Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) by Addie Thorley (best beach reads .txt) 📗

with every step, the Lady’s and Ghoa’s limp bodies slide closer together. Merging and melding. Until the Lady wears more than just Ghoa’s face.

At the entrance of the hedge maze, Father Guzan glances back and beckons us to follow with an almost imperceptible nod.

There’s no hesitation. No discussion—not even among the Zemyans. We obey as if compelled by Kartok’s Loridium—except this is an invitation, rather than a command.

We wind deeper and deeper into the garden, and the perfectly manicured hedges grow taller and taller until they form a tunnel over our heads.

“We’ll never find our way out,” Serik whispers.

I feel the same uncertainty emanating from so many of the others behind us. But I also feel the heartbeat of this realm, pulsing through the ground, whispering through the trees. An unwavering rhythm that keeps me walking ahead with faith. If the Father were going to cast us out or punish us, He would have done so already … right?

A breath later, the labyrinth ends in a sprawling lawn lined with even more of the jewel-leafed trees. Another gold-dust pathway leads up a rise to a palace unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s made of opal or abalone shell that glistens blue and green and pink. The walls ripple, almost like waves, and tall turrets and towers rise into the clouds, connected by bridges that look to be made of nothing but light. Rendered all the more impressive in the ever-darkening sky. The most striking feature of the palace, however, is how it hovers several lengths above the ground—tethered by glittering ropes, as if to keep it from floating away.

“Maybe we won’t want to leave,” I finally whisper back to Serik. “Have you ever seen anything so spectacular?”

“I’ve seen too many spectacular things. I’m more than ready for the ordinary. And I’d wager so are they.” He motions back to the Zemyans, who have fallen onto their faces, crying for pity. Even though Father Guzan hasn’t so much as glanced at them.

Or at any of us.

The gold-dust trail is as soft as carpet underfoot, reminding me of the fine grains of sand in Verdenet. It’s even warm against my feet, as if heated by the sun. The trees lining the pathway are reminiscent of those in Namaag, with their towering trunks and branches, thick enough to support platforms. King Ihsan touches the face of each tree, his expression full of wonder. And as we approach the palace, there’s no denying how the walls glimmer like ice, taking me back to the decimated Castle of the Clans, which we destroyed during the Ashkarian siege of Chotgor.

This place is entirely new yet achingly familiar. Exactly as I thought the Eternal Blue would be. Teeming with a force far stronger than the overwhelming power and frantic energy that was present in Kartok’s xanav. His world was fueled by hate and ambition. But the true realm of the Eternal Blue is fueled by love.

Father Guzan steps effortlessly through a towering entry hall that hovers just a step off the ground. When the rest of us move to follow, the entire palace rises with a sudden jerk. It’s only then that I notice the stalwart figures positioned at intervals along the wall, half hidden by the deepening shadows. There are three of them, and each holds a rope that tethers the palace to the ground.

I know who they are at once. I would recognize them anywhere. The only three people who have qualified to ascend to this realm.

Jamukha the Invincible, with his shock of scorched black hair—the only evidence that he was struck by seven bolts of lightning.

Zen the Devoted, with his hunched shoulders and gnarled hands clasped around his rope as if in prayer.

And Ciamar the Daring, with her confident smile and long gray braid, which waves behind her like a banner—so all the world could see when she leapt from her tower and into the arms of the Goddess.

I’ve dreamed of meeting these Goddess-touched warriors ever since I can remember. Eager to learn from them. To be strengthened by simply being in their presence. It’s the closest I ever hoped to come to the First Gods, and finally I’m here, standing before them. And they’re scowling at me.

Unlike them, I was unable to prove my devotion.

We failed the Lady of the Sky.

“We tried,” I cry. “So very, very hard. All I’ve ever wanted is to—”

“Don’t bother pleading your case to me, girl,” Ciamar interjects. “Judgment is reserved for the First Gods.”

“How do you expect us to follow Them?” I gesture to the palace they purposely raised off the ground.

“We don’t,” Jamukha says matter-of-factly.

I’m too upset to respond, so Serik asks, “Then what are we supposed to do?”

Zen points to the line of trees, which are quickly vanishing in the fading light. “Wait.”

And so we do.

We hunker beneath the trees with their gemstone leaves, and the longer we wait, the more they jangle and crash like shattering dishes. The darkness closes in too—an ominous, impenetrable shroud. It crushes me like a chest press, making it difficult to breathe.

“Now you finally know how the rest of us have always felt in your presence,” Serik teases as he slips an arm around my waist. He uses his other hand to light the tip of his finger like a candle, but the flame immediately sputters. With a grunt, he tries again. Weroneka and the other Sun Stokers attempt to summon light as well, but none succeed because they’re all missing the base element.

The Lady was the light; nothing remains without Her.

We huddle in the gloom for what must be hours. So long I begin to think that this must be our punishment for failing the Goddess, for entering forcibly into this realm.

Ziva whimpers, unused to feeling so out of control in the dark. I reach out to comfort her, even though I feel just as wild. I’m aware of every rigid hair on my body. My mind feels like it’s tumbling end over end—as Ghoa must have when