To Catch a Shooting Star

[Rhys Germain]

13 July 2021
late evening

It had been a night fraught with trepidation. From the moment he and Dris had stepped onto the Isle, Rhys had known there would be a major shift of some sort, and the evening had not disappointed him. At the urging of his mantle and the responsibility contained within it, he had joined the other Champions to fight the Twilight Dragoon. None of them had come out unscathed, but now that the battle was over, they had been rewarded. Handsomely.

For a while, all he could do was sit in the sand and hold onto Dris, watching as the treasures fell from the heavens. He was weary down to his bones and he hurt all over. The longer he sat, the heavier he felt—and the stronger he felt a pull toward the cache.

There was something in that trove which called to him, and he was wary of that. You didn’t live as long as he had, and travel in the circles he had, without learning a bit about the nature and handling of magical artifacts. Such items often exacted a price for their usage and for the privilege of keeping them, and a poor or hasty choice could expose a man to a host of complications. Because of this, he was in no rush to approach the pile of treasures.

He knew he couldn’t ignore the pull forever, though. Curiosity, dissatisfaction, and regret would plague him for gods knew how long if he didn’t give in and take what belonged to him. With Dris’ help, he climbed to his feet, and together, they made their way over to Velgr’s stash.

While the other Champions made their selections, Rhys hung back a step and studied the jumble of items. Magic had already chosen for him, so he just had to find the item that kenned to him and his power. When it was his turn, he stepped forward and held out his hand. He allowed his power—his own power, not that of his mantle and its deep ties—to slide forward and curl into the spaces between his fingers, and he felt.

He didn’t find it right away. There were too many treasures, and all of them seemed to be awake and yearning toward him—toward the prospect of a master, or worse, the promise of a host. Careful not to touch any of them unless he had to, he drew his hand slowly across the jumble, his metaphysical senses brushing across the clamor of mixed magics until he felt something catch. Then he reached into that little mountain and felt around more intimately, his fingertips bumping up against metal and stone, gem and bone.

I remember you.

The sentiment drew him up short. It vibrated through his veins and permeated his muscles, delivering with it a sense of rightness that only intensified when he touched the item itself. His hand closed around something small, something that might have been overlooked had he been using his mortal eyes, and he withdrew it from the pile.

He opened his hand. There against his palm sat a ring. It was fashioned from a dark metal he couldn’t immediately identify, and it was studded with stones of violet and blue. When he looked closer at it, he noticed that each of those stones seemed to hold half a dozen stars or more, and each of those stars seemed to twinkle and twirl and dance as he watched. He felt something inside him shift—in his chest and in his head. Pressure. A squeeze. An awareness. For a moment, he struggled to catch his breath.

“Hello, Shooting Star,” he whispered when he found his voice again. He ran his thumb slowly across the largest of the stones. Hello, came the reply, softly like a breath against his skin.

He closed his hand about the ring and reached out for the little fold of reality he had dedicated to the holding and hiding of his weapons and other important items. It was there, alongside the longsword he had forged and named Shade-Maker that he placed Shooting Star, and it was there the ring would remain until he had rested and could dedicate some time to better acquaint himself with it.

As the seam in the ether closed and vanished, Rhys slipped his arm around Dris’ slender waist and said, “Take me home, love.” He leaned heavily into the bard as they started down the path that led deeper into the Isle, toward their rented mansion within the Gloaming District. Tonight, as every night, home existed wherever they were, together.