By the time they made it back to the Keeper's observatory, Martin was ready to throw himself off the mountainside. He dismounted and moved hastily to help Varian down from Rudiger's back, catching him by the arms before he crumpled to his knees. "I'm begging you," he hissed to Shay as he hauled Varian upright, "there must be something you can do to help me get out of this…thing I have to do tonight."

All Shay gave him was a dismissive blink. She said nothing, but the message was clear: deal with it. Ignoring Martin's indignant growl, she steadied Varian as the guard shrugged himself away. "We'll get inside where you can rest," she urged gently.

"I'm fine," Varian insisted, tugging himself out of reach. His face was slick with sweat, his skin clammy, his complexion pale. But he forced himself to stand upright, and he sighed shakily. "I can rest later. Who has the records?"

"I do, obviously," Calliope answered further down the path. "I'm the Keeper, it's my job. I'll deliver them to your suite, and then I'm off to make myself more…presentable." She winked playfully at Martin, who looked ready to vomit. "So come on, let's get cracking! We can't be wasting such a precious, precious night away."

"I think I'm going to die," Martin mouthed.

The Keeper greeted them warmly at the doors, sweeping his arm out to welcome them inside. Varian could feel the elder's eyes burning into the crown of his head like the sun at noonday as he followed them silently up to the second floor.

Calliope threw the suite doors open for their guests, then turned with a fixed pout on her round face. "I suppose I should give you these." She snapped her fingers at Varian, demanding his attention. From a bag at her side, she pulled out a large vellum tome and handed it to Varian, who nearly dropped it from the unexpected weight. Then she produced a frayed scroll with marble handles, the paper aged almost brown in color. "I'm going to hand that to you," she said to Shay, "since your friend looks like he's going to disintegrate if we breathe on him wrong."

"I'm fine," Varian said again, hefting the tome under his arm. Every muscle in his body was trembling, and his jaw was tighter than a vise.

"Oh, man," Martin placed a hand on Varian's shoulder, a look of concern spreading exaggeratedly over his face. "You don't look so good, pal. I'm not sure I can leave you alone like this." He looked over to Calliope, his brown eyes wide with false regret. "I'm so sorry, my lady. Though I would treasure each moment I can spend with you this night, I fear I simply cannot abandon my comrade." He sucked in a deep breath, pressing his hand to his chest. "He needs me," he finished breathlessly.

Varian used his spare hand to swat Martin away. "No, I don't –"

"Say no more!" Calliope threw her hand over her forehead, fluttering her eyelashes so quickly, it was almost hypnotic. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of your…beautiful friendship!" Tears threatened to roll down her plump cheeks, and she swept her glasses aside to wipe them away with her sleeve. "Though my heart wants, my love is needed elsewhere, and so I must let you go…until tomorrow morning!" She straightened herself and extended her hand out towards Martin. "Meet me for brunch, handsome. Everyone knows that's more romantic, anyway."

Martin's eye twitched once, then he took her hand and gave it a split-second peck. "Until tomorrow then, sweet maiden," he spoke through his teeth.

Calliope sighed dreamily, caressing the spot on her hand. "I'll never wash it," she breathed. She floated down the hallway and out of sight, humming happily as she left.

The Keeper remained, assuming his folded stance. "I hope you enjoy eggs with Tunisian broth and honeyed biscuits for your morning meal, young man. It is Calliope's favorite." He narrowed his steely gaze at Martin. "I trust you won't be late."

Martin's face turned red, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes, sir," he said sincerely.

"Good." The Keeper turned to face Shay. "I believe this belongs to you, my dear." From the folds of his robe, he retrieved Lyra's journal. "You must forgive my young charge. She is still learning, and while she is Keeper, that does not make one prone to mistakes."

Shay's face wrinkled with confusion. "But the compensation –"

"– Has already been made before any of you came here." The Keeper pressed the book into her hand. "Lyra spent two years of her life in this place: one year's worth to study, another to keep an old man company. I could never take the child's most precious writ, nor would I impose on her daughter to offer it."

Shay held the journal with trembling fingers. "You are kind, sir."

"As for you, young man," the Keeper stepped before Varian. "I fear your journey to the Spire has only left you with more questions." He tapped a finger on the surface of the book in the alchemist's hands. "Many can be answered in the records Calliope procured, but some you simply will not find here." His finger flicked upwards to grace the streak in Varian's hair. "The gift you have been given is unlike any that has been bestowed upon men. I must admit, I am rather jealous."

Varian squinted incredulously. "Jealous? If you knew who I was, you wouldn't say that."

"Perhaps, and perhaps not." The Keeper squared his elderly shoulders. "Regardless, I would give you a word of warning, should you choose to listen. The Celestials are agents of Providence, but they do not govern it. Though some may never admit it, they are no more perfect than we are."

"If you're trying to tell me Luna made a mistake in choosing me, you're wasting your breath." Varian shook his head. "I already knew that."

"You misunderstand," The Keeper countered patiently. He tilted his head, blinking with almost childlike curiosity. "The mistake is not in what you are given, but what you do with it. The Celestials cannot foresee all. In the rare, rare cases like yours, they gamble, hoping that your ambition will serve for good. Lyra was bestowed but an inkling of the power you wield, and judging by her absence, I fear it did little to help her. Whatever path you choose, whatever road you must walk, do not make the same mistakes she did. I'm sure she would tell you the same."

Varian nodded slowly; in a way, she already had. "Can I ask you something? If you had this power, for whatever reason…what would you do?"

"Pray, dear boy," the Keeper answered. "Above all else, I would pray." He inclined his head and bid them goodnight, his wizened face disappearing behind the doors as Martin closed them with a click.

"Well, that was dramatic," the guard said with a shaky sigh. "But I'd rather listen to the ramblings of an old man any day than go on a date with that woman."

"You still have to go on a date with her," Varian pointed out, crossing over to his bed. He sat down heavily, hanging his head. "You're lucky, your life is simple enough that the only thing you have to worry about is unwanted attention." He looked up through his hair at Shay, who had sat down across from him on her own bed. "He said 'jealous.' Who in their right mind would be jealous of me?"

Shay dismissed her mother's journal and carefully set the scroll in her hand aside. "Varian, you should sleep. Martin was right. This can wait."

Martin paused in the middle of fixing his mussed hair, searching for any singed spots from earlier. "I'm sorry, did you just say my name? And that I was right? In the same sentence?"

Varian tugged his gloves off and tried to wipe the fatigue from his face with his naked hands. "I can't sleep," he insisted, "not until I know." He reached for the tome Calliope had given him, tracing the Brotherhood symbol with his fingertip. "When we went back to Old Corona, you saw my father. Did you notice anything?"

"Like what?"

"There's a note in his hand, trapped in there with him. I know more than anything that he wrote it for me. I've tried to see what it says, but there's no way. I'm certain now, whatever he wrote on it…it was about this." He played with the cover, lifting it just the tiniest bit up and down. "If you had just been handed your mother's journal for the first time…wouldn't you stay up all night reading it?"

Shay sighed. The room became silent for a moment, the wind ceasing against the east window. "What does it say?" she finally asked.

Varian took a deep breath, opened to the first page, and slowly began to read:

"A record of the Kingdom of Lunaris, first founded by the Mad King Creighton in the year of our Lord, 1163. Herein contains an abridgment of the history of the kingdom's wars, contentions, and victories, as well as the evolution of its economic systems and chain of commerce, genealogy of the kings, and the evolution and conduct of the Brotherhood."

"Is there an index?" Martin asked, hovering over Varian's shoulder.

"I don't need one," Varian answered grimly. "I'll read it all."

Martin whistled. "Alright."

And so, Varian settled in, tucking himself up into the headboard with his knees to serve as the bookrest. As the dusk burned down on the horizon outside, Varian's friends kept the lamps alight, listening as he read aloud. The words before him seemed to give him energy, and he sat more upright as he continued to travel down the long, winding path the Dark Kingdom's history laid before him. He read of the Mad King's discovery of the Moonstone, and how he resolved a bloody civil war by utilizing its power. The ritual he performed was written down and sealed away, to be discovered in later years. The text then spiraled into details about commerce: there was the Grim Period, a shortage in supplies from across the seas (due to the Coronan-Sapporian War) which caused nearly ten thousand Lunarians to starve. The period was put to an end by…

Varian paused, looked up with wide eyes.

"What is it?" Shay asked.

"It's just…I never actually believed he was real," Varian wondered.

Martin frowned. "Who?"

"Demanitus." Varian showed them the passages, the name written multiple times on the soft pages. "He was born in Lunaris. It says he formulated an artificial hybrid crop and used magic to speed growth. He saved the kingdom from starvation and gave them a new export in one go." He allowed a grin to spread over his tired face. "Genius. Absolutely brilliant."

Martin fought back a yawn. "That's great and all, but what about the Brotherhood?"

Varian continued, refusing to let Martin pressure him into skimming. The text eventually transitioned into the life of Horace VII, who suffered from intense paranoia and feared an invasion from Corona. "He imposed hard taxes on the people to compensate the closure of almost all trade routes, trying to keep spies from crossing his borders. It was then that he came across the Mad King's Moonstone ritual. He had used it to conscript his finest soldiers and imbue them with fragments of the Moonstone's power."

Shay brushed goosebumps from her arms. "Is this ritual in the record somewhere?"

"I doubt it," Varian answered. "If I was him, I wouldn't have let it be written anyplace. If I had to guess, it's probably kept in the Dark Kingdom itself, where all the old kings lie."

"This conscription," Martin squinted. "Was it just to have glorified bodyguards?"

"No," Varian frowned bitterly. "It was to quell riots. Eventually, Horace was assassinated, and his son took the throne."

Martin raised his eyebrows. "Did one of his own men do it?"

"They couldn't have," Shay supplied. "If he conscripted them by magic, they would be bound by the ritual. They would have been restrained by their oaths, literally."

Martin shivered involuntarily. "I can't imagine serving someone like that."

The hours dipped towards midnight as Varian pressed on. "Demanitus left after the trade routes reopened, and the next line of kings learned from their forefathers' mistakes. The Brotherhood was disbanded and fell into obscurity." Once again, Varian paused. "It says here that none of the Brotherhood had any children," he frowned.

"Why does that matter?" Martin shrugged.

"Exactly. Why does that matter?" Varian looked up at Shay. "The only reason I can think of why they would include that is because they must not have been allowed to. But why?"

"If the ritual entailed an initiation of power, it's usually transferred to any descendants." Shay pulled her hair away, revealing her eerie red eye. "I suppose…like me. Maybe even like the princess, if what they say about her is true."

Varian looked stunned, and he leaned forward on his hands. "That means I am, too."

"What do you mean?" Martin's concern was genuine.

Varian had stopped breathing. His hands tightened in his lap, his knuckles paling.

Martin held up his helpless hands. "Someone talk to me. What's going on?"

"Varian's father is a member of the Brotherhood," Shay answered, her shoulders slumping as the pieces clicked together. "Regardless of why he was conscripted, his children would be affected by that oath."

Varian nodded slowly, his gaze empty and depthless. "So, it's not just that I've been a pawn for the past two weeks," he muttered bitterly. "I've been marked since I was born." He pulled the streak in his hair down, staring at it in front of his nose. "I've had this for as long as I can remember," he admitted.

"You're kidding," Martin said skeptically. "I thought you did it on purpose."

"No," Varian shook his head. "I've run tests on it before. The protein isn't any different, the keratin level's the same. I always dismissed it as just a genetic anomaly. Another reason for everyone else to keep their distance from me." He raked it out of his face, pounding his forehead with his fist. "Why didn't he tell me?"

The room went quiet as his friends had no reply. After a few stifling moments, Shay slid the book out of his lap and into hers. She studied the next few pages out loud, her quiet voice growing stronger as she fell into a rhythm. "Wait," she spoke suddenly. "It says here that King Horace had a younger brother, the Duke of the West Pass, who challenged his nephew for the throne. The accounts vary, but it was rumored that the duke performed his own conscription in secret. Some believe he used the disbanded Brotherhood as agents to stage the coup. His nephew was exiled, but years later, he returned to reclaim the throne. His uncle was thrown in prison, but his children received amnesty."

Martin snapped his fingers. "Ha, children! And you said he was conscripted!"

"He might have been," Shay clarified. "No one knows for certain. By this point, the Moonstone was kept under constant guard. Locked doors alone weren't trusted to do the job anymore."

"Pointless," Varian grumbled, leaning back against the headboard. "Useless."

"No," Shay argued. "We may not learn more about the conscripts, but we need to know why your father left."

"The record won't go that far."

Shay looked sharply up at him. "Think about it, Varian. Who brought this record here? Who could have passed through from the Dark Kingdom to bring it? Who would even have access to it?"

Varian coughed in disbelief. "You're telling me that my father brought it here?"

"Or at least another member of the Brotherhood, someone who must have left a final entry explaining why."

"Then flip to the final entry," Martin exclaimed. "The history stuff is boring!"

Shay glared at him, then thumbed through the last few pages. As she did, a leaflet fell out, and it nearly crumbled to pieces as she grabbed it. She turned it over to see, peering down. "This isn't dated…but the final entry in the book is from twenty-five years ago. The script is barely legible, someone wrote it quickly. It talks of King Edmund's study of the kingdom's history. He concluded that the cause of each conflict in his kingdom was because of the Moonstone, so he tried to destroy it."

Martin frowned. "Well, obviously, he didn't succeed."

"No, and I'm not even sure how he planned on doing it," Shay agreed. "But of course, it doesn't say here. It only says that his attempt elicited a massive rebound, killing several people…including his wife." She drew her fingers to her mouth. "That's terrible."

Martin cleared his throat after a minute. "What happened afterwards?"

"King Edmund ordered a complete departure of the kingdom."

"He banished everyone? That's insane."

Shay nodded. "It doesn't say what happened to him. The record ends with the order. That's it."

Martin leaned against the wall. "As far as I know, there was no spike in the Coronan census twenty years ago. Wherever they went or wherever they came from, it wasn't to our land."

Shay looked downhearted. "Can you imagine, all those people forced out of their homes?"

Varian reached for the book and closed it, setting it aside. "Yes. I can." No wonder it had seemed to easy for his father to evacuate Old Corona. With a heavy heart, he took the leaflet and glanced down at the words; he was almost too tired to read them. "'May this record serve as a warning for all those seeking to destroy the Moonstone. Its servants will continue to guard its secret until our dying days.'" He turned it over, then back again. "That's all it says. It's unsigned, but it's not my father's handwriting."

"Then there's another member out there," Martin concluded.

"But this didn't tell us where to find the Moonstone," Shay pointed out, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "We're back where we started."

"And we still don't know who brought the record here." Varian sighed through his nose. "What about the scroll?"

Shay retrieved it and carefully rolled it out for them to see. On the parchment was a series of detailed diagrams, each with a handful of descriptive paragraphs. "I don't recognize the language," she admitted. "It's almost pictographic."

"It's the same writing that was on the Demanitus Scroll," Varian observed, his face brightening. "This must be his. Let me see…yes, this is a description of some kind of device he built. It's a blueprint!"

Shay looked perplexed. "For what?"

"I don't know," Varian answered. "He's used a different cipher. It'll take time for me to translate it."

Shay gasped suddenly. "The book Xavier gave me! It had an entire section on deciphering codes, but I…I left it at the house."

Martin shrugged. "Can't you just use magic to…I don't know, summon it here?"

"No," Shay shook her head. "My mother cast a ward to keep out invasive spells. I never dreamed of removing it, anyone with magic could have stolen her work."

"It's alright," Varian told her. "I can do this." He scrunched his face, bringing the scroll almost to his nose. Then he set it down with shaky hands. "Just not tonight, I guess."

Martin hummed a note of disapproval. "We haven't even gotten to the book that came with the medallion."

"I'll read it," Shay offered. "Maybe it can tell us where the medallion's chamber is." She gave Varian a worried look. "But you should get some sleep."

"I know I'm going to get some. All that history stuff was drier than my uncle's obituary." Martin shuffled over towards his bed, unleashing a cringe of springs. Less than two minutes later, the still air was fractured by raucous snoring. Reluctantly, Varian followed suit, setting the records near the foot of his bed. He watched Shay dim the lights as he pulled his apron off, shifted down, and curled over on his side. His hand slowly gravitated towards his aching shoulder, kneading away at the pain.

Shay crossed over to him, kneeling to his eye level. "That was a lot to take in," she said gently. "But you know it doesn't change anything."

"I know." Varian worked his jaw back and forth, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I think that's what upsets me most."

She hesitated, then lifted a hand to stroke his hair away from his forehead. Her touch felt like ice on his hot skin. "This doesn't matter," she fingered his streak. "It never has. You're still you."

Varian exhaled. "But he lied to me."

"He was trying to protect you."

"Yeah, and where did that get him?" Varian was a picture of apathy, his eyes empty and dry. "Now he's there, and I'm here, left to clean up his king's mess before some demon destroys the world." He licked his lips. "I only wish the few friends I had weren't dragged into it."

Shay's hand fell away. "Get some sleep. We'll sort all this out in the morning."

He watched her as she climbed into her own bed, turning herself towards the opposite wall. Varian closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing. But his thoughts continued to race about, one chasing rabidly after the other. Had his mother known about any of this, or had his father kept secrets from her as well? Did she even know that her son would be condemned to lose his agency, to be compelled by this mythical force to serve mad kings and enigmatic spirits? The more he thought about it, the more he began to call his own actions into question. How many of his decisions had been his own? The Battle at Old Corona…was the madness that seized him caused by his own desperation, or was it an evil long-seeded inside him, poisoned by a legacy he wanted no part of?

I compel no one, son of Quirin.

Varian's eyes snapped open, and he lurched upright to see Luna standing in the middle of the room. Her light was dim, her appearance ghastly, her beauty gone. Shrunken down and hobbled over, she looked like a very small, old woman, her black hair white as snow, her eyes wrinkled slits as she glared at him from the foot of his bed.

The sky is clear tonight, she continued. I may be weak now, but my word still stands. My power is for the righteous, as Providence commands. Your will is your own, and despite other lifetimes, other paths that might have been taken, this time I have made sure of it. You possess my power for protection, not condemnation.

Varian sighed sharply. "I guess I have no choice but to believe that." He fell back, facing the ceiling. "Can't I get just one good night's sleep these days?"

The Celestial stepped forward and raised a withered, shaking hand towards the Brotherhood tome. The history you have read…in truth, I had hoped you would never see it. You must understand, those who have sought my stone for power used it to fuel their own ambitions. They used it to overwrite the freedoms of others. It is a treacherous thing, something I have long since strived to resolve. Creighton was the only one who heeded me, and I helped him conquer legions and prosper his people. To those who succeeded him, I reached out, offering them my guidance and teachings. Each of them refused, and in the wake of their travesties, those who might have benefited from my gift suffered. The last king believed the answer was to cast my stone into the abyss, to let the earth's beating heart swallow it whole. The result of his hubris was a heavier weight upon his brow and a kingdom he was left to mourn.

Varian swallowed as fear ignited up his spine. "Is he still there? You're telling me I have to get through him to reach the Moonstone?"

Luna performed a single beckoning gesture. The medallion. Show it to me.

Varian sat up again. He reached for his apron and pulled the token out for her to see. She snatched it out of his hand and crossed over to where Shay slept. The chamber is not far from here. Pleiades will show you the way, as I have said before.

"What's inside this chamber?"

A weapon, Luna replied, tossing the medallion back to him. Crafted by the Mad King. Retrieve it, and his successor will let you pass.

Varian studied the medallion's surface, tracing the engraving with his thumb. His fingers curled around it, and a bead of sweat slid down the back of his neck. "I know I've said it before. But I still don't want it. I never wanted any of this." He looked up at her, searching for some kind of answer in her white eyes. "Can't I just be who I am?" he begged, tears finally blurring his vision.

Luna hobbled over towards the edge of the bed. With her old bones, she sat down, barely perching on the mattress. My dear child. How could you be anyone else? She nodded her head slowly. I know you fear many things. In some ways, I fear them, too, as do your friends. She folded her thin, spindly fingers in her lap. Tell me. Since you think I chose poorly, who might you choose to take your place in this fight? The girl has already volunteered. The soldier who has joined you has a stout heart. Might either of them serve better as my champion?

Varian sighed, his entire frame shaking. "No," he whispered. "If I could, I would do this without them. I don't want them to get hurt. I never wanted anyone to be hurt." He looked over at Shay's huddled form. "She was right. It doesn't matter. What matters is saving the people I love."

And you must never forget that, child. Lesser men have cast that love aside. The Lunar Celestial placed her hand over his, lighter than a feather's touch. Prove to me that you are not one of them.

Varian settled down once more, lacing his fingers over his chest. "I will," he answered, his voice husky. "But only if you prove something to me in return."

What would you have me prove?

Varian lifted his head, fixing her with a burning stare. "I still have a court trial to attend. Prove that they won't be judge me in a funerary box."