Mud

  I break the silence. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Miriam stops. Whips around at me. There’s a bloodshot twitchiness in her eyes, her expression edgy and strange. My gut twists. Her expression loses focus and her lip trembles. I am afraid she is going to forget everything again like when I first found her, but then something else takes over. Her brows pull down and her eyes turn fiery in an expression that is not hers.

  “By the Gods, you worthless pile of mud.” Her voice is wild but her words are stiff, as if coming from somewhere else. “You can’t do anything right.”

  A sick feeling twists in my stomach. This is not Miriam. Not like the Not-Miriam creature in the realm trap. It’s really her standing in front of me this time, but something else is using her to speak. It’s the realm working its way into her again. It’s getting worse.

  Hot shame wrestles through me. I try to tell myself that these aren’t her words. But it doesn’t matter.

  “You’re right.”

  By now, my guilt is settled deep within my cracks, like dust between the pages of an old forgotten book, entrenched in the biting cold and the searing pain and the weariness.

  “Of course I am. I’m the only one getting anything right. You can’t be trusted. You shouldn’t have it. We should.”

  We?

  I’m nodding along, but I don’t understand. Have what? Then she stretches her hand out expectantly, that cold empty blankness on her face. “Give it to us.”

  I eye her carefully, the stiff way her arm hangs, the blankness filming her eyes, and take a step back. “What?”

  “The box. Give it to us,” she snaps. “We should have it, not you.”

  A chill prickles down my neck. The realm is inside me as much as it is in her. It knows just what to say. I am so full of guilt and shock I almost do it.

  But what would the Underworld want with the box? Was it the realm in me all along, whispering to me to open it, to leave it behind here?

  “No.”

  She lunges forward and tries to snatch at it within my pocket, an unnatural growl pushing from her. I take a step back and her momentum throws her to the ground.

  “Miriam?”

  I’m afraid to get any closer, afraid to leave her on the ground in this crumpled heap.

  But when she lifts her head, she is herself again. I can see it in her beautiful eyes.

  “What happened?” She brings herself to her feet.

  I’m afraid for her, for what happens if the realm takes her over again. If it takes me over. In the back of my mind, I hear the Keeper’s cackling laugh. The realm will always win. It’s too strong. It has too many tricks. Already I see the edginess creeping back into her eyes.

  “The realm.”

  If only we could find a glimmer and slip through to the Pit. If only the realm would lead me as easily to Rona as it did to the shore.

  But wait.

  Suddenly, like a landslide crashing over me, I have an idea.

  Maybe it would, under the right conditions. Something inside me breaks through my fear and soars like a bird—finally, a plan.

  It’s so simple. And impossibly difficult.

  “Miriam.” I press my hand to her shoulder and feel the piercing freeze. She’s getting colder. “It used Jordan to trick me before because it’s what I wanted most. Right? That’s how the realm traps work?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “But Jordan isn’t here. So it had to use an illusion.”

  “Yes.”

  “But when it can use the real thing, it does. In the Keeper’s treasure trap that was real gold.”

  “It certainly seemed to be, yes. But—”

  “What if I wanted most was to find the soul I’m bringing back, would it bring us to her?”

  She considers it, pulling her brows together, and crinkling her forehead. “Possibly. Probably. Why?”

  My chest prickles with a thousand nervous pins. “So if I can just change my desires, I can lead us right to her.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not that simple. You can’t just change what you want most. It’s too ingrained,” she says. “Even if you could, what if it didn’t work? What if it led you into another illusion instead?”

  I don’t know that I could break free from the realm’s lure a second time. I almost didn’t make it out this time. But I don’t think it will. I think if the realm can use the real Rona, it will.

  “I have to try.”

  What else is there to do? We can’t keep wandering blindly, easy prey to the realm and its shadows. Miriam seems weaker every time I look at her. We’re running out of time.

  I stop walking. Focus hard. How does one change their deepest desires?

  I drag them out, lay each of them down for inspection in my mind. The ache to rid myself of the box. The craving to live with the humans. Exposing them like this makes me realize just how deep they run, fueled on all the desperation of ages on ages. Also, how flimsy they are, rooted in nothing but my emptiness.

  I dig through my mind, reach back to the temple cellar, back to Kythiel. It is so far away from me now. I pull it to the forefront of my thoughts.

  Rona. How very little I know about the woman I came to save.

  I pick up the pieces and scrutinize them, cling to them, try to make each one bigger.

  Her love with Kythiel, deep and unshakeable.

  Her face, the glowing image Kythiel pulled for me from his memories. So lovely, so proud and unstrained.

  How she died, a cold blade through her stomach. Her world torn to shreds by two men who she could not find it in herself to leave.

  And with these sparse threads, I’ve run out of pieces. This is all I know of her. I hold them close, try to force them together and make them a full person.

  I can’t.

  Find Rona, I command. Find Rona. Find Rona.

  I try to push down my other desires, let them go. My cravings for freedom, for a soul, for life. What’s a little more time after so many years? But they fight and cling to that place I’ve let them fester so long. It hurts, a deep longing ache, splitting through my core.

  Find Rona, find Rona, find Rona.

  I wrestle against each of these desires, fighting to sever them and keep them down, until finally, limp and raw and tired, I drag off all my wants, lock them away in a corner and hope they stay hidden there long enough for this to work.

  Find Rona.

  Something else settles into place, fills the raw aching gap where my dreams lived. I slump against the wall, suddenly breathless. My muscles ache, my chest heaves. Everything in me fights for stillness. The cold has seeped through to my core, a cold that settles in and makes its home in me, threatens to never leave. My shoulder throbs. The skin at its edges is hardening, ragged, and rough.

  The realm is wearing away at me. How much worse will it get? How much can I bear? I could get lost here, trapped in the realm’s madness, locked away from everything and everyone. If that happens, I fail Kythiel. I fail Miriam. I fail Jordan. This could be my last chance.

  “Is it… is it working?” Miriam asks.

  Find Rona. Find Rona. Find Rona. It pulses in me strong and steady. Like a heartbeat.

  And yet I can feel the realm’s haze winding through my mind, weakening it, slowly tugging and unraveling it. I slump against the wall and down to the floor under its weight.

  “What’s happening?” Miriam asks. “What is it?”

  It’s everything.

  It’s my longing for the security of my temple in Epoh, the realm I turned away from, where I could not be harmed. It’s the box and its rules that have abandoned me now, leaving me vulnerable and aimless. It’s Kythiel and his dangling promises. The cold ache keeps seeping deeper, deeper, and deeper into me through the hole in my shoulder. It’s Miriam, the way the realm keeps chipping away at her. It’s Rona, how impossible it has become to reach her. It’s how vulnerable and broken I am here. All of it. Like an avalanche crushing me into the ground.

  It’s too
much.

  It was hard in Epoh. But at least it was clear. No choices, no risks. Just the waiting and the killing and the waiting again. Only what the box commanded. I should never have stepped away from that temple into the night.

  And I’m so empty I could crumble.

  Find Rona.

  Something soft and muffled interrupts my thoughts.

  And before I can pull out of my thoughts enough to look up to see what it is, Miriam calls to me. “Adem?”

  Her voice is thin and wary. I look up to her, and she points down the tunnel, toward the sound. I turn, and I see why she is afraid.

  A large dim light is making its way toward us. It’s taking its time.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  Her voice trembles. Reminds me that this Miriam, the one with the realm creeping deeper and deeper into her, is not the fighter she once was.

  I step between Miriam and the glow. I pull out my blade, ready to put it to use. It’s time I fought for myself anyway. We stand and wait as it stumbles closer and closer. As it nears, the light breaks, becomes several small lights trudging on together.

  Miriam gasps. “It’s souls.”

  I squint to look closer. The lights take form. Their light is soft and glowing. It is souls. A whole horde of them.

  The relief pours out of me in a sigh that’s almost a laugh. “We just need to let them pass.”

  We press against the wall to let them by. Rock presses into my back near my wound.

  As they near I can make out more—dark cloaks wrap around them, red cloaks. My throat constricts. Every muscle tenses. My blade falls out of my hand to the ground.

  They’re all Hunters. Men I killed.

  There must be hundreds of them.

  As they pass, I can see their faces, make out their death wounds. Wounds I doled out, every one of them. The cold distant eyes, eyes flat like the ones they left behind in their bodies on Terath, the ones that stared me down so long after the souls left as I dragged them away and hid them in the ground.

  They trudge past me one by one, show no sign of knowing that the thing they died for, is but inches from them.

  My head grows murky with questions. The shadows crowd around me. Why has none of them crossed over? What are they doing here? The Keeper said souls are drawn to those they knew. Even so, I never expected to face so many of the ones I sent here.

  And yet… of course.

  Of course, they found me. Always. No matter where I try to hide, they are there. Eventually.

  My fingers tremble. So close. So close to me right now. As they pass, some of them brush against my cloak. The box quivers in my pocket as if it knows. I breathe deep and slow. My hand drifts up and presses over it through my cloak.

  Just stretch out a hand and grab one of their cloaks, just wake one up, and the answers I’ve ached to have for centuries could be mine. So easy.

  But something keeps me pinned in place. Something else the Keeper said. His warning. The disruption to the realm. If it’s true, every step I take is sending waves through the Underworld already, moving it to fight against me. To wake another soul? It might ruin everything. Already I regret bringing Miriam into all this.

  Or, something else in me whispers. It could give you everything you’ve been looking for.

  It’s barely audible above the rustle of the hoard. A shadow that hovers just out of sight, like the strange rustling thing we saw among the treasures. A voice like the one that wanted me to stay on the shore with not-Jordan and embrace the lies.

  A dark tempting cloud hugs close around me. Just one. Just reach out and pull on his cloak. My hand starts to drift out. So easy, so close, all the answers I’ve starved for all these ages.

  But then I realize what I’m doing and whip it back, press my palm into the rocky cave wall behind my back.

  Rona.

  I came for her, and I swore to bring her back. I know what I came for, and this isn’t it. A kernel of stiff determination takes shape deep inside me, and it won’t let me put that at risk. I’ve put too much on the line, and so has Miriam, for me to cave to temptation now. Something shifts inside me like a gear, clicks into place. I’ve gone ages without answers. I can go a little longer. That’s not what matters right now. That’s not what I want.

  Find Rona.

  My fingers grip hard onto the wall behind me, dig into the dirt and burrow in, grip around rock to keep them from reaching out. There’s bigger things at stake right now.

  Just one. It won’t take long. The answers to all the questions you’ve asked for ages are right in front of you.

  But answers alone aren’t enough anymore.

  They owe it to you. You can finally take it. You can make them explain.

  No.

  I could. But I won’t.

  Find Rona.

  I let it all go and watch the answers to all I’ve endured pass me by, one slogging soul at a time. They wander on aimlessly and disappear.

  If that’s what you want.

  As the last few trail on, the shadow wraps around me and dissolves. I’m cold with panic, but then something grows inside me. Something so sudden and warm and blindingly bright that I stumble and fall to the ground.

  “Are you alright?” Miriam’s cold hands are on my shoulders, trying to help me up. But I don’t need it. I hardly feel her. I’m more than all right. I’m great.

  The light tugs at me to get up, to keep moving. This way, this way, come with me, it chants. And somewhere deep inside, I know where it will lead.

  “It worked,” I say, pushing myself up. “Come on!”

  As soon as I am on my feet, I let the light race me down the tunnel.

  “Wait!” Miriam cries. “Where are you going?”

  I can’t leave her for the light again. We need to stick together. I turn back, the light fighting, fighting, and tugging me the other way.

  “We’re going to the Pits.”

  Her eyes grow wide and she takes a breath as if to say something. But before she can get the words out, the light surges inside me. I grab her hand and we chase the light through the tunnels.

  Chapter 21

  I TEAR THROUGH the tunnels as cautiously as I can, squeezing Miriam’s hand, the light tugging me ever forward. Toward Rona, I’m sure of it. My head throbs in rhythm with my pace, heavy and quick. The walls are a blur at the corners of my eyes.

  The tunnels spit us out into a clearing. The ground is rough and cracked under my feet. The light is tugging at me to move forward again before I can even catch my breath, its intensity growing. Rona must be close. But I force my legs still and look around.

  “Where are we?” I pant, the light throbbing in my chest.

  “I don’t know.” Miriam glances all around. Her voice is tense, full of tight restraint. Her eyes are bloodshot and strained. The realm is trying to take her again. “Do you think this is the Pits?”

  A musty haze floats through the air and round my head. Dank. Heavy. It crowds around me from every side, builds like a film on my skin. The realm hums through it and within me. It’s stronger here. Tugging at my mind.

  “It must be. She’s here, somewhere.” The light is impatient. Pulls at me again. “This way.” Forward. Deeper into the haze. Miriam nods.

  I see the realm working away at her too. Her expression is slack and dazed already. Does she remember herself? Where we are? Her hand relaxes and slips away from mine. She trails behind me. But the light urges me forward.

  I move slower now. More carefully. Who knows what might be out there, just out of sight?

  The ground becomes more depleted, cracked, hardened. It splits more and more as if preparing to crumble away. Below in the earth’s splits, mangled up shadows lend haunting under light.

  Souls.

  Wasting, wilting souls.

  There’s so many. The souls stretch beyond what I can see, beyond what I can comprehend. They blend like a festering ocean. Blackened shadow eats a
way at them and obscures their light. A rotten stench fills the thick air, mingles with the heavy haze. It is like death in hot sun.

  What is this place, the Pits?

  There’s no time to wonder. Thin chilling arms tackle me from behind. As we tumble to the ground, painful chills shoot through me. Miriam’s voice hisses in my ear, stiff and forced: “Give it to us. We brought you here, we did what you wanted. Now give it to us.”

  My shoulder explodes with pain, but I ignore it, whipping around to slam her against the ground before she can grab for my pocket.

  We both are still for a pause, panting and weary from the drag of the realm. Miriam blinks, shakes her head. “What’s happening?”

  I loosen my grip on her shoulders. The light floods them and dissolves the cold. My head throbs with anxiety. Is she herself again? Did slamming her into the ground shake her free? I stare into her eyes and try to find her there.

  “Welcome.”

  A thin voice creaks through the haze, echoing strangely. It bounces, twists, and comes at me from every side, prickles at the back of my neck. I flinch and scramble to my feet to arch for its source, leaving Miriam splayed on the ground.

  “We have much to discuss,” the voice presses.

  It’s getting closer. A pulse throbs in my throat. Tight and constricting.

  “Come out where I can see you,” I call into the abyss.

  The haze breaks down my words and swallows them.

  But a figure starts to take shape through it. Tall. Spindly. It stretches over the ground’s deep cracks with hardly a strain.

  The throbbing rises to my ears with a wild whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. Miriam pushes herself up and stands next to me. Her face twitches, straining against the realm’s pull again already. Dread knots in my stomach—I can’t fight her off and this new threat, too, if the realm takes her over again.

  “I have come to see the one who has broken through the barrier into my realm.”

  His realm. A chill of fear rushes over me. Then he must be—

  “Abazel.” Miriam says it accusingly, the syllables cold and sharp in the air like shards of ice.

  King of the Underworld. Highest of the demons.

  Kythiel warned me, but words are nothing compared to Abazel’s live presence. He creeps steadily forward until he is uncomfortably close, only inches from us. My mind buzzes with blank panic. It never occurred to me I’d come face to face with this monster. And yet—his body is boney and brittle. Up close like this, his eyes are dark and menacing, but his skin is pale and tired.