My teeth chatter, breath caught in my lungs.
“You’ll pay for your insubordination.” A sharp blade presses to the soft spot under my chin.
“Every pet must be trained,” a deep voice sounds through the darkness. Not the Night Terror.
The ground rumbles with laughter, the blade pressing to my neck bounces, pressure easing, and growing. I wince at the sting.
“Very true. How should I punish his bad behavior?”
Several booms ricochet through the space. Footsteps? Is it the manticore?
“Pain,” the voice answers with a hiss of pleasure.
“Are you offering aid in this endeavor? Are you experienced in training willful beings?”
“Experienced? Perhaps not. A willing learner? Most definitely.”
“Very well, my beast, as a reward for your obedience, you may punish the fae prince. But he must not die. If he dies, you will follow him quickly.”
The blade recedes from my neck, and she slithers away. “Have fun with your toy.” Her laughter resounds through the darkness, but then the branches holding me loosen their grip and I fall to the ground. I expected dirt or mud but instead find solid stone.
My heart pounds, muscles already tense, waiting for the pain to come.
Another three booming footsteps, and then I can feel his breath on my face. The manticore picks me up by my leg, hanging me in the air like a rag doll. I hold back any cries or whimpers of fear. I won’t give him the satisfaction—not yet at least.
I don’t expect I’ll be able to help myself soon.
“Ready to begin, child?”
Caelynn
Every step of the way, I’ve followed their plan.
The Night Bringer wanted me to follow Rev into the Schorchedlands. That’s why Rev’s father exposed his deal with the Night Bringer only after I’d broken Rev’s heart and he’d fled toward the Wicked Gates.
It was part of their plan.
The Night Bringer wanted me to let Reahgan kill me. He wanted me to give up and allow my own death.
He left us be for a while because he wanted us to remain in these cursed lands longer to weaken my body and to give these cursed lands longer to erode my soul.
Now, his mate has taken my mate. He expects me to come for him.
I pull myself to my feet, feeling Rev’s comforting magic tingling in my veins, and stare out at the two paths before me.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
My wraith floats beside me, looking out at the final square mile of the Schorchedlands. Slowly, he lifts his cloaked arm and clawed finger to point toward a massive tree to the east of the mountain. The tree is grey with streaks of white and thousands of branches curling out like claws reaching to the sky.
“And the spell book?” I know very little about its specific location.
He shakes his head but points to the mountain that covers half the red sky. No new information there.
Over the peak is a steady stream of thick black smoke. I don’t know the exact altitude, but by sight, I’d guess it would take me two hours to climb it, and that’s using as much of my strength and magic as possible and going straight up, not searching along every end.
“What do I need to know about the mountain?”
The wraith stills, but I keep my eyes trained on the last massive obstacle before me.
“This is my first time on this side of the wall,” he admits. “I’ve never been there. I’ve only heard stories.”
Never? He only crossed the fire wall because of us, then. “Were you afraid of the fire?”
“I am afraid of judgment, yes. We all are; otherwise, we wouldn’t be wraiths.”
“So, it wasn’t just me then.” I smirk. He grunts.
I’m tempted to ask him about his trip over the flames. There is very little I know about him. Did the spirit of the Wicked Gates speak to him too? But I wouldn’t want to get into my own experience, so I assume he wouldn’t either.
My spirit is failing. Crossing the swamp while believing Rev had left without me just minutes after learning I’d apparently died was enough to nearly derail me.
I pull in a long breath, recentering my motivation.
Death will come but not yet.
Right now, I have an ancient, powerful being to piss off and a mate to save.
“Since we’re officially allies now, I should probably stop calling you wraith. What is your name?”
“Call me Darren.”
“Darren Shadowspell,” I murmur. I suppose history should have told me that one.
I read about him and his family as a child. Over and over. I adored history. But there was so much truth missing from those pages. Perhaps if I make it out of here, I’ll write the full story. Even if no one will believe me, putting it down on paper would make it feel more real. More complete.
You will never have the chance. My breath catches.
Well, perhaps I’ll ask Rev to do it for me. One final request.
Remember me. Remember my ancestors. Remember the sacrifice my people made to save us all from those beasts.
But then again, I never told Rev about my full heritage. He doesn’t know who Darren is. He doesn’t know I am the rightful heir to the Shadow Court throne. That piece of the puzzle may always be missing.
Or maybe, as he research for the project, he’ll uncover the truth. Maybe my parents will talk with him. Maybe they’ll tell him.
I swallow. I haven’t seen my mother and father since I was seventeen. Ten years ago. I take in a long breath.
Don’t give up. Not yet.
Seek the right death.
I will die. That’s what the Wicked Gates told me, right? I just have to die at the right time, in the right way.
“Tell me what you know about the mountain as we travel. It may take a while for us to climb it.”
My wraith—Darren—pauses, his eyes widening. Then, he nods. And we begin the journey the Night Terror won’t expect.
We’re going to get the book first and pray to God, Rev will still be alive once I’ve obtained my needed leverage.
Rev
All I know is pain. My vision flickers between red and black.
Bones shatter. Blood splatters.
“You’re going to kill him,” a rough voice says. I don’t know who. I don’t care who it could possibly be. It doesn’t matter.
The creature standing over me growls and drops me into a heap on the stone ground. “Would you like to take his place?”
“I’d like him to live. And so would your master.”
Another growl sends a tremor through my body.
“His body will fail quickly.”
“I’ve hardly begun!” my torturer complains. “He cannot be that weak.”
“You’ve done a great job of... punishing him. If you stop now, you’ll likely get the chance to hurt him again. If you continue, you’ll break his mind or body. Your master may appreciate a broken mind, but you’ll never be able to punish him again. If you break his body, she’ll break yours.”
The stranger must win the argument because the ground trembles beneath me with booms growing more and more distant.
“Rev,” a voice whispers.
I try to force my eyes open to no avail. I try to speak, but I can’t open my lips.
“It’s me,” the voice claims. “Reahgan.”
The mention of my brother’s name shocks my mind back into focus. Reahgan. My brother. He came to my rescue.
“You’ll be okay,” Reahgan claims. I’ve never felt pain like this. It didn’t last long, I don’t think. The manticore slammed me against the stone a few times, and after that, I can’t remember much.
“Can you heal yourself? That will help.”
I groan. I don’t want to move even an inch. My magic squirms beneath my skin, but I don’t have the energy to command it. “Caelynn,” I mutter.
I can hear the annoyance in Reahgan’s voice as he speaks his next words. “She’s fine, so far. I don’t know why you ca
re. She left you to be tortured to death.”
I blink rapidly. I have a hard time telling if my sight returns to normal because wherever we are is pitch black. Eventually, I’m able to command a bit more of my body. I can move my legs and arms, though the pain is intense.
My stomach churns as I attempt to move.
“Stay still, you fool,” Reahgan tells me. “Heal your brain first then your bones. You’re certain to have a major concussion and possibly internal bleeding. That beast is lucky you’ve got healing abilities, or you may have died anyway.”
I groan, trying to push my dizzy mind into submission. Finally, my magic sparks and warms inside my mind. Reahgan is right, my brain is swelling. Panting, I push the magic to stitch my brain tissue back together. My limbs roar in pain, my vision spinning. But after a few minutes, my mind has returned to, well, close to normal.
It’s still hard to think with so much of my body in excruciating pain. I can’t move without agitating shattered bones. It may take a long while to heal the rest of it. And damn, I don’t want to use all of my magic. But what else can I do?
“You might,” I say between tense breaths, “want to tell your master that if he does that again, I won’t have the magic left to heal myself.”
“My master?”
I grunt. “She is, isn’t she?”
“No. I made one bargain with her to save your life. That’s all.”
“Mhmm.” I don’t know Reahgan’s full intentions, but I don’t believe he’s truly on my side. “Caelynn?” I ask again. I need to know she’s okay.
“She’ll never love you.”
I groan. “I didn’t ask you about our relationship.”
“You didn’t ask me anything. You muttered the whore’s name.”
A ragged growl escapes my lips, anger simmering, but I don’t have the energy for any more than that. “Don’t you dare...” I seethe.
“All right, all right. She’s a saint. She only murdered me in cold blood.”
“After you captured her. And threatened her. Hurt her.”
“Semantics.”
“Facts.”
“She still ended my life. Aren’t I allowed to be bitter?”
“Be bitter. Don’t call her names.”
He grunts in annoyance, and I take the moment to drag more magic to my limbs. I have several broken ribs, and my femur is snapped, but I first heal my shattered shoulder.
“Your mate is living. She is not under the control of the Night Terror. Yet.”
She’ll never love you. Dammit. I hate that those words get under my skin. “Why do you think she’ll never love me?”
Reahgan chuckles. “Couldn’t resist, could you? She loves you in some kind of way, clearly, or she wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice all she has for you. But she can’t ever love you the way you want. The way a mate should love the other.”
I swallow. “Why?”
“Because she is broken.”
“No,” I say, but my heart aches, and part of me wonders if he is right. She is broken, her heart has been broken for a full decade. But that can heal...
“She can’t ever accept love from you because she hasn’t forgiven herself.”
My heart sinks, realizing it’s true. She’s never felt hope for herself. She’s been so ready to die. Not because she doesn’t want to live, but because she thinks it’s what she deserves.
Caelynn
My feet pound on the ashen ground, sprinting over the rubble.
Dark fluid flutters from the sky like flurries of snow, except instead of the gentle sting of frost, it’s the harsh bite of acid. The searing pain scatters over every inch of exposed skin, leaving red welts behind, but I clench my jaw and push through the discomfort.
The air is thick and hot, the poison in the atmosphere getting stronger. Will I even know it when I reach the place where a mortal cannot survive even an hour? Or was that an exaggeration? It hurts, but I’ve already been here for an hour.
Am I dying without even knowing it?
Will the Night Bringer even allow me to die this way? He needs me. She needs me.
I don’t know the answers to any of those questions—I only know what I must do.
Every lungful sends more pain cascading through my chest, but I don’t dare focus on that now.
Do you remember what it felt like?
I stumble but catch myself and continue running up the slope.
When I carved through your body? When I tortured you and ripped away your soul?
No! I roar in my own mind. You never took my soul.
Sick laughter—not my own—rumbles within my chest. No, I just gave you mine.
I hold back a whimper, tears stinging my eyes. “You can’t have me,” I whisper through quick breaths.
“What?” Darren demands.
“Nothing!” I yell.
He did tell me that the mountain will give us visions. There will be spirits here more powerful than even wraiths. The ancient and powerful beings that once ruled the earth but have lost their dominion. Those the Night Bringer and Terror have defeated in their time.
They are trapped, their power contained under the rock making up this mountain. The closer we get, the more we’ll feel their power—even be influenced by it.
I push all of it from my mind. I can’t focus on what I’m leaving behind, on what may be happening to Rev.
I run faster, barely able to hold my magic in check. Yes, I could move quicker if I shadow walk, but my magic is already low and I’ll need every ounce I can cling to.
That’s all there is now, all I can allow—pain and determination. I run because I must. I try to use the pain to my advantage; I try to become the pain. But it weighs on me. Heavier and heavier, tearing at the light inside.
My mind spins, but I force my feet onward. The stones grow larger, darker in color. There’s a path to my right and a sharp cliff straight ahead. It would take a great amount of effort and some risk, but I could skip the path to climb the hard way. And I would if I knew for sure the spell book was at the top of the mountain. It may not be.
I pause for only a moment to consider before turning to take the long way around. Anxiety crawls over my skin, unsure I made the right choice. But if there is one thing I’ve learned about the Schorchedlands, it’s that it wants you to follow a specific path. If you deviate, you pay the price.
There is a right way. Sometimes, it’s the obvious and easy way. Sometimes, it’s unexpected.
I follow the path laid out for me and push my doubt back once again.
The air grows cooler and cooler as our altitude rises.
A murmur of voices begin seeping through the stone.
Have you come to complete your mission, slave of the great darkness? the hushed voice whispers over my skin like the wind.
Do you do his bidding? Or your own?
I shiver. Some of the voices are low, some kind, some sinister. I ignore them and continue up the slope, calves burning.
You belong to him.
You are him.
“No.” The word rushes from my lips between breaths.
“What?” Darren asks.
“Not talking to you,” I spit.
“Then who—oh.” He floats along with ease, spending no effort whatsoever. It irks the hell out of me that I’m killing myself—maybe literally—to complete this task and it’s nothing to him. He just continues with no care in the world.
Raw anger bubbles in my belly.
He’s manipulating you.
He convinced you to abandon your mate.
No, I think. I did that. I know it was my choice. The wraith was willing to follow me wherever I went, and he was surprised it wasn’t to Rev.
He was pleased.
I curl my lip in annoyance. Despite the chill working its way through my clothes and sending shivers over my body, sweat drips down my back.
This is his fault. He did this to you.
Black rage presses over my mind, causing throbs of pain o
ver my brain.
“Tell me what they’re saying, child. Say the words aloud if you must. Overcome them.”
“They say... they say you’re manipulating me. They say you’re the real villain.”
I swallow, my pace slowing, but I don’t dare stop. I don’t know if I could begin anew if I were to halt my movement.
If I stop, I really have abandoned Rev. And that is one thing I will never do.
“And do you believe that?”
“No,” I whisper.
The pressure over my mind releases in an instant. It wasn’t mine, I realize—the rage.
“What else?” he prompts.
Your mate is suffering. Did you know? Would you like to feel his pain?
Breath leaves my lungs, and I stumble. Keep going, I chant to myself. Keep going.
You are bad for him, always have been.
It’s better if you die.
“That Rev is suffering. And it’s my fault.”
The wraith doesn’t immediately respond. “You didn’t tell me why you made that choice.”
“The spell book. It’s my leverage.”
“Ahh. Do you intend to trade it?”
My lungs burn. My skin burns as the smoke grows thicker, so do the voices. So heavy it’s hard to make out any of them. All for the better.
“I don’t know,” I admit, teeth clenched, feet still pounding over the loose rubble. I almost slip as the gravel rolls under my feet. Keep moving. Keep going. “I only know,” I stop to pant, lungs burning for oxygen, “that the Night Bringer wanted me to chase after Rev. I’m tired of following his plan.”
“Follow what you believe, Caelynn.” That’s his advice. “You are strong. You are smart. You are capable. If anyone could win this chess game, it’s you.”
My chest tightens because I don’t know that I believe him. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’m stubborn. I’m narrow-minded. I feel so foolish much of the time.
I just don’t care what people think. I don’t even care what I think, not anymore.
I’ve always believed what they said about me—murderer, betrayer, villain—it’s just... there wasn’t another option. I did what I had to.
I am bad. I am dark and foolish and stubborn and heartless. But I am those things for a reason. I am those things to serve a purpose.
Soul of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 3) Page 15