Lightlark (Lightlark, #1)

by Alex Aster

Only joined can the curses be undone Only after one of six has won, When the original offense Has been committed again And a ruling line has come to an end Only then can history amend.

With the island on the brink of destruction, the six rulers sacrificed themselves to give their heirs the chance to break the curses, and with that power, the Centennial was created.

Lightlark would disappear and emerge every hundred years for one hundred days, to give the six realms a chance to use the prophecy to save them all.

Every hundred years, rulers returned to Lightlark, desperate to break the curses. Every hundred years, they failed.

And Isla had been locked inside not just for her own safety— But for everyone else’s.

The Centennial was many things. A game. A chance at breaking the many curses that plagued the six realms. An opportunity to win unmatched power. A meeting of the six rulers. A hundred days on an island cursed to only appear once every hundred years. And for Isla— Almost certain death.

She spoke of kings who could grip the sun in their hands, white-haired women who could make the sea dance, castles in clouds, and flowers that bloomed pure power.

Beauty was a Wildling’s gift—and curse.

Five hundred years before, each of the six realms—Wildling, Starling, Moonling, Skyling, Sunling, and Nightshade—were cursed, their strengths turned into their own personal poisons.

Jewels were made when great power was wielded over nature,

Thousands of years ago, the island was cut into several pieces, so each realm could claim a shard. Nightshades left the island shortly afterward to form their own land. Wildlings left after the curses. The pieces that remained were Star Isle for the Starlings, Sky Isle for the Skylings, Moon Isle for the Moonlings, and Sun Isle for the Sunlings. Then, there was the Mainland, where all the realms had traditionally gathered together. It was the Centennial’s base.

He. The Sunling ruler and king of Lightlark. The last remaining Origin, with blood from each of the four realms that still had a presence on the island. He could wield each of the four Lightlark powers.

On Lightlark and beyond, love had a price. Falling deeply and truly in love meant forming a bond that gave a beloved complete access to one’s abilities. They could do whatever they wished with it. Wield it, reject it. Even steal it.

On the night of the curses, five hundred years before, all six rulers perished. Their power and responsibility were transferred to their heirs, and all of them except for the new king fled the island’s instability to create the newlands, hundreds of miles from the island and each other. Some subjects had remained on Lightlark.

Power is in the island’s blood and bones, she had said. Lightlark lengthens our lives, gives us access to a power much greater than our own. And more than that, to many . . . Lightlark is home.

The king of Lightlark didn’t just control its power—he was its power. If something happened to him, the entire land would crumble away, and every Lightlark realm would fall.

And just like she did back home when she was alone in her room, whenever she felt anxious and lonely and trapped, she began to sing.

For the curses to be eradicated, one of the six rulers had to die.

Isla had been born without the Wildlings’ curse—or their power.

Your dresses are your armor—your jewels are your weapons. They were the tools of a seductress.

The bondbreaker. That was their plan. In a room full of manuscripts taken from Lightlark, Celeste had discovered a text speaking of an enchanted relic. A giant glass needle with two sharp points on either side that could break any bond that imprisoned a person and their family line—including curses.

“That is a lie. The island was created by two people. Not just Horus, but also Cronan Malvere.”

“Lightlark became more powerful than either founder could have anticipated. It made both men greedy. Turned friend against friend. It ended in a duel, and when Cronan lost, all of Nightshade fled to form their own land, one not nearly as strong as Lightlark.”

For worse than desiring something above the good of one’s realm is not being sure of what you want at all.”

The only way not to fear death is to meet it.

She wanted freedom, that was for sure. But was that truly all she wanted?

For so long, she had denied her desires. Pushed them down. Her guardians’ warnings were always on her mind. Saying her life didn’t just belong to her. Teaching that wanting anything but saving her realm was selfish. Now, she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She wanted many, many things. And she was willing to do terrible things to get them.

Climb until your muscles learn the movements; leave your mind out of it,

“I fear this Centennial is not simply a chance to break our curses. I fear this is our last chance.”

She was afraid. Though Terra had trained her not to fear death, she did. But it wasn’t what she feared most. Her greatest fear was the one she faced in Celeste’s trial—not living. Being trapped for eternity in a room without having done everything she dreamed of.

“The heart of Lightlark blooms every hundred years, attached to a living thing. A plant.

“I gave it an honest effort,” he said. “But it turns out . . . I’m not that honest.”

“Nightshades did build the island, along with Sunlings. When they were banished from Lightlark, their lands were built over. But some parts, and some creatures, still dwell in the in-between.”

“Go ahead, Wildling. Get our heart,”

The yolk was bright as the sun, small enough to fit in the center of her hand. It glimmered like pure gold. The source of all Lightlark power. Its heart.

The realization was a boulder to the chest. The heart held unparalleled Nightshade power. With it, the king didn’t need Grim anymore. He could kill him and still protect the island against the mysterious danger.

The bondbreaker’s cost was said to be at least a gallon of blood from a ruler.

Celeste’s blood contained abilities from all six realms.

“There never was a bondbreaker, little bird. This is a bondmaker. The only enchanted device that allows a transfer of ability. Created to help Sunling kings shift their power to their heirs without having to die.

The heart of Lightlark. Something Egan had told me about as children. I had tracked it, intending for it to be a wedding gift. Instead, Grim unknowingly unlocked the heart for me to use. The job was rushed. Since I had not found it myself, I could not wield it effectively. I cursed all the realms without really meaning to. Even my own. Only I, as the curses’ creator, was left unmarred.

She shook her head. “I’m powerless.” Aurora laughed. “Quite the contrary, little bird. You’re very powerful. Your Wildling abilities have simply been cloaked by your Nightshade powers. Made invisible. Unusable, unless a skilled Nightshade should untangle them . . . Manifestations of powers are so strange, aren’t they?” Power. Isla had always had power.

She couldn’t miss something she never knew she had.

He had been right not to trust her. Not to trust anyone. She should have done the same.

Oro was wielding Isla’s power. And she could see in Grim’s face that he knew what that meant.

The curses were broken. But so was she.

Remember us, Heart. Remember it all. You will remember. And when you do— You will come back to me.

That was the moment I knew I loved you, he had said. When that arrow went through your heart, and it might as well have gone through mine.