Chapter 15: Arcturus

“Nothing. Every damn book in this place is worthless,” Cassiopeia said with a scowl, tossing the book to the ground. “We’ve been searching for hours, and yet we still have gotten nowhere. Not one mention of the box, the locket, or whatever this cursed language is!” She tugged aggressively at the locket on her neck.

“Careful, you’re going to break the chain,” Arcturus said warily.

The sky was a murky grey, the village library cast in a dull gloom. It seemed the weather had been like this all week, the sun cowering away. Small raindrops pattered on the ceiling, and the front door slightly trembled with the wind. The pair were sitting on the ground, the building empty except for the lone scholar at the front.

The jewel of Ondera is a lost treasure said to be made of the rare gemstones guarded by the Eldura in the northern caves, he read silently, before flipping the page. The illustration didn’t match their own locket one bit.

The Acadeh necklace belonged to Irha, the first ruling queen of Ophelia. Forged from the deep blue sapphires of the Joron mines…

Arcturus closed his book, finding no useful information in that one either. A tall stack of books and scrolls sat at his side, each one a potential lead, and he was determined to go through them all.

But it was also a distraction. Stars knew he wanted to block out any thoughts of the past week, of the scene that was burned into his mind.

Focus.

“We have to keep looking. We’ll search every book in this library if we have to. Do you think he would want us to quit so soon?” Arcturus stopped himself as Cassiopeia’s head dropped. The air around them seemed to grow heavier, their silence thick with emotion.

It had been only a few days since that gruesome raid, yet it already felt like a lifetime. Not one minute passed by where he didn’t think of his friend. He remembered the sorrow that had drowned him as he wept, the pain that struck him like a blade. In those moments, it had been useless to cry, useless to call for help, though he still tried. And what made it worse was that he hadn't been able to stop it. He had only laid there on the ground, unable to move, unable to save him.

And now Saros was dead. Arcturus had lost his best friend.

He would never hear his cheerful laugh again. Never see him prank another unsuspecting villager. Never be able to scold him for arguing with Cassiopeia, or roll his eyes at another one of his foolish yet lovable jokes. All that was left were memories, each one now infinitely more precious. Reminders of what used to be, and how things would never be the same.

But they also had the locket, and with it, its cryptic script. Arcturus knew that they had to decipher its code. He knew that was what Saros would want.

So they continued to search, reading through every language book they could find. They owed that much to their friend.

Arcturus sat back against the wall, woefully staring out into the room, a memory resurfacing.

“Remember the time he made that prank gift for Fabian?” he said quietly with a faint smile.

Cassiopeia’s eyes drifted off, an echo of a smile forming on her face as well. “What was it he had said to him? ‘Only the best of gifts for my favorite master.’”

Arcturus let out a small laugh. “And then he went to open it, and a wooden puppet jumped out at his face.”

“That poor man,” Cassiopeia said fondly. “I’ve never heard a grown man scream louder.”

The time seemed to speed by as the pair strung up the memories of their friend, finding new ones as they continued to talk, ones that seemed insignificant before but much more comforting now. Although it was only the two of them, it almost felt no different. Almost like Saros was in the room with them. It was a small reprieve, a break in the seemingly solid wall of sorrow that suffocated them.

“And that one time, when we were twelve,” Arcturus said, still laughing, “Tirus Atarr was making fun of your—”

“Making fun of my large forehead…yes, I know,” she cut in, rolling her eyes.

“And Saros hurled himself at him, using all the Strength he could possibly muster—”

“Which, evidently, wasn’t a lot.”

Arcturus tried to stifle his laughter. “Well, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? He was willing to hurl himself at a bully for you, Cassiopeia,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, leaning back.

Arcturus couldn’t contain his laughter. “Well, at least he improved over the years in using his Strength. He was never bested by a bully ever again.”

Cassiopeia’s laughs quieted, her eyes suddenly hardening.

“Wait,” she said, “his Strength…why wasn’t he able to use his Strength?”

“What do you mean?” Arcturus asked, his voice faltering.

“At the raid. He could have easily taken the raider down. Why…why didn’t he?”

Arcturus was taken aback. For a minute there, he had forgotten all about the raid, all about the sorrow that came with it.

“Oh…um…”

Cassiopeia’s eyes widened. “It’s almost as though…his powers were stripped from him.”

Arcturus started to catch on. “You don’t think—”

“They passed a law the next day prohibiting an element that does exactly that! How would they know of its existence unless…”

“Unless the raiders were using Silmorite,” he finished.

Cassiopeia nodded. “But if it is true, how would they have gotten hold of it?”

“I don’t know, but did you see their armor? And their horses? Petty criminals could never get their hands on that type of weaponry!”

“So you’re saying that they were supplied by someone rich?”

“Maybe. That would explain how they got the Silmorite too. Only someone rich or powerful could find a way to mobilize those kinds of warriors.”

Cassiopeia leaned back against the wall, her head clearly spinning.

“But if we’re right, then who is really behind this?” he asked grimly.

She straightened her back, her eyes narrowing. “We’re going to find out, Arcturus. And we’re not going to stop until we do. For Saros.”

She was right. This is what Saros would want. To track down those who wronged them and so many others, to find them and make sure they are brought to justice. His death, no matter how much Arcturus wanted to forget it, would not be ignored.

He nodded. “For Saros.”