The Moonburner Cycle

by Claire Luana

  Emotions swirled through her like a tempest. Surprise, doubt, frustration…but was that…something more? Excitement? Vikal was handsome. Her senses heightened whenever he was near—his very presence set her body humming. But the circumstances…the circumstances couldn’t be more wrong. Her people were under attack from soul-eating monsters, her father had been murdered before her eyes. This was no time to selfishly think of romance. Especially with a man who had essentially helped kill her father.

  She shook her head. “I can’t think about that right now. Not until the soul-eaters are destroyed.”

  “This is a wise approach,” Sarnak said. “Now, sit down.”

  Rika dropped onto the ground across from him, spent. She pressed a hand against the throbbing wound in her side, as if she could quiet it with a touch. Her and Vikal…fated? Mates? Her blood thrummed through her, refusing to succumb to reason. No time for romance, she told herself more forcefully.

  Sarnak interrupted her downward mental spiral. “This is the thing about fate. It is fated to be. That doesn’t mean it will be. I say you are fated to be our queen, but it will not be so if you walk from this cave and surrender yourself to a soul-eater.”

  “You’re talking about free will.”

  “All have a say in their fate. Even the gods. To be Vikal’s mate, or not, this will be your choice.”

  “That’s good, I guess,” she managed. Not that she had any idea what choice she wanted when it came to Vikal.

  “Now, we return to the task at hand. You have learned, now you must awaken. To awaken is to become the goddess our people need.” Or my people need, Rika thought stubbornly.

  “So how do we… awaken me?”

  “Meditation.”

  “Ugh.” Rika grimaced. Her mother had gotten into meditation a few years back and had tried to make the whole family do it. Her father had lasted the longest, but even he couldn’t stand it after a few weeks. As for Rika, her mind would never stop spinning.

  “This is not the meditation where you sit and breathe and try not to think about thinking. This is different.” Sarnak set aside the book, motioning for Rika to sit cross-legged across from him. It was nearly impossible in her tightly-wrapped skirt, but she did her best. He raised his hand and the orb lowered until it was floating between them. The surface dimmed, turning from bright white light to a dusky, swirling fog. Rika leaned in, fascinated by the patterns that played across the shining surface. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “The orb is your totem?”

  “Look into the orb,” Sarnak instructed with a sharp nod. “Slow your breathing. Relax your body. The orb will carry you where you need to go.”

  “Where is that?” Rika asked, trying to follow his instructions.

  “Into the cycles. Your past.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “You go to meet your past self.”

  Rika looked up in surprise.

  He hissed, pointing. “Eyes on the orb.”

  Rika glowered but did as he instructed, letting out a deep breath. The silence of the cavern was broken only by the hushed sounds of her breath.

  “Now. Imagine yourself inside the orb. Its swirling mist surrounds you. You are at peace within it. It begins to open. To disperse. A path is revealed. This is a familiar path.”

  Rika followed Sarnak’s instructions one by one, walking in her mind’s eye from a foggy darkness into a lush jungle like she and Vikal had first traveled through. It was a strange feeling. She knew she was imagining this all, yet things were appearing that she hadn’t thought of. She pushed through the leafy fronds of forest until she emerged in some sort of garden. An explosion of plants and flowers surrounded a glassy pool. All around her, flowers bloomed and fountains tinkled with rivulets of water. The sky was dark, but for the brilliant stars and a bold, waxing moon.

  “Hello?” she called. “Anyone here?” She spun around, looking for signs of life. It was peaceful in this garden, warm and soft. The edges of the world around her seemed to blur, turning the spilling jasmine and hibiscus into watercolor paintings. The stars above were impossibly big—bright enough to cast the garden in enchanted twilight, low enough to pluck like ripe fruit.

  A lilting female voice sounded behind her. Rika spun to face her. “What an unusual iteration,” the woman said. She was tall and willowy, wearing luxurious fabrics in the Nuan style—rich colors of gold and magenta. An elaborate headdress of gold crowned her brow and gold bangles adorned her wrists. Thick, dark lashes framed large eyes with strange irises that shimmered silver in the starlight. Rika blinked. Perhaps it was a trick of the light.

  “Who are you?” Rika asked, trying unsuccessfully to smooth the tangles in her hair.

  “I’m you. Your most recent past self. My name is Liliam.”

  As Rika stepped closer to the woman, a strange distortion occurred. Behind Liliam, she could see…a trail was the only way to describe it—a line of different women stretching out through the garden as far as her eye could see. Rika shook her head, overcome by the vision.

  “If you stay directly in front of me, the image will be less overwhelming,” Liliam said, repositioning her body so she and Rika stood face to face. The line of what Rika could only assume were her other past selves disappeared behind Liliam’s form. Past selves. Did she really believe this strange vision? It was madness.

  “Thank you,” Rika managed.

  “You are different than us,” Liliam said. “Why?”

  “I was born elsewhere. In another land.” She couldn’t stop staring at the woman. She had a grace and a regality about her that were impossible to imitate. This is what a queen should be. A goddess. Rika pressed her lips together to hide the gap between her teeth.

  “Yet you have found your way to Nua. To the god of endings.”

  “Yeah. It’s been a weird week. Nua is under attack. As is my land.”

  “Nua is your land,” Liliam said. “You are tied to it. To all of us that came before you.”

  Rika pursed her lips. It didn’t matter what this woman thought. She just needed to figure out how to use her powers and get back to her body.

  “I see you doubt,” the woman said. “But you speak our language. The stars that watch over Nua sing in your blood, as they did in mine.”

  “I can’t speak…” Rika trailed off, realizing she was speaking in Nuan. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Can you help me with our powers? I wasn’t raised in Nua, so I don’t understand them. I don’t have our totem, either, though I hope to get it.”

  “It is not a thing to rush, this discovery of yourself. The constellations are our allies; they are not to be controlled or dictated to.”

  “Okay, that’s good to know. The thing is, we’re in a bit of a time crunch. In a few weeks, all of Nua will be taken over by evil soul-sucking monsters. And my land…where I was born, it will be taken over as well. It’s important that you show me now.”

  Liliam’s lovely face paled. “Very well. But you must listen very carefully to the things I say and meditate on each one until you come to understand them in your heart.”

  Yeah, yeah, Rika thought. “I promise,” she said instead, in as solemn a tone as she could muster.

  “Let us sit,” Liliam said, moving to a stone bench next to the reflective pool. Rika squeezed her eyes closed as the line of past selves became visible once again, setting her equilibrium off-kilter. She hurried to sit beside the woman and realized that she was wearing her clothes from home. Leggings and a long, silver tunic wrapped with a white obi. A pang of homesickness overtook her as she smoothed her hands down the silk of her tunic. She may be speaking Nuan, but Kitina was her home.

  “You understand how the gods and goddesses arise from the creator spirits that separated the parts of our world?”

  Rika nodded. She thought she did.

  “The endless sky is different because although it is a part of Nua’s creation, it is also a doorway, if you will, a path that leads to other creations. We are the guard
ian of this path. By dividing Nua from the rest of the universe, the creator spirits had to create separateness. But there is still connection. The endless sky is that connection. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” Rika said, not sure she really did. Other creations? Like Kitina?

  “There is power in the stars beyond our world, but the farther you are from Nua, the more you will need your totem to access it.”

  “How do I access it?” Rika asked. “When I’ve used my power before, it was so unpredictable.”

  “You likely didn’t know how to summon it correctly. Imagine you are tied to a star by a leash. It is tied to you. We call it tethering. It pulls you, but you can also pull it. All that is required to do this is knowing and will.” Liliam lifted one of her hands and pointed at a star. It pulsed and surged, and when she swooped her hand back towards her, the light came too, skimming across the surface of the pool to rest above her hand. Rika squinted, shielding her eyes against the glare. Liliam flicked her hand again and the star shot back towards its source, quivering as it settled back into the obsidian sky.

  “So…will…and knowing? What do you mean by knowing?”

  “Know which star you are calling on and it will come to you. Different stars have different powers…intuition, love, battle. Different personalities. The character of the power you draw will be ever-so-slightly altered depending on what star you summon. Learn the identities and traits of the stars. Come to know them and they will come to know you. In time they will become like old friends.”

  Rika nodded, though she wouldn’t have anywhere close to time enough for that. She’d have to settle for obedient acquaintances. “What about the constellations? I summoned a constellation once.”

  “The constellations have even more unique personalities. They have minds of their own, though their thoughts are simple.” Liliam reached up again, focusing on a cluster of stars hanging over the horizon. The stars shimmered and shuddered, and when she pulled, they swooped towards the ground in the form of a massive eagle—a patch of night made manifest. Rika ducked as it flew over their heads, soaring up into the sky and turning for another pass. Liliam directed it back where it came from and it returned to its place in the heavens, filling the darkness so quickly that Rika could hardly believe she hadn’t imagined it. “That was amazing!” she said, thinking of little Cygna, the night sparrow. Did she have the power to bring such huge constellations to life?

  “It is really quite simple. They are our allies, each of them tethered to you. They will want to protect Nua. To obey you.”

  “How do you know which ones are constellations? Which can come to life? There are so many stars…”

  Liliam frowned. “Your sight is blocked if you cannot see their life-forces—the ties that bind them to you.” Liliam took Rika’s hands in her own, her skin as soft as butter. The woman leaned forward and kissed Rika—first on each eyelid and then in the center of her forehead. It was a strange feeling, kissing yourself. “All our wisdom and skill is within you. You need only look within yourself and allow your mind to reveal it to you.”

  Easy for you to say, Rika thought. But when she opened her eyes, the world was transformed.

  The stars shone with gossamer threads, hundreds upon thousands of lines of spiderweb silk running…to her. The constellations shone brighter, threaded together in images of leaping koi, prancing rams, and fierce dragons. Rika squeezed her eyes closed, overwhelmed by the connectedness of it all.

  “Now you see,” Liliam said. “We need only to ask and they will obey.”

  Rika opened her eyes and saw that she was threaded to Liliam as well—to all the women behind her. Generations of goddesses bathed in starlight.

  “It’s incredible. Now how do I turn it off?” She laughed weakly. Any movement shifted the shining threads, setting off her equilibrium. She thought she might throw up.

  “You see this with your third eye.” Liliam tapped the center of her forehead. “It sees what is there but not there. You may open and close it at will, though it takes practice. With your focus and intention placed upon it, ask it to close.”

  It all sounded very questionable to Rika, but she did as instructed. When she peeked through one eyelid, the world had returned to normal. She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

  Rika felt a tug at her consciousness. She peered over her shoulder but found nothing there.

  “The god of endings seeks your return,” Liliam said, standing.

  “I’m grateful for what you’ve taught me,” Rika said. “I’ll try to honor you all. To make you proud.”

  “Protect our people. That is enough.”

  Rika nodded, swallowing her guilt at deceiving the other woman. Herself. Well, she supposed she could help the Nuans while she was here. So long as it didn’t interfere with getting back to Kitina.

  CHAPTER 20

  AFTER HER LESSON with Sarnak, Rika tried to get some rest. Though the weariness of her body pulled her down like a stone, her mind was a whirlwind, her emotions like shooting stars. Around and around her thoughts went, wild spirals of sorrow to despair to hope and wonder. This place. The throb of her wound. The soul-eater destruction. Gods and totems and past selves and Vikal. The surprising burst of his laugh. His thumb on her cheek tethering her to this world as her lifeblood slipped away. The malevolent green of his eyes as he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back into the center of the tent, tossing her into the remains of her father’s ashes. Her mother. Yoshai. What horrors were they facing? There had to be somehow she could know, that she could see. Liliam had said the stars were like doorways. Roads. Maybe she could find a window into her own world. But, a small voice demanded, what would she do if she saw the worst? Would she abandon Nua, now that she knew her history, had seen the threads tying her to this world? She traced the outline of her third eye tattoo, feeling its angles and curves. She wished she had a mirror to truly scrutinize it. She wanted to see herself—this Nuan version. She wasn’t sure whether it fit, or if she still felt like a hopeless imposter.

  She turned these things over in her mind for hours, wearing them down like a river wears a pebble until her very essence was borne away in a current of her own worries. Knees hugged into her chest, she peered into the darkness with unblinking eyes, longing for unconsciousness to take her. Would she never sleep again?

  Someone cleared their throat by her door, and Rika sat up quickly. “Yes?” she called, pressing a hand to her throbbing side.

  Vikal stepped inside the entrance, his hands tucked in his pockets, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. “The people have planned a feast to honor our return. Would you like to come?”

  “A feast?” Rika asked, wrinkling her brow. She wanted to itch at her third eye—when she moved it felt like she had something stuck between her eyebrows. “I thought there wasn’t much food left.”

  “‘Feast’ is a generous term. But the hunters were able to kill a few deer, and they are roasting them. The people need something to lift their spirits. Especially the warriors that will come with us.”

  “The attack is planned?” Rika pushed to her feet, straightening her skirt.

  “It is,” Vikal said. Rika followed Vikal into the dark passageway towards the giant cavern—the Gathering Hall, Vikal had called it. “Nuanita castle is built on the sea. There are tunnels beneath that flood with the tides. They were designed as escape routes, but with Ajij’s help, we’ll be able to get inside. We make our way up floor by floor, killing any soul-eaters or thralls as we go. Stop at the treasury and pick up your totem and kill the rest of the soul-eaters we can find.”

  “What about the queen? You said killing her would destroy the rest.”

  “I believe she has traveled to your land. Kitina. She goes where there is the most…action.”

  “You mean the most to eat?” Rika asked, her words bitter.

  Vikal looked apologetically at her. “The sooner we free Nua, the sooner we can return to Kitina. There will be soul-eater vessels with astrol
abes in the harbor at Surasaya, behind the castle.”

  “Good,” Rika said.

  “It sounds nice on your tongue, you know,” he said. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his head ducked to keep from brushing the tunnel ceiling.

  “What?” Rika asked, feeling her cheeks heat at his mention of her tongue. He hadn’t meant anything by it, surely.

  “Our language. You speak it like a native. Not even Bahti will be able to find fault with your pronunciation.”

  Rika let out a half-laugh. “I didn’t even realize we were speaking it. I guess my time with my past self opened up more than my third eye.”

  “I am sure it was strange. I remember my first time meeting my past self, and I had a lot more years of training to prepare for it.”

  “It was. Seeing all those versions of myself…even with what I’ve done…killing the soul-eaters…summoning Cygna…part of me hadn’t believed it.”

  “What was she like?” Vikal asked. “Your immediate past self?”

  “Patient. Savvy.” Unfairly beautiful, Rika thought.

  “I did not like him.” Vikal said. “My past self. He behaved like a pompous ass.”

  “Sounds like the coconut didn’t fall far from the tree,” Rika joked.

  He looked at her in surprise, and then smiled. “I am a work in progress,” he said.

  “How long does it take to get used to looking at the world through your third eye?” she asked. “It made me feel like I was going to keel over.”

  “That is normal,” he said. “When I first opened mine, I got lost in the jungle. Lost! I was the god of the damn place, and it kept leading me away, these threads showing me things I had never seen before—plants, grottos, hidden places. My parents found me a day later in a little nest the jungle had made for me. I think the scolding was half for me, and half for the plants.”

  “I can’t imagine you as a kid,” Rika admitted.

  “You think I just sprang from the womb, fully formed?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re so…serious.”