Chapter Eighteen: Shooting Star
Rainy sat on a small grassy patch, sloped high on a hill overlooking the valley, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, her boots braced against the slope. The air was cool and sharp, laden with the tang of damp earth and distant wood smoke. She exhaled slowly, her breath a pale plume in the dimming light. The valley below stretched out like an ancient tapestry, its folds alive with the whispers of the world—rustling leaves, murmuring streams, the distant echo of voices carried on the wind.
Far above, the dying sun cast its final rays across the horizon, painting the sky with hues of molten gold and deep crimson. Clouds drifted like brushstrokes of fire, their edges fraying into the coming night. The moment held a stillness that felt both vast and fragile, as if the earth itself paused to witness the day’s end. Ribbons of deep azure clouds stretched across the sky, their edges tinged with gold that deepened into fiery red as they rested above the sun's descent.
Nearly extinguished now, the sun lingered as a slender shard of molten gold, a fragile promise of warmth in the cool evening air. It touch the horizon with an intensity the earth could not feel, as though offering one final, defiant burst of light before surrendering to the night. Then it was gone. The colors lingered in the clouds, brushing away daylight like the elegant sweep of a horse's tail.
Rainy’s heart ached at the sight, her chest tight with the weight of longing she couldn’t name. She tugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders and looking upward she whispered a question,” A star will guide me?” The ancient temple books told of the guiding star seen from the east of the valley.
The cool wind played with her hair, freed from its tie, sending light-reddish brown wisps dancing across her face. The ache in her legs and back was a constant reminder of the miles she had traveled today, and the many more she had left to go. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to rest. Beneath the hum of exhaustion, her thoughts churned with questions.
Below her, the valley seemed to pulse with life. Thin threads of smoke rose lazily from scattered villages, their cooking fires flickering like stars among the shadows of the trees. The scent of roasted meat, mingled with herbs and bread, was a phantom comfort that made her stomach twist. She closed her eyes, imagining families gathered around hearths, their laughter and voices rising over the crackle of flames.
Once, she had been part of something like that. The thought settled heavily in her chest.
The Oceede—her people—had always been her anchor. Or so she had thought. She was tall among them, her movements awkward where others were fluid, her words too loud or too soft, never just enough. Her place had always been at the fringes, tolerated but not embraced. Now, far beyond their valley, the memory of them was as blurry as faces seen through frosted glass. The warmth of belonging she had sought so desperately felt more like an illusion.
Yet she missed them. She closed her eyes and tried to summon the faces of her people.
Her fingers tightened around the cup of tea she had poured from her flask, its surface trembling in the wind. She sipped slowly, letting the heat of it bloom in her chest. It was bitter, too strong, but it kept her grounded. Memories of the boundary marker returned to her—a crude carving of a hand with fingers outstretched, mounted on a tree where the well-trodden paths diverged.
She had stood there for hours that day, her chest knotted with hesitation. She had passed it many times as a child, seeking solace in the edge of familiarity. Back then, it had been a threshold between safety and mystery. Now, it was a line she had crossed, severing herself from everything she had known. Crossing that line had felt irreversible, a severing of ties that could never be undone.
Her dreams had made the choice for her.
The first dream had come as whispers, faint and indistinct. Then came images—of the Valley of the Children, of the Elder Children’s watchful stone faces, of a star that burned brighter than the moons; guiding her way. Then had come the battle, and the King. Those dreams became her compass, pulling her away from everything she had known and into the unknown.
Her lips moved, forming a soft whisper to the night.
“My story…”
Above, a lone Arrow sliced through the darkening sky. Its sleek silhouette was unmistakable—a needle-sharp head, wings drawn tight against its body as it dove and circled. The bird’s eyes gleamed yellow, catching the faint light as it glided in wide arcs. It was rare to see one alone. Rainy watched it, her breath caught in her throat. Arrow birds were fast and merciless, their speed unmatched in the skies of Anu. Stories warned children to avoid their nests, their strikes as precise and deadly as a blade. She shivered despite herself.
“What are you doing here?” she murmured.
Yet tonight, the creature seemed less like a threat and more like a guardian—a silent sentinel that had appeared without explanation. It circled her once more before vanishing into the shadowed ridges beyond the valley.
The chill deepened as twilight gave way to night. Above her, the twin moons of Anu began their ascent. The red moon, large and brooding, rose first, casting a warm, coppery glow across the landscape. Its smaller companion, pale blue and quick-footed, followed close behind. Together, they danced in their eternal pursuit, their light spilling over the valley like a whispered promise.
To the east, the Elder Children loomed. The monoliths, carved from stone long before her people’s stories began, stood solemn and unmoving. One figure gazed downward, its weathered features tilted toward the valley as if observing the life below. The other faced upward, its hands raised to the heavens in an eternal gesture of longing. Rainy had seen depictions of them before, crude etchings in temple walls, but standing in their shadow now, she felt dwarfed by their presence.
What had they seen in their silent vigil? What secrets did they keep?
Rainy shivered and pulled the blanket closer. Her mind wandered north to the mountains, their jagged peaks faintly visible against the star-speckled sky. Beyond them lay the desert, vast and unforgiving, a place her maps could only hint at. The thought sent a thrill through her veins. She had always been drawn to the unknown, to the edges of the map where certainty faded into possibility.
But possibility came with fear.
Rainy lay back on the hard ground, her blanket a thin barrier against the cold. The stars blinked down at her, their ancient light unwavering. They seemed to call to her, their stories waiting to be uncovered. She thought of the villagers below and the safety they clung to—their fires, their routines, their small but certain lives. She had been like them once, before the dreams began.
Her voice broke the stillness, soft but resolute.
“I am here. I am listening.”
She rolled onto her back, the fabric of her tattered trail blanket clinging to her chilled skin. She pulled it up to her breasts, her breath escaping in a soft sigh. "Who will be the first she will Tell?" The thought raced through her mind, tumbling like the storm that had swept across the valley. There was a wild excitement bubbling inside her, but it was tangled with something else, something more insidious: fear. It was unlike anything she had ever known. The fear clawed at her insides, pulling at the edges of her resolve, threatening to tear her apart. Yet, for all its ferocity, there was no hesitation in her. She was sure—sure of everything, even this agonizing apprehension.
"I am listening," she repeated softly, as though the words themselves would somehow reassure her. Tomorrow, she would finally turn west, her journey leading her to the far end of the valley. Only a few more weeks, and everything would be finished; everything. She felt the weight of it, a heavy truth, but also an exhilarating one. Who knew what awaited her at those boundary markers at the far west edge of the valley?
She hadn’t seen a single soul face-to-face since coming down from the mountains, and very few since she left the people of the Oceede, her family, her home. Had it been days? Or years? Time had become meaningless, a blur. But none of that mattered now. Tomorrow, she would reach the small village in the Valley of the Elder Children, and she was sure the people there would be grateful to see her.
The thought should have been comforting, but there was an unfamiliar knot in her stomach, a deep unease. Would they welcome her? Would they trust her? Rainy’s heart thundered in her chest. She had already lived a lifetime’s worth of adventure for a girl of only nineteen cycles. But what was ahead of her? Was she truly ready? Had she even begun to understand the enormity of what she was about to face?
The mountain pass had tested her like nothing else before it. The climb, the wind, the biting cold—God’s breath, as some called it, caressing the jagged peaks, washing over them in a kind of divine cruelty. It had taken her what felt like an eternity to cross, though she couldn't remember the time, not really. She remembered only the mountains themselves, towering like silent gods in the distance.
There was darkness in those mountains. Shadows that followed her even now, shadows she could not shake. The questions gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced. He had died for her, hadn’t he? Did he really die? Was that just meant for her eyes to see? Rainy didn’t want to think about it, not right now. She would understand even that story eventually. But, she had too much to focus on right now, too much to do.
She had crossed the mountains for a reason—to escape? No one would ever guess that a girl like her had crossed these treacherous peaks alone, unprotected, vulnerable. It was madness, or so they would say. But she had done it. And she would continue.
Guilt lingered like a shadow, but there was nothing she could do. She had to keep moving forward. It had been too long since the first dream had come to her. Time slipped away from her, slipping through her fingers like sand. What mattered now was what lay ahead. And, in that moment, she was closer than ever to it.
Tomorrow she would descend the trail into the valley, and meet the villagers who lived there. Would they be wise, would they have any understanding? She hoped so with her entire being.
The night was beautiful. The breeze, gentle yet unyielding, kissed her cheek, brushing against her with a tenderness that felt almost like a warning. Her exhaled breath lingered in the air before being swallowed by the vast emptiness, as if the night itself had absorbed her soul, her thoughts, her very being.
This was her moment, her time. She had come so far, and soon, she would know the truth.
She closed her eyes, and in that stillness, she slipped into the vast dreamscape once more. Time, with its cruel weight, became less important. The questions—the endless questions—no longer mattered. There was only one that continued to claw at her mind, a relentless ache deep in her chest.
As Rainy drifted deeper into her dreams, a streak lit the sky above her. A star shot across the heavens, its white tail trailing behind it like a comet burning its way across eternity. But Rainy did not need to see it to know it was there. She could feel it, deep within her, the promise of what was to come.
And somewhere, high above, the Arrow flew unseen, its path as sure and unrelenting as her own.
Far above, the dying sun cast its final rays across the horizon, painting the sky with hues of molten gold and deep crimson. Clouds drifted like brushstrokes of fire, their edges fraying into the coming night. The moment held a stillness that felt both vast and fragile, as if the earth itself paused to witness the day’s end. Ribbons of deep azure clouds stretched across the sky, their edges tinged with gold that deepened into fiery red as they rested above the sun's descent.
Nearly extinguished now, the sun lingered as a slender shard of molten gold, a fragile promise of warmth in the cool evening air. It touch the horizon with an intensity the earth could not feel, as though offering one final, defiant burst of light before surrendering to the night. Then it was gone. The colors lingered in the clouds, brushing away daylight like the elegant sweep of a horse's tail.
Rainy’s heart ached at the sight, her chest tight with the weight of longing she couldn’t name. She tugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders and looking upward she whispered a question,” A star will guide me?” The ancient temple books told of the guiding star seen from the east of the valley.
The cool wind played with her hair, freed from its tie, sending light-reddish brown wisps dancing across her face. The ache in her legs and back was a constant reminder of the miles she had traveled today, and the many more she had left to go. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to rest. Beneath the hum of exhaustion, her thoughts churned with questions.
Below her, the valley seemed to pulse with life. Thin threads of smoke rose lazily from scattered villages, their cooking fires flickering like stars among the shadows of the trees. The scent of roasted meat, mingled with herbs and bread, was a phantom comfort that made her stomach twist. She closed her eyes, imagining families gathered around hearths, their laughter and voices rising over the crackle of flames.
Once, she had been part of something like that. The thought settled heavily in her chest.
The Oceede—her people—had always been her anchor. Or so she had thought. She was tall among them, her movements awkward where others were fluid, her words too loud or too soft, never just enough. Her place had always been at the fringes, tolerated but not embraced. Now, far beyond their valley, the memory of them was as blurry as faces seen through frosted glass. The warmth of belonging she had sought so desperately felt more like an illusion.
Yet she missed them. She closed her eyes and tried to summon the faces of her people.
Her fingers tightened around the cup of tea she had poured from her flask, its surface trembling in the wind. She sipped slowly, letting the heat of it bloom in her chest. It was bitter, too strong, but it kept her grounded. Memories of the boundary marker returned to her—a crude carving of a hand with fingers outstretched, mounted on a tree where the well-trodden paths diverged.
She had stood there for hours that day, her chest knotted with hesitation. She had passed it many times as a child, seeking solace in the edge of familiarity. Back then, it had been a threshold between safety and mystery. Now, it was a line she had crossed, severing herself from everything she had known. Crossing that line had felt irreversible, a severing of ties that could never be undone.
Her dreams had made the choice for her.
The first dream had come as whispers, faint and indistinct. Then came images—of the Valley of the Children, of the Elder Children’s watchful stone faces, of a star that burned brighter than the moons; guiding her way. Then had come the battle, and the King. Those dreams became her compass, pulling her away from everything she had known and into the unknown.
Her lips moved, forming a soft whisper to the night.
“My story…”
Above, a lone Arrow sliced through the darkening sky. Its sleek silhouette was unmistakable—a needle-sharp head, wings drawn tight against its body as it dove and circled. The bird’s eyes gleamed yellow, catching the faint light as it glided in wide arcs. It was rare to see one alone. Rainy watched it, her breath caught in her throat. Arrow birds were fast and merciless, their speed unmatched in the skies of Anu. Stories warned children to avoid their nests, their strikes as precise and deadly as a blade. She shivered despite herself.
“What are you doing here?” she murmured.
Yet tonight, the creature seemed less like a threat and more like a guardian—a silent sentinel that had appeared without explanation. It circled her once more before vanishing into the shadowed ridges beyond the valley.
The chill deepened as twilight gave way to night. Above her, the twin moons of Anu began their ascent. The red moon, large and brooding, rose first, casting a warm, coppery glow across the landscape. Its smaller companion, pale blue and quick-footed, followed close behind. Together, they danced in their eternal pursuit, their light spilling over the valley like a whispered promise.
To the east, the Elder Children loomed. The monoliths, carved from stone long before her people’s stories began, stood solemn and unmoving. One figure gazed downward, its weathered features tilted toward the valley as if observing the life below. The other faced upward, its hands raised to the heavens in an eternal gesture of longing. Rainy had seen depictions of them before, crude etchings in temple walls, but standing in their shadow now, she felt dwarfed by their presence.
What had they seen in their silent vigil? What secrets did they keep?
Rainy shivered and pulled the blanket closer. Her mind wandered north to the mountains, their jagged peaks faintly visible against the star-speckled sky. Beyond them lay the desert, vast and unforgiving, a place her maps could only hint at. The thought sent a thrill through her veins. She had always been drawn to the unknown, to the edges of the map where certainty faded into possibility.
But possibility came with fear.
Rainy lay back on the hard ground, her blanket a thin barrier against the cold. The stars blinked down at her, their ancient light unwavering. They seemed to call to her, their stories waiting to be uncovered. She thought of the villagers below and the safety they clung to—their fires, their routines, their small but certain lives. She had been like them once, before the dreams began.
Her voice broke the stillness, soft but resolute.
“I am here. I am listening.”
She rolled onto her back, the fabric of her tattered trail blanket clinging to her chilled skin. She pulled it up to her breasts, her breath escaping in a soft sigh. "Who will be the first she will Tell?" The thought raced through her mind, tumbling like the storm that had swept across the valley. There was a wild excitement bubbling inside her, but it was tangled with something else, something more insidious: fear. It was unlike anything she had ever known. The fear clawed at her insides, pulling at the edges of her resolve, threatening to tear her apart. Yet, for all its ferocity, there was no hesitation in her. She was sure—sure of everything, even this agonizing apprehension.
"I am listening," she repeated softly, as though the words themselves would somehow reassure her. Tomorrow, she would finally turn west, her journey leading her to the far end of the valley. Only a few more weeks, and everything would be finished; everything. She felt the weight of it, a heavy truth, but also an exhilarating one. Who knew what awaited her at those boundary markers at the far west edge of the valley?
She hadn’t seen a single soul face-to-face since coming down from the mountains, and very few since she left the people of the Oceede, her family, her home. Had it been days? Or years? Time had become meaningless, a blur. But none of that mattered now. Tomorrow, she would reach the small village in the Valley of the Elder Children, and she was sure the people there would be grateful to see her.
The thought should have been comforting, but there was an unfamiliar knot in her stomach, a deep unease. Would they welcome her? Would they trust her? Rainy’s heart thundered in her chest. She had already lived a lifetime’s worth of adventure for a girl of only nineteen cycles. But what was ahead of her? Was she truly ready? Had she even begun to understand the enormity of what she was about to face?
The mountain pass had tested her like nothing else before it. The climb, the wind, the biting cold—God’s breath, as some called it, caressing the jagged peaks, washing over them in a kind of divine cruelty. It had taken her what felt like an eternity to cross, though she couldn't remember the time, not really. She remembered only the mountains themselves, towering like silent gods in the distance.
There was darkness in those mountains. Shadows that followed her even now, shadows she could not shake. The questions gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced. He had died for her, hadn’t he? Did he really die? Was that just meant for her eyes to see? Rainy didn’t want to think about it, not right now. She would understand even that story eventually. But, she had too much to focus on right now, too much to do.
She had crossed the mountains for a reason—to escape? No one would ever guess that a girl like her had crossed these treacherous peaks alone, unprotected, vulnerable. It was madness, or so they would say. But she had done it. And she would continue.
Guilt lingered like a shadow, but there was nothing she could do. She had to keep moving forward. It had been too long since the first dream had come to her. Time slipped away from her, slipping through her fingers like sand. What mattered now was what lay ahead. And, in that moment, she was closer than ever to it.
Tomorrow she would descend the trail into the valley, and meet the villagers who lived there. Would they be wise, would they have any understanding? She hoped so with her entire being.
The night was beautiful. The breeze, gentle yet unyielding, kissed her cheek, brushing against her with a tenderness that felt almost like a warning. Her exhaled breath lingered in the air before being swallowed by the vast emptiness, as if the night itself had absorbed her soul, her thoughts, her very being.
This was her moment, her time. She had come so far, and soon, she would know the truth.
She closed her eyes, and in that stillness, she slipped into the vast dreamscape once more. Time, with its cruel weight, became less important. The questions—the endless questions—no longer mattered. There was only one that continued to claw at her mind, a relentless ache deep in her chest.
As Rainy drifted deeper into her dreams, a streak lit the sky above her. A star shot across the heavens, its white tail trailing behind it like a comet burning its way across eternity. But Rainy did not need to see it to know it was there. She could feel it, deep within her, the promise of what was to come.
And somewhere, high above, the Arrow flew unseen, its path as sure and unrelenting as her own.