Star's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Star flew from Night bloom's door with the gold cloth tight across their chest. The magpies flew close, but Star knew the truth. Inside the hall of iron, these birds would tire fast. They were market birds, quick but few. Star needed guardians strong enough to hold a wall of flying metal. So Star turned toward the white spires that rose above the trees, where the sky-god's old followers were said to keep their sanctuary. The sanctuary stood tall, its towers pale and thin against the sky. Feather shapes were carved into every stone. Star landed at the wide door and called out. No one answered. Then a small owl swept down from a spire and landed on a rail. Its feathers were soft and white. It watched Star with calm yellow eyes and did not flinch. "You're not afraid of me," Star said. Most birds fled Star's pull. This one stayed. "He trained it that way." Star turned. A man stood in the doorway, arms crossed. His locs hung past his shoulders. Bone charms and gold beads swung at his neck, but none flew toward Star. That alone made Star stare. "You wear metal," Star said. "It should pull to me." "It would, if I let it," the man said. He stepped closer, unhurried. "I'm Ezekiel. I sing the storms quiet. I can sing iron quiet too, for a while." He looked at the gold cloth on Star's chest and frowned. "That rag buys you minutes. You're going into the iron hall." "I have to," Star said. "There's a compass there. I need it." Ezekiel's jaw tightened. "Others went in for that god. They didn't come out." He whistled, low and rolling. More owls dropped from the spires and lined the rail, silent and still. "But my owls don't tire like magpies. They fly the iron hall in the dark. They catch what falls." Hope jumped in Star's chest. "Then lend them to me." "Not lend," Ezekiel said. "I go with you. My song slows the pull. The owls guard your body. You grab the compass and run." He knelt to Star's height. "But when it turns bad in there, you listen to me. Not the hall. Me." Star looked at the pale owl, then at the man who wore iron and feared none of it. The magpies had bought minutes. These birds could buy the whole trip. "I listen," Star said. Ezekiel stood. He hummed a low note, and the owls lifted as one. "Then we go now, while your cloth is fresh." He walked past Star toward the road. "The hall waits for no one, little Star." Star followed, the gold cloth snug, new wings at their back. The deadly hall no longer held only a threat. It held a way through. But now Star's fate rode on a stranger's song, and if that song broke inside those iron walls, no owl would be fast enough to save them.