Page 119 of Fire to the Stars

“Go,” she orders, pointing to the cave. “Take Claire and go inside.”

“What’s in there?” I ask, alarmed by her panic.

“Just go, slayer!” She shoves me toward the darkness. “He only wants the two of you.”

I press my forehead to Claire’s, whisper a last-ditch prayer, then carry her into the cavern. My meager lantern casts light no morethan ten feet in front of me. Stalagmites and stalactites welcome me like dragon’s teeth. Lucy, ever faithful, keeps close to us—until her hackles rise and she growls.

“Calm, little one. I am not your enemy,” intones a deep voice. The echo ricochets off the cavern’s interior in such a disorienting way, I can’t tell where it originates. “Nor am I yours, Abel Estellio.”

“Who are you?” I demand. Pain spikes through my shoulder as I tense. The sudden movement makes Claire’s head roll away from my shoulder. “Whereare you?”

Something heavy and metallic rattles.Chains.The sound is ingrained in my memory from the days I kept Micah contained.

“I am in a prison, of sorts,” the voice says. “As you will see. Come closer.”

With a swallow, I step forward until the lamplight catches the first chain. A second chain. Then the light catches the shape of a humanlike figure, locked inside a narrow cell and all four limbs tethered to the rock. Everything is made of moonmetal.

That’s not what compels me to hold my breath. It’s the ethereal appearance of the man trapped inside.

He looks to be a young adult, but I can’t pinpoint his age. There’s something timeless about his skin. It reflects faintly silver, like moonlight. A sheetlike garment drapes his figure, secured around the middle with a frayed rope, and leaves his arms and feet bare. Sleek black hair falls past his shoulders. Examining his eyes, I stop short. They aren’t natural—no irises, no whites. They’re filled completely black, but pinpricks of light shine from them, mirrors to a clear night sky. As if his eyes are windows to the celestial realm. Eyes meant to see far, far beyond me.

“Diu help us,” I whisper.

“You will helpme,” he corrects, and bows his head in greeting. “I have been waiting nearly two millenniums for this moment.”

He says it in a bored tone, as if two millenniums is no time at all.

I lay Claire gently on the ground and stay kneeling at her side. Lucy rests protectively on her stomach. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”

“You already know who I am.” The chains rattle as he gestures gracefully to Claire, then me. “I have been watching the world—and you both—through the eyes of my owls.”

“Noctu,” I breathe.

Impossible. Yet here he is, clearly inhuman, right in front ofme.

“You never Ascended to the celestial realm,” I say. “Diu left you here?”

“Not by choice. He did not imprison me.”

“So the Gods’ War…”

“Pure fiction.” Noctu examines the moonmetal shackles claiming his wrists as if mildly inconvenienced. “Though your understanding of the Dark Days is fairly accurate.”

I squeeze Claire’s hand, bracing myself. Correcting the history of Florent is secondary to the real reason we came here.

“Is there a cure for the dragon curse?” I ask.

“No. Her fate is sealed.”

No cure.

No hope.

Simple as that.

All the resentment I developed toward the War-Torn Godsthroughout my journey heats my face. The pain of every loss that Claire, Lyle, and I have shouldered to make it to this summit boils under my skin to the point of full-body trembles. The deaths—my parents, Micah, Madame Afi—can’t be for nothing.

Myresearchcan’t be for nothing.