Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 39

Aster slumps heavily into the wooden chair, the weight of a century’s worth of hidden terror pressing down on her shoulders. She stares blankly at the single dancing flame of the candle, her hands trembling as she clenches them tightly in her lap.

When she speaks, it is in a slow, fragile whisper. Her breath catches painfully with every word, completely petrified by the reality of the monster she is describing.

"She is an evil so dark and menacing," Aster breathes, her eyes reflecting the tiny flicker of fire. "She practices in the dark arts... spells, necromancy, all of it. Forbidden arts that can twist and agonize the purest of souls. And she is relentless, Iris. If she gets so much as a sniff of a star, she will not stop."

Aster’s gaze slowly rises from the candle, locking onto yours with a desperate, pleading intensity.

"My mother taught me how to hide and cloak this cottage," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I keep quiet. I keep to myself. I keep hidden... Perhaps you should stay here, Iris. If she caught wind of your mother, it is only a matter of time before she catches up to your father and realizes he doesn't actually have the star. If she hasn't already."

At the mention of your father, a fresh wave of panic and determination surges through your chest.

"I know you want to find him," Aster says, reaching across the table, her pale fingers shaking. "But she is a force you cannot face. She is centuries old. You cannot fight time, Iris. You cannot fight her."

The crushing weight of her warning hangs in the quiet cottage, suffocating and absolute. Your father, Khalel, is out there right now—or has been for the last ten years—running a dangerous, lonely race against a centuries-old necromancer, acting as a shield for a daughter who didn't even remember him.

Behind you, Kaelen’s breathing goes completely still. You can feel the muscle in his jaw bunching hard against your neck as his mind processes the threat. He doesn't flinch at the mention of dark arts or centuries-old witches. Instead, the grip of his massive arms around your waist turns to absolute iron, a solid, unyielding wall of muscle and leather shielding you from the shadows.

He shifts slightly, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through Aster’s terrified whispers like a heavy war drum.

"We aren't hiding in a hole, Aster," Kaelen rumbles, his tone lethal, steady, and entirely devoid of fear. He looks from your cousin's pale face down to you, his moss-green eyes burning with an intense, unshakeable devotion. "I don't care if this Morgana has lived a thousand years or crawled straight out of the underworld. She has never crossed paths with me. If Khalel is still out there drawing breath, we are going to find him—and we're going to finish this."

He rests his chin firmly against your shoulder, his heart beating a fierce, rhythmic challenge against your spine.

"What do you want to do, Captain?" he murmurs softly to you, leaving the choice entirely in your hands. "Do we stay in the shadows, or do we hunt the witch?"

Kaelen’s words wash over you like a wave of pure, overwhelming relief. In the face of a centuries-old nightmare, his unwavering bravery stirs a sudden, intensely warm sensation deep in your belly—flutters of longing, admiration, and a profound realization of just how deeply you have fallen for this man. He isn't just your anchor to the physical world; he is the shield that stands between you and the dark, completely unbothered by the size of the monster chasing you.

You shift in his lap, drawing strength from the iron grip of his arms around your waist, and look across the table at your terrified cousin. The tears have dried on your cheeks, replaced by a fierce, stormy grey light in your eyes that perfectly mirrors the lineage you’ve just claimed.

"I appreciate everything you've told us, Aster," you say, your voice remarkably steady, carrying a new, regal weight. "You have done me a great favour here, and I am grateful. But I am no longer a child. My father sacrificed his entire life, his honour, and his name for me. If there is even a single chance he is still alive out there, I will not leave him to die running from the shadows."

Aster looks at you, her mouth parting slightly as she sees the absolute finality in your posture. She glances at Kaelen, who is looking down at you with a fiercely proud, dangerous smirk, and she realizes that no amount of warning will keep the two of you tucked away in this quiet valley.

"You truly are your mother's daughter," Aster whispers, a bittersweet, tragic smile finally breaking through her petrified expression. She reaches out and pushes the leather pouch containing your mother's star back across the oak table toward your hands. "If you are going to hunt a shadow, Iris... you will need to know where she is looking. Take the stone. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, I will give you brews to safely read the path your father left behind."

Aster stands up, her dreamlike composure fracturing into a soft, nervous flutter. She gestures for you both to follow as she leads the way out the back door of the main cottage.

You step out into a hidden paradise. The rear property opens into a massive, sprawling garden that smells deeply of sharp, pungent earth and sweet greenery. Unlike the front yard, your trained eye instantly recognizes that this entire layout is dedicated to safety. It is an overgrown haven of protection herbs, showing heavy signs of recent cultivation with cleanly clipped sections: robust bushes of rosemary, thick blankets of thyme, feathered stalks of yarrow, bitter rue, wild garlic, and towering stalks of silver-leafed mug wort.

Right at the back of the property, nestled against a steep earthen ridge and almost fully smothered under heavy, creeping mounds of ancient ivy, sits a small stone cabin. It is completely cloaked by the foliage, practically invisible to the naked eye.

Aster pushes through the vines and opens the thick oak door.

"Please, stay for the night," she says, turning to face you both. "I will spend the evening creating hex bags for cloaking and protection, and I'll brew an elixir to steady your mind. It seems your mother's spirit is a lot more powerful than I expected, Iris. You will need help clearing your mind if you are to go deeper into the stone. Mastery over navigating those memories takes time and practice—which is something you simply don't have. For now, you must rely on the craft."

She steps back, gesturing into the warm, inviting interior of the hidden cabin.

"This room can be yours for the night. It is magically hidden from all outside eyes, ensuring not only your safety..." Aster stops, clearing her throat with a small, visibly flustered gulp as her stormy grey eyes dart between your snug leather pants and Kaelen’s massive, protective frame. "...but also, your privacy. I will see you both in the morning."

With a quick, respectful bow of her head, she retreats into the dark security of her herb garden.

You turn to look at your sanctuary for the night. The room is small but incredibly cozy. A stone fireplace is already stacked with dry logs, waiting for a spark. Against the far wall sits a large, plush bed piled high with thick woolen blankets and feather pillows. A modest wooden table with two chairs sits near the hearth, and dozens of pre-lit candles are mounted along the stone walls, casting a rich, flickering golden glow that feels entirely safe from the monsters of the outside world.

Kaelen steps in behind you, the door clicking shut and sealing out the damp highland air. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle, tossing his heavy travel pack onto the floor.

"Privacy, huh?" he rumbles, a slow, dangerously charming smirk spreading across his rugged features as he slides off his heavy leather jacket. His moss-green eyes lock onto yours, burning with the lingering heat of everything you've survived today. "I like your cousin, Red. She handles accommodations perfectly."

I step deeper into the room, my eyes drifting over to the stone fireplace. Hanging within the hearth from a heavy iron rod is a clean cooking pot, and resting neatly on the table beside it are several fresh root vegetables, a pitcher of water, a bundle of familiar cooking herbs, and a small block of salt.