She had been angry for a long time after the brutal massacre of her family. Their absence left a void inside of her, but the world remained and life had continued in the wake of her loss. There was nothing she could do about the past, but the future she could change.
“This journal belonged to him,” Dyna told Zev. She opened it to a page with detailed drawings of two medallions. One was the Lūna Medallion plated in silver and diamonds, a moonstone at its heart. But it was the other medallion made of gold with a large red gem in the center that held her hope. “This is the Sōl Medallion. The Head of the Sun Guild created it three-hundred-years ago. See this here?” She pointed at the gem. “It’s a Sunstone, and it contains the power of a single sunray. Tell me, what extinguishes the dark, Zev?”
“Light,” he whispered in awe. “This is real? You found the answer?”
“Yes!” she laughed breathlessly. “The journal confirms the Sunstone kills demons. All I have left to do is find it!”
Zev squeezed her in a bone-crushing hug. They celebrated together, at last allowing themselves a small semblance of happiness.
“Hold a moment,” King Yoel interrupted. “Does your journal mention where to find this medallion?”
“Yes, sire.” Dyna prepared herself for what she was about to reveal, bracing for humiliation and reproach. “The Sōl Medallion was stolen from the Magos Empire centuries ago during the War of the Guilds and hidden … on the island of Mount Ida.”
No one laughed.
The Prince’s flute slipped from his hand, and he floundered to catch it. “Did you say Mount Ida?”
“I did.”
King Yoel studied her. “Are you familiar with the tale of that island?”
“Yes, sire,” she said. “Most say it is impossible to find—”
“Correct, my dear. Mount Ida is impossible to find because it’s not real. It’s a tale of adventure and lost treasure, and like most grand tales, this one is also fraught with death.”
The High King glanced at his son, pausing before he strode to his ornate desk. With an iron key, he unlocked a drawer. He returned with a stack of books and set them on an end table beside her.
They were much more modern than the history book he’d given her, at least created within the century. Dyna picked one up with a detailed, painted cover of a volcano island masked in clouds. Before she could admire it, Cassiel snatched the book from her. His hands gripped it so tightly they shook. He shifted through the others, knocking them to the ground in his haste as he read the titles. His furious glare pinned on his father.
King Yoel ignored him, nodding for her to continue. “As you were saying.”
She glanced back and forth between them. The books held some meaning to them. “I’m familiar with the legend of Mount Ida, sire, but it’s not just a story. It’s true.”
“Dynalya,” the High King spoke her name as though she were a foolish child he needed to reason with. “It’s easy to let our imaginations run rampant and believe such fairy tales. Relic Hunters pursue the legend hoping to find its fabled treasures and enchanted relics only to return years later empty-handed or not at all. I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid your Sunstone is not there for Mount Ida is a myth and nothing more.”
Most didn’t believe the legendary island to be real, and she had never thought it was until she discovered the journals. King Yoel was attempting to convince her it was all a lie, but he knew it wasn’t. She could see it on his face. He was hoping his words would make her see reason.
That was impossible.
Dyna smiled. “Mount Ida is real, sire. I have a map.”
Chapter 11
Cassiel
The room was as quiet as a crypt, but Cassiel’s heartbeat roared in his ears. A part of him denied what Dyna had revealed, but the stunned reactions of the others told him they had heard the same thing.
Mount Ida was a mystery that had plagued him for most of his wretched life. That cursed place was real, but it was lost to the world. Yet this human claimed to have the means to find it.
Lies.
“This journal once belonged to a renowned mage,” Dyna said. “On his many ventures, he discovered the location of Mount Ida.”
The sigil on the journal’s cover looked familiar, but Cassiel couldn’t quite remember which House it represented while his mind was reeling. He watched her slender fingers divide the pages to a glowing section. He inched closer, marveling at a detailed map of the country of Urn lit up with a swirl of purple magic tinted green.
To the southwest, within the Leviathan Ocean, the light pulsed the brightest over an island. As though the enchanted journal itself indicated what he so desperately searched for all these years.
Dyna tapped the island with her finger and the image expanded until it filled the page. Accompanying it in elegant script, were the words Mons Idaeus.
Language of Magos. It’s Urnian translation: Mount Ida.
Cassiel stared at the image until his vision spun, his mind struggling to accept it as real. This had to be the only map in existence to that place.
The myth, the island, finding it—all of it was impossible, but how did she?
He leaned against the fireplace column, needing something solid to support him. His father’s wide, astonished stare fixed on the glowing journal.
Zev’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly before he managed to speak. “You … you truly have a map to that place. Dyna, you mustn’t tell people about this. It can get you killed!”
“Merely attempting to go there will get you killed,” Cassiel said, forcing a dull tone. “You would have already died if not for me. How do you expect to survive traveling across the country?”
She sighed. “I appreciate your concern, Prince Cassiel, but I must go.”
Zev shook his head. “It’s not that simple. You’ve never left the village before. The journey will be far more dangerous than crossing Hilos.”
“That is why I came for you,” she told him. “I hoped you would accompany me on this quest. I need your guidance out there, and you need me to keep my promise.”
Shadows crossed Zev’s face, a profound misery filling his distant gaze. Cassiel watched, wondering what promise made him respond that way.
“If you had the means to save others, would you not do it?” Dyna asked them. “That demon has taken so many lives, so many children. I wasn’t able to stop it from taking my brother, but I won’t stand by again. I’ll stop the Shadow before it takes anyone else.”
Cassiel’s hand clenched into a fist around the flute. That look, he had seen it before. On another human with the same determination, with the same stupid stubbornness.
Zev rubbed his neck. “Is Grandmother aware of this?”
“I left her a letter.”
“You left without saying goodbye?”
“I had to or she would have stopped me.”
“With good reason!”
Dyna closed the journal, cutting off its light. “Grandmother will understand.”
“Dynalya, might you be too rash in this?” the High King asked. “There could be other means to defeat the Shadow that do not require such a treacherous journey.”
“It is the only answer I found, but tonight you mentioned Celestials can fight demons,” she said, hope filling her voice.
His responding smile was rueful. “We did, once upon a time. The Seraphim slay demons, but that is not who we are. Not anymore. Once we stained our hands with human blood, we lost the sanctity needed to extinguish evil.”
Cassiel frowned. That was not completely true. Loss of sanctity applied to Celestials who had killed humans. Not to those who had been born since The Decimation—like him.
His father gave him an inquiring look, offering him the chance to volunteer, but Cassiel looked away. He wouldn’t get involved in her matters. It had nothing to do with him.
“Then I have no other choice,” Dyna said.
King Yoel’s brow pinched. “If you do this, survival is unlikely, my dear.”
“The Fourth Shadow Winter arrives next year, sire. My sister is a child, and there are hundreds more in my village. I won’t fail in my quest. I can’t. I will find the Sunstone or die trying.”
Her words invited something foreboding, weighing with a warning on Cassiel’s bones. “If by some miracle you survive the journey to that island, there you will meet your end,” he said quietly. “You will never come back.”
Alarm flickered across her face but her mouth set with stubbornness. “Never is a strong word. I indeed have much to lose, but I will never give up. I’m going to Mount Ida.”
Cassiel stared at this human who struck him speechless. The fire in her eyes burned hotter than any forge.
“That is enough, son,” his father cut him off before he disputed further. “She has made her decision.”
Cassiel clenched his teeth to keep from saying what he wanted to say. You most of all know she mustn’t go there.
His father’s expression grew stern. “Need I remind you that you have given up your right to make demands of her?”
An angry flush rose to his head. Slavery may not be practiced in Hilos but he could have requested an offering. If he knew Dyna had the map, he would have taken it as payment for the life-debt and forbidden her from going. His arrogance in believing there was nothing of value in her satchel had cost him.
King Yoel stood. Dyna and Zev did as well. He looked upon her with a mixture of approval and worry. “Nothing I say will change your mind?”
“No, sire.”
“I understand why you must go, but this is not a quest you should risk alone.”
“She won’t be alone,” her cousin said. “It’s a dangerous world out there, Dyna. I’ll not leave you to face it without me.”
She beamed with relief. “Thank you, Zev.”
“There it is then. You have your heading and your guardian.” King Yoel placed his hands on their shoulders. “I pray Elyōn will safeguard your steps. If your heart is true, so will be your course. You are welcome to stay for the night to rest before beginning your great quest. Provisions will be prepared for you in the morning, and the Watchers will escort you to the end of our Realm.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Dyna exclaimed.
Cassiel couldn’t believe this. They were fools, the lot of them.
“If you’ll excuse me, sire, I bid you good evening.” He gave a quick bow and walked out of the study, leaving the heavy door to slam shut behind him.
The corridor of the south wing may as well have been a pitch-black cave. It had no windows, and the servants hadn’t come to light the torches. They never bothered to come to this part of the castle.
Blind but not lost, Cassiel ran his fingers along the wall, absentmindedly counting the gilded moldings as he had many times before. It was quiet, the faint swish of his footsteps on the cold floor keeping him company.
He battled against his will to not sprint back to the study, wrench the journal away from Dyna, and destroy it.
Or keep it for himself.
He had spent needless years studying every book on Mount Ida in the castle library, searching for a clue on its location only to learn tonight that his father had hidden books from him.
Cassiel’s fingers landed on the familiar embellished designs on a door, and he pushed it open to enter his dark chambers. He shivered at the brisk change in temperature. The sheer white curtains framing the open balcony floated in the breeze. Moonlight gleamed on the polished floors, casting enough light to distinguish the few pieces of furniture in the vast room. A massive four-poster bed stood at the far end, a lounge chair paired the wardrobe beside it—and two winged forms waiting for him in the dark.
One lunged forward and propelled him backward. The back of his head collided against the wall, and his flute clattered to the floor. Searing pain jolted through his wings lodged behind him. He was slow to make out the outline of Malakel’s sneer in the minimal light, but he had already guessed who pinned him.
“Release me.” Cassiel attempted to straighten, but Malakel slammed him into the wall again.
His left wing snapped beneath him. He bit down on his tongue until it bled so he wouldn’t cry out. He refused to give Malakel the satisfaction of hearing it. Blood coated the inside of his mouth before his injuries numbed, a sign he was healing.
“Your miscreant deeds brought a human and a beast to our door,” Malakel snarled in his face, “to sit at our table, to eat our food. You have sullied our halls with the stench of their presence.”
Tzuriel chuckled somewhere in the dark. “You have to admit, it is quite amusing, Mal. The servants have not stopped tittering about it. This is the most scandalous occurrence that has happened in Hilos since our dear little brother was born.”
“No, it’s repulsive. And so is he.” Malakel gave him another shove and stepped back, his lip curled in disgust. “You are an abomination, Cassiel. You should never have been allowed to live. If you were not the High King’s bastard, your mother would have been executed before she birthed you. That would have been a mercy.”
Cassiel straightened his robes, brushing off non-existent dust. It was best not to respond. This was nothing he hadn’t heard before.
“I want to know why he spared the human.” Tzuriel strode into view. Moonlight shimmered over the pearl sheen of his wings, the feather tips brushing the floor. “I’m curious.”
“No Celestial females will look your way so you’re itching for a filthy tryst with a human. Is that it?” Malakel demanded. “You’re besotted with her.”
“Spare me your assumptions.”
“Then why is she alive?”
“I do not answer to you.”
Malakel’s glare sharpened. “Do not be mistaken. History will not repeat itself. I will geld you myself before I allow you to spawn more half-breed bastards with the Soaraway name.”
Cassiel rolled his eyes. He had never considered doing anything of the sort.
Tzuriel chuckled and leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles. “You needn’t be concerned, Mal. Father has repeatedly failed to acquire a life-mate for our dear little brother. Despite that marriage would provide his bride with the title, Princess Consort of Hilos.”
Cassiel stilled at the unexpected news. Why would his father do such a thing?
Malakel laughed at his confusion, misreading it as disappointment. “That’s right. Becoming a part of the royal family is not enough to bribe the nobles into giving their daughters to the likes of you. No one would ever form a Blood Bond with a creature.”
Composure unruffled, Cassiel flicked the twinge aside as he would a speck of dirt. He had long known it wasn’t possible to marry nor was he interested. It was for the best in any sense. If he took a life-mate, she would be reviled like his mother, and any children he sired would be subjected to the same censure he received. No, his soiled bloodline would end with him.
Dyna’s voice drifted in his mind, “To be of mixed lineage does not revoke one’s right to exist and their right to live.”
Malakel yanked Cassiel forward by his robes, tearing the delicate silk in his grasp. “Do you think your actions will be pardoned because Father spared your mother from the Watchers? You may have protected that human with immunity, but you’re not immune to the law. The Queen will have the court sanction you for this. If somehow you slither your way free, remember one day I will be High King, and my first command will be to exile you.”
Cassiel couldn’t help but release a snide remark. “Unless father exiles you first.”
He knew the blow was coming, but he wasn’t prepared for the loss of air leaving his lungs when Malakel’s fist smashed into his abdomen. He gasped and folded over his aching gut, his circlet clanging on the floor. His coughs turned into a chuckle, then full-blown laughter.
“Why are you laughing?” Malakel shouted.
Cassiel didn’t know what was so amusing. Perhaps he was tired of being angry, or he had lost his bloody mind. He shook his
head, snickering. “Tell me brother, are you still the heir? Father wasn’t quite clear after he reprimanded you like a child in front of the servants.”
Malakel lunged for him again. Tzuriel pulled him back. “Pay him no heed, Mal. You are the heir apparent. There is no question.”
Cassiel strangely enjoyed his elder brother’s rage, and it made him foolish. Thoughts that had festered inside of him all these years poured off his tongue like poison. “You hate me because we share blood. Because Father spurned your mother when he chose mine. I may be a bastard, but he legitimized me at my birth. I am a Prince of Hilos. I am of the Soaraway line. History will always remember you as the High King with a Nephilim brother, and that stain will mar your legacy. Forever.”
Malakel thrust out his wings with a furious roar, throwing Tzuriel back, and attacked Cassiel with an onslaught of blows. He dropped to his knees, not able to stand any longer, but he never stopped laughing. He laughed and laughed as the punches burst stars in his vision and his ears rang.
Tzuriel was shouting, though Cassiel couldn’t tell if he was goading their elder brother or telling him to stop. Another bash slammed into his jaw, and his head cracked against the wall. Pain speared through his skull. Needles jabbed into the back of his eyes, light flashing in a void meant to pull him under.
“Stop!” Tzuriel yanked Malakel back. “That’s enough. We must leave before Father gets word of this.”
Malakel shoved him off, his fists clenching and unclenching as his ire filled the room. When he spoke again, he was poised, his tone detached. “You’re irrelevant. A blight. When you’re gone, no one will ever care to remember you.”
Cassiel no longer laughed.
His elder brother strode out the door, footsteps fading down the corridor. Cassiel spat a clot of blood on the floor and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. The icy breeze brushed over his throbbing face. The pain dulled and tingled as his blood worked to heal him.
“You’re full of surprises today, little brother,” Tzuriel said from the door. He wore an expression of confusion and something that seemed like respect. “Why provoke him only to let him give you a thrashing? Lord Jophiel has trained you well during your time in Hermon Ridge. You can hold your own.”
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