Break the Day (Nightstar Book 1)

Fennrin hated a lot about his miserable life, but especially the part where he was forced to wait for his meager pay. His employer, Ankyr Tyr-Pentar, always did this, forcing Fennrin to practically beg for the few coins he got each week, as if he didn’t more than earn them. As if using his power to make shadow puppets for the man every day, four hours and hours wasn’t enough to get him enough money to be able to afford enough food to not go to bed hungry.

He’d seen how much money each of the showings had made Tyr-Pentar, that he was sharing barely any of it with Fennrin, without whose control over shadows none of this would be possible, but there was nothing he could do. He had nowhere to go.

“What do you want?” Tyr-Pentar grumbled when he opened the door to his study, about to leave to go home to his blighted, lavish house now that the show was over for the day. Fennrin knew his routine by now, knew that this was usually the only time of day when he could get the money he was owed.

“My pay, sir,” Fennrin said, barely having to grit his teeth anymore, his voice emotionless. It used to be so difficult for him to lower himself to the point of groveling so he wouldn’t go too hungry, but it had become a routine. He felt very little, anymore, when it came to this.

“A freak like you should be grateful he gets a place to live for free,” the older man complained, reaching into the pocket of his jacket that was worth more coins than Fennrin made in a year.

Fennrin resisted pointing out that he also needed food to live, not just the tiny room with a bed he had. He often daydreamed about punching Tyr-Pentar in the face, but he would lose even the little he had if he did that.

“Here,” the man said, a deep irritation in his eyes as he dropped a few copper coins into Fennrin’s hand, making sure not to touch him once during the entire exchange. “Now get out of my way.”

Fennrin’s relief at being paid what he had been owed dissipated when he noticed that he’d only gotten eight virens, not ten like he was supposed to. But Tyr-Pentar had already walked around him, strutting out of the backstage and heading to the circular stage area.

“Sir, but this is only eight virens,” Fennrin called after him, his insides twisting, but the man kept walking.

“Good on you. You can count.”

And like that he was leaving, the door closing behind him. Fennrin stared down at the coins in his hand, clenching his fist around them. He couldn’t afford to keep his stomach full on ten virens a week, much less eight.

Angry tears burned in his eyes. If Tyr-Pentar were still here, maybe his daydreams would have finally become reality, and the man would lose some teeth. But who was Fennrin kidding? He probably wouldn’t manage even that. He wasn’t strong at all. Even creating shadows and moving them for the shows exhausted him, and while he had no idea what an az-ari like him should be capable of, he knew that the other az-ari could do so much more without getting winded.

Hanging his head, a few strands of his platinum blond hair hanging in his face, he pocketed the coins, sighing. He didn’t know if he should even bother trying to beg for the two virens he was owed. He wasn’t sure if it would even be humiliating himself anymore at this point, but he wondered if there was even a point. Tyr-Pentar usually didn’t change his opinion on anything. If he decided to lower Fennrin’s pay, there was nothing Fennrin could do about it. No one else would employ him.

Even if someone decided to look past his power, not assume that it would bring them bad luck or worse to be around it, what skills could Fennrin offer? All he knew how to do was create shadows, and beyond shadow puppets, there was little use for that.

Heaving a deep sigh, his shoulders sinking, Fennrin headed for the exit as well, deciding that he should just go lie down. He was very tired after being here since dawn. That was basically all he could manage, anyway. Work and sleep.

But as he pulled the door open, he was met with a shocking sight.

Tyr-Pentar was still here, standing in the middle of the path between the audience seats. And in front of him stood none other than Ainreth Tyr-Naralyn, the famous Daybreaker. Fennrin stood in the doorway, frozen, blinking at the two men, thankfully too far from them for either of them to notice him.

Fennrin kept questioning if he was perhaps confusing the man for someone else, but he looked exactly like his drawing on the posters around the city. The dark eyes, the slicked-back black hair, the sharp jawline…. And if that weren’t enough, he was wearing a cloak with a large, gold pin in the shape of the sun on it.

This was definitely the Daybreaker. So what was he doing here?

Fennrin hid behind the doorframe a little, just enough to see the two men but for them not to notice him. He focused on the conversation, their voices thankfully audible, no matter the distance. The building was too silent not to make every word said within it loud.

“Oh really?” said Ainreth’s amused, yet dangerous tone. Fennrin wondered what Tyr-Pentar had told him to prompt such a reaction. “Hm, well, I have seen your famed shadow puppets. I wonder what your secret is if it isn’t employing a shadowforger.”

Fennrin’s stomach dropped. This was about him? Oh no, what was Tyr-Naralyn going to do to him? Why did he come looking for him? This couldn’t mean anything good. Fennrin would have left this very moment, but the only exit was right where the two men were standing, blocking off the exit. His best hope was to stay hidden here, hoping that Tyr-Pentar wouldn’t hand him over. Not that Fennrin thought for a second that Tyr-Pentar would protect him, but he would want to protect his business, surely.

If Fennrin was dragged off, that would be the end of his shows.

“Sh-shadowforger? Please, where would I be hiding one of those?”

Fennrin swallowed, feeling his stomach turn in fear. It was obvious Tyr-Pentar was lying. And the general could tell as much, judging by his narrowed eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe behind that door that just opened?”

Fennrin’s breath caught in his throat. The Daybreaker had seen that? He swallowed, trying to get himself to move, but he was frozen in place, especially once Tyr-Pentar looked back right at Fennrin. The man’s eyes were wide and scared, likely mirroring exactly what Fennrin looked like. But he couldn’t get himself to move even an inch. There was nowhere to go, anyway.

“Come on out,” called Tyr-Naralyn, his voice much more pleasant now, though there was still a hint of amusement in his words. And Fennrin did as the general had asked, his palms sweaty, hands shaking. He might as well face his fate now and get it over with. There would be no running from the lightweaver, of that he was sure.

He took hesitant steps toward the two, dragging his feet as he entered the space between the stage and the seats. His legs carried him to the Daybreaker as if on their own, without his say in the matter, his head bowed. He couldn’t meet the man’s gaze, his body so tense it almost hurt.

“So, are you the shadowforger?” asked Tyr-Naralyn, sounding almost giddy. Fennrin blinked in surprise, finally meeting the man’s eyes, only to see excitement sparkling in them. He felt some of the tension unwind, even though he was afraid to let his guard down. Surely this couldn’t be good news.

Fennrin gave a timid nod, looking away again. It wasn’t easy to admit to it, even after so many years. That word carried so much shame with it, so much fear. He hated it.

But Tyr-Naralyn hadn’t said the word with either. Not even disgust. This was very odd.

“Could you, like, move a shadow, or something? Just so I know for sure?”

Fennrin frowned again, looking at the other man. Tyr-Naralyn was grinning at him, but not in a mocking way. Fennrin risked a glance at Tyr-Pentar, which the older man immediately used to shake his head at him. Fennrin glared. Clearly, Tyr-Pentar was worried that if Fennrin did as the Daybreaker requested, his shadow puppets would be over. And Fennrin wasn’t very interested in keeping the show going.

If he could ruin the man’s day, he would gladly do so. Even if he doomed himself in the process. He was already doomed, anyway.

“Of course,” he replied. He twitched his index finger, making darkness pool over the floor and seats, drowning out all light nearby and casting them into shadow. He was forced to stop it just a few seconds later, though, too tired to keep spawning more shadows as he wavered a little.

Clearly noticing this, the general grasped his arm, steadying him. “Sun, you’re skin and bones!” Tyr-Naralyn glared at Fennrin’s employer with such intensity it sent shivers down Fennrin’s spine. Then he looked back at Fennrin, grinning again, somehow even more excited now. “We’ll fix that, don’t you worry. Come on.”

“W-wait, where are you taking me?” Fennrin demanded, trying not to stumble as the Daybreaker dragged him along outside. He wanted to resist, but the man was much stronger than him. And yes, he didn’t want to stay, but he also didn’t want to just go with Tyr-Naralyn without any information as to what he wanted with him.

“The royal palace, of course,” Tyr-Naralyn said, shaking his head a little as if Fennrin was silly for asking that. Finally, Fennrin managed to get out of the other man’s grip as they reached the busy street, now lit by lanterns as the sun had set. Everyone around them was staring at them, mostly at the Daybreaker, though Fennrin wasn’t paying attention to that. He was firmly staring into the general’s eyes.

“What do you want me for?”

Tyr-Naralyn studied him, running his eyes over him for a second before his dark eyes found Fennrin’s again. Apparently, he didn’t care at all that people were watching them. But that made sense. The general must have gotten looks like this no matter where he went. “What’s your name?”

Fennrin scowled at the man avoiding his question, but he did give him an answer. “Fennrin.”

“Nice to meet you, Fenn. Call me Ainreth. Or Ain. Whatever you want.”

Fennrin’s scowl only intensified at the nickname, but he ignored that in favor of demanding answers. Especially once Tyr-Naralyn grasped his wrist, trying to lead him away again.

“What do you want me for?” he repeated, refusing to move, not caring that he was causing a scene. This couldn’t be good news, and while his life couldn’t get much worse than it already was, that didn’t mean he had to go with the general blind.

Tyr-Naralyn—Ainreth—paused then, his smile disappearing, replaced with surprise. “Oh, wow, you really think I’m arresting you, or something, don’t you?”

Fennrin said nothing, not wanting to admit that the thought had crossed his mind. Ainreth seemed to be saying that as a crazy, impossible scenario, but how was Fennrin supposed to know? The most famous soldier in the Lys-Akkarian army, perhaps the most famous person in the whole country, showing up out of nowhere and claiming that he was looking for a shadowforger? Something about this was simply suspicious, there was no way around it, and it wasn’t simply Fennrin’s hesitance to trust.

“Come on, people, nothing to see here,” Ainreth grumbled loudly at the people staring at them, letting go of Fennrin’s wrist. Shockingly, paired with Ainreth’s annoyed gaze, this prompted everyone to either look away, focusing on the stands making up the marketplace around them, or continue going about their day. Fennrin wished he could do something like this when people stared at him and whispered things. But then Ainreth was a respected general, a national hero, that helped with authority.

All Fennrin had was potentially scaring people with his shadows.

“Let’s go somewhere more private. I’ll explain things, all right?”

Fennrin was still suspicious, but he was willing to listen if Ainreth stopped dragging him around. Surely this had to be important if the Daybreaker himself wanted to talk to him. Fennrin should at the very least hear the man out.

He was about to say as much, when suddenly from behind him came a tearful cry. “You can’t take him away from me!”

Fennrin didn’t bother looking to confirm that it was Tyr-Pentar. He had never heard him this distraught, but he wasn’t moved by it one bit. The man was just desperate because without Fennrin, his shadow puppet show was over.

“Say, Fenn, do you like slaving under this piece of human trash?” Ainreth asked, his voice nice and even, in direct contrast to his words. Fennrin almost flinched, never having heard anyone talk to Tyr-Pentar like that. He knew the other people under his employ did speak like this about him behind his back, but that was always in hushed voices.

Fennrin looked down, finding it difficult to speak ill of the man, even though he desperately wanted to. He’d just trained himself not to let anything slip, so worried that he would lose a week’s wage, or some such punishment for it. “Not particularly.”

Ainreth grinned at Tyr-Pentar, a dark glimmer in his gaze. “Sorry, looks like he doesn’t want to stay.”

And this time when Ainreth grasped his wrist, Fennrin didn’t protest, letting himself be led away, even as Tyr-Pentar called after them desperately. Only once they were out of the man’s sight did Fennrin allow himself to feel a little pleased by the fact that for once Tyr-Pentar was the one feeling miserable due to their arrangement.

It felt so strange to consider that it might be over now, after so many years. A part of him felt sorrow at the loss of the dreadful and yet comfortingly familiar life that he was abandoning. But no matter what Ainreth wanted, Fennrin couldn’t go back to Tyr-Pentar now. The man would make his life even worse for leaving.

Ainreth only stopped once they reached a narrow, dark alley, two blocks away. Fennrin wasn’t certain if they weren’t followed, but they did appear to be alone for now at least. Fennrin desperately tried to relax, but he couldn’t, his body tense, his shoulders drawn in, and his fists clenched.

“How long has this been going on, huh?”

Ainreth’s gaze was still irritated, but he didn’t seem to be annoyed with Fennrin. “This?”

“That sundering misborn taking advantage of you?” Ainreth shook his head, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the brick wall of one of the houses making up the alley. “I should have blinded him.”

Fennrin cringed. Oh, yes, he’d almost forgotten just what Ainreth was capable of when it came down to it. He’d never seen him before, he’d never seen him use his powers, but there were quite a few tales going about him, how Ainreth had almost singlehandedly defeated an attempt at an Orinovan invasion ten years ago.

Even if that story had been embellished to make the Daybreaker seem more heroic, a lightweaver’s power was still terrifying.

“Nine years.”

“Nine—” Ainreth bulged out his eyes at him. “Nine years? Are you serious? How have you not killed him by now?”

Fennrin shrugged. Sometimes he wished that his power truly did bring bad luck to those who associated with him. At least he had never noticed that he’d caused any misfortune. It would have been nice to somehow cause Tyr-Pentar trouble.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Fennrin admitted quietly, looking away. He would insist on going back to his pitiful home to collect his things, but he had no possessions. Whatever he’d had when he’d been disowned by his family, he’d been forced to sell those things to not starve.

“You do now,” Ainreth said firmly, sounding even a little angry now as he put his hands on Fennrin’s shoulders, squeezing. Fennrin didn’t understand this man at all. But this was about the most positive reaction to his presence he’d gotten in years, so he was afraid of questioning it. “When we get to Kyr-Toryl, we’ll get you some food, clothes, and a haircut, how about that? I’m digging the ponytail, but it needs some evening out.”

Ainreth made a move to touch Fennrin’s hair, which he quickly dodged, taking a step back. Ainreth was a bit too touchy for Fennrin’s taste. He wasn’t used to it, and he didn’t particularly want to get used to it, either.

“Will you finally tell me what you want from me?” asked Fennrin, unable to keep his annoyance to himself. How many times was he going to have to ask to get an answer?

Ainreth sighed, finally putting his hands away, only to cross them over his chest. “Someone with your talents doesn’t belong in a place like this, Fenn.”

Talents? He had no talents. He had a very useless power that everyone shunned him for. It was a curse.

“You could do a lot of good for Lys-Akkaria if that thought appeals to you more.”

That time Fennrin snorted. Maybe he was being made fun of. Rationally, he knew that was unlikely because surely the general wouldn’t waste his time on pranks like this, but Fennrin couldn’t help but feel like this anyway. “Yes, of course. Creating shadows is such a useful skill in a war.”

But there was no amusement on Ainreth’s face, though. He just seemed incredulous, scowling in confusion as if not understanding what Fennrin had said. “Do you….” Then his lips formed a somewhat sad smile. “You have no idea what you can do, do you?”

Fennrin was about to say that yes, he knew very well, and that his power was more or less useless, and that he didn’t need it pointed out to him so cruelly, but before he could say a word, Ainreth continued. “Saying you can only create shadows would be like me saying I can only use my powers for late-night reading.”

Fennrin opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. His mind was blanking on what to say. An unpleasant memory was being brought forward by this conversation, and he didn’t want to think about it, now or ever.

“Look, I can show you all of that at the palace. There’s a whole section in the library about az-ari. Can’t say I’ve read much from it, but I know there’s entire books about shadowforgers.” Ainreth was now staring into Fennrin’s eyes almost imploringly, as if he was worried Fennrin might say no after all of this. As if he had anywhere else to go. “I need the help of someone with your kind of power. I promise it will be worth your while.”

Fennrin had no idea what Ainreth was talking about. What could his power be good for except for fleeting entertainment? And yet he couldn’t help but be intrigued. He’d never heard much about shadowforgers, just that they controlled shadows and brought death wherever they went, but nothing beyond that.

He was a little afraid of finding out more, though. But surely it couldn’t be all bad when the Daybreaker needed him for something, needed his help. Fennrin didn’t think anyone had ever needed his help, certainly not help through using his power somehow.

“I have transport just a bit away from here. I can explain more on the way,” Ainreth added, grimacing a little. He looked a bit embarrassed, though Fennrin wasn’t sure why. “I don’t want anyone overhearing this. It’s not for the ears of the commoners.”

Even though it had clearly been a joke judging by Ainreth’s amused tone, Fennrin couldn’t help but glare at him. “I am also a commoner.”

“Not anymore!” Ainreth cheerfully stated, nudging Fennrin’s shoulder with his fist. “At least not if you come with me. So what do you say?”

Fennrin hesitated, but only for a moment, looking back the way they’d come as if he could see the theater that he’d spent years working in from here.

The thought of abandoning that, this city in general, it was so strange. And yet he knew that it was only fear holding him back. There was nothing left for him here, there had never been. And so he took a deep breath, meeting Ainreth’s eyes again.

“Yes. I will come with you.”