by Sadie Moss
I’m so absorbed in following the strange pressure in the air that pulls me forward that I almost miss the danger when it finally strikes.
As we turn a corner, a beast rears up in the alcove beside me.
“Sage!” Callum barks, then he’s leaping past me and shoving me to the ground as he raises his sword against the creature.
I’ve barely scrambled back to my feet before both Echo and Callum land fatal blows to the creature. It crashes to the ground, dust billowing up around its dark fur. Cursing myself for letting my guard down, I brush dirt off the back of my dress and step forward to stare at the felled beast.
It’s vaguely humanoid, with human-like hands and a muscular torso, though its body is covered in coarse, dark fur. The blood spreading beneath its dead body is a normal red, unlike the yellow of the fox-creatures.
“Some kind of ape,” Callum says, flinging blood off his sword.
“What’s an ape?” I nudge the creature’s head to the side for a better look at its face.
“A type of animal back in your realm,” he replies. “From the same general lineage as humans.”
I’d never heard of them, and can only assume they exist in parts of the world far away from where I lived on earth. The creature begins to disintegrate into the ground, just like the beasts did on the day we arrived. Within moments, it’s vanished entirely, only the displaced dirt an indication it was ever there at all.
Echo nudges my arm with his elbow. “Let’s keep moving.”
I lift my face to the air and search out the breeze I’ve been following, but after a few seconds of turning circles on the path, I’m unable to locate it. Panic seizes me, and I take several steps down the dim corridor, lifting my hand above my head in the hope I’ll find the breeze farther up.
But it’s gone.
“What are you doing?” Callum asks, one eyebrow raised as he watches me falter on the path, arms raised like I’m having some sort of spell.
“I was following a breeze, but it’s gone. Farse it.” Scowling, I walk back the other way and wave my arms madly through the air. “I can’t find it now.”
“We were following a breeze?” Paris repeats slowly. The corner of his mouth quirks up, his sapphire eyes warming. “What a strange method.”
I make a face at him, but I’m too worried about trying to find my “guide” to combat his disbelief. I turn two more circles, hurrying past my men each time, before I finally drop my arms and groan in frustration.
The weave sparks at my fingertips as my hands fall to my sides.
I cringe, remembering the way Paris was zapped when we arrived inside the maze and he tried to use weave magic, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it feels like… like I’m meant to take hold.
I wrap my fingers around a strand of the weave and give a gentle tug. The magic races over my skin, and a line of pale blue flares to life between my fingers. The line stretches off into the distance, following the path until it makes a sharp turn up ahead.
Mesmerized, I keep my fingers firmly clamped to the strand and follow it.
“What? How did you do that?” Paris asks, notes of both admiration and irritation in his voice. “The weave nearly knocked me off my feet earlier.”
“Maybe you’re losing your touch, old man,” Echo teases.
The two continue to rib each other, but I tune them out and focus on the slight hum of the weave between my fingers. By the time the thread leads us through several twists and turns, I’m positive it’s leading us toward the palace.
I have no idea how I managed to do this, but I’m thankful beyond measure that it’s somehow possible.
As we make our way slowly down the twisting, interwoven paths, we have two more run-ins with creatures set on destroying us.
The first goes much like the last, with Callum and Echo wielding their borrowed swords and taking down the threat almost before Paris or I even notice what’s happening. But the second attack brings three beasts down on top of us, and it’s only with a mixture of Callum and Echo’s sword skills and my weave magic that we defeat the strange bull-like creatures.
When the second battle is over, I have a heart stopping moment of fear that I’ve lost hold of the threads leading us through the maze, much like I lost the breeze before. But the moment my hand encounters the weave, the pale blue thread zips off into the gloom ahead.
We walk for another few moments in silence. Overhead, between the two leaning walls, I can see the sky reaching its peak daylight—the eclipse is finally over. As I imagined, not much light reaches down into the maze, but it doesn’t make any difference.
Because one last turn leads us out of the maze and into bright daylight.
The palace looms over us from the center of a green grass field. Imposing gray stone walls stretch high overhead, high turrets and towers rising up toward the sky. It’s massive and magnificent, even more so up close than it was from the cliff outside the maze.
“There are no guards,” Callum observes.
“No signs of life at all,” Echo adds, his dark gaze sweeping over the courtyard.
I follow his lead, looking around the yard for any sign that inhabitants have recently been here. But the grass is thick and lush, untouched by bare spots or tamped down trails left by walking. The yard is empty—no trash, no belongings, nothing to indicate a person has been out here at all.
“Maybe the Weaver doesn’t leave a guard on this door.” I squint toward the palace. “Maybe he doesn’t expect visitors. Especially from beyond the maze.”
“Could be,” Echo agrees, though I can hear the doubt in his tone.
It echoes the doubt in my heart, truthfully. Something about this is so strange.
Something feels wrong.
Callum takes the lead, holding his sword at the ready just in case. The castle doors are tall and narrow, but unlike the strange gates at the front of the maze, they have massive iron handles and matching knockers.
As Callum reaches for the circular handle, I grip his arm. “Should we knock? It’s the polite thing to do.”
“I believe we would be better served having the benefit of surprise on our side.” His voice is low and tense.
“We can apologize after we’re safely inside. Assuming the Weaver doesn’t kill us with his little finger,” Paris agrees.
Rolling my eyes, I let go of Callum’s arm and hold my breath as he turns the handle.
The castle’s door makes not a single sound as it opens into the dark interior. We step inside one by one, gathering close together in the entry. A vast hall spreads before us, with hallways branching out in either direction, while a wide staircase sweeps up to a second floor landing ahead. The crystal chandelier overhead is illuminated by the familiar hum of weave magic, but the entire visible area is devoid of people.
“I don’t like this,” Echo murmurs, tightening his grip on his sword. “I don’t like it at all.”
Callum nods in agreement, his keen gaze taking in every aspect of our surroundings. Then he looks to me. “Where do we go?”
“The throne room, I suppose.” My voice is quiet, as if I’m afraid of disturbing some unseen occupants of the palace. “We’re looking for the god of all gods, after all.”
“This castle is larger even than Kaius’s,” Echo points out. “We can’t simply poke around and open doors until we find it.”
Even though my hands are firmly at my sides, I feel the weave crackle over my fingertips as if trying to get my attention. Holding my breath, I reach up and latch onto the strands, and the pale blue guide thread blinks to life once more.
Holy farse. It works outside of the maze too.
My men and I exchange glances, and then we move together, following the strands down the hallway to our right.
Even without the weave leading us, we probably could have found the throne room without too much trouble. It’s as if the architecture of the palace itself is designed to guide visitors in that direction, funneling us through a series of hallways that lead deeper into the castle
.
The double doors of the throne room sit open to the hallway, and the soft amber glow of the interior chandelier spills onto the marble floors to mingle with the sunlight shining through the hall windows.
My heartbeat picks up its pace as we round the doors and enter the throne room. We’ve come all this way and battled through so many dangers to get here. It has to have been worth it. I’m absolutely certain the Weaver is the only being in existence who can help us.
But I stop short on the wide throne room floor.
The weave’s guide strand continues through the room and up the shallow stairs to a platform, where the magic has latched on to a large black velvet and gold throne.
An empty throne.
In an empty room.
In an empty castle.
15
I stare at the massive stone throne, my breath suspended in my lungs.
It’s large enough to fit two people, with pristine black velvet cushions on the seat and the back, both held in place by golden metal ornaments that glint as brightly as if they had been made yesterday. Even the cream-colored marble steps leading to the throne are spotless, shining beneath the magical glow of the chandelier.
But no one sits on the throne.
I’m dumbfounded by this new turn of events. Shocked into utter stillness.
All this time as we traversed the third realm to find the Weaver, he was first and foremost on my mind. I saw him as the savior we needed, the only solution to the multitude of problems facing us.
I was so certain that the moment we found him, all would be well.
It never occurred to me he wouldn’t be here, or that our quest would be so completely in vain. I didn’t want to consider the possibility even when we found the courtyard devoid of life, or when we walked multiple hallways inside the palace without finding a single person, whether servant or guard.
But standing before the empty throne now, I have to acknowledge what I began to notice almost immediately upon entering the castle.
The sweeping building feels utterly empty.
As I finally admit it to myself, my heart stalls in my chest. How is this possible? How can no one be here? There’s an entire palace, an entire realm quite obviously full of life. Yet no one is here to lead. To rule.
“This place is strangely eerie,” Echo murmurs, his voice so low it doesn’t even live up to his name by bouncing off the high ceilings. He holds his stolen blade at his side, though I’m certain he’s ready to leap into action the moment it's necessary.
In fact, all three men look as if they’re on edge and gearing up for a battle. Kaius’s palace is never empty—or at least, it wasn’t any of the times I was there—and I suppose finding a completely abandoned palace comes as enough of a shock for a warrior to expect an ambush.
Callum grunts in agreement with Echo’s declaration, then strides to the dais and up the stairs to the platform, taking the steps two at a time. He keeps his sword firmly in hand as he walks around the throne, his gaze moving over the chair and the floor as if looking for clues.
Searching for some hint of life.
“Not even a dusty footprint,” he calls, straightening and turning to look back at us. His gaze is hooded, hiding whatever emotions he’s feeling. “It’s immaculate.”
“It feels as if no one has been here in quite some time.” Paris pulls a face, moving to one side to check the perimeter of the room.
“Could they be away at battle?” Echo asks, a note of hope in his voice. “Perhaps we’ve just missed them. Maybe they’ve already gone to our realm to put a stop to the chaos. To deal with Zelus and Kaius.”
“It’s a pleasant thought, but no.” Shaking his head, Callum steps back down the stairs. “As Paris says, this place appears to have been empty for quite some time.”
The burly warrior returns from the dais, and I hear him say something else to his brothers, but I tune him out as he and Echo pick up the conversation. I’m too lost in my furiously shifting thoughts to pay attention to their discussion.
Finding the Weaver was our best chance at defeating Kaius and stopping the carnage he’s raining on earth. Without the supreme god—the god to rule all gods—to help us, we have no hope. Only a being more powerful than Kaius or Zelus could help us stop the war and end the abuse, the neglect, and the petty squabbles between gods who should be protecting their people.
How will things ever get better now?
No one can stop them. They’ll just continue to destroy everything good and pure and beautiful, until nothing is left.
They’ll destroy my family.
All these thoughts swirl inside my head, coupled with the absolute despair I feel at how alone we are now. We’ve been denied aid at every quarter—first by Kaius, then by Sierian, and now...
Where is the Weaver?
I walk closer to the throne, silently begging it to offer up an answer, or for the Weaver to appear with the answers we seek.
But no such thing happens. It sits silent as a tomb, a hulking block of stone and luxury without a ruler to ease my worries.
Suddenly, the throne is bathed in a golden light. It arcs down from above, seemingly from thin air, illuminating the chair and casting shadows into sharp relief. Dust motes rise within the cone of light, as if there’s something there stirring the air that I can’t see.
I pause, shocked, and watch the dust billow and dance in the air. Renewed hope flutters through me, and I hurry forward.
Maybe someone is there, after all. Someone I can’t see, possibly hidden by the weave.
I pick up the pace, and the closer I get to the throne, the brighter the light becomes.
There’s someone there. There must be.
I’m less than two feet from the steps to the dais when the light surges so bright and hot that I need to throw a hand over my eyes. But when I try to lift my arm to block out the light, I realize I’m frozen.
The bright light feels like a living thing around me, trapping me in place as if it's solid or as if it’s embracing me so tightly my limbs are immobile.
I can’t move of my own volition, but I go weightless as the light lifts me off my feet. My entire body hums with energy.
Weave magic.
I recognize the familiar crackle of it all over my skin. The magic burns brighter and hotter, and I flush with the heat of it. It twines around me, seeming to touch every part of me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I float in mid-air, my body rotating in empty space. There’s at least a foot of space between my boots and the floor, and panic flares as I twist and drift weightlessly, held fast by the light.
A dozen different emotions rise up in my chest. I’m awed, overwhelmed, and giddy, surrounded by so much power I could weep from the beauty of it.
But as I try to press my way forward, swimming through the thick air that holds me up, something changes. The light intensifies, seeming to cut right through my body.
I cry out in pain. Farse, it feels like I’m being ripped apart.
Then the light blinks out, and I’m thrown backward. I fly through the air, fear overriding all of my other emotions in the absence of the light and power around me.
I hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud and know no more.
16
My senses return in pieces.
First, my hearing, though I can’t distinguish the words around me beyond the fact that they’re my men’s voices, and that the three of them seem to be in the middle of a heated argument.
My eyelids are extremely heavy when I finally figure out how to open them. It takes me several tries to blink away the blurriness until I can see the glittering chandelier overhead, and the golden fresco ceiling beyond.
It feels as if there’s a heavy, invisible blanket over me, weighing down my limbs and pressing me into the hard floor. I still can’t move, and the world spins around me like a top. I catch a glimpse of Callum’s face above mine, and it isn’t until I see him that I realize he’s cradling the top hal
f of my body against his chest. I become more cognizant of my limbs, and the fuzziness wears away a bit more.
I close my eyes again when I feel like I’m about to spin right off the edge of the third realm, but I regain control of my senses enough to finally hear what’s being said.
“No,” Callum growls, his arms tight around my torso. “Whatever the light did to her, it could have killed her. Ended her entirely.”
“But think about it,” Echo implores, his tone soothing, as if he’s trying to convince a predator not to attack. “She shouldn’t have access to the weave, but she does.”
“She shouldn’t have ended up in the Unclaimed Expanse after her sacrifice to Zelus, but she did,” Paris adds.
“Right,” Echo agrees, excitement touching his voice. “The wild magic of the Expanse called to her. Even the gods themselves don’t understand the magic of the Expanse, that doesn’t make the power that exists there any less real. It’s completely beyond all understanding. And that magic drew her. There’s obviously something special about her.”
Paris moves closer. “She’s unique.”
“She is not,” Callum snarls, his grip tightening on my chest.
I blink at the ceiling, still feeling dazed and disoriented.
I’m not… unique? What on earth are they talking about?
Not that all women don’t hope to be somewhat unique in their world, but this seems like a very strange conversation for my soulmates to be having right now. I don’t know if I’m still too fuzzy-headed to figure out what they’re arguing over, or if they haven’t given me enough to go on yet. Or if my head injury has hobbled my ability to reason.
“I’m not risking her life for something so insane,” Callum goes on, his voice hard as steel. “We already lost Layla. I’m not willing to risk anyone else I love.”
Echo sighs. “Callum, she’s different—”
“I know she’s different!” Callum snaps.
There’s a deep pain in his voice, and despite the fact that he just insisted I’m not unique, I can hear the truth in his words now. On some level, he agrees with his brothers, whether he wants to or not.