The Starlight Heir

by Amalie Howard

When the last star dims and the dawn of an endless night looms, the Starkeeper will burn, for where it walks death follows.

But like all monstrous things, the god of death was infinitely patient . . . The light of the stars could not endure forever, after all.

The magical properties of the crystal will allow the blade to cut through anything, from armor to bone. It’s practically indestructible.

But as it turns out, the jādū shards sing to me in a singular way that’d had old Vasha salivating, and ever since, his forge has farmed out extra work to me.

“No. My sister’s protections are still strong. She died to make it so. We have to keep her safe, Hassan.”

“Setareh sar lokkar, servant of the star.” Her eyes return to my face, which she studies with frightening intensity. “Not yet awakened, it slumbers sound. The fates will wait until they are called.”

I’m not afraid of the dark. The multilayered whisper that comes back is ghostly and echoes from everywhere at once: You should be.

Fictional men never disappoint. “Book boyfriends are simply better,” I say.

“If I were to judge everyone on every misstep they made, I’d miss out on knowing some wonderful people.”