Read Starlight Bloom free: the opening chapter

Fractured Light

The chipped ceramic felt cool against my fingers. Not a lot of useable clay left in this batch. Enough for a small bowl, maybe. I scraped the dregs from the bottom of the discarded pot, ignoring the grit and dust that swirled around my ankles. The Dim always tasted like regret and broken things.

Above, through the gaps in the decaying buildings, the constellations blazed. They weren’t for us down here, not really. Aethel glittered, a city built on starlight, while we sifted through its refuse. Everyone in Aethel had a star connection. A constellation that resonated with their… well, with everything. Their talents, their luck, their place in society. Mine was supposed to be Lyra, the harp. Beautiful, melodic, harmonious. Mine was… fractured. A broken chord.

It meant static in my head when the city’s light pulsed, headaches that throbbed in time with the celestial rhythm, and a general feeling of being out of tune with the world. It also meant I didn’t belong up there. Not with the bright, shining citizens of Aethel.

I needed this clay. Old Man Tiber, who ran the makeshift market in the center of the Dim, was paying a decent price for anything that could be reshaped. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me a loaf of stale bread and maybe, if I was lucky, a handful of sun-dried berries.

A shadow fell across the alley, blocking the already meager light. I didn’t bother looking up. Just kept scraping.

“Looking for treasure, Lyra?”

Ren. The voice was all swagger and false cheer. I tightened my grip on the clay shards.

“Just… collecting,” I said, keeping my voice flat. I didn't need anyone knowing what I was up to. It was bad enough people knew I kept to myself. Sharing my finds just made me a target.

“Collecting what? Dust bunnies? You know Tiber’s already got a mountain of broken pottery. What makes yours so special?” He sauntered closer, his movements fluid and easy, like a predator circling its prey.

Ren’s connection was Corvus, the crow. Quick, resourceful, a little bit… shadowy. He could manipulate light, steal it from one place and redirect it to another. Useful, if you weren't on the receiving end. He used it mostly for pranks, and for getting whatever he wanted. Which, lately, seemed to be my attention.

“It’s not for Tiber,” I mumbled, trying to brush past him.

He blocked my path, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh? Who is it for then? Your secret admirer?”

I glared. “Just go away, Ren.”

“Come on, Lyra. Don’t be like that. We’re practically neighbors. It gets lonely down here, you know?” He leaned in, and I instinctively flinched back. His star connection flared around him, a faint, almost iridescent darkness. “Maybe we could… share. What you find. What I find.”

“I work alone,” I said, the words clipped and sharp. It was the truth. It had to be. Trusting anyone had only ever led to disappointment. My mother… well, I didn’t think about my mother. Ever.

He laughed, a short, dismissive sound. “That’s what you say. You can't survive down here on your own forever.” He reached out and tried to take the clay from my hands. I jerked away, nearly dropping the pieces.

“Leave me alone!”

“Feisty,” he said, his eyes glinting. “I like that.”

A voice, softer, calmer, cut through the tension. “Ren, seriously? Give it a rest.”

Casian stepped into the alley, his presence a quiet counterpoint to Ren’s boisterous energy. He carried a battered sketchbook and a handful of charcoal sticks. His star was Vela, the sail. Supposed to bring good fortune and direction. It mostly brought him a lot of anxiety, if I was being honest. He was always sketching, trying to capture the fleeting beauty of the city above, the patterns of light and shadow. He avoided eye contact. And people. Mostly people.

“Cas, don’t get involved,” Ren warned. “This isn’t your fight.”

“It is when you’re harassing someone,” Casian said, his voice barely a whisper, but firm. He positioned himself between Ren and me. A small gesture, but enough to create some space.

Ren rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m going. Just saying, Lyra, you’re missing out.” He shot me one last, challenging look, then turned and disappeared into the maze of crumbling buildings.

I let out a shaky breath, clutching the clay tighter. “Thanks,” I said to Casian, not meeting his gaze.

He shrugged, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “No problem. Just… be careful around him.” He glanced around the alley, as if expecting Ren to reappear at any moment. “He’s… impulsive.”

“I can handle myself,” I said, the defensiveness creeping back into my voice.

Casian didn’t argue. He just nodded and started flipping through his sketchbook. “I’m heading to the market. Want to come?”

I hesitated. Spending time with Casian wasn’t exactly pleasant. He was a quiet observer, and I preferred to be unseen. But the thought of facing Ren alone was worse.

“Sure,” I said finally. “I need to sell this.”

---

The market was a chaotic swirl of sights and smells. Stale bread, rotting fruit, scavenged metal, and something vaguely floral that I couldn’t place. People jostled and bartered, their faces etched with desperation and resilience. Everyone in the Dim was fractured in some way. A broken star connection, a lost dream, a shattered past. We were the cast-offs of Aethel, the ones who didn’t fit.

Old Man Tiber grunted when I presented the clay. He examined the shards with a critical eye, then tossed me a few copper coins. Not enough for berries. Just the bread.

“Slow day for scavenging, huh?” he said, his voice raspy.

I shrugged. “It’s getting harder to find anything usable.”

“They’re tightening the restrictions,” Tiber said, glancing upwards at the gleaming towers of Aethel. “Thorne’s orders. Says we’re attracting ‘undesirables.’ Wants the Dim cleaned up.”

Silas Thorne. The man who ruled Aethel with an iron fist and a vision of perfect order. He believed that fractured star connections were a blight on the city, a source of instability. He’d been cracking down on the Dim for months, increasing security, limiting access, making our lives even harder.

“What’s he going to do?” I asked, trying to keep the fear from my voice.

Tiber shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter what he’s going to do. Matters what we do.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowded market. “We stick together. We look out for each other. That’s all we have.”

I doubted that. Sticking together felt like a weakness. Looking out for others felt like inviting trouble. I grabbed the loaf of bread and turned to leave.

“Lyra,” Casian’s voice stopped me. He was standing by a stall selling faded ribbons and broken jewelry, sketching a young girl with a single, luminous blue flower woven into her hair. “Look at this.”

He showed me his sketchbook. The drawing was stunning. The girl’s face was filled with a quiet joy, her eyes sparkling with a light that seemed to defy the darkness of the Dim.

“You’re really good,” I said, surprised.

He blushed again. “It’s just… I try to capture the beauty I see. Even here.”

“There isn’t much beauty down here,” I said, immediately regretting the harshness of my words.

“There is,” he insisted, his voice gaining a little strength. “You just have to look for it. It’s in the way the light filters through the cracks in the buildings, in the resilience of the people, in the small acts of kindness.” He pointed to the girl in the drawing. “Like her. She found a single flower growing in the rubble. That's beauty.”

I looked at the drawing again, then back at the crowded market. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was more to the Dim than just regret and broken things. But it was hard to see, hard to believe, when all I felt was… fractured.

Suddenly, the air crackled with energy. The lights in the market flickered and died, plunging us into near darkness. A collective gasp rose from the crowd.

“What was that?” Casian whispered, clutching his sketchbook tightly.

Before I could answer, a voice boomed from the entrance to the market.

“Attention! By order of Silas Thorne, this market is now under quarantine. No one leaves. No one enters.”

A group of armored guards marched into the market, their faces grim and unyielding. Their star connections pulsed with a cold, metallic light.

“What’s happening?” someone shouted. “What does this mean?”

The guard captain stepped forward, his voice echoing through the sudden silence. “We have reason to believe that a dangerous artifact is hidden within the Dim. Until it is found, no one is allowed to leave.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the terrified faces. “Consider this a temporary inconvenience for the safety of Aethel.”

I felt a cold dread creep over me. A dangerous artifact? Quarantine? This wasn't about safety. It was about control. And I had a feeling this was just the beginning. My eyes met Casian’s, and I saw the same fear reflected in his.

Then, through the crowd, I saw him. Ren, leaning against a crumbling wall, a smirk on his face. But this time, it wasn't a playful smirk. It was something darker, something knowing. He was looking directly at me, and his eyes held a message.

We're trapped.

We’re trapped. The realization didn’t hit me like a wave, but more like a slow, suffocating pressure building in my chest. Ren didn't need to tell me. I already knew, instinctively. The Dim wasn't just a place of poverty and shadows. It was a cage. And Silas Thorne held the key.

Casian, oblivious to the silent communication passing between Ren and me, was practically vibrating with anxiety. “What do we do? What’s going to happen?”

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Ren. He pushed himself off the wall, his movements fluid and graceful, and began to weave through the panicked crowd. He didn’t look at me again, but I followed his progress with my eyes, a knot of suspicion tightening in my stomach. He wasn’t worried about being trapped. He seemed… expectant.

“Lyra?” Casian tugged at my sleeve, his voice pleading. “Please, say something.”

I dragged my attention back to him, forcing a semblance of calm onto my face. “Stay close,” I said, my voice clipped. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

Easier said than done. The market was erupting into chaos. People were shouting, arguing, desperately trying to understand what was happening. The guards, their star connections flaring with increasing intensity, were attempting to maintain order, but their efforts were futile.

I scanned the scene, assessing our options. There were only a few entrances and exits to the market, all now blocked by the armored guards. Trying to fight our way out would be suicide. We were surrounded.

My gaze landed on the rooftops, crumbling and precarious, but offering a potential escape route. It was risky, but it might be our only chance.

“We’re going up,” I said, already moving towards a stack of crates near a relatively intact building.

“What? Up where?” Casian protested, struggling to keep up.

“The rooftops. It’s the only way.”

I began to climb, using the crates as makeshift steps, ignoring Casian’s panicked protests. Years of scavenging had honed my agility and strength. I moved quickly and efficiently, scaling the building with practiced ease.

Casian, bless his heart, was less graceful. He stumbled and scraped his knees, but he persevered, driven by a mixture of fear and determination.

Once we were both on the roof, I took a moment to catch my breath and survey the surrounding area. The Dim stretched out before us, a labyrinth of decaying buildings and shadowed alleyways. The upper levels of Aethel, glittering and pristine, loomed in the distance, a stark reminder of the vast divide between the privileged and the forgotten.

“Where are we going?” Casian asked, his voice shaky.

“Towards the outer edge of the Dim,” I said, pointing to a cluster of abandoned warehouses near the city walls. “There’s a service tunnel that leads outside. It’s our best bet.”

The rooftops were treacherous, riddled with holes and crumbling debris. We navigated them cautiously, leaping across gaps and scaling broken walls. The guards below were still preoccupied with controlling the crowd, but it was only a matter of time before they realized we were trying to escape.

As we moved, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. I glanced back, scanning the rooftops, but saw nothing. It was probably just my paranoia, but in the Dim, paranoia was a survival skill.

We were nearing the warehouses when I spotted Ren again. He was on a rooftop ahead of us, moving with the same effortless grace as before. He didn’t acknowledge me, but I saw him exchange a brief, cryptic glance with someone lurking in the shadows.

“He’s up to something,” I muttered, my suspicion deepening.

“Who? Ren?” Casian asked, confused.

“Just… stay focused,” I said, dismissing his question. “We need to get to that tunnel.”

We quickened our pace, adrenaline coursing through our veins. But it was too late.

A voice rang out from behind us. “Going somewhere, scavenger?”

We turned to see a guard standing on the roof of the building we had just left, his star connection blazing with an icy blue light. He raised his hand, and a shimmering energy blast shot towards us.

I reacted instinctively, shoving Casian out of the way and diving for cover behind a crumbling chimney. The energy blast struck the chimney, shattering it into a shower of bricks.

“Run!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet.

We sprinted across the rooftops, the guard hot on our heels. He fired another energy blast, narrowly missing us. We dodged and weaved, using the dilapidated buildings as cover.

“I can’t keep this up much longer!” Casian gasped, his lungs burning.

I knew he was right. We were outmatched and outgunned. We needed to find a way to turn the tables.

Then, I remembered something my mother had taught me. Something about star connections, and how they weren’t just about power. They were about resonance.

“Casian,” I said, slowing down. “What’s your star sign?”

“Uh… the Heron,” he replied, bewildered. “Why?”

“Can you… feel anything when you focus on your connection? Any kind of energy?”

He frowned, concentrating. “I… I don’t know. It just feels warm. Like a gentle hum.”

“Try to amplify it,” I instructed. “Focus on that warmth, that hum. Let it fill you. And then… project it outwards.”

Casian looked at me like I was crazy, but he was desperate enough to try. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated on his star connection.

Slowly, a faint golden glow began to emanate from his hands. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Now!” I shouted.

Casian unleashed the energy, directing it towards the guard chasing us. The golden glow collided with the guard’s icy blue star connection, creating a surge of disruptive energy. The guard stumbled, his connection flickering wildly.

It wasn’t enough to incapacitate him, but it was enough to buy us some time. We seized the opportunity, sprinting towards the warehouses and the elusive service tunnel.

We found it hidden behind a pile of debris, a narrow opening leading into darkness. We squeezed through, grateful to be out of sight.

Inside, the tunnel was damp and claustrophobic, but it was a welcome relief after the open rooftops. We stumbled through the darkness, guided by the faint light filtering in from the entrance.

“What was all that about?” Casian asked, still shaken. “What did you do back there?”

“It’s complicated,” I said, avoiding his gaze. “Let’s just say I remembered something my mother taught me.”

The truth was, my mother had been a Star Weaver, someone who could manipulate star connections in ways that most people couldn’t imagine. She had taught me the basics, but I had never fully understood the extent of her abilities. Or my own.

We continued through the tunnel, our footsteps echoing in the silence. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still being followed. And I knew, with a growing sense of dread, that Ren was somehow involved.

The star connections in Aethel weren’t just symbols of power. They were a reflection of societal hierarchy. Those born with strong, radiant connections, like Silas Thorne and his guards, held all the power. Those with weak or muted connections, like the inhabitants of the Dim, were relegated to the margins.

But there were whispers of another kind of connection. A connection to the old stars, the ones that had faded from memory. A connection that could unlock forgotten powers.

My mother had believed in those old stars. And I, despite my cynicism, was beginning to wonder if she had been right.

We finally emerged from the tunnel, blinking in the dim light of the outer city. We were free, at least for now. But I knew this was only the beginning. The quarantine, the artifact, Ren’s mysterious behavior… it all pointed to something bigger, something more dangerous.

And I had a feeling that whatever was coming, it would change everything.

The sample ends here.