Star's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

The iron hall swallowed the light. Star flew low, gold cloth tight, while Ezekiel walked below and hummed. His song pressed the metal flat. Iron relics lined the walls in rows, each one straining toward Star's feathers. The white owls circled, catching what slipped free. But the hall was long, and one truth grew heavy. Ezekiel's song could only shield one body at once. When he sang for Star, his own beads pulled at the walls. And Star still could not find the compass. Iron looked like iron. Every relic screamed the same. "I can't tell which one," Star said. Their voice cracked. "They all pull the same." Ezekiel's hum broke for a breath. A blade leaped off a shelf. An owl snatched it midair and dropped it. "Then we're both dead soon," he said. "Pick faster." A new voice cut through the dark. "Left row. Third case." Star spun. A woman stood in the hall's shadow, red skin, white hair falling long. She wore no gold cloth, no owls. The iron ignored her. She was the fortune teller others called a rival, and Star had heard she sold answers no one else could give. Her calm frightened Star more than the flying blades. "Who are you?" Star asked. "Zee." She did not step closer. "I read where things lie. I read the compass this morning." Her red eyes fixed on Star. "Left row. Third case. The broken star." Ezekiel's song faltered again. Sweat ran down his face. "Why help us?" he pushed out between notes. "It cost me," Zee said. She blinked slow, like her eyes hurt. "I see less now. Forty readings left. This was one." She named it plainly and did not dwell. "Go. His song won't hold." Star shot down the left row. Third case. Behind cracked glass sat a compass shaped like a star, its face shattered, its needle bent. The moment Star saw it, the pull tripled. Every relic in the hall lunged at once. Ezekiel's voice climbed, ragged. Owls dove in a white storm, striking iron aside. "Now, Star!" Ezekiel roared. Star smashed the glass with one wing. Talons closed on the broken star. The metal burned cold against their feathers, and the pull yanked Star sideways into the wall. But the compass was in their grip. "I have it!" Star screamed. Ezekiel stopped singing. He grabbed Star from the air and ran. The owls swept behind them. Iron crashed to the floor where they had stood. They burst through the door into daylight and fell in a heap. Star held up the compass. Whole in their claws, but broken in its face. Zee stepped out last, one hand shading her tired eyes. "You have it," she said. "Now the shadow weaver keeps her promise." She turned to go. "But that thing is broken. A broken compass points nowhere. You'll need me again." Star looked at the shattered star and knew she was right.