shook my head. That wasn’t any of my business.

I stepped further inside as gentle snow flurries drifted in through the arches; they melted mid-flight as steam reached up to claim them. It took me a moment to realise where the steam was coming from. A vast, heated pool occupied half the cavernous chamber, fed by four waterfalls cascading from the stone above.

The tiny candle-like lanterns lit up as I walked in, flickering on the walls, giving the whole space a warm glow. Some floated on the water, and others rested at the edge. They told me that the first Skyworlders had built this, but then my gaze caught the Celtic symbols carved deep into the pillars and arches. In the centre of each arch was a triskele, identical to the symbol on my amulet. The one Aster had given me, which Morlan said came from her, but what if it was a lot older than that?

And then I saw it. Earthworlders and Skyworlders had once coexisted here. More than that, they shared space and resources. Perhaps long ago the Cursed Lands weren’t divided by beliefs with hard borders and hatred. And Aster knew… Was that what he wanted me to see down there? Was he trying to explain his recent conversion to Earthworld?