Essence of the Throne (Shadows of the Crown #2)

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ariella

C old metal burns into my skin as I fight whatever the fuck is in my body to stay awake. I ache everywhere, my head and eyes pounding with each heartbeat. The sharp, chemical scent of the lab fills my nostrils, and my stomach twists for an entirely different reason. Groaning, my muscles protest as I shift to test the restraints along my arms and ankles. Metal clinks against metal—I’m in the Angel-damned chair. The same one that held Raine’s headless corpse.

“Finally awake, I see.” Thalion’s gravelly voice is so disgusting and unwelcome that I consider spitting at his feet solely out of spite, though I keep my face blank. “I must say, you look quite lovely strapped down like that. I wonder how you would look if I had you whipped like your father—perhaps then I could appreciate you the way my joke of a son does.”

My jaw clenches at the mention of my father. His wretched words about Caspian. I want to inquire about the prince but Thalion’s attention is currently on me, which means he’s leaving his son alone. I’d like to keep it that way .

I force my mind clear, taking measured breaths. The bastard wants a reaction. He won’t get one.

“Nothing to say, wraith? How disappointing.” His footsteps circle behind me, and a familiar anxiety crawls just under the layers of my skin. It’s disconcerting and uncomfortable as fuck. “You’ve been quite vocal about your opinions of me. Dare I say that I expected more fire.”

I focus on assessing my body instead of his taunts. My essence is gone—unreachable. I recall being pricked before passing out, so I haven’t been unconscious for long if the drug is still clouding the connection to my strands. But there’s a faint presence of my essence deep in my chest, and I can feel it shifting its way through the suppression. Clearly Thalion isn’t aware of just how powerful I am—surprising considering his obsession with sending spies to stalk and kill me.

If I’m being transparent with myself, I’m quite shocked that Gavriel appears to not have told him.

If I just keep him from injecting me again, I’m confident I can break from this chair and rip his fucking heart out before he can blink.

“You know, I’ve been watching you since the trials began.” As if that’s news to me. His voice draws closer, and suddenly my throat feels obstructed. “Such raw talent. Such potential. It would be a waste to just execute you.” His fingers brush a slip of my hair, and I fight the urge to flinch away. “No, I have much grander plans.”

I really, really do not want to know of these plans, because they're obviously not fucking dinner parties .

“Going to bore me to death instead?” The words slip out before I can stop them. Stupid, foolish idiot.

He chuckles, the sound devoid of warmth. “Still some fire after all.” His hand grips my hair, yanking my head back so I’m forced to focus on his upside-down form. “You’re going to help me build an empire, little wraith. Once I fill you with enough essence, you’ll be the perfect weapon. The strongest warrior this realm has ever seen. A few of the others didn’t survive the process—turned into pitiful, disgusting creatures after their injection. I thought they might serve some purpose, grow into something more, but alas, they’re just as worthless as my son at this point. Truthfully, you did me a favor in killing them.”

The things from the library and tunnel—they felt so wrong, and I can't help but wonder if there was any of them left in those abnormal heads, or if it was just the essence unable to escape? “Is that what happened to Raine?” I keep my voice steady despite the awkward angle, swallowing loudly. “How did that work out for you?”

His grip tightens to the point of pain as what I can only describe as a grimace falls over his features. “Raine was a learning experience. But I’ve refined the process since then. The young’s essence, you see—it’s more pure and malleable. The perfect foundation.” He shoves my head away, though my scalp continues to sting. “But enough of that. It’s time you be taught a lesson about remaining involved with my son. I thought your friend would be enough warning for you, but you’ve proven rather annoying and stubborn. ”

Loud footfalls approach from the corridor just as two sentries file in and stand before me. My heart pounds wildly in my ears, but I keep my face steady and breathe through it. Whatever they’re about to do to me, I can endure. I have to.

The air is damp, thick with the metallic tang of blood and a sharp chemical that burns my throat. It clings to my skin like an additional layer, suffocating every pore. I shift against the ache in my ribs, my neck. Each breath tastes bitter, and the coppery slickness in my mouth only makes it worse. The place reeks of pain—the same kind I’m about to experience.

“Begin,” Thalion commands, leaning against the far wall with an air of ease.

The first blow catches me across the face, snapping my head to the side. Blood fills my mouth as several teeth cut into my cheek. I move to spit it onto the floor, but the crimson doesn't even make it over my shoulder, earning another strike that blurs the fuck out of my vision.

They’re methodical in their brutality. Precise hits that cause maximum pain without risking unconsciousness—at first. My ribs crack. Fingers break. Still, I don’t scream. I won’t give him that piece of me…the one thing I still have to myself.

Another hit lands against my temple, something much harder than knuckles, and the world tilts violently as colors bleed together in a curious medley. My limbs jerk hard at their prisons when one of the sentries punches the base of my sternum—cheap fucking shot. I can’t help the sound that shoots from my throat while every ragged breath feels like fire scorching my lungs .

Sweat and blood drip from my face, burning my eyes as I'm unable to wipe any away. Thalion watches in silence, his expression unreadable, but I can feel his satisfaction humming through the air. He’s a predator savoring his hunt.

“You’re a fucking coward, Thalion,” I grit through my teeth, my voice coarse and muted. “Do you often need to restrain women just to have them beat? How would your daughter feel if she saw you like this, hm?”

He chuckles, far too arrogant and unbothered by my bait. “What you think is no matter, Ariella— you are the one strapped to the chair, after all.” I’ve no response, because it's the truth.

He continues to study me while his guards become more erratic in their torture, his gaze cold and detached, as if I’m nothing more than a mere moment of entertainment.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, hard enough that a fresh wave of blood coats my tongue, focusing on the pain to ground myself.

You will take this. If you break, he wins. If you break, his attention will shift to Caspian.

The next strike is delivered in the center of my shattered ribs, but I’m too engrossed in being outside of my body to care about the sickening crunch that reverberates through the lab. I involuntarily lean forward to cough up a disturbing amount of blood, watching as it spatters against my legs and the floor like some grotesque painting. I whimper as a boot lands to my stomach, shoving my back against the chair once more .

“Pathetic,” the king mutters, scraping his feet against the stone as he stops in front of me. “ This is what my son chose to align himself with? You’re weaker than I hoped—but it will have to do.”

My throat sputters a laugh. “When I send you to meet the Angel, Thalion, you’d better find a good place to hide in the Aether.” My lungs are ready to give out, but I’m not done yet. “Because the moment I arrive, your soul is mine.”

My ears barely catch his hum before shadows descend on me once more. Time loses meaning in a haze of agony. My body feels distant, disconnected. The edges of my vision darken…

The lab fades away, and I’m standing in a meadow filled with silver flowers that glow iridescent in the different colors of the night sky. A mix of blues and purples swirl above, highlighting the red-tinged trees lining the clearing around—

“Ariella?” The voice is soft, achingly familiar.

Mom?

I whirl to find my mother standing before me, exactly as I remember—long silver hair, kind eyes, gentle smile.

“My brave girl.” She reaches for me and I freeze, pain forgotten as her arms wrap around my form. She feels real. Solid.

This can’t be a dream.

“How?” My voice breaks. “You’re dead.”

“Death is not the end, my love.” Her hand strokes my hair like she used to so many years ago, and I realize my body is trembling when she begins swaying us in a calming gesture. “What’s happening, Ariella? Why are you here? ”

My head shakes as I pull away from her hold, checking my clothes to find them devoid of blood and tears. “Am I dead?”

“No,” she insists, her hands twitching in my direction before she folds them in front of her. “But you must be close, so there are things you need to know before you go back.” Go back?

Her silver hair cascades over her shoulders like liquid essence, a soft glow emanating from the strands. She’s draped in a flowing gown that clings to her body as if it was made for her, highlighting every little detail. It somehow seems appropriate, though. Her eyes—sharp and unwavering—hold the same quiet strength I remember, though concern lingers in their depths. There’s an aura about her that seems ethereal in nature, but not overwhelming or wrong.

The meadow hums faintly beneath my feet, the sensation subtle but rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Silver flowers shift around us, their petals almost luminous, though no breeze stirs the air. At the edge of the clearing, the trees loom tall and imposing, their branches curling inward as though they’re watching—silent sentinels framing this impossible moment.

I take her in, memorizing the details—the faint crease in her brow, the way her lips press together, hesitant, as though she’s weighing every word before she speaks. She looks…alive. More vivid and real than anything I’ve experienced outside of this place.

I can’t stop staring at her. This is surreal—I must be dreaming. Hallucinating, at the very least. I believe her, as my body doesn’t feel dead, but it’s certainly been fucked up enough for this to happen .

“First,” she starts, and my head snaps up to her tender eyes. She steps forward, grasping both of my hands in hers. I let her. “I am so incredibly proud of you, Ariella. You’ve grown into a beautiful, strong woman—I’ve wished each day that I could be there with you and watch you become exactly who you were meant to be.”

I scoff. “A monster?” Something akin to what I think shame feels like burns in my chest for the first time in my life. “A killer? That’s who I’m meant to be?”

Her gaze softens further, and she leans in, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “No, my love. Your strength, your skills—they are a reflection of the life you’ve endured, of the battles you’ve fought to survive. They were born from necessity, shaped by a realm that demanded them of you. But they are not who you are. You are so much more than the sum of what you’ve done to survive.”

She tilts her chin down so that our gazes are level, cupping my face. “You are exactly who you need to be; how you were forced to get here does not make you less worthy of the woman you’ve become.”

I—

I do not know what to say, let alone even think .

Her smile turns knowing, squeezing parts of my chest I never wanted to acknowledge again. “The realm needs you, Ariella. The Accord is dying—it is your duty to retrieve the artifacts and forge a new one before it's too late.”

“How? I don’t even know where to find the artifacts. Where do I even take them? The Aether? ”

She nods once. “Trust your instincts. The artifacts are not pre-designated objects, but instead ones that hold strong sentiment to you alone. Their essence will leave a mark on your realm so unyielding that the Accord will be able to use them in binding both realms together.” Her form starts to fade, her brows creasing as she realizes. "Only you can determine what they are from these words: what was stolen, yet always yours. What was broken, yet gave life once more. What was lost, yet grief still unites. Half binds all."

I blink, but she continues. “You’re stronger than you know, Ariella. You must hurry.” She’s barely a flicker of light now—or is it me that’s fading?

“Wait!” I reach for her, my hand grasping air with a desperation I cannot describe. “What happens if we fail? What—”

“Chaos,” she whispers as everything goes black. “All will fall to chaos…”

I startle awake, lurching forward from the abhorrent smell being held under my nose. I gag, which forces more blood up, but I’m too dizzy to do more than let it drain itself from my mouth. My back slams into the chair as one of the guards shoves at my head—the foolish idiot is lucky I’m still strapped to this fucking thing.

I’d bet he wouldn’t be so confident if I wasn’t.

“Tomorrow, we begin,” Thalion announces, his boots scraping against stone as he paces before me. “I am merciful, so you may rest for the night. After all, it wouldn’t do to have you too damaged before we start. ”

My throat burns as I try to swallow around what must be swelling. My restraints make a mockery of me as I force myself to remain still, watching him through one good eye. The other pulsates uncomfortably, and I’m uncertain if it will still work if not healed soon.

The king smirks as he studies my battered form. “It really is quite fascinating how much pain you can endure. I am almost impressed. I look forward to seeing just how much essence you can handle before your mind fractures.” His footsteps echo against the walls as he leaves, taking his sentries with him. Thank fuck.

I wait until their steps fade before allowing my head to fall back. Shit, everything hurts. My ribs protest with each breath, and I’m certain at least three are broken—though I know that’s a generous estimate. Blood continues to seep from various wounds, but the flow is sluggish now. Given just how tired I feel, I’m guessing I lost more than I noticed.

Slowing my breaths to a more calm rhythm, my mother’s words echo in my head. That wasn’t a dream—it felt too real. Visceral. I’d left my body for Angel knows how long and was somehow taken to her. Where is she?

But the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her voice…I can still feel traces of her essence lingering on my skin. My working eye burns, but I blink the tears away. Now is not the time to reminisce on our memories or process whatever the fuck just happened.

Back to square one then, but with shifted objectives. Kill the king. Find the artifacts. Fix the Accord .

I’ll think about my mother later. Right now, I need to get the fuck out of here. If that fraud of a king so much as touches Caspian, the realm will pay the price of my rage.

I direct my awareness past the injuries, looking for anything I can use. Essence pulses weakly under my skin, fighting through the drug that’s still in my system. I focus inward, aiding it as I coax the essence to the surface. The connection is still foggy, making it feel like I’m wading through mud, but I can sense my strands responding. Their desperation to save us.

I grit my teeth against the pain and pull harder on my essence—I am stronger than anything that man could do to me. It senses my urgency and moves faster, pushing away the toxin. Leaving the essence to figure out the rest, I work on the metal restraints. They’re tight, attached to the chair, but not impossible to break. I brace my ankles, using their cuffs as supports, before shifting all my focus, strength, and energy into my right arm. A small sound escapes my lips at the effort, but I can feel the slightest give to the metal. If I can just—there. A small crack appears along the cuff.

I can do this.

Time passes with agonizing slowness as I work at the restraint. My head pounds, vision swimming from the effort of fighting both my injuries and the suppression drug. But gradually, methodically, the metal weakens from my efforts.

The snap of the first restraint breaking is thunderous in the silent lab. I freeze, straining to catch any sign I’ve been heard. Nothing. I’m the only living body in here, thank the Angel .

My wrist is raw and bleeding, but I ignore it as I examine the other. The essence has reached a place that I am able to tug on it just a little, but enough that my umbral strand responds. The cuffs are sealed closed with not even a lock, which is just my fucking luck. It will take more effort to open them, but I’ve no other choice.

I guide the shadows into the restraints, forcing them to expand and destroy them from the inside. One by one, they crack and split until finally I’m free.

Standing proves to be a fucking challenge. My legs tremble with such force they threaten to give out with each step, but I manage to walk up the steps and make it to the cracked door, peering out into the dimly lit corridor.

A single guard stands watch, his back to me. Foolish amateur.