Chapter 1467: The Astrinite

The laundry quarters beneath the Luminance Spire smelled of stale lye, wet linen, and three centuries of damp stone.

The old woman walked fast, her grey wool skirts rustling against the cold flagstones as she led Rian down a narrow, unlit stairwell tucked behind the scullery boilers. Her grip on his wrist had loosened, but she had not let go. Rian let her lead him, his hands loose at his sides, taking in the lime-wash that peeled from the vaulted ceiling in long grey curls.

At the bottom of the stairs, she pushed open a heavy oak door bound in rusted iron straps.

The room beyond was tiny and windowless, lit by a single tallow candle stuck to a chipped clay saucer. A narrow cot stood against the far wall, flanked by a low wooden chest and a drying rack draped with grey servant smocks. On the small table beside the candle sat a brass bowl filled with salt and dried mint leaves.

The old woman shut the door behind them and slid an iron bolt into its socket.

"Sister Maren," she said, turning to face him, her voice a flat rasp. "The last of the Astrinites in Reimhold. You can drop the sellsword posture, boy. I knew Henai’s mother before you were a thought in the Emperor’s head."

Rian leaned back against the iron-strapped door and slid his hands into the pockets of his black coat, turning the name over against what he had read in the old records of El Fach.

’The Astrinites. The hidden sisterhood. The ones who kept the prophecy when the church turned the Asgardians into monsters.’

"My grandmother," Rian said slowly, watching her pale, lined face.

"She had the same flat, stubborn jaw," Maren said, crossing to the wooden chest and drawing a heavy brass key from beneath her collar. "She stood in the high gardens of the central province and told the Luminous Order that their church was built on a stolen cage. They called her a heretic. They called all the Beija heretics when the expansion started."

She unlocked the chest with a dry click and lifted the warped lid.

"The ledger High Priest Corvus showed you up in the Spire," Maren continued, her hand diving beneath a stack of folded smocks. "You think it tracks false eyes to protect the royal blood? The Emperor married the last great Asgardian line into his own house when he took Henai. He didn’t want to destroy the line. He wanted to own it."

She pulled out a small leather-bound book wrapped in oilskin and laid it flat on the table beside the candle.

"The rest of the Asgardian bloodlines fled north three hundred years ago," Maren said, her fingers tracing the cracked leather of the cover. "They built their homes in the mountain valleys beyond the four-hundred-year wall. And now the Empire is going to finish what it started."

Rian tilted his head slightly. "The Northern Expedition."

"It isn’t an expedition, boy," Maren spat, her knuckles whitening on the book. "It’s an eradication mission. While the whole world watches the sea war in the East, the Sixth Legion is sailing north to wipe out every village that carries the eye-magic. The Order’s three-hundred-year ledger sails directly on the flagship. They’re taking the list to check off the dead."

Rian stayed where he was against the door, his expression unchanged.

He laid her words beside what he had already seen for himself: the troop movements at the docks, and the Sixth Legion’s recruiting notices pinned to every wall in the lower wards. The border had only ever been the excuse.

The Empire was cleaning its ledger.

The corner of Rian’s mouth twitched.

’Well. Father really is a thorough man. He doesn’t even leave the scraps behind.’

"So the Sixth Legion takes the list," Rian said flatly. "And its Captain thinks she’s just hiring meat for a frontier war."

"Ysolde Vaertia knows what her orders are," Maren said, her voice dropping. "She doesn’t care about the eyes. She cares about the flag. But the Church cares. The Luminous Order knows the prophecy of the First King. They know that if the two bloodlines ever meet outside the Emperor’s leash, the cage breaks."

She turned toward him, her calloused hand slipping into the pocket of her grey tunic.

"Who are you, boy?" Maren asked quietly, her eyes searching his. "Corvus read something else through his lens, but I felt the cold in your pulse when I touched your wrist. You carry the weight of an old house."

Rian looked at her for a long second. He did not draw a weapon. He did not reach for his talent slots. He simply straightened and stepped away from the iron-strapped door.

"Rian Artemis," he said plainly.

Maren went entirely still.

Her milky eyes widened and her mouth fell a little open. Her gaze went over him again, slowly this time, from the black hair to the square jaw, and then to the dark, unbothered irises that hid the line of the Eyes.

Then she made a sound.

It began as a wheezing gasp in her dry throat and broke into a raspy laugh that shook her thin shoulders. She laughed until she coughed, gripping the edge of the table to stay upright, and tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

"Rian... Artemis," she cackled softly, shaking her head until her white hair slipped from its knot. "The tenth child! The one they tried to stick like a pig in the forest! He gave you your mother’s name and sent you out the back gate, and now you walk right back into this hellhole?"

"It was a comfortable coat," Rian noted dryly and frowned. "Of course, I did. It’s my home."

Maren shook her head, something making her face go seriously pale.

"No, no, no, the time is not right, boy. You’re not of age, that which was meant to befall you ages ago, is simply going to befall you now. Please, go far away from this place."

Her hand went back into her pocket and came out with a small, flat disc of tarnished silver.

It was a token the size of a copper coin, stamped with an open, unblinded eye ringed by seven delicate silver needles. The Astrinite open-eye token.

She stepped forward and pressed the cold metal into Rian’s palm, folding his fingers over it with a dry, iron-hard grip.

"There are people in the north who will know this, Rian Artemis," Maren whispered, the words as thin as the needles on the coin. "The ones who survived the first purge. The ones hiding in the deep valleys beyond the ice walls. You carry this token to the northern sanctuaries, and they won’t shoot you from the crags. Please, do not stay here for any longer or make them know who you are!!"

Rian stood frozen for a moment, even as the woman pressed the token into his hand.

"Please, promise me."

He simply only stared for a couple of seconds.

’I wonder what it could be that has her like this. My father might have saved me right? And yet she thinks being in his kingdom at such a time is a bad idea. This is definitely worth looking into.’

Rian opened his fingers and looked down at the token. The metal was cold, but beneath the tarnish he could feel the faint residue of an old soul-mark, pressed into the silver long before either of them was born.

Then he sighed.

"Fine, I have to mention." Rian said, closing his hand around the coin. "I am no savior."

"They do not need a savior. They need a storm," Maren corrected him, turning back to her candle. "Until that time where you are large enough to become one, you must find refuge with them, my son."

Rian continued to look at the woman strangely.

’It slightly irritating to be looked down on. Woman, I am the Storm that swallows Storms."

He said nothing though and slid the Astrinite token into his coat pocket, right beside the free-company charter from Davon and the lion-sealed invitation from El Fach. Then he turned back toward the oak door.