Julian continued to stare at the box in the little girl’s lap, his mind racing. Accepting what he was wasn’t as difficult as he thought it should be, possibly because it made more sense than simply believing he was unique. He knew there were other Divine that could manipulate celestial energy, but not one of them actually possessed it or could wield it to such a degree as Julian could. Or rather, that he should. There was still a ton of power in his core he had never touched, mostly because it was far too strong and unknown. Now he was being told he’d touched it at least once when he was blacked out in an attempt to save Ren Nova from a near certain death.

The thought of Ren, that he was someone he may very well have always been meant to protect, brought a tear to his chest that made his stomach flip. Not only were they soulmates, but he’d had a duty to the beautiful elf from the very beginning. Not only him, but his people. He didn’t know of any race, any Divine at all, really, that could wield celestial power like they could. He frowned as a memory, brief and almost fuzzy flashed through his mind.

“We’re rare for a reason, starshine. If there were more of us, we’d be in far more danger than we are now.”

He couldn’t remember why Ren had told him that, or when. But he remembered the look in his eyes when he’d said it; dark, and hollow. It had torn at Julian’s chest even then.

I protected you, Ren…do you remember? Do you even remember what I did or how I did it? I don’t…dammit, I wish I could…

Ynda, Hawk’s mother, said a child born of celestial power was the only one that could break the seal on the box because they were the only one that could be trusted to carry and protect the Godheart. Why? Why was it necessary for a Wanderer, someone like her, to be the one to carry out this task? If she had left it for Hawk, why not let him, her own child, open it?

He exhaled slowly, scratching his arm before raising his eyes to Cameo’s who was watching him steadily.

“So,” he began quietly, “this promise I have to make…what do I even say?”

She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

He frowned. “You seem to know everything else about this.” He pointed at the box. 

“I only know what I’m told. I’m a nature faedra, but I don’t just hear them. I hear the stars sometimes, too. When I saw the box, it told me what I told you. The magic Ynda used to seal it is a mix of star and nature.”

“Elemental?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s different.” Cameo looked down at the box, running her hand over the top of the box. “We’re special, Julian,” she said softly. “I don’t know why we were born this way, probably because of what Ynda had in mind for Grandpa Hero, she knew we would be needed at the right time. The mysteries of the stars are countless.” She raised her amber eyes to his. “This is just one of them.”

All Julian could do was nod. “So, I just have to promise to protect the wielders of star magic, the stars themselves, and…Ren?” His soulmate’s name came out as a cracked whisper.

“I guess so,” she said, somewhat unsure. “That’s what she wrote on the box, anyway.”

He let his eyes fall back to the box. On the outside, it looked so unassuming, no different than any other ancient relic he’d found. The writing was unique, and the magic strong and unknown, but to look at it, no one would give it much thought. Yet he and Cameo, along with their grandfathers, knew how important it really was. So important, in fact, Ynda put a death sentence on her own son if he tried to open it before it was time. He had no choice but to understand her logic, though. What this box contained would change everything about the Universal Core they lived in. Hero would become High Divine, the ruler of it all, legitimately ousting Chuck forever from the post he had already been removed from five years ago thanks to the choices he had made. If he somehow made an escape and tried to reclaim what had been his for eons, there was no telling what he would do.

Chuck…formerly known as God…Julian suddenly felt an inexplicable unease and discomfort when he thought of the deity. Did he know something about this? Was that why Ynda needed a protector for the stars?

His hand went absently to his core; his strange and unique power center. He swallowed as he realized exactly what it was Ynda needed from him. How he knew, he wasn’t entirely sure, but it was because of the idea that Chuck might try and get to the Godheart that the words he was meant to say came to him.

He reached out his hand, shaking slightly, and let it hover over Cameo’s on the lid of the box. He opened his lips, took a deep breath and, in Stjernesang, the language passed down to him from Hawk’s line…Ynda’s line…his line, he spoke the words only he knew.

<Great Mother Ynda, hear my words and accept my vow of protection. On my soul, my core, and my heart, I give to you what was entrusted to me. I will find and protect the Guardian you chose to protect the stars…our people, and keep him and all the rest safe from the threat of devastation that lingers. I pledge my loyalty to the one whose birthright you hid until the appointed time. Mij dayos, mij nemos, ei mij hjerte ghet vandrer.> He closed his eyes, Ren’s face so clear in his mind. <I vow my life to him, to you, to Hero, and to the protection of the Godheart. No matter the cost.>

Cameo handed him the box, the words etched on the back facing him. He took it with steady hands and read them.

"Åpent for den som lever sist.”

A faint glow began to emanate from the etchings, running like water through each line and curve, connecting one to the next all around the box until it flowed up to the seal of the lid. Carefully, he turned it and put his thumb on the image of a stone with a star in the center of it. His family’s crest. The one Hawk designed when he was still a child.

Immediately, a flash of light shot behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut, his face contorting in pain, his teeth gritted against the sharp stabbing in his head. He held the box tightly, his thumb remaining on the symbol of the Helman Kingdom, as images flew through his mind. 

Not images…memories.

Fear raced through her heart as she ran, fighting the tears of panic that threatened to spill as she clutched the bundle tight to her chest. She couldn’t fly, she couldn’t open the air. She had to run…

Yelling, shouts for her to stop in a language she wasn’t familiar with. I failed to remember, dearest love, she sobbed to herself. You taught me and I lost it.

The pursuers gained on her, closing the distance.

There was a break in the memory, like a film real skipping, the image distorted and broken. 

A glade in the middle of a forest somewhere in a Realm she had never been. She stopped, panting for breath as she looked around her. She was safe for now. 

Nowhere to hide…she bit her lip, eyes wide as the tears streamed. She looked up into the sky, her heart aching. She didn’t know these stars…

A shout…laughter…mocking words and a malevolent glare in gray eyes. 

Julian couldn’t see his face, couldn’t hear his words. The memory was scratchy and jumped.

She backed up, away from the deity who wanted her bundle.

Her stomach flipped, her heart pounding furiously. She had to do something. The idea came to her in a flash, one that was dangerous, but she had no choice.

The memory became like snow, whirling in a typhoon. He grunted, his hand to his head as he tried not to teeter from the vertigo that overtook him.

Angry shouts, a demand for her to stop what she was doing. She didn’t understand the words, but she understood the intent. She finished her task, spoke in a soft tone, words no one would know except the one meant to come to this place.

She waited a moment, watching the deity walk around, his anger shifting quickly to confusion. She slowly made her way toward the trees, and disappeared, her thoughts on her son and his mate, along with the rest of the children, waiting for her in the Veil. The deity she escaped moved away from the barrier. She no longer felt his energy touching it as he turned back the way he and his soldiers came.

She watched him go, then, when she was sure she was safe, ran as fast as she could back to her child, her arms no longer burdened.

Julian gasped as his eyes flew open, sweat beading on his brow as he panted for breath. Cameo’s eyes were wide as she watched him, worried and scared.

“Uncle?” she asked, her small voice shaking. “Are you okay? What happened?”

He shook his head. “I-I don’t know, I—” He looked at the box in his hands. His eyes lit on an image cut in next to the symbol for Godheart.

A dome over a tree.

He swallowed thickly, his mouth dry as he opened the lid. With a trembling hand, he reached in and pulled out the item inside. It was smooth, cold, and buzzing with intense power. It was opaque with rivers of iridescence flowing throughout, the surface shifting in color as it moved, the very center swirling gently in a lazy whirlpool. There was no denying what it was he held in his hand, nor was he about to underestimate its significance and why it was so important for Hero to have it. 

As he held it, Julian could feel his core resonate with the power he held within his hand, a giant pulse of energy radiating through his soul and into his body, leaving him lightheaded and his stomach in knots. He could feel another pulse race through him, strengthening the energy in his core, making it spin wildly. It felt like several minutes before the world stopped spinning underneath him, the object still clutched tightly in his hand. When he looked up at Cameo, she was pale and sweating, holding the center of her chest. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She swallowed and nodded. “I think so,” she said in a tiny voice. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his gaze going back to what he held. As both of them stared at the object, they knew within their depths what had happened and what had caused it. 

“That’s not the whole thing, is it?” Cameo asked softly.

Julian slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, the word coming out softer than a whisper. “This is just the shell.” His eyes went to Cameo’s face. “It would have been much more intense if it was.” He reached out, taking her hand. “If anyone asks, you don’t know. I can ask someone to take the memory from you just in case.”

She shook her head. “No, I can lock it away and put a spell on it so I can forget it until it’s complete and back with Grandpa.”

“The second I close the lid, make sure you do.”

“What will you tell them?”

“That I found the first part,” he said simply, placing the shell back in the box, slowly lowering the lid but not closing it completely. “At least I know what the Godheart is now…”

She nodded. “Be careful out there, Uncle.”

He shut the box, a line of light blue light running along the edge, sealing it. The second the shell was secure, the waves of nausea overcame them both. They never made it to their feet before they vomited, and the world around them went black.

-*-