Toward dawning light, p.1
Toward Dawning Light, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by H.E. Bauman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
First paperback edition October 2024
Cover design by MiblArt
Map by Cartographybird Maps
Jeanine Harrell of Indie Edits with Jeanine
ISBN 979-8-9888024-9-5 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-965479-00-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 979-8-9888024-8-8 (ebook)
www.hebauman.com
To my readers, without whom this story would not have been possible
Contents
Content Warning
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
51. Chapter 51
52. Chapter 52
53. Chapter 53
54. Chapter 54
55. Chapter 55
56. Chapter 56
57. Chapter 57
58. Chapter 58
59. Chapter 59
60. Chapter 60
61. Chapter 61
62. Chapter 62
63. Epilogue
Books by H.E. Bauman
Acknowledgments
About Author
Content Warning
If you do not wish to read the content warnings, just skip this page.
Thank you for picking up Toward Dawning Light, the final book in the Darkened Skies series. If you have not read the previous four books, you will need to do that before you read this book. The series must be read in order.
The story includes themes and events that may not be suitable for some readers:
Fantasy and magical violence, including artillery and other “modern” weaponry, used both in war scenarios and against civilians
Blood and injuries
Stalking and threats
Nightmares, anxiety, and PTSD
References to torture, hypothetical sexual assault, parental death, mild alcohol consumption, current war, historical wars, and rebellion
Please take care of yourself as you read.
Chapter 1
There, in a prison cell just a few feet away from Astrea, was the man she never—not once—expected to meet.
Her father.
His face was so foreign but familiar. They had the same round chin. Their hair, too, was the same black-brown. Even their pale skin had the same rosy undertones.
But those eyes, the iciest of blues, like the ones she’d only ever seen behind The One’s mask.
Astrea’s breath caught in her chest, a painful stab right to her lungs.
Her father. Her father. Her father.
The only consolation was that he was no void mage.
No, his emotions were open to her now. Curiosity and relief tangled around him in shades of green, stark against the dark stone walls of the cell.
And those eyes. They were trained on her even as Lucian interrogated him. Even as Marko stood to one side, ever watchful. Even as Jin, prince of Helosia and Novaria, stood right next to her. Valen hadn’t looked away from Astrea.
“Why are you really here?” Lucian asked.
“I already told you,” said Valen. “I’m here to see my daughter. I heard she was looking for me.”
“How did you hear that?”
“Whispers spread eventually,” replied Valen. “Surely you know that as a military man.”
“Do you have a contact in Irvina?”
“Not directly, but word got back to me.”
“Could you be any more vague, Mister . . . ?”
“Ramkas,” Valen said. “Valen Ramkas.”
Astrea’s chest tightened again. Jin reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. She didn’t dare move a muscle.
“Mister Ramkas.” The words rolled off Lucian’s tongue with disdain. “Can you prove your identity?”
“No, unfortunately. I’ve been living away from most of society for a while now.”
“How convenient,” Marko drawled. “You show up now, after all these years, with no identification, no witnesses, no one to corroborate your story.”
Valen’s stare, while intense and uncomfortable, didn’t suggest to Astrea that he meant any harm. But what did she know? Her head was so fuzzy from exhaustion and grief that she didn’t trust herself to be a good judge of anything.
As she stalked toward the door tucked away in one corner, Jin’s heavy concern followed her. He said her name, but Astrea ignored him and swept past the Novarian guards lining the hall outside. She headed straight for the next door, taking in the cool morning air as it drifted over her skin.
“Az.” Jin’s large hand settled on her shoulder as he caught up to her.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I just buried Saros. I can’t do this.”
“Then you don’t have to.”
Astrea’s body begged her to run away, yet she was so weak she thought she might collapse onto the very ground in front of Jin. Her body and mind were at war, one begging for release and the other begging for rest.
“I have to,” she whispered again. “I don’t have a choice. He’s my father.”
“We don’t know he’s your father,” Jin said.
“We have the same chin. The same skin, the same hair. He has the same eyes as The One.” Though Astrea wasn’t sure of anything anymore, that much was clear. That man in that cell was most certainly her father.
“Alright, well, you still don’t have to deal with this right now.” Jin slung his arm around her shoulders. “Let Lucian do his work. Come on.”
She let out a weak sound of protest, then said, “I have to speak with him eventually.”
“And you will, but right now, let’s get some coffee. Maybe he’ll actually give Lucian his full attention if we aren’t in there.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Astrea mumbled. “I feel like I can’t even think straight.”
“Understandably.”
With Jin’s arm still around her shoulders, Astrea started for the officers’ lodgings. They made their way straight to the dining room. Some of the fort’s officers were taking their breakfast there, chatting away in low voices. A radio was even playing, broadcasting pro mage sports news from Talmaris.
And three very important people were huddled at a table in the corner: Adi, Sarsali, and Balthazar. Jin steered Astrea that way. She tried and failed to muster up a smile as they approached the table, then tried and failed again when Jin snagged one of the empty chairs from a nearby table for her to sit next to Sarsali. She plopped down onto it and slumped forward.
“He wasn’t giving Lucian much,” Astrea said before anyone else could speak. “I can’t believe . . .”
“Nor can I,” said Sarsali, placing a gentle hand on Astrea’s forearm. “The timing feels off.”
“First Theo’s offer, then Nazarov showing up in Helosia, now your father . . .” Balthazar shook his head. “Either we’re incredibly lucky he’s shown up, or things are about to get worse.”
Adi drummed his fingers on the table. “I hate to be the one to ask, but could he be working with the Paragon?”
Astrea had wondered that, too. “He’s not a void mage as far as I can tell. Not that it means anything.” No, plenty of non-void mages worked for the Paragon, too. “Oh, skies, what if he’s here to try to make me help him overthrow Nazarov?”
Part of Astrea was relieved that her father was alive. After all, that meant he was technically the next leader of the Paragon, void mage or not. And although Nazarov would surely still target Astrea . . . Well, at least Nazarov would have to contend with Valen, too, whether he was on Astrea’s side or not.
Grabbing the copper pot in the middle of the table, Jin poured Astrea a cup of steaming coffee. He nudged it to her, then poured a second for himself. “Hopefully Lucian can find that o ut.”
“Why show up now, though?” Balthazar leaned back into his chair and folded his arms loosely over his abdomen.
“He claims he lives far away from society and only just heard whispers that I was looking for him.” Astrea pinched the bridge of her nose. All she wanted was a few more days to try to recover from the shock of what had happened in Helosia. A few more days to try to mend her heart enough to carry on with the mission.
“Maybe . . .” Adi’s lips pursed. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing he’s here. Maybe he knows something about the Paragon that will help us figure out Nazarov’s next move. Assuming he’s not working with Nazarov, of course.”
“Maybe,” Jin said absently. He held his coffee in one hand, the other settled on Astrea’s thigh as he drew tiny circles with his thumb.
“I think you all should get some rest.” Blue sadness tangled around Sarsali as she added, “Some real rest, now that everything’s settled.”
How was Astrea supposed to do that with her father so close? After twenty-four years of wondering who he was, how was she supposed to go take a nap?
But her body yearned for that rest. She could barely keep her eyes open. Maybe, if she got a little sleep, she’d be able to help Lucian get some answers. Besides, Cressida would need her.
“I should go check on Cress,” Astrea said.
“Don’t.” Balthazar shook his head. “She doesn’t want anyone around while she’s with the healers.”
“But I’m a healer.”
“And she asked that everyone stay away for now,” Sarsali said.
Astrea frowned. Not go check on Cressida? She’d gotten plenty of medical intervention in Thasia after the initial surgery to repair what they could of her arm, but Cressida was going to need healing for a while. Losing her hand like that . . .
“Are you sure?” Astrea asked.
“She’s alright,” Sarsali said gently, though yellow worry trickled into her aura. “Or so she insists, and I must take her at her word.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her green eyes. “Now please, go get some sleep, sweetheart. I need both of you to actually listen to me.”
“I always listen to you,” Astrea said, earning her a look. “Fine, but only for an hour.”
“I’ll come wake you, don’t worry,” she said. “Go on. All of you. Balthazar and I will make sure you’re up in an hour.”
After draining the last of their coffee, Astrea, Jin, and Adi all left the dining room. Rather than going upstairs, they went to the royal airship, the one that had been meant to bring them all back to Talmaris that very morning.
Until Valen had shown up.
When they reached the empty airship’s second level and Adi started to go his separate way, Jin said, “Wait.” Adi paused, a sheen of gray confusion coating his limbs. “Are you really going to sleep?”
“I planned to,” Adi said.
“Then follow me.”
“Why?” he asked. “My things are in my room—”
“Adi.” Jin’s voice left little room for argument.
Astrea was confused now, too, especially when Jin walked right past their room and headed for the final door at the end of the hall. The room Eliana and Nicos had been sharing.
“What are we doing in here?” Adi asked as Jin pushed the door open.
Inside was tidy, neater than Eliana usually kept her space. Maybe that was Nicos’s doing. But other than that, the room was relatively unremarkable aside from the large bed and nicer bed linens.
“I don’t want any Novarians around right now,” Jin said. “And I don’t want any of us to have to stand guard. We’ll just sleep in Ellie’s bed.”
“I can stand guard,” Adi said.
“No.” Again, Jin’s tone left little room for argument, though it wasn’t mean. Sighing, Jin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t trust Nazarov not to show up, but we need some sleep, and—”
“And more of us means better odds if he does pop in,” Adi said. “Yeah, I get it. I’m not going to argue.” With a yawn, he strode toward the bed. “But I’m taking an end. I’m not getting between the two of you,” he said, motioning to Astrea and Jin.
It was surely meant to be a joke, but Astrea couldn’t even muster a fake smile. She crawled into bed, which was softer than the one she’d been sharing with Jin and certainly bigger. Maybe not perfectly large enough for the three of them, but if Jin held her close, they could make it work.
He settled down behind her, curling his body around hers. The mattress dipped as Adi slid in behind Jin.
“Not so bad,” Adi said with a groan.
Jin mumbled something in return, but Astrea couldn’t even make it out as her exhaustion finally took her under.
Too many limbs tangled with Astrea’s. Not just Jin’s but Adi’s, too, somehow reaching Astrea as he spooned Jin. Cold air prickled her skin, but both men were warm, too warm.
“Astrea,” Sarsali whispered, shaking Astrea’s ankle.
Blinking against the daylight streaming in through the windows near the ceiling, Astrea pushed up on her elbow as best she could. Sarsali stood at the edge of the bed, wringing her hands together.
As Astrea started to speak, Sarsali shook her head and brought a finger to her lips. She tilted her head toward the door, an invitation. With great effort, Astrea managed to pry Jin’s arms from around her waist. She slipped out of bed, leaving him and Adi to rest for a bit longer. Her sleepy mind called forth a memory of their time at the ruins out west so many months ago, Adi’s jokes about loving to cuddle. It seemed to be true.
Shaking herself mentally, she joined Sarsali in the hall and closed the door halfway. Her mind was static, just a slow, sludge-like mess as she tried to focus on the energy around her. Sarsali’s grief and anxiety. The heavy sleep behind her. The curiosity, boredom, and fear of whoever was patrolling around outside the ship.
Astrea scrubbed her face. “What time is it?”
“Half past one.”
“Half past one? No, we were only supposed to sleep for an hour.”
“I couldn’t wake you.” Sarsali pressed her lips together. “The three of you looked so tired. It didn’t seem right.”
Astrea scrubbed at her face again; there was nothing to be done about that now. Besides, she hadn’t slept at all the night before, having spent hours and hours on the beach by the lake as she watched Saros’s pyre burn. The few hours she’d napped clearly hadn’t helped much. “Any news from Lucian?” she asked.
“None. And since nothing else important seemed to be going on, I thought it best to let you be. Cressida’s resting in her own room, too. Told me to tell you not to worry about her.”
Yawning, Astrea nodded. She hadn’t had a chance to see Sarsali much in the last few days. As soon as they’d gotten back from Thasia, Astrea had made whatever small plans she’d been able to for Saros’s funeral, and outside of those decisions, she hadn’t been receptive to much conversation from anyone.
Now, as she stared at the woman who had helped Saros raise her, and as sleep receded from her mind, Astrea really took Sarsali in. The growing bags under her eyes. The pallor to her deep bronze skin. That midnight blue grief clinging to her like a storm cloud.
“I’m sorry,” Astrea whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help Cress or save him.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl.” Sarsali pulled Astrea into a tight hug, like she had many times over the years when Astrea had been just a child. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
Astrea buried her face in Sarsali’s shoulder. She was all cried out, but maybe she could ignore the world for a second longer.
“Balthazar told me it was Kaius’s doing,” Sarsali whispered. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“It was more than that,” Astrea croaked. “It was his vision, Sarsali. The one from that day at the train station in Kalama fourteen years ago. I was trying to save Jin, and Kaius was aiming for me. Saros intervened, to save me, but he . . .” She sucked in a shaky breath. “He took his own life so I couldn’t even try to heal him. He kept telling me to save Jin.”
Cold anger and sharp gratitude pierced Astrea’s gut, a confusing and nauseating mix as the blue surrounding Sarsali brightened. She pushed away from Astrea enough to cup her cheek.
“That is not your fault,” Sarsali said, voice both firm and achingly gentle. “Saros was many things, and he always had a bit of a martyr complex.”
