Spear pointed, Ryllis lunged. But Kress was ready. With surprising speed for her size, she slashed out one of her twin daggers. The curved edge caught the speartip with a flurry of sparks, blocking Ryllis' attack.
Snarling, Ryllis disengaged and leaped back – only to whirl upon Kress from the left. Again, Kress barely managed to block.
"You're good," she said with a boisterous laugh, pushing her blade against Ryllis' spear. "Haven't had a spar like this in ages."
Ryllis swung her spear down, breaking the stalemate. "Hmph. You're not bad either."
With that, she slashed her spear at Kress again. As their weapons flashed back and forth, the clang of metal filled their air along with the two fighters' rough breathing.
"Go, Ryllis! You got this!" Sam and Jin were cheering, jumping up and down and waving their hands.
Across the deck, Nevy cheered just as enthusiastically. "Kress is unstoppable!"
Theo leaned the railing, lazily watching the spar. The wind tugged at his robes and nipped at his face, on the uncomfortable side of chilly. But he didn't mind, because the warmth pulsing from the Star of Miriel more than made up for it.
He kept it inside a pouch tucked under his robes, resting against his chest. Though bigger than the shard he'd carried all this time, it strangely felt much lighter. Almost like it had become a part of his own body.
After he'd obtained the Star core, the others – Ryan and Fia especially – kept pestering him about whether he'd become some unstoppable mega-wizard with the power to turn the whole crew into his familiars. Truthfully, Theo didn't feel much different aside from that increased sense of calm. Then again, he hadn't yet tried actively infusing his Levia into the Star.
Two days had passed since they'd left Mount Neym, though the Blue Sky was still flying over rugged mountainous terrain. Not only had Theo left the temple with the Star core, but he'd also taken Oren's old guise crystal and a pot of the black makeup Novices used to paint on their sage symbols. As it turned out, the stuff made a decent replacement for both eye shadow and nail polish. Combined with the artfully tattered black robes, he felt the most like himself since arriving in Tielos.
As one last parting gift, Oren had pulled Zenith into a bear hug. Remembering the look on Zenith's face, Theo couldn't help but smile.
He hoped Oren was doing well, and that one day he'd be able to make his dream come true.
As for Theo's own dream, his own reasons for fighting….
Without thinking, he pressed his hand over the pouch on his chest. In response, the Star's Levia glowed a little brighter.
It had glowed like this too when he'd said goodbye to Elder Tabitt. She had pinned him in place with serious eyes, telling him simply, "Take good care of it."
Theo had thought about what the Star of Miriel must mean to her, after her temple had guarded the core all these years. And what it meant for her to entrust it to him. He nodded, just as solemnly. "I will."
He still didn't know what he was meant to do with the Star, how it would help him accomplish his goal. But he knew it had chosen to come with him – and for now, that was enough.
~*~
Cay darted a furtive glance behind him, but the corridor was empty aside from the globe-fish bobbing beneath the ceiling. Breathing out, he turned back to the cabin door.
As carefully and quietly as he could, he eased it open. Even while doing so, he kept one eye on the corridor.
Perhaps he was being overly cautious; after all, he only really had to worry about Sir Zenith, and he'd likely hear the homunculus knight long before seeing him. Most of the other crew members he'd put out with a judicious dose of sleeping potion mixed with their dinner.
Not Prince Darian, though, and the last time Cay had checked, she had taken Sir Zenith aside for one of their usual strategy discussions. These often lasted for hours into the night, so Cay figured he still had plenty of time.
Once he nudged the door open enough, he slipped inside and grabbed the edge to keep it from slamming shut. Thankfully, the cabin was small enough that if he stretched his free arm, he could just barely reach the nightstand next to the bunk.
When his fingers brushed the pouch on top of the stand, a shudder jolted down his spine. Despite himself, his eyes flicked up to the top bunk. All he saw was a blanket covering an unmoving lump.
By now, sweat slicked the back of Cay's neck. He closed his hand around the pouch, digging his fingertips into the hard edges of the crystal inside, before yanking it close to his chest and ducking out of the room.
His heartbeat wouldn't stop thundering in his ears as he eased the door shut. It was fine, he told himself. He'd give it back before morning.
In the meantime, he had a task to accomplish. Ducking into the shelter beneath a hatch, he opened the pouch and pulled out the Star of Miriel. In the dimness, the stars sparkling within it seemed uncannily bright.
And they attracted attention. When the globe-fish began drifting his way, Cay knew he didn't have long to act. Gritting his teeth, he retrieved a small bottle filled with a clear greenish potion, unstoppered it, and dropped the Star inside.
The instant it sank into the potion, the faint warmth of its Levia vanished like a snuffed candle. The globe-fish bobbed back up to the ceiling.
For being the Star of Miriel, it felt rather weak. But he had no reason to distrust the Elder, and he couldn't deny the Theo boy had indeed fused the shard to the core. And if he himself didn't believe in the Star's power, he would never have done this in the first place.
All his nerves were jittering as he climbed up the hatch and made his way to the deck. Despite the suppressing potion, Cay couldn't help but feel the Star's weight like an iron fist pressed over his chest.
Finally, he arrived at the deck. The icy wind made him wince, but at least it dried the sweat on his skin. Step by careful step, he approached the central cabin.
Like he'd done far too many nights to count, Cay climbed up to the cabin roof. His skin prickled as he tilted his head back and gazed up at the woman wrapped in the medusid's tentacles.
It didn't matter how many times he'd seen her like this. The pain twisted through his heart like a knife, just as sharp as on the day he'd first stepped aboard this craft.
He took a few deep breaths, though it didn't ease the tightness in his chest. Then, trying to keep his hands from shaking, he retrieved the Star from the bottle. The potion sluiced from its facets in sickly green trails.
After wiping it dry, its Levia stirred to life again – that prickling warmth at the edge of his consciousness. Again doubts stirred within him, but he viciously shoved them down.
If this didn't work, then nothing would.
Closing his eyes, he pressed the Star to his chest and reached for his Levia. He'd done this so often it was easy as breathing. This time, though, it wasn't just his own soft silvery light, but the power of the Star of Miriel as well.
Once he'd gathered as much Levia as he could – when the Star started to thrum beneath his hands – he released it, aiming it in a great wave toward Eulyn above.
This time, this time for certain….
Levia flooded his senses, but he ignored it. This steady thrum only belonged to the medusid. Yet buried deep inside, there was something else. A silver light like his own, but so much gentler.
He'd always loved the feeling of Eulyn's Levia. When they were younger, she'd often hold him in her arms after he woke from a nightmare, bathing him in Levia until he calmed down enough to sleep. And it only grew warmer and brighter as the years passed.
They said Eulyn was one of the most talented sages at the mountain. On the fast track to becoming a Master herself.
Until a certain scoundrel arrived with a dying medusid in tow. After the requisite seven days, he left – and Eulyn went with him.
Amaro had explained it countless times. Without a symbiont, Blue was nearing the end of her life. Amaro had intended to give her a peaceful death at the temple, but Eulyn refused to accept it.
"It's just like her, isn't it?" he'd said when they had reunited, smiling sadly. As if he had the right to talk about Eulyn like he'd actually known her. Cay had punched him in the face for it.
The scoundrel could say whatever he liked. Cay would believe it when Eulyn told him herself.
So he strained as hard as he could, pouring billowing streams of Levia toward Eulyn. Hoping against hope that this time, he'd detect more than just a glimmer of silver light. That a voice would finally emerge beneath the medusid's mindless drone.
Surely with the Star of Miriel in his hands, he would be able to do it. It hadn't worked the previous night, but this time, this time –
Still nothing. Even so, Cay had never been very good at giving up. Otherwise he'd have never joined the crew in the first place.