by Bailey Dark
I nod and clasp his hand. No words pass between us, but I know without a doubt that Moritz will do his best to ensure Alnembra’s success and safety. He was my father’s friend first, and when he was lost and buried at sea, only Moritz was more devastated than me. His cold eyes tell me all I need to know. When I release his hand, he sweeps out of the chamber.
“Sadal,” I say, turning away from my old friend and towards an old enemy. “You’re coming with us.”
“Oh, I was counting on it,” he purrs.
The First Bloodbane and Cleo watch us gather together. The old witch smiles as if she knows something I don’t. “Good luck,” she says.
“You aren’t coming?” Verity’s voice is filled with surprise, her eyes wide and panicked.
“No, dear.” The old witch shakes her head. “My part in the story has been played, it is ended. I will return to my sisters in the wasteland to tell them what I know. If you do not return, we will do what we can to stop the Shades. To that end, we must prepare.”
“And you’ll leave a complex spell in the hands of this girl?” Erzur waves a hand towards Verity.
“As I said, my role is done,” the First Bloodbane says. She lays a hand on Cleo’s shoulder and Cleo doesn’t flinch, much to my surprise. “Cleo and I will go.”
“Cleo?” Verity asks softly. My hand drifts towards her again, just a whisper of a touch. She’s stiff, awkward, and unsure.
Cleo’s eyes, pale blue like Verity’s, lock onto Verity and I catch a hint of pain in them. But Cleo’s face is a mask of calm when she speaks. “I have no sisters in the mountains. I want to see what life is like in the wastelands.”
“Good luck,” Erzur says, sniffing.
Verity nods but doesn’t speak. I step forward, shielding her slightly with my frame, hoping it will bring her some comfort to be out of sight even just for a moment. “We wish you safe travels.”
The old witch’s eyes twinkle. “And you, Fae King. You will need it.”
Chapter 3
Verity
The witch's cryptic words hang in the air like a death sentence. Altair is frozen by them, his hazel eyes, usually bright and wicked, are dull. I force myself to turn away from him, telling myself that what he says and how he feels are no longer any of my concern. But my heart hurts every time I think the words. My soul feels torn into pieces so small they could never be pieced together again.
Swallowing hard and shoving my sorrow down, down, down, I move away from the others to prepare the portal. Serus follows me, his tail swishing languidly. I know he's keenly aware of my emotions, of my regrets and sorrows. He might be poking through my memories even now. The strange creature seems to enjoy studying my memories the way I would appreciate a fine meal.
“It must be a large portal if we are to usher everyone through,” Serus says, echoing my thoughts.
I pause a few yards from the group in an area clear of columns. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bit of chalk, would you?” I ask jokingly.
“No.” His voice is dull.
I loose a breath, trying to keep the atmosphere light despite the fear eating at me. I close my eyes for a brief moment, thinking to one of my last days in the human realm. I was shopping for a wedding dress with Tara. We had gone to many shops until I finally gave in to Henry’s request and went to a designer boutique. I found my wedding dress almost immediately, fell in love with its crisp fabric, soft lines, and princess-like volume. Tara and I had giggled like fools over the gown. And now look at me. Embroiled in a plot to save a world of Fae from creatures of shadow and death. I wonder for an instant if I’m trapped in a very vivid dream. But then Serus’ claws are in my calf and pain tingles in my nerves. “Are you paying attention?” He snaps. “Your blood.”
I draw out the dagger I stabbed myself with earlier. The sight of it covered in dried, flaky blood makes my stomach churn—mainly because I know what I must do. I drop to my knees and take a deep breath before slipping the sharp blade over my forearm. Blood appears, welling out from between the severed skin and dripping down the curve of my arm. I drop the knife with a clatter and grit my teeth against the pain.
“I can help.” I hear a voice say over my shoulder.
I recognize the harsh, lilting voice of Cleo instantly and my back goes stiff. I lick my lips, dipping a finger into my own blood. “I can do it.”
"Then perhaps I can distract you from the pain as you work," she says, conceding. I flick my gaze towards her, taking in the woman that looks so much like me but nothing like me at the same time. Her blood-red cloak pools around her as she kneels beside me. "Before I leave you, I thought you might have questions."
Don’t make me responsible for this, I want to scream. But I shake my head, nerves jumbling and quaking. “No.”
I can feel her eyes on me, intent and bright. At first, I think she’ll get up and retreat. Neither of us have been brave enough to acknowledge the elephant in the room. But she stays, chewing over her words while I draw a large circle on the sandy floor. “You’re not a very good liar,” she says coldly. “But I understand. However, I cannot leave without telling you the little I know.”
My hand falters, making a dip in the otherwise perfect circle. I coat my finger in more blood to finish the rune while the silence drags on between us. “I erased your father’s name from my memory long ago. But he told me he was from a land made of ice and snow and clouds,” she says. I don’t pause in my spellcasting as I listen, fingers already trembling. “He stumbled into this realm one day and I found him. He was sick with fever from the crossing.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and taste the coppery tang of blood. Asking questions feels wrong, as if it would shatter the tentative peace between us. Cleo clears her throat before continuing, “When you were conceived, Sadal discovered your father and me. We had made a home in the valleys, but it wasn’t long until Sadal found it despite my wards and spells. He killed your father while I escaped with you into the mortal realm to leave you with his kin.” Her eyes go hard, hiding the anguish within. “I never wanted you to fall into Sadal’s hands and I knew he would hunt in this realm for you relentlessly. I cast a spell on you to make you forget, to hide your Fae appearance under the guise of a normal human. And anyone who came into contact with you suffered the same effect of my magic. I had to protect you, and this was the only way I knew how.”
I finish the spiral of the rune and press my hand over the cut in my arm, stopping the blood flow. The memories of my last, most recent family flicker into my mind. My mother and father, both kind and soft-spoken, practical people. They're my real family. I don't know what to say, so I say nothing at all, and the silence drags on.
“I can show him to you,” Serus says suddenly. I snap my gaze towards him and mouth my displeasure, but he ignores me. He turns to Cleo. “Let me see your memories, and I will show your daughter her father.”
Wordlessly, Cleo closes her eyes. Her brows pinch together in concentration and Serus sits in front of her as still as a statue. My heart pounds rapidly in my chest, anxiety rushing through my veins. But then, I'm swept away from the grand chamber in the base of the pyramid, to a low, lush valley. I blink in the sudden sunlight, tasting fresh air on my tongue. I stand on a patch of hardened dirt in a doorway. Ahead of me, I see a man. Tall, lean, with dirty blond hair, pulled into a knot on his head. He grins when he sees me, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome me into them. My heart throbs painfully and I feel tears prick at my eyes at the sight of the man I see myself in. Same hair, same jaw, same even smile.
When I open my eyes again, my cheeks are wet with tears and Cleo is gone. Quickly, I wipe at my eyes, drying them. My breath is coming hard and fast, the way it does when I’m on the verge of deep, painful sobs. But then Serus’ paw brushes my knee and I feel a wave of calm. I toss him a grateful smile.
“It’s ready,” I announce, rising to my feet. I turn to face the group. Cleo and the old witch have gone, slipping out of the pyramid as silently as the phantoms
that haunt it.
Altair claps Moritz on the back once before the cold, peculiar Fae retreats from the pyramid. The others gather around me, careful not to scuff the rune with their shoes. Thal holds Sadal tightly, only dragging his eyes away from the Dark God to meet mine. He dips his chin reassuringly, but he has no jovial smile or joke for me before we begin.
“One foot on the rune, carefully,” I bark as Erzur puts her foot down clumsily. “When we arrive, you may throw up.”
“Vomit?” Erzur asks, voice laced with disbelief.
I don’t answer her as I close my eyes, mustering my magic. It slinks towards me like a fog, coiling itself in my body and then around my limbs. My skin tingles with it, almost as if it’s vibrating with power. “Lanuae praesens,” I murmur as Altair’s fingers lace through mine.
To bring a group this size into the Ether, I need more than just my rune. I need a spell I learned from the Dark God himself. I hear him chuckle as the spell takes hold of us, locking us in its vice. Altair’s hand tightens around mine and then the world tips upside down.
Chapter 4
Verity
Erzur retches, doubled over on the inky ground of the Ether. Altair manages to swallow his nausea, but his skin is a sickly green color. I grimace, remembering too well my first experience with portal travel and the way the sudden influx of magic in my body made my stomach churn.
“Shit,” Thal murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His brows are furrowed with pain.
“It will be better next time, on the way out,” I assure him.
“Gods, I hope so,” he mutters, curling his lip at the vomit by his feet.
“It’s so dark,” Altair whispers, turning in a slow circle.
As always, the portal spits us out in the portion of the Ether filled with inky darkness. A light from above illuminates us and a small area around us. Shadows pulse and writhe against the light, trying desperately to reach us. Our voices echo loudly in the Ether, the only sounds breaking the ominous silence. I look down, hoping to see a lantern nearby. One rests at my feet, warm light glowing from behind the glass.
“Your magic comes with such ease,” Sadal says. His chains rattle as he shifts. “I knew you would rival even the greatest of witches one day.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Sadal claims my victories like they were his own, but this wasn’t my magic. The lantern springs from the Ether. “I didn’t do anything,” I say curtly.
Sadal’s black eyes glimmer and he chuckles softly. “It’s so easy for you, you don’t even know you’re doing it. Remarkable.”
I ignore him, wondering if he could be right, or if he’s simply trying to goad me into trusting him with his flattering words. Erzur has recovered now, and she glares at me pointedly—as if I’m at fault for her retching. I turn my back on her too and lift the lantern into the shadows. The light presses against the darkness, driving it away until it’s as if we’re standing in a fog. Thal and Altair stand on either side of me, staring into the abyss that is the First Stratum of the Ether.
“Can we really trust Sadal to lead us?” I murmur quietly to the two Fae men.
They exchange cold, calculating glances. “No, we can’t,” Altair says. “But we have no choice.”
Sadal saunters towards us, his face lit with a sickly glow by my lantern. “Shall we?” He crows.
He doesn’t wait for an answer before striding into the darkness fearlessly. I think of the demons lurking in it and shudder. Once, they were Sadal’s to control. Now, if they get the former Dark God in their sights, he'll be mauled in seconds. But Sadal has no fear, or perhaps the madness is merely driving it away. We follow him into the darkness, and I hurry to make sure he always stays within reach of my light. Thal's sword is in hand, gripped so tightly his knuckles are white. His green eyes never leave Sadal’s back and I know Thal will be the first to leap into the shadows if Sadal makes a run for it.
Suddenly, Sadal stops short. He edges back towards us, to the safety of the group. Altair and Erzur have their swords drawn in an instant. They form a circle with their backs to Sadal, Serus, and me. I hoist my lamp higher, and close my eyes, trying to summon more light. But the shadows are stubborn, and they writhe against the soft light, trying to dim it. My stomach churns with fear. Something is out there. Something I’ve never encountered before.
“A Shadow-Teaser,” Serus whispers, his voice echoing in the silence.
“How do we kill it?” Altair asks, his deep voice low and quiet.
“You don’t,” Serus explains. “A Shadow-Teaser has no physical form—no life. It’s an intelligence that lives in the shadows. Stay in the light and you won’t succumb to it.”
“Then why is Sadal so frightened of it?” Erzur asks bitingly.
Altair lowers his sword but doesn't sheath it. His hazel eyes rove over me as if ensuring my safety before he glances at Sadal’s cowering form. “Because he’s mad.”
“The girl and her lantern go first,” Sadal says, nudging me forward.
Altair’s hand is around Sadal’s neck in an instant, squeezing tightly. I don’t stop him as Sadal gasps helplessly. The chains on his wrists rattle as he tries to pry Altair off of him. Altair’s lip curls up into a look of disgust. “Coward.”
“That’s enough,” I say, placing a hand on Altair’s forearm. The simple touch has both of us leaning into each other and he releases Sadal. My thumb strokes Altair’s arm before I withdraw my hand. “I’ll do it. As long as he directs me. And you stay close.”
“Always,” Altair murmurs.
Memories flood through me. Memories that I know Serus can see as his small claws prick my ankle; a painful reminder. I pick a single one of Altair; a quiet night when he fell asleep in one of the armchairs in my room and snored softly. I cling to it, and the light of my lamp glows brighter. I feel a small hint of satisfaction as my power now protects the people most important to me from harm.
Sadal’s presence at my shoulder doesn’t dampen my mood. “Where did you live, when you resided in the Ether?” I ask, hoping that if he speaks his hot breath won’t keep wafting down my neck.
“In the Third Stratum with a very wicked creature,” Sadal says. “But I made it a point to visit my little beasties in the dark here from time to time. I even spoke with little Serus here, though back then it didn’t have a name—just an unquenching thirst for the human mind.”
My eyes cut towards the cat near my feet. His hackles are raised, ears flat against his head. I don’t press him for validation. Sadal has always liked to sow discord—he feeds off it. It’s how he got me to betray Altair in the beginning. I feel a pang of guilt at the thought but then gratitude as I realize that without him, I may not have ever accepted my feelings for the Fae King.
“Tell me,” Erzur asks silkily. “Is this wicked creature the same one whose cage we are going to study?”
“The very same,” Sadal says gleefully.
“And what might it be?” Thal taps a fingernail against the blade of his sword, a stark reminder to Sadal that his very life hangs in Thal’s calloused hands.
“Oh, it’s a surprise,” Sadal whispers conspiratorially.
I slow as my light streams out over a stone pathway. It breaks through the monotony of the Ether’s slick, black floor. Slowly, the stone pathway becomes a well-trodden highway, crumbling in disrepair. Ahead of us, I see arches and grand columns stretch up into the shadows like tree trunks. My gut twists and I feel a stroke of fear down my spine. This isn’t right. Something about this is very, very wrong.
“Is this the right way?” I ask, trying to hide the tremble of fear in my voice.
“It is,” Sadal answers. I can feel his smugness in just the tone of his wicked voice.
“What is this place?” Erzur asks, staring at the details on a column as we pass it. A bloody scene of carnage is carved into it, beasts and wolfhounds and demons decorate the surface.
“One of the few highways in the Ether.” Sadal touches one of the stones reverentl
y. “Unused now and haunted by all manner of dark creatures.”
Thal shakes his head. “I hate this place.”
“Quiet,” Altair barks, maneuvering closer to me. His presence feels like the warm glow of the sun on my back. “I hear something ahead.”
“The River Mori,” Sadal says.
I hear the sound of roaring water ahead and walk faster instinctively. It's been so long since I heard that familiar rushing sound or seen the silky surface of a river. It doesn't matter to me that the river is in the Ether, the closest place I'll ever be able to compare to a mortal version of Hell. Down here in the darkness, surrounded by prowling beasts, the river sounds like a respite. I keep the group moving quickly to keep up with me as an enormous arch materializes up ahead out of the darkness.
At the peak of it, Sadal’s face has been carved, a long tongue curling from his parted lips. I shudder, suddenly wary of it. Even Sadal is hesitant. I pause in front of the arch, looking at the stone steps that lead upwards and across the bridge. Beneath it, vicious, black water broils, rushing at break-neck speed through a chasm. This is no river of my youth. I swallow hard, my hand searching for Altair’s out of habit. But it’s Thal who places a gentle hand on my lower back, a quiet reminder. I tear my hand back as Altair’s fingers brush over it.
Altair hides the ache in his voice but it still hurts my heart. “What’s on the other side?”
“The portal to the Second Stratum,” Sadal says quietly. “This path will take us through it quickly, away from the main passes that the Shades frequent.”
“Why don’t you do the honors,” Altair suggests with a cruel tone.
“It won’t matter who goes first. She’ll stop us all anyway,” Sadal says, pursing his lips.
Erzur steps up, almond-shaped eyes narrowed with fear. “Who?”
“Presium, the Devourer, the Collector.” Serus stares at the bridge. “She’s known by many names.”