the stars and i

At last! Chapter 13 of Steady Beats the Heart that Bleeds Red is here.

But, my fam, there’s been a change of plans. 

This would’ve been heading towards well over 10,000 words if I kept Varian’s final battle here (I know, I know—long chapters are fun chapters) but I fear that doing so may detract from its impact. So it’s getting a chapter all of its own which should be fun since now I have extra room to give our boy one last whump...until the next story, that is. :)

But enjoy some more moon!varian worldbuilding as a treat

(also--this chapter ended up being one I absolutely love. I hope you love it too)

is this really about to be a 10k word chapter?

eh possibly.

Hey! We’re finally getting somewhere in Steady Beats so enjoy this little snippet while I continue to take advantage of my sudden flow of inspiration: Xavier’s eyes unwittingly flickered to meet Quirin’s, a moment of unspoken conversation passing between them. Varian did not miss the motion and, too, turned to follow Xavier’s gaze to his father. 

He hasn't told you just how special you are? Just how long I’ve been waiting for you, my child?

The chilling tone echoed from deep within his mind. His skin rippled with a memory that had been lost to planted visions—to tearing claws and swinging swords and surging amber. Death had hinted there was more that Varian did not know. And his dad—he had said—

It seems dear old dad has never truly stopped lying to you.

Quirin donned an unreadable expression, but his eyes held a certain awareness that seemed to confirm there was an ounce of truth to Death’s words. 

An inexplicable anger washed over the boy. Heat curdled in his gut as his hands clenched into fists. After all this time, after everything they had been through—did his father still not trust him enough to stop keeping secrets from him? The black rocks—the brotherhood—those had been secrets about Quirin’s own past life, but this—this was apparently something to do with him. This was something that could explain all the wretched pain his tormentor had put him through, yet he had still been kept in the dark. 

When would the secrets end? 

Hadn't he done enough to prove he deserved to know? Hadn't he done enough to earn at least a little trust? 

Varian rose to his feet, turning to fully face the man before him and meet his eyes. “Death had told me there was more to this than I am apparently aware of. He said you had been lying to me—that you were still keeping secrets. I didn't believe him but...it’s true, isn't it? There’s something you’re still hiding from me.”

Quirin held firm momentarily, staring back at his son as though sizing up just how sturdy Varian’s scaffolding was—as though determining whether he might just crumble with the smallest push. Something in the boy’s unwavering stance, however, must have been enough to satisfy him, for his shoulders sagged a second later with a heavy sigh. 

The man stepped closer to the boy as the heavy atmosphere settled around them. The others in the room held their breaths, no one wanting to miss the words to be spoken. 

“There is more that I haven't told you, son, but it was never because I believed you weren't ready or because I didn't trust you. I—I never told you this because it was me who wasn't ready. But it seems now that it’s time I finished the story.”

Once more the gathered bodies found their ways into the chairs by the forge, reveling in its warmth while the rain surged on beyond the walls. Quirin took a single deep breath and a moment to steel himself for the difficult path ahead. 

“You were born early into this world—just as the last vestiges of winter left our lands. You were so small. I feared you wouldn't make it. But you did—you were so strong in that way—never willing to surrender to anything...a trait you inherited from your mother without a doubt. You lived well for two years before you fell ill with pneumonia. Galen—a younger man back then, but as wise and capable as ever—gravely revealed the sickness would take you. You were too young, too vulnerable to fight it. 

“Your mother—she had so much faith in you. She never stopped believing for a second that you would pull through. Part of me had believed she just couldn't fathom losing you—that she just could bear to accept the truth. We fought terribly those next few days, unable to come to an agreement of what to do. She yelled at me to have faith. I yelled at her to see reason.

“In the end, she agreed with me if only to appease me.”

Quirin scoffed lowly at himself, large hands gripping tightly at his knees. Perhaps he was attempting to refrain from lashing out. Perhaps he was hoping to hide their slight quivering. 

“So we left, setting off to find anyway we could to save you. You were our boy, after all, and there was nothing we wouldn't do for you. As a former knight of the Dark Kingdom, I knew the place an artifact very few others were aware even existed. It was the moonstone—something I had once vowed to guard with my life—to guard the world from its power. Yet there I was, taking my own son right to it. 

“But—but when we got to the castle, I—you—” The man sucked in such a pained breath as he struggled to find the words that resided in the deepest pits of his troubled heart. “Varian, you had died moments before we made it. I had held you in my arms and felt the last breath leave your body. It—it was awful and your mother—we were so devastated. For we had been too late. 

“Ulla insisted that we keep going—that we see it through. She wouldn't accept your loss lying down. I—I remember her words so clearly,” a reminiscent smile lit his face with the color of forgotten grief. These memories—oh how it must have pained him so to pull them forth from where they had been locked away. “She said, ‘We’ve made it all this way and I will not turn back until I’ve pulled the moon herself down from the sky and spat in her face for taking away our boy.’”

Varian couldn't keep the small grin off his face, nor could he suppress the silent chuckle at the memory of his mother. His father hadn't talked about her since he was five years old. Everytime he had attempted to ask, Quirin’s eyes had glazed over with an anguish Varian never wished to see on his father’s face. He had never wanted to answer his questions.

So he had learned to stop asking. 

“We made it to the opal’s chamber without King Edmund’s awareness, but the stone seemed to glow as though it had been expecting us. And then—then I heard her voice. It was the moon, herself, reaching out to us. To you. 

“I asked her to save you and she complied.”

Me: man, that last chapter was pretty difficult to write. But there’s no way this next one will be as hard. I pretty much know exactly what’s gonna happen so it’ll be easy!

The next chapter: lol, you bitch…hold my beer.

This next chapter is taking forever so enjoy some snippets and fun notes in my draft! (esp that last one amirite)  

Preview of what I’ve been doing instead of writing the next chapter of “Steady Beats.” Stay tuned for finished product.