I woke up early the next morning. Alicia was still dozing off peacefully on the mat beside me. As I tiptoed out of our tent, I was greeted by a sky full of stars fading away before the approaching dawn. Although the Cradle’s light still dominated the camp, it was another light that caught my eye. A small fire was burning up on the ridge at the edge of camp. Curious, I made my way up to the source, being careful not to slip on the icy ground as I scrambled up the slope.

  The source of the fire was Jake. My friend sat on a rock, his sky-blue jacket hanging dishevelled over his frame. At his feet, a campfire flickered, thorny branches and needles crackling in the early morning calm, casting a warm glow onto his olive face. Nestled in the flames sat a tin kettle, whistling softly as the melted snow inside came to a boil.

  “Good morning, Jake,” I said.

  “Good morning.” He didn’t look up from his task, warm flame-golden eyes matching the fire that he gently prodded. His left hand carefully arranged the burning wood while his right rummaged through the satchel at his hip, fingers rustling through the beans mixed with dried herbs and flower petals, gathering them all together in his fist.

  A familiar aroma rose out of the kettle. “Coffee?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Emily’s been up all night. She and Instructor Irene still haven’t gotten here. Their whole section was caught in a storm while crossing at Palatia Falls. Maps lost, supplies lost, but thankfully nobody died. They’re still out there. I couldn’t get any sleep. Instead, I’ve been chatting with her. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get out and about before roll call.” He reached for the kettle, flipping the lid open and tossing in the mixture in his hands. “Want some?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” I brushed some snow off the ground and sat beside my friend.

  “Suit yourself.” He filled his cup, holding it under his nose to savour the scent before taking a sip. The rich, dark liquid gave off a distinctive aroma, not the simple black coffee that we all got as standard rations, but one imbued with fragrances of the meadows of the southern provinces, of autumn and the late harvest festivals, and of the coming Solstice and winter darkness. Or so Jake would say. Probably.

  “Are you worried about her?” I asked.

  “Emily?” He shook his head. “She can handle herself better than anyone. Well, except maybe for Instructor Irene. But it’s not that that’s got me all upset, Iris.” Jake chuckled. “Maybe I’m just being selfish. I wanted to spend Solstice together, is all. I’m sure they’ll be here in due time. Early enough that we can crack this Cradle open.”

  At its mention, both our gazes were drawn to the mammoth structure that dominated our camp. The Cradle was calmer than it had been yesterday. Calmer? Was that right? Why was I acting as if it was alive? Its bright orange had faded to almost black, with hairline cracks of deep red coiling around its surface, like the burning embers that rolled to the edges of Jake’s fire, each giving off a shower of sparks when he tossed them back into the hearth.

  “Are you anxious?” he finally asked. “About the Cradle.”

  “Anxious? Barely at all.” Though I was approaching our situation with a healthy dose of caution, I couldn’t deny that I was excited. Excited at the prospect of shattering the Corruption. Of cleansing our world of this sickness. Of reclaiming the true gift of Polaris that had been stolen from us long ago.

  “Well, you’ve heard the stories, right? Of what awaits you and Emily inside? What happened before. What happened last time—”

  I’d heard, alright. I held up my hand. “It won’t be like last time,” I reassured him. “We have Polaris’s map now. Precious pages, ripped painstakingly from the enemy. We will not fail. We will not be lost.”

  “And the stories?”

  “Jake, we’re not going to go crazy. We’re not going to get crushed or stabbed or sliced or pieces, or caught in spiky traps or living coffins. We’re not going to be spirited away and twisted, hollowed out and filled with those wretched scales. And we’re certainly not going to find ourselves face-to-face with the dread Patron Antares in there. We have the map. We have our Patron’s instruction. That’s all we need. This time, we’ll be prepared, and we’ll be perfect.”

  He chuckled. “I appreciate that you can say all that completely unfazed. Everyone who went in before you died.”

  “That’s not true. Some of them just came out corrupted.”

  “That doesn’t help your point.”

  “Mistakes are failure. So they were failures. And we, by contrast, are perfect.” We had to be. There was no other option. To think otherwise would be, well, unthinkable.

  “I’m sure they thought they were perfect too, Iris.”

  “They were wrong.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  “Um, of course not.” I smiled. “We are the best there ever was and the best that ever will be. The brightest flames of the greatest generation. And on top of that, we have our Patron’s direct instruction. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing will go wrong.”

  Jake smiled back. “I envy your faith in our Patron, Iris.”

  “Thanks!” But it wasn’t hard. It wasn’t even to my credit. It was easy as breathing–no, easier than breathing. Polaris. Polaris! My dear and perfect Patron. She’d saved my life, rescued me from certain death, raised me into the brightest star of the Luminare, lavishing me with her tender love and care. I was her daughter in everything but blood, inheritor of the legacy of Lumis herself. Future inheritor of the necklace of light that Jonathan bore. Rightful heir even to the true necklace that had been stolen and awaited us inside the Cradle. Though at first I’d borne this title with uncertainty, each Excaeli skull I’d crushed had hammered its truth into my very bones. Such was what it felt like to truly be blessed by the first and greatest of the Patrons.

  I’d heard the murmurings of those soldiers, their longing for home. For their families. For their parents. Even Alicia had fondness for the people who birthed her. But what had my mother and father ever done for me? Tossed me out like garbage. Dropped me into the frigid waters of the Citadel Lake, left me to drown in the icy depths. But now... now that I was she shining star Polaris made me, they paraded me like I was their treasure. They showered me with gifts upon every return to the Citadel. As if that would make up for never wanting me in the first place.

  But Polaris had always been there for me. And she always would. She was inescapable, light and warmth and life that you couldn’t help but run towards and embrace. “After all Polaris has done for us, Jake, how can we not trust her? How can we not cling to her every word? She’s the only thing that makes sense in this horrible world.”

  “Without her, we’d certainly be lost,” he murmured, pulling his kettle out of the flames and refilling his cup. “We live in confusing times.”

  “Not for much longer,” I reminded him. And myself, I suppose.

  “Not for much longer,” he echoed, and our eyes were drawn once again to the Cradle. It was really that simple. Go into the Cradle, to its deepest part, and find the source of the Corruption. Unseal the seals. Wrest away the original perversion of Polaris’s gift, and purify the world of the metal facade that clung to it so tightly. Even now, in its dim state, the Cradle had a certain gravity to it, as if the dark embers were calling me to it. I needed to go inside. I had to. More than just for the mission.

  It was my destiny.

  “Morning!” Alicia called, breaking me out of my trance. My partner yawned as she clambered up the slope to sit between us, leaning forward to inhale the steam rising from the kettle. “May I have some?”

  Jake nodded, pouring her a cup which she immediately pressed to her lips, burning them.

  “Ow!” she cried. “It’s hot!”

  Jake just raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the fire, before taking a sip of his own.

  “No fair. I’m not fireproof,” she said, blowing on the cup while keeping it suspended in the air in front of her. As she waited for it to cool, the marbles of her Complement detached from her wrist one by one, tracing circles in the air. Once the drink had cooled sufficiently, her Complement snapped back together, the bracelet sliding back onto her wrist. Alicia downed the whole cup in a single gulp, setting it down at her feet. “Man, this really brings me back,” she said.

  Jake smiled. “Well, I’ve been using his blend ever since our academy days. Drinking it reminds me of those winter survival hikes. You two, and me, and Emily. You remember?”

  “Emily!” said Alicia. “That’s right. Did they get here alright?”

  “They’ve been held up around Palatia Falls,” I explained. “There was a storm.”

  “The crossing wasn’t properly frozen,” said Jake. “The ice got all torn up. It’s too dangerous to cross. They’ll be walking upriver until they can find a place where the ice is flat.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, Jake,” She gave him a few pats on the back before resting her hand on his shoulder.

  Jake placed his hand on hers. “Thanks.” Then he brushed her hand away. ‘But I’m not worried. We’ve been paired for eight years. If there’s anyone I know can handle the situation, it’s her. If there’s anyone who’s worried, it’s actually Emily.”

  “Emily? Worried?” I asked. It was hard to imagine Emily of all people expressing even the slightest bit of concern. She was the model Luminare, after all. I’d never seen her with as much as a hair out of place. She never failed to do a full and proper salute to our instructors. In battle, she’d never move an inch more than was absolutely necessary, her Complement’s fifteen needles weaving with expert precision–precision that was scarcely needed against the brutish, rusted puppets of the Corruption.

  “Yep,” said Jake. “But don’t tell her I said that. She worries sometimes that you’ll think she worries too much.”

  “Well, I’m glad she shares that with you, at least,” said Alicia.

  “Yeah, I’m glad for that. Even if it’s only because she’d rather not talk things out with her instructor.” We all chuckled, because what else could we do? For all her other strengths, Instructor Irene had never been much for words.

  “You know what it’s like, though,” he continued. “Once you’re paired, you just get each other so much better. It’s so nice to have someone who’s perfectly open with you. Someone you know inside and out and can share everything with. No secrets.”

  Alicia and I shared a look. “No secrets.”

  She smiled. “That reminds me. Last night, we snuck out of camp for a little while.” Alicia brushed aside her bangs to reveal the mark of Polaris, already slightly faded, but still clearly burned against her skin. “To have some quality time together. For our fourth anniversary.”

  “Four years. Wow.” He smiled. “Good on you both.”

  “She got lost in the snow,” I said.

  “I did not! That was intentional!”

  “So you finally admit it.” I crossed my arms over my chest in mock disappointment.

  “You never believed me anyways,” she said. “I carefully orchestrated this marvellous plan to bring Iris out, since she’d forgotten.”

  “I did not!”

  “Sure you didn’t.” She laughed. “So by carefully sneaking out before her and making my way to a pretty little clearing out there, I convinced her to leave the tent.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Yes. To leave our warm, cozy tent, because otherwise someone would freeze to death with no coat.”

  “Details, details,” said Alicia, taking another sip of coffee. “You wouldn’t have agreed to sneak out otherwise.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have. Because sneaking out like that would’ve gotten us in trouble with our instructors. It’s a good thing that didn’t happen, right?”

  “Look, Iris, you have to admit it was worth it, in the end. Some quiet time. A lovely view. Sweets to share, under the moonlight.”

  “An Excaeli or two.”

  Alicia winced. “Right. That too. That reminds me, I still have that... thing we got.” She pulled that strange metal piece out of her pocket, releasing it into the air and rotating it slowly on its axis with her telekinetic powers.

  Jake’s eyes narrowed at the symbol of Antares engraved into its surface. “You got this... from the Excaeli? You know, this looks an awful lot like—”

  “Yes, we know what the mark of Antares looks like, Jake,” I interrupted. “It’s just some trinket. A mark she puts on the puppets she conjures with those scales. Nothing more.”

  “No, no, no,” he said. “That’s not what I meant.” He snatched the sphere out of the air, scrutinizing every scratch and indent on its metallic surface. “You know, in the old stories, they all looked like this. Keys.”

  “Keys?”

  “Keys to the Cradle,” he said. “You know, to go inside. Dropped by some mysterious creature, to poor souls lost in the woods. Little things that entice you to get just a little too close to the thing. It’s not just the necklace lying inside, after all. It’s a store of those scales, it’s a resting place for Antares. And a resting place for the princess of the Corruption. So of course there are... keys. Many keys. They appear to any would-be heroes, would-be treasure hunters, each and every one ground up and spat out a husk of their former self, or never returning at—”

  “That’s enough, Jake,” said Alicia. “The thought crossed my mind as well, but Instructor Jonathan told us that this is just a decoration. A trinket. Nothing more.”

  “Sure it is.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Want me to prove it?” said Alicia. “I’m not afraid.” She stuffed the object into her pocket, hopped down the ridge and stepped towards the Cradle.

  “Alicia!” I grabbed Jake’s hand and we scrambled down the slope behind her.

  She walked slowly, fumbling in her pocket before pulling the piece out and holding it out in front of the Cradle. The Cradle didn’t change. The ribbons of light continued to flow over its surface. She looked back to us and shouted. “See? I told you. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not as if Instructor Jonathan would lie to us.”

  Jake and I reached the bottom and rushed to her side. “Alicia.” I pulled her close. “Don’t do that. Even if it’s safe, it’s—”

  “I scared you?”

  “Yes, you scared us!” said Jake, taking the trinket from her and turning it over in his hands. “Thankfully it’s not genuine. It’s odd, though, isn’t it? It certainly looks like it’s the real deal.”

  “It’s mine,” said Alicia, snatching it back. “And even if it were the real thing, what could have possibly happened, hm? Ooh, I’m so scared,” she said, walking closer to the Cradle. “The Key is... it’s puling itself towards the cradle.” she laughed. “I can’t let go of it!”

  “Stop it,” said Jake. “This is serious.”

  “Oh knock it off, Jake. It’s just a meaningless trinket. Nothing more.”

  Suddenly, the Cradle pulsed excitedly, light glowing brighter on its surface. It unfolded in pieces, metal panels and coils shifting and rippling out of place to reveal a dark, consuming entrance, just tall enough to walk through.

  “Nothing more?” said Jake.

  “Oh my,” she said, taking a few steps back. “Seems I was...I was wrong.” She chuckled nervously.

  Of course, we knew we were supposed to leave and go tell our instructors immediately if anything like this happened. But I couldn’t help but take a peek into the open entrance. I raised a hand and shone my light inside, but the darkness within hungrily extinguished it. The ground sloped steeply down below, disappearing into the shadows. I got the feeling that it descended far, far deeper than we could see.

  “Can we please take a step back from the black void?” asked Jake. “You’re a little too close for my comfort, Iris.”

  “Sorry. I’m just looking.” I backed out.

  A click. “It’s moving,” Alicia said, “Iris? Jake? Help me. It’s moving on its own.” The metal piece rattled in Alicia’s hand.

  “Nice try,” I said.

  “Don’t joke like that,” said Jake. “You almost—”

  “I’m not joking” Her eyes were glowing silver now, the smug expression wiped away completely. Alicia was afraid. The trinket continued to shake in her hand. She steadied one arm with the other, straining to keep it in place. But it seemed to have a mind of its own, attracted by some strange force down into the deep darkness. She took one step towards the open void, boots tapping against the smooth surface lying just beyond the threshold. Her whole body turned, twisting away, pulling against the invisible force drawing the piece into the inky depths. “Get Instructor Saul. Now.”

  “Just let go of it!” I shouted.

  “I’m trying to,” she said. “It’s not... it’s not letting me.” She seemed to be struggling with her hands. Were those claws reaching out from it? Segmented legs gripped her skin as tiny metallic chains started to snake their way around her hand and arm.

  Jake pushed past me to shove her away. But the edge of the entrance was slippery. He lost his footing on the ice and tumbled back, reaching out for anything. But the only thing he could reach was her hand. Together, the two of them tumbled down and vanished into the darkness.

  “Help!” I shouted. At this point, the commotion was rousing the attention of the soldiers. Their footsteps crunched in the snow, but stopped a safe distance away as they noticed the yawning entrance of the Cradle. Clearly, none of them had been expecting anything like this. Foolish people! Did they think the power of the Patrons was a thing of the past?

  “Are you okay?” I called through my mind.

  “Yes. I think,” she replied. Her voice was still clear as day, though I couldn’t even see her in the darkness below.

  “What do you see?”

  “I... I can’t explain it,” she said. “I see, Iris—”

  “What’s going on?” A gravelly voice cut through the commotion. The soldiers settled into line. This was the one called Benjamin. Probably. Okay, they all looked the same to me. But the look of scorn on his face seemed awfully familiar. He marched right up to the opening, peering down into the darkness. “Light!” he barked. One of the soldiers tentatively stepped closer, apparently singled out by his comrades and left to tiptoe towards his superior.

  “They fell inside,” I explained. “Now go, fetch Jonathan and Instructor Saul. And step back. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

  “I know enough.” He turned toward the soldier. “Light! What’s taking you so long?” he snapped.

  The soldier spoke up with a shaky voice. “Sir, with all due respect, the entity has changed. It seems to be animate. And she says—”

  “Who is in charge here?” said Benjamin. “Come here and give me a light.”

  The soldier nodded and shuffled up to the entrance, gingerly reaching his hand inside, as if it could snap shut at any moment. The light that shone from his hand was uneven. Poorly trained. Typical. Pathetic. Was this what passed as proper training and control outside the order these days?

  But as low as my expectations were, the meagre light should’ve still penetrated much further than it did. It was clear as day to me what was happening. The darkness was swallowing it up.

  I’d had enough of this foolishness. Benjamin was already peering inside, taking a step straight past the threshold to test his footing on the smooth floor inside. I had to appreciate his bravery, even if it was only due to ignorance. But I also had to stop him before he made everything even worse, and it seemed like none of these good-for-nothing soldiers were going to do anything. I ran across the camp to our instructors’ tent and barged inside, hurrying to their bedside and shaking my instructor awake. “Jonathan! Wake up!”

  My instructor rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What is it, Iris?”

  “Jake. Alicia. I... they... the Cradle. They went inside and—”

  At the mention of the Cradle, his eyes widened, glowing that cool, bright gold that they always did. He gave Uncle Saul a nudge as he got out of bed, throwing on his uniform and hurrying outside. My uncle followed suit.

  “Iris?” Alicia’s voice came to me again.

  “Alicia. Is everything alright? Jonathan and Saul are coming. They’re going to—”

  “Iris, you’re there, right? Up there?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.” Thank you? Puzzled, I hurried out behind our instructors. The crowd of soldiers parted for us. I overheard snippets of conversation, murmurs about the Cradle, and madness, and all the stories of the wretched things that laid within. Benjamin was still standing at the threshold, thankfully showing at least a bit of apprehension at the prospect of descending down into the pitch blackness that stood before him.

  “Stand back!” Jonathan shouted. His voice cut through the commotion and silenced everyone. He turned to me. “Alicia and Jake are in there?” I nodded. He shook his head, muttering something to himself. “Stay here.” My instructor gently pushed Benjamin aside before diving into the darkness. Everyone simply stood, waiting at the entrance. Waiting to see who or what would come out.

  Uncle Saul approached me. “Are they going to be alright?” I asked.

  He gave me a pained expression. “They weren’t meant to go inside. The Cradle is dangerous. It was only meant to be you and Emily. They must not falter in there. Not even for one second. Or else...” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. I already understood perfectly. Would they be alright? If they were anything but perfect, if they showed any doubt, any crack, any weakness that Antares could exploit—ah, but that wouldn’t happen, would it.

  “Alicia?” I called.

  “What is it?” Her voice trembled. She seemed startled.

  “Keep calm.”

  “Of course, Iris,” she reassured me. “What else do you expect? I’m going to be perfect. Perfection is the only acceptable option. Just— Ah!”

  “Alicia? Alicia?”

  It seemed like an eternity before she answered again. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just a little—”

  “Iris. Are you listening?” My uncle’s voice interrupted our conversation. “How did this happen?”

  “Jonathan told us that—”

  “Instructor Jonathan told you that..?”

  “This isn’t time for—whatever. Instructor Jonathan told us that... well, we found a trinket yesterday, and he said it was nothing, but it wasn’t. It was a key to the Cradle. And when I showed it to Jake, he brought the key close, and the Cradle opened, and pulled them in, and Alicia slipped and fell and—”

  “Okay. I’ll need to see this trinket for myself. And perhaps give my partner a stern talking to,” he said. “Thank Polaris that you went and got us when you did. I’m glad your safe. But you should have come and gotten us right away, instead of letting things escalate. Especially once it opened. What were you thinking? You were just going to play around the entrance?”

  “Not now, Uncle Saul—”

  “That’s enough.” My instructor’s voice cut through all the commotion. Everyone was silent. He emerged from the shadows, drawing all eyes to him. Alicia and Jake were leaning on his shoulders, heads hanging low. My partner lifted her face, eyes locking with mine. They were bloodshot and swollen, as if she’d been crying. Jake barely moved at all.

  “Alicia—” I rushed to her side.

  “Not now, Iris.”

  “Alicia, don’t worry. Just tell me—”

  “Later. I’ll explain. Don’t worry.”

  As they shuffled forward, my eyes were drawn once again to the open void of the Cradle, its empty, yawning mouth beckoning me closer. The call in my head was growing louder and louder. I needed to go in there. I had to. I watched as the Cradle folded back, panels sliding into place, golden light glowing, mouth closing up piece by piece until it was impossible to tell that it had ever been open at all. I was starting to dread what lay inside it, thoughts licking at the sides of my mind, whispering—but I quickly pushed those feelings away. There could be no room for true fear in me. Because I was perfect. I had to be. Otherwise, I might really have something to fear.