Veil of Stars: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 17

by Galenorn, Yasmine

  The moon was a cold moon—she was huge and luminous and silver, but she seemed as icy as the mountain. Sometimes the moon was gentle, sometimes she was welcoming and ripe and it felt like she was watching over me, but tonight, the moon felt like an alien ice queen, brutal and cruel and unforgiving. Her light was harsh and cold, but I was grateful for it as I worked my way up the steep slope.

  I had no clue where I was going, but I kept on. As I climbed, I wondered if the Gadawnoin had been different for Morgana. Did every person going through it climb this mountain, or did they have their own mountains to scale, their own landscape to traverse?

  Then it truly hit me that this path was leading me to the biggest crossroads I would ever face. I wasn’t trekking to the ritual, this was part of the ritual itself. That sobered me even more. I paused to look behind me. The mist had followed me up the slope. I couldn’t see where I had started from—it was now covered with the roiling coils and swirls of the fog.

  “Am I supposed to climb all night?” I whispered, but there was no reply on the wind that whistled past. I felt like I should be cold, and even though I could feel the currents of air, they felt warm, like body temperature. Confused, but curious, I started the ascent again, deciding to accept whatever came, even if all I did was walk all night.

  * * *

  At one point, a shriek startled me, the first sound beyond my own breathing and voice that I had heard since I started. I had no idea how long I’d been hiking, but I froze, looking around for what made the noise. Overhead, against the dark night, a huge winged figure passed by, its wings gliding—not flapping. The bird must have had a seven-foot wingspan and I immediately thought of golden eagles, though I expected they would fly during the daylight. But it looked like an eagle, although a faint golden glow emanated from its body. I had to be seeing its aura.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked, keeping my voice soft as I stood perfectly still. While I thought golden eagles could attack people, this looked like it might be a magical bird. Either way, I didn’t want to be on the wrong end, in case it was more dangerous than a regular eagle.

  The bird glided overhead, letting out another series of short shrieks. Then, it began to descend. It didn’t seem to be coming directly at me, but I was still cautious, and I readied my bow, nocking an arrow in the crossbow. I was still carrying my allentar arrows, and I figured one would take down the bird if there was a problem.

  But instead of attacking, the bird circled lower and lower until it landed on the ground in front of me. It was huge—over three feet tall—and it watched me closely.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. If I kept on walking, I’d run right into it. Finally, I decided to acknowledge it and see if that did anything. “Hello. I’m Ember.”

  The eagle hopped a step closer, then began to shimmer and a moment later, a gorgeous woman stood there, my height and sturdy. She was wearing a golden dress that glinted beneath the moonlight, and her hair—a rich brown color streaked with tawny strands—hung long, down to her hips.

  “Welcome, Ember Kearney.” She motioned to an outcropping that jutted from the mountain about twenty-five feet up the path. “Enter.”

  I squinted at the outcropping and saw an opening dark against the snowy front of the outcropping. “Thank you,” I said, turning back to the eagle shifter. “May I know your name?”

  “I’m the guardian of the mountain,” she said, and then stepped back. “Go through the cave to the next stage of the journey. Do not continue up the mountain.” Then, without waiting for me to say a word, she shimmered again back into her eagle shape and took wing, flying into the night sky.

  Curious, but feeling like finally I was getting some direction, I bent and saw that the path did, indeed, turn toward the cave. Remembering that Morgana had warned me not to stray from the path, I did as the guardian bade me, turning to the left to the entrance of the cavern.

  There, the inky blackness of the opening blazed to life as I approached, shimmering with a sparkling array of lights. It reminded me of the portals, except this looked more like vertical blinds made up of light. I slid my arm between two of the long rays and they shifted, opening enough for me to see the path that led into the cave. Reluctant, yet encouraged, I stepped through the lights, into the mountain proper.

  * * *

  The moment I entered the cave, the walls lit up with a pale silver glow that seemed to come from within. It was bright enough to see the path led across the cavern floor, into a long passage. While there were other passageways along the face of the back wall, the path led to only one. To reach the others, I’d have to go off path, so I kept my focus on the trail in front of me, ignoring the lure of exploring the others.

  “Stick to the path, Ember, stick to the path,” I chanted to myself. “You need to stick to the path. Morgana told you, don’t go off path.”

  And of course, the other entrances kept beckoning me. I found myself thinking about what might be at the end of each passage, but I dragged my attention away, figuring this was part of the test. I usually was good at following directions, but this time I had to avert my gaze from the other possibilities and finally, I ran as fast as I could, plunging into the passage at the end of the path to put a stop to my dithering.

  The tunnel was a long one. From the pale light that shone from the walls, I could see it stretch into the distance. It felt like I was journeying to the center of the mountain. I kept telling myself that everything would be all right. Everything would be fine.

  But leaving the others unexplored left me feeling anxious, as though I might miss something important by ignoring the other tunnels. The pull to run back out into the main cavern and peek down each hallway was strong, but I forced myself to continue along the path, even though every fiber of my being was shrieking that I was making a mistake.

  “Good gods, get a grip,” I muttered. “All you’re feeling is FOMO.”

  Fear of missing out was very real for a lot of people and I hadn’t realized that I suffered from it until now. How many times had I intended to do one thing while giving in and trying something else first? As I thought back, I realized it had been a regular occurrence in my life. But where had it come from?

  “It’s normal to want more,” I said aloud, and the sound of my voice felt reassuring. “It’s normal to think I’m missing out on something by making a definitive choice. But remember—Morgana said sometimes making a bad decision is better than making no decision. And you’re following her instructions, so this isn’t a bad decision.”

  The passage was dry and clear, and once again, I realized that I had lost track of time and had no clue of how long I’d been walking. But up ahead, I began to see what looked like another opening, where the passage widened out, and that buoyed up my heart.

  “Is the Gadawnoin merely a series of paths to walk?” I said.

  By now I was starting to get tired, so I paused to find a candy bar in my pack. The sugar gave me a buzz and I shook my head. It had to be well into two or three in the morning by now, and it felt like I had been walking for hours. I took another deep breath and started on again. A glance over my shoulder showed me that I’d been walking long enough that I could no longer see the entrance.

  More time passed and then, I caught a glimpse of an opening up ahead. Anxious to get out of the tunnel, I jogged ahead. As I stepped through the opening, I paused.

  I was in a wide chamber, but the walls were made of ice, and the floor too, and icicles hung from the ceiling—massive and long, with jagged points threatening anyone who walked beneath them. The walls glistened with a pale blue light, so smooth that I could have skated on them. The chamber went farther back, but the path—carved into the floor—led to the center, where a spiral staircase, also carved from ice, circled up through the ceiling. I glanced up at the hole through which it disappeared. The ceiling of the cave had to be fifty feet high, and it didn’t look like the staircase ended there.

  I made my way to the base of the staircase. I still was
n’t noticing the temperature—everything felt mildly cool. The path ended at the bottom step and I was about to set foot on the stair when a sound from above startled me. I looked up to see a Star Hound guarding the top of the stairs near the ceiling.

  Crap. What the hell was I going to do? It had taken both Raven and me to eliminate one. I wasn’t sure I could manage one on my own.

  The Star Hound stood at least seven feet tall, and for all the world looked like a statue of Anubis. Its eyes glowed with a gold light, and around its neck, it wore a silver knotwork collar. It was also wearing a kilt in a complex pattern in black and silver. In one hand—which was very much a cross between a paw and a hand—it held a silver scepter.

  You can’t do this. If you get close it’s going to kill you.

  Turn back. Find a different way. Surely Morgana didn’t mean for you to stay on the path to certain destruction.

  Right…get the hell out and goddesshood be damned.

  The voices began to race through my mind, and I stood on the first stair, still locking eyes with the Star Hound, unable to move as panic flooded my brain. My muscles tensed, my body urging me to run, to put distance between me and this creature. It took every ounce of discipline that I had to stand my ground.

  But then, a drop of reason filtered through. The Star Hound hadn’t attacked me. Yes, it had what looked like a weapon, and yes, Star Hounds were dangerous, but this one was waiting, watching me. If it had been going to tear me to pieces, wouldn’t it have made a move by now? Wouldn’t it be at my throat already?

  Morgana said to continue on the path. She’s been through this ritual before. She must have faced either the same thing or something similar.

  Finally, I managed to break my paralysis and force my foot to the next step. My heart pounding, I took another step, and then another, all the while keeping my gaze locked on the Star Hound. And I was twenty steps away, and then ten, and still it stood there, silent and waiting. I took a deep breath and continued and then we were face to face. I stood there, silent, waiting for it to act.

  “Are you afraid of me?” the creature asked.

  Surprised that I understood it, I nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  “Then why did you continue up the stairs?”

  I thought about my answer, not wanting to blurt out something stupid. Finally, I answered honestly. “I trust Morgana not to lead me astray. She said to continue along the path—don’t step off the path. And these stairs are on the path.”

  The Star Hound leaned forward and I could feel its breath on my face as it studied me for a moment, its long muzzle smelling vaguely of dog. After yet another interminable time, it straightened and turned to the side, allowing me access to the staircase.

  “You may pass.”

  Gripped by fear, I forced myself to move, to continue up the stairs. As I passed the Star Hound, I kept my eyes directly in front of me. A moment later it was behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see that it had turned around again, facing the bottom of the stairs once again. I leaned against the railing of the spiral staircase, breathing heavily.

  The light faded as I entered the second story of the stairs, and only the steps were lit. I couldn’t see anything else in the chamber I had just entered, except for what looked like glowing eyes from the darkness. Red and gold, silver and blue, the lights shifted constantly. I wasn’t even sure if they were eyes—they reminded me of a cat’s eyes caught in snapping a photograph, reflecting the light. A faint rustling picked up, like autumn leaves caught in the wind.

  My stomach tightened and I glanced up. The circular lights of the staircase seemed to continue on and on with no end. My legs ached and I had to go to the bathroom. Luckily, I just needed to pee, and though I hated doing so, since there was nowhere else to go—no bushes or trees to dart behind—I pulled down my trousers and—holding onto the railing—scooted so my butt was over the edge of the stairs.

  I hope nobody down below gets pissed on…or pissed, I thought, then let out a strained laugh at my unintentional pun. This wasn’t a memory I wanted to share with anybody else. Somehow, I had expected the ritual to goddesshood to be more dignified and less awkward. But relieved and ready to move on, I cinched my trousers again and began to climb once more.

  I had no idea how many steps I had climbed, but it had to be at least ten tall floors’ worth. I looked up and was grateful to see yet another ceiling coming up. I prayed that when I climbed through it, that would be the end of the stairs.

  “I’m never getting on a stair machine again,” I muttered as I forced myself to continue. But a thought caught my attention. If the first guardian had been a Star Hound, what the hell would I be facing at the top of this part of the journey?

  Nervous, I let out a long breath and pushed onward. I was nearly to the ceiling when a sound like a faint gong rang out.

  Gongs meant alarms meant somebody was up here waiting for me.

  And sure enough, as I approached the spot where the steps went through the ceiling, another figure appeared, coming down through the opening. Once again I froze as a great horned owl flew through, landing on the railing near the entrance. It gazed at me with round eyes, watching every move I made.

  Cautiously I approached it. Owls were magical and they could also be dangerous when provoked. I didn’t want a face full of its talons.

  But the owl tilted its head, watching me closely. A feather fell from its wing, drifting down to land at my feet. By now, I was running on autopilot, I was so tired. I bent over and picked up the feather, holding it up so the owl could see.

  “Is this a gift?”

  The owl let out a long hoot that echoed around me, reverberating until I couldn’t hear anything else, getting louder with each echo. I was about to cover my ears but then I caught words among the echoes.

  Are you willing to leave your past behind? Are you willing to let go of everything you’ve ever been and cross over the threshold into a new life? Are you willing to step off of the Wheel, out of the Eternal Return, and take your place among the Immortals? Are you ready to face your trial at the feet of She who rules the Silver Wheel?

  The owl stared at me as I fingered the feather, gazing down at it. The owl signified magic and wisdom and sometimes—death. The bird watched me, waiting. And then I knew where I was headed. I hit the realization like a brick wall and every ounce of my courage evaporated.

  She who rules the Silver Wheel.

  Arianrhod.

  I was on my way to face Arianrhod, the goddess of the Silver Wheel. The goddess of Caer Arianrhod. The goddess of Caer Sidi. She ruled over reincarnation…and becoming a goddess meant I’d never incarnate again. I would face life eternal in the body I had now, in the persona I wore in this life.

  Could I do it? Could I live as myself, live as who I was forever and ever? Could I face each day waking up as Ember Kearney?

  Until that moment, I hadn’t thought about it, but death offered the chance to start again. Death offered an out, if I couldn’t stand myself. Death offered an end—and new beginnings. To become a goddess meant to transcend death, and it meant wearing the mask of who I was forever. Did I like who I was enough to make that leap?

  My stomach knotted and I slowly settled down on the step next to the owl. It waited for me, gazing down at me placidly from its perch on the railing.

  “Do I love who I am enough to make this work in the long run?” I knew I’d have help, but what if I went mad? What if I wasn’t capable of facing an eternity, even to be with Herne? How could I know whether this was the right move?

  Herne does it, Morgana does it—and she chose to cross this threshold. Cernunnos and Brighid have lived forever…and will live forever. Even if all of these realms vanish, they’ll still live and grow and thrive. For them, the physical realm is simply one state of being.

  Ah yes, another voice whispered. But there’s no going back. Are you sure, are you so very sure that you’re ready to face eternity?

  I already face it, just in different bodies
, with different names, and other parts of my own soul. When I become a goddess, I imagine I’ll have access to all of my soul selves, all of my incarnations. That thought stopped me. I hadn’t considered that, either.

  I can be so much more than I am. I’ll be Ember, but also every other life I’ve lived.

  And that thought frightened me so much I began to shake.

  What if I don’t like the person I become? What if…I’m not Ember when I change?

  But Morgana’s been through the Gadawnoin. She didn’t mention anything about any of these things. Then again, she seems happy with her choice.

  I steeled myself and stood, facing the owl.

  Sometimes, we had to make a choice. And like Morgana said, sometimes making a bad decision was better than no decision at all. I would either stay Fae, and mortal, or I would become a goddess. Those were my two choices. I had no idea if I’d come through this and be happy. But if I quit now, if I turned back, I’d regret it forever. I’d wonder until the day I died—and I would die—if I should have taken the chance.

  I held out the feather to the owl and said, “I’ll continue.”

  It let out a soft hoot and swiveled its head to look up the steps. And even though I didn’t speak owl, I knew without a doubt, it was saying, Go on. Continue. You’re almost there.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As I passed through the opening, the staircase ended, and I was standing on what appeared to be a wide silver thread in the stars. Everywhere I looked, I saw similar threads running through space, intersecting in a massive web. I reached down to touch the thread, wondering if it was glass or rope or something else—but it sizzled under my hand, not burning, so definitely pure magical energy. A tingle ran up my spine.