Starkeeper of the Fractured Crown

“We each bring something to this world, andeveryone seems to have forgotten that, yet no one cares. All they care about is what others say about their species and how much power they can get before they inevitably get dethroned, meanwhile they ignore the toxicity amongst their own while ignoring the good in everyone else’s.”

I inhaled deeply, exhausted, only wanting to get back to Mark. “What’s the point in fighting to be accepted in a world that is so wrought with poison, they can’t see that the antidote is in the hands of people they are so desperately trying to hate?”

Talaroe searched my eyes, pain in his own. He looked around him, searching for something unknown to me. Finally, he inhaled deeply, his eyes finding mine once again, his shoulders weighed down by decades of sorrow. “I know a girl who, at 17, brought two entire Kingdoms together without trying. Who saved multiple people because she believed that everyone deserved a second chance, no matter how cruel they seemed to be.”

I honestly felt bad for him. Having that much optimism must have been tiresome. “That’s great for her, but this world is beyond saving.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “Well, what if I told you the antidote was in Trick Michael’s hand? Do you thinkanyonewould put aside their hatred long enough to learn how to make it? Because I don’t think I could do it and I don’t believe anyone else could either.”

“We’ve done it before,” he pointed out.

I laughed. “During the War of Ruin?”

“During both wars.”

I worked my jaw, hand tightening around my bow, the anger causing my skin to burn. “No, we didn’t. Your history is wrong.”

But Talaroe shook his head. “I’ve read—”

“He lied,” I interjected. “Dawson Irsch, just like every other royal, lied. They destroyed the books that made them look bad and kept the ones where they were victorious. If you want to know what really happened, here it is; Killian went to the Nephilim Court and told his father what was happening. The Nephilim and the dragons went to war with Ryker and the witches, no one else actually stepped in. Why? Because it had nothing to do with them. Even the Fallen, cousins of the Nephilim, turned their backs on the dragons they so desperately loved, and the people who shared their Court. Had anyone stopped long enough to ask for help, to speak toanyoneelse rather than just run in, swords blazing, they’d realize that the Book of Silence that Colby was looking for was written by the Fates, which meant no other species in the world would have been able to understand it without the help of a god.”

Something in my mind clicked.

I straightened as I kept going, my mind working completely separate from my mouth. “During the War of Ruin, theonlyreason people fought was because the war was everywhere. They had no choice but to fight. They never fought together though. No one allied. No one called in reinforcements from other species. Everyone was fighting, but not together, which led to the perfect separation of Caduto, and after that? Why work together when they finally had their own territory?”

Aurora and Evanora couldn’t have understood the book without a god, and I knew that nobody could get past the security of Custodes Sepulchra besides maybe Trick himself, and unless he was playing some sort of sick game, which honestly was likely, then he didn’t take it. The only other possibility would have to be a god, but that wouldn’t make sense this time around. All the gods were dead.

“But let’s for a second imagine,” I went on, “that Satarmore and Trick actually liked each other and decided to ally. They’re working together now, what would stop the hatred in their people? Would Satarmore’s people and Trick’s people actually work together or is the hatred just too deep to ever forget?”

Talaroe gripped his cane, the snow dusting his top hat, his hair, his jacket. He looked regal. Important. A man worth listening too. “I don’t have that answer,” he finally said, finding my eyes again.

“That’s because it’s the people who need to change.Peopleneed to decide that this hatred and this psychological war on each other is pointless and that it’s the reason we’re falling apart. People need to understand that the only reason the witches were able to do what they did was because everyone is only in it for themselves. Why else would the Nephilim not tell the Fallen before they went off to war? They lived within a hundred miles of each other, yet the stories of them together are as rare as the understanding in this world.”

There was sympathy in his eyes. “People can change, Astraea.”

I gestured to the street. “Lookaround you. They decided they hated me after all this time because I brought a Fallen onto the street, because I spoke of history they wanted to forget. It’s been centuries.” I looked towards the crowd that had gathered, seeing such hatred and disgust reflected back, it made my stomach twist. “They aren’t going to change.”

I had known that. I had always known that. It didn’t matter what I did, the people on this street would always hate me for the blood in my veins. It didn’t matter how hard I fought, Mom wouldn’t change her ways. She’d always find an excuse to punish me. It didn’t matter how much I taught Mark, he was going to become a Gerodia. Maybe he wouldn’t be as bad as they are, but he wouldn’t be who he was now.

Would he be a prisoner too? Just like Raphael. Was Raymond a prisoner? If I ran and they hunted us down, captured him, would he be treated worse even though it was my decision?

“The Sehrsaws came back,” Talaroe finally said, pulling my attention back.

My brows pulled together, and I shook my head, trying to get over the sudden whiplash of subject-change. “What?”

He nodded. “Hmm-mm. Three days ago.”

The burning across my skin eased with my anger as I shook my head again, trying to understand what he was saying. “No, they went extinct. You’re wrong.” Sehrsaws were a type of carnivorous bird. They were flightless, the size of Labradors, colored brightly, impossibly fast. They had disappeared hundreds of years ago. I thought for sure they had gone extinct.

“Seems not. A child spotted a flock of them near The Refuge. It seems they were looking for safe haven and thought it safe enough to finally make the trek from wherever they were hiding to The Refuge.”

Holy shit, was he telling the truth? “Did Satarmore let them in?”

“As soon as he found out,” Talaroe answered. “They are now a protected species. Anyone who decides to kill one will be sentenced to life in whatever way Satarmore chooses.”

Risky. He was cruel, smart. He’d make them walk on the tips of their toes for the rest of their life or have them cut their fingernails to the beds, just past the point of getting them to bleed, and they’d have to keep them that way forever. If they had cavities, he’d make them eat sweets for the rest of their days, which sounded good, but gods, it would be painful.