Yet, none of them had the slightest clue any of the other realms existed.
Whoever was after Melas and Zura would be able to do whatever they wanted to get her once they were there.
As much as he didn’t want Ridhor to take them through the edge, he hoped he did. He may be their only chance at keeping them alive.
“Whatever he—” His sentence was cut off as Ela vanished.
Andrei jumped to his feet. “Fuck! Where the fuck did she go?”
12
MELAS
The Black Woods surrounded the cabin the guys made their home. She imagined it was because they wanted to deter as many people as they could from seeking them out. The skinny black trees had a stench to them like rotting corpses, and they bled causing her to shudder in disgust. Thick trails of black liquid oozing out from every crevice.
She had Zura on her chest, not wanting her to walk through the treacherous woods on her own. If anyone was going to bump up to the trees and receive the sting they gave out, it would be her.
He moved silently enough, she would give him that. Ridhor came out of the cabin soon after them, following at a safe distance. She didn’t doubt if they got into any trouble he would quickly catch up. There was something about him that was protective. She wondered if it was entirely because of Zura or something to do with her too.
His smell gave him away. He smelled like the oils in their hair mixed with pine and a scent entirely Ridhor. She hated to admit it, but it was almost comforting having that scent cut through the smell of the decaying woods.
They walked for ten or so minutes before she lost her patience. She’d been ambling around erratically, no idea which direction she needed to go to get to the realm’s edge.
Stopping, she let out a long sigh as she admitted it would be easier with his help. It was a hard pill to swallow, but she would nonetheless. “If you’re going to follow us anyway, maybe you could make yourself useful and tell us which way we should be going.”
Ridhor stepped out of the shadows, his brows raised slightly. “How did you know I was here?” He asked.
“You smell like the oil you gave us for our hair.” She told him.
He turned his face slightly. “I am walking downwind.”
Melas lifted her shoulders. “You asked me how, and I told you.”
Nodding his head, he moved to stand a metre away, thin rows of trees separating them. She was surprised his massive frame moved so easily through the tightly spaced trees. “I will bring you to the edge of the realm.”
They walked in silence for a while.
She kept stealing glances at him. He was handsome, she noted. Where Andrei has this handsomeness others would call perfection, Ridhor had this strength that pulled at her. He was handsome in this majestic way, the same way someone would find a tiger beautiful. Something about the threat lurking just below the surface gave him this powerful beauty.
He looked at her, catching her eyes following the lines of his face as she navigated the tight woods. His broad shoulders and chest shouldn’t be able to squeeze through the woods but he moved effortlessly. His muscles flawlessly sculpted under the tightness of his black shirt.
Adjusting Zura in her arms, she sidestepped to fit through a particularly tight spot.
“Want me to carry her?”
Melas shook her head, not wanting Zura to be out of her grasp. “No. I have her.”
He looked at her, considering her words for a moment. “If you do not trust me, I can carry you both. You must still be tired.”
Now that he mentioned it, she was. She could feel the way her arms tingled as she held Zura against her. Her stitches begging her to put Zura down and take a break. His offer to carry them both had her nose scrunching. “You would carry us both just because I’m tired?”
Ridhor lifted his shoulder. “It’s an easy task for me.”
She didn’t doubt it. His size still amazed her. “Are all Berserkers as big as you are?” He was a big guy, about two heads taller than her and probably three of her side by side. She could curl up and fit in the expanse of his chest. She pictured a bunch of men his size, living together someplace outdoorsy. Doing things like throwing logs and boulders about as they built the town they lived in from the ground up.
What did their women look like? She wondered.
He lifted his shoulders again. “I am larger than the other Berserkers I knew. My father was not quite as tall, my sister was a small thing and my mother wasn’t much larger than her.”
She cocked a brow. “Small like me, or—?”
Turning his face as they walked, he let his eyes take in her size, roaming over her from head to foot. “Elenra was smaller than you.”
He spoke of his sister in past-tense. Though she didn’t want to get too close to any of them, she dropped her guise for a moment and let her sympathy show. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” His voice was light and soft. It was unlike any voice he used to talk to either of them before. “We were close. Elenra was not only my sister, but she was a dear friend.” His eyes became distant for a moment as he looked through the trees, continuing to make his way through the woods.
Melas let the silence build between them for a little while before deciding this was her chance to get her answers. There were still holes in her memory she needed to fill. The more information she had, the more likely that was. “Orren seemed like he wanted us to stay here.”
“With all the unknowns, it would be the easiest and safest option. Since we don’t know what you are, we don’t know who would be after the pair of you. There was some type of attack in these woods. How you survived is a mystery. It may have something to do with whatever magic burned the barrier off Ela.”
This was as much as she heard him speak since she met him. He was always silent. Everything else seemed so loud around him. He was the steady calm. “Won’t he be upset you’re helping us leave?”
“We are not kidnappers. We all want you to stay but won’t force you. He tried to convince you it would be safer, but the choice was always yours to make.”
Knowing that was comforting. She knew they felt they needed her to undo whatever was going on with Ela. Still, they would let her walk away without any resolution if that was what she decided. It had been what she decided.
A lot of people would have tried to force her into a situation that suited them.
“If the Mortal Realm is where you think you will find answers, I understand you wanting to go there.” He took in a deep breath, considering his next words. “I have a place in the Mortal Realm. If you wanted I could provide you with a safe place while you try to find your answers.”
Her brow furrowed. She thought about where they would stay when they got to the Mortal Realm. She was so adamant to leave, she hadn’t thought beyond that.
Not only was he going to show them how to leave his realm, but he was also offering to provide them with a place to stay.
It was kind, and with her still feeling wary about him she never expected his help. “Why would you help me?” She asked.
“Why wouldn’t I? If you need help, I will provide it.”
Melas stopped walking to gape at him. “You don’t even know us.”
He lifted his shoulder. “There is something about you that seems familiar. I don’t think I could avoid helping you even if I wanted to.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she did need to consider his help. They couldn’t very well stay on the street when they got to the Mortal Realm. They would need a safe place.
Ridhor was offering one.
Even though she wanted nothing more than to be reluctant, she knew declining his offer would only make things difficult for them.
Nodding slowly, she started walking again. “Okay.”
Ridhor grunted. “If it is alright with you, I will stay with you. Just to be sure you are safe in a new realm.”
That inner voice guiding her since she woke up didn’t scream at her to run. Didn’t tell he
r to push Ridhor away and try to do all this alone. That had to be a good sign.
Nodding again, she watched as he stepped out of the thin trees and gestured to a wall of fog.
“We will figure things out if you can manage to walk through the edge.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, holding one outstretched to her. “It would be easiest if we tried hand-in-hand. You have to keep the place you wish to go in your mind. Since you don’t know where my place is—” He trailed off, unsure if she was going to attack him for the suggestion.
It made sense. She had no idea how to travel through the realms. She would need help to get where she needed to go, whether she liked it or not.
Reaching out a hand, Melas waited for him to take it.
Her hand completely disappeared in his, his massive paw of a hand wrapped around hers. She jolted as the heat from his palm danced up her wrist. It moved quickly, making her heart pound heavy in her chest and goosebumps cover her arms.
Ignoring it, she took a deep breath and followed him through the fog.
13
THIRIEL
A bright light illuminated the centre of the room where Alette held her lavender palms out before her. Long strands of white hair whipped around her head by some unseen force as she held her bloodstone in the palm of her hand. She grit her teeth, her stance wide as she fought against the winds, their gale strong enough to push her back if she relaxed even a fraction.
Thiriel watched in fascination.
Although he loathed the Pixies, he was amazed at this particular Pixie’s skill. Even without her bloodstone, she was impressive. She was a flora Pixie. The powers she could pull from the plants she sprouted made him envious.
When he first captured her she summoned thorns that sprouted all over the walls. They barricaded the doors and climbed up over the windows, trapping three of his men inside the room with her. They underestimated her. A thick vine cracked open, revealing several blades for her. She had taken them all out before he came in and hit her with his magic. They burned the thorns out of the room, keeping a careful eye on the plants she was sprouting from then on.
Alette was gifted with everything from healing tonics, invisibility mist, weapons, shields; it was a useful power. Add that to the strength of the bloodstone amplifying the powers she already had, and also gave her the ability to perform all sorts of other magic; Alette was a Pixie worth keeping.
Unfortunately, her mate was likely to be a thorn in his side and one he knew he wouldn’t be able to do away with. He tried and failed, on more than one occasion.
It had been some time ago and Cricket only got better with time.
Taking Alette to do his bidding hadn’t been the smartest plan knowing she was mated to Cricket, but it was necessary. Not being a fool, he had a Warlock use her blood to create a blood spell linking them. If Cricket hurt him in any way, that pain would be mirrored in her precious Alette.
The trouble was, when she came in hot, she wasn’t going to ask questions before going for his throat. Alette was just tenacious enough to let them both die to get revenge for all he put her through.
He would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Shielding his eyes, he watched as a blonde woman in a plaid button-down shirt several sizes too big landed on the stone floor in front of them in a heap. Her hair was wild about her head, her pale cheeks puffy and her eyes pure white. Her head shot back and forth around the room, pure shock on her face as her long fingers clutched at the stone floor beneath her. “Where am I?”
Alette’s shoulders sagged, her arms dropping lifelessly at her sides as her bloodstone hung from its chain wrapped around her fingers. She was thoroughly exhausted. The energy she needed to portal someone almost enough to knock her off her feet if she weren’t so stubborn.
She barely had the chance to catch her breath before Thiriel stalked over, his hand whipping out to slam into her small body. “I said to get me an Oracle! What is this? A Witch? A Seer? Useless!” He hissed.
Her small body flew across the room, slamming hard into the wall before crumpling to the floor. She didn’t wince or make a noise, just laid there, trying to catch her breath.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned and looked at the woman who joined them. Trying to erase the harshness from his face, he let a charming smile touch his lips as he stared at her. “Tell me, my dear. What magical abilities do you possess?”
Her white eyes turned to him, looking him over. It caused a shiver to go down his spine. Being unable to tell if she could see him while she watched him with such intensity was unnerving. He wanted to tell her to stop but didn’t want to show his hand just yet.
He needed to play the part for a time, see if he could convince her to cooperate without a heavy hand. He wasn’t sure of her usefulness just yet.
From her place on the ground, Alette pushed herself up on shaky arms. They supported her weight, but it took great effort. Her white hair curtained over her shoulders as her silver eyes looked over at the woman on the floor for a moment before opening wide in alarm.
Thiriel caught it, the look quickly disappearing from her face but not quick enough. “You know her.” It wasn’t a question. There was a familiarity in Alette’s eyes when she looked at the woman. He snapped his fingers, impatient. “Who is she then?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know her.” She forced the words through her teeth.
Walking over to the woman, he dropped down to a squat and took her chin between his finger and thumb. His grip was firm, dancing the line toward pain. Turning her face up to his, he studied her face. “Who are you?”
Her body jolted at his touch, eyes widening for a moment before her brows dropped. “Lord Thiriel Hamewinter.” She scowled, twisting her face to free it from his grip.
Interesting, he thought.
His grip tightened. She reacted to his touch and he refused to give her space when touching her would force answers.
“Are you a Seer?”
Setting her lips, the crease in her brow deepened as she met his gaze with her white eyes. Challenging him.
He couldn’t help but smile.
She was beautiful, he noted. Her hair so blonde it was almost white, hung down her back and over her shoulder in unkempt waves. Her pale skin was flawless, a white rose petal. Her heavy bust pressed against the loose fabric of her oversized shirt sent a tremor through him as he dropped his gaze wishing he could pop the buttons.
Hell, maybe he would.
She would be useful one way or the other.
Pointing his hand at Alette, he let the magic light his palm. It was warm, almost hot. It burned him in a comforting, familiar way that almost made his eyes roll back at the thought of the power right there in his grasp. He kept his gaze on the woman, watching her face, unable to tell if her eyes moved to the spot where the small Pixie still lay in a heap on the floor. “If you don’t know her, then you wouldn’t care if I gave her a little zap. Now, would you?” He asked.
The woman turned her face slightly, as much as she could with him pinching her chin between his fingers.
Alette shook her head. Such a small gesture, but like the glimmer of familiarity in her eyes, he saw it. “So noble. She’d rather die here than have you tell me who you are. Unfortunately for you, I need one of you. I need the Pixie to summon an Oracle, and I need an Oracle to find something lost. Now, it’s clear you’re not an Oracle, but I know you can find what I’ve lost because Alette is too powerful to make mistakes.”
Dropping her face, he got to his feet and slowly walked over to Alette. The sound of his heels clicking off the stone an ominous countdown, having both women holding their breath as they waited for whatever misery came when the countdown was complete.
Lifting his hand, he turned his palm up. It lit for an instant, a long blade growing out of his open palm. It shone an eerie grey, jagged. Dropping his hand, he slashed the tip of the blade against Alette’s skin.
She flinched as the blade opened the flesh o
n her thigh. Gritting her teeth against the pain, her silver eyes met the woman’s again. The same faint shake as she held her gaze, desperation in her eyes. Whatever she managed to summon here was stronger than she anticipated and she was apprehensive about what he would do with that type of power in his grasp.
He sighed.
Things would be so much easier if people just cooperated. They made him out to be the villain, but all they had to do was what he asked of them. They always fought. Those silly ideals making them believe their fight was for something.
What a laugh.
There was no good or evil. Just people too weak to do the things required to make a better world, hanging on an excuse that kept them from taking action. He was not a bad guy, he just did what it took. That made people paint him as a villain because it was easier than admitting they were too weak to do what it took for what they desired.
Alette may die for what she believed here in his tower, but there was a softness to most people that kept them from letting people sacrifice themselves on their behalf. He didn’t know this woman, but he was willing to bet she wasn’t going to accept the weight of the Pixie’s death on her conscience. He was about to place his bet, and he didn’t often lose.
Watching the woman, he thrust the blade down again.
“Wait!” She held her hand out. “Stop.”
And again.
“Stop!” Her voice became desperate.
And again.
“I’m Ela. I’m an Oracle. Please.” She heaved a breath, a sob caught in her chest. “Just stop. Stop it.”
He paused. His eyes skimming over the woman again. She was rather ordinary looking. There was no way this woman before him was an Oracle, she had no barrier. It was impossible. She was not Ela, one of the greatest Oracles in The Veil.
“Lies!” He spat, raising his hand again.
She reached out, opening her palm to show a mark branded there. “I swear it. I’m an Oracle but something happened. My barrier is gone because someone marked me.” The admission caused her pain, her other hand whipping out to wrap around her middle as she folded, a small whimper pushing past her lips.
Hidden In Darkness (A Seven Realms Book Book 1) Page 10