28. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
W e stumble through the winding tunnel, the air damp and suffocating as we run, our feet slapping against the stone floor in a frantic rhythm. My breath comes in short gasps, my legs burning with every step. Solena is just as panicked, her usually nimble form stumbling as exhaustion grips her. Despite moving as fast as we can, we’re gaining not nearly enough ground.
Lanneth’s voice echoes through the fortress, growing louder with every passing second, her cruel laughter bouncing off the walls. “You cannot run, Amara! You cannot hide!”
There is no way out. I know this in my heart. Baev’kalath is a prison with no escape.
Solena cannot fly us away from here—she doesn’t have the strength. And even if she could, where would we go? We would never make it across the Untold Sea, just the two of us.
Lanneth will catch us eventually, and when she does…
Solena stumbles beside me, her breath ragged. “Amara,” she gasps, grabbing my arm to steady herself. “I can’t—”
“We have to keep moving!” I shout, fear twisting through me.
But as we round the next corner, we come to a sudden stop. There, standing in the middle of the tunnel, blocking our path like the worst possible omen, is the ghost of Baev’kalath.
It’s the last thing I want to see right now, and the shock on Solena’s face suggests she can’t decide what’s worse—that the ghost is real, or that I’m not afraid of it.
“Amara,” Solena whispers, fear seeping into her voice. “Do you know what that is?”
“Unfortunately,” I reply.
“You have finally awakened,” the ghost says, its voice a low, hollow echo.
“Yes,” I exhale. “I understand now.”
“Are you ready to run?”
I blink, the weight of the ghost’s words sinking in. My heart hammers in my chest as I realize what it means.
“Yes,” I say, my voice trembling. “Yes, I’m ready.”
A door, hidden in the stone, creaks open beside us.
“Climb the stairs that do not exist,” the ghost intones, “to the room of nothing.”
Solena glances at me, confusion clouding her face, but I tug her forward. We don’t have a choice.
I drag her through the door, then we sprint down the dimly lit halls, every turn a fevered guess, my senses straining for the sound of Blades in pursuit, or worse—Lanneth’s maddened voice. Solena stumbles behind me, her questions barely registering as I fixate on what I must find. The stairs that do not exist . But the endless, identical corridors make everything blur together, and doubt creeps in with every step.
Suddenly, I skid to a halt, Solena crashing into my back.
Ahead, a shimmer flickers between the two branching corridors—just like the ghost had said. The stairs are there, though I can’t see them. Only the faint glimmer gives them away. My pulse quickens as I glance down at my hand. It’s healed. Too healed. I can see the shimmer, can feel the veil of magic between realities, but it’s hazy. Incomplete.
I know what this means. The only way to tear down the veil is through pain.
I have no blade, no way to hurt myself in this barren hallway.
I take a deep breath and turn to Solena, my heart hammering. “Break my finger.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief. “Pardon?”
“There’s no time to explain,” I say with urgency, thrusting my hand toward her.
“Yes, well, perhaps you better,” she says firmly, shaking her head. “I will not.”
The sounds of approaching Blades—footsteps, metal clanging—fill the hall. Lanneth’s screeches echo down the stone passage, closer now.
“You heard her. I refuse to be trapped here. Baev’kalath cannot be my end.” I swallow the fear crawling up my throat. “Please, Solena.”
Solena glances over her shoulder, the voices growing louder. Her hesitation is agony, and I nearly take matters into my own hands when she finally grabs my wrist. With a sickening snap, she breaks my finger.
The pain shoots up my arm, blinding and hot, but I bite down hard, swallowing the scream that burns in my throat. Tears sting my eyes as I turn back to the shimmer, watching as the stairs slowly materialize, step by step. But they’re still not fully solid.
“Another,” I grit through clenched teeth, the dizziness threatening to drag me under.
Solena hesitates for only a second before taking another finger and snapping it cleanly. The pain is so intense I nearly double over, muffling my scream in my sleeve. The world tilts, and for a moment, everything spins, but then—the stairs are there. Fully formed. Solid.
“Go,” I manage, dragging Solena forward as we climb the ethereal steps. My hand dangles uselessly at my side, the throb of pain a constant reminder that we are teetering between life and death.
“Come on,” I urge, tugging Solena as the steps flicker in and out of existence, and she falters, her eyes wide with fear. But I tighten my grip on her, pushing us forward.
Ahead, the door looms, the ghost’s words lingering in my mind. The room of nothing.
We halt before the door, memories of the last time flooding back—just emptiness beyond it. I cling to the hope that the pain surging through me will show me what I need this time. My hand trembles as I push the door open.
What greets me is no longer a barren room. A cage dominates the space. Inside, there’s a lavish bed draped in silk covers, a velvet chair beside a pile of worn books, and a table laid out with silver platters of food and jugs of water and wine. It’s a beautifully curated prison, designed for comfort and elegance—but a cage, nonetheless.
And then she appears. She glides past the bars, her fingers trailing along the cold metal. Her blue-black hair frames her sharp, delicate face, and her gray eyes glint like polished slate. A mischievous smile curls on her lips, and when she giggles, the sound is haunting, almost hypnotic.
“Are you ready to run, Amara?” Her voice is light, playful, as if we’re sharing a secret.
“It’s you,” I gasp. “The ghost.”
Her fingers tighten around the bars, pressing her face so close it’s almost as if she’s trying to break through. “No, not a ghost. Ghosts are dead. And I am very much alive—despite their best efforts.” She tips her head toward the lock. “Now, be a dear and let me out, won’t you?”
I take a hesitant step forward, but Solena’s hand shoots out, gripping my arm tightly. Her touch grounds me, making me question myself.
“How can I trust you?” I ask, my voice shaky.
The woman tilts her head, her smile never faltering. “Trust? There’s nothing I could say now—or before Lanneth finds you, drags you down those stairs, and locks you in a cage like mine—that would convince you of my character. Instead, I’ll ask you one thing—do you want to die?”
My throat tightens. I shake my head.
“Then. Open. The. Cage.”
“Amara,” Solena hisses, her warning clear as my hand moves toward the handle.
But I can’t stop. We need to escape Baev’kalath, and I’ll just have to take my chances with this specter. My fingers wrap around the handle, and I pull. To my surprise, it opens effortlessly; the door creaking as it swings wide.
The woman steps out, her entire form cloaked in black leather fitted to her like armor. Tall and statuesque, she exudes a presence that’s both intimidating and captivating. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, dangerous and untouchable.
“Why didn’t you just open it yourself?” I ask, still shocked. “It wasn’t locked.”
Her smirk deepens at the corner of her mouth. “It was enchanted. Only I couldn’t open it.”
She steps across the threshold as if testing the ground beneath her, her excitement barely contained. Her foot lifts, then a pulse of power ripples through the room, strong enough to send Solena and me stumbling backward. The walls crack, splintering apart like shattered glass. The illusion is breaking, crumbling away, and for the first time, I see the truth of this room—the mirror-like glamor dissolving into nothingness.
“Time to go,” the woman says with a thrill of finality. She grabs my hand, her fingers curling around my broken ones, and I bite back a whimper of pain.
“She must come too,” I say quickly, nodding toward Solena, my voice tight with desperation.
The woman’s eyes flick toward Solena with clear disdain. “Fae cannot be trusted.”
“You’re Fae!” I yell, my voice filled with pain and frustration.
“Exactly,” she sighs, exasperated, but relents. “Fine. She comes.”
She takes Solena’s hand too, and in a swirl of smoke and shadow, we’re pulled into the void, slipping through the cold nothingness. Moments later, we land with a hard thud in the courtyard, the rough stone beneath our feet grounding us back to reality.
For a fleeting moment, hope blooms in my chest—I convince myself I’ve made the right choice. This stranger, this woman who walks with the void, must possess the power and will to free us from Baev’kalath. But that hope shatters the instant I realize we are surrounded by Blades.
From the balcony above, Lanneth emerges. Arax dangles from a tendril of smoke, his face bruised and bloodied, his arms bound. The queen is calm as ever—until her gaze locks onto the woman who now stands beside me.
So this is what Lanneth looks like when she’s afraid?
“What have you done?” Lanneth screams, her voice cracking with fury. “Kill them! Destroy them! But spare the human!”
The Blades draw their swords and close in. Solena and I instinctively backpedal, but there’s nowhere to go, only the jagged rocks and crashing ocean below. The courtyard is yet another cage. My heart races, panic rising like bile in my throat. But the woman beside me... she’s still smiling, as if this is all part of her plan.
Her eyes flick toward the docks, where the Mordorin ship bobs at the far end of the wharf, repaired and good as new since the Stormwyrm’s attack. She glances at Solena.
“Are your little wings strong enough to fly you both to that ship?” she asks, her voice dripping with mockery.
Solena bristles, insult flashing in her eyes. “Yes. I can get us there.”
“Then go,” the woman groans, exasperated. “Must I spell it out for you?”
Solena clenches her jaw, clearly biting back a tirade, but then shifts her focus. Her wings unfurl and she hooks her arms under mine, lifting me off the ground. We soar into the air, the ship in sight as we rush toward it.
But before we can breathe a sigh of relief, several Blades summon their own wings, launching into the sky to pursue us. Panic grips my chest again, the sound of their wings beating like thunder behind us.
We’ll never outrun them.
Suddenly, a wall of smoke erupts from the ground, surging upward like a black tidal wave, towering so high it vanishes into the clouds. The Blades falter, gasping in shock, while the woman's laughter echoes through the courtyard.
“Surprise,” she giggles, flicking her wrists with a devilish grin. “I. Am. Free.”
The Blades reel back, their flight cut short as the smoke consumes them. Solena flies harder, her wings straining with the effort as we near the ship, leaving the chaos behind.
The Blades recover from their shock; they waste no time setting upon the mysterious woman, swords raised, their wings slicing through the air with deadly precision. But she doesn’t flinch. With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of smoke burst from the ground like serpents, wrapping around the legs of the nearest Blade and yanking him to the earth with a bone-crunching thud.
Another Blade dives at her from above, but she vanishes into the void just before his sword cleaves the space where she stood. He stumbles, caught off-guard, and before he can recover, she reappears behind him, a cruel smile playing at her lips. A whip of smoke cracks through the air and lashes at him, sending him careening into the stone wall.
More Blades surround her, their swords gleaming in the moonlight. But instead of fleeing, she stands her ground, her body flickering between solid form and smoke. Each step they take is met with black wisps that bind their limbs, slowing their advance. Shadows dance around her like loyal soldiers, her power swelling with each passing moment. She’s toying with them, and I see it now—this is no ordinary Fae.
“Is this truly all you’ve got?” she sneers, her voice thick with mockery. “I expected more from the Blades of Baev’kalath.”
Despite her strength, the odds are stacked against her. More Blades swoop in, closing off every path of escape. Their swords cut through the swirling smoke, dispersing it but never quite reaching her. One Blade finally lands a hit, grazing her arm. She hisses in pain, eyes blazing with fury—then vanishes into the void. Just as suddenly, she reappears by the docks, her back to the water, a smirk curling her lips.
The Blades surge toward her again, but it’s too late. In a swirl of shadow and smoke, she leaps from the dock, landing gracefully aboard the ship, her feet barely making a sound on the wooden deck. She turns to face the Blades one last time, and with a wave of her hand, the air between them fills with a thick, impenetrable fog.
“Come along, darlings,” she calls, her voice ringing through the mist. “Our time here is done.”
Solena and I land on the ship just as the gangplank rises, the vessel beginning to pull away from the dock. I glance back through the fog, watching the Blades flounder, their wings flapping uselessly as they try to clear the smoke. Lanneth seethes on the balcony, her fury palpable, while Arax suffers beside her, bound and silent.
My heart lurches in my chest, panic flooding my veins.
“We can’t leave him!” I cry, desperation tightening my throat.
The woman sidles up beside me, her brow furrowed in confusion as she absorbs my frantic gaze. “Really? Him too?” she muses, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and irritation. “Why does a human have so many Fae in need of saving?”
I grip her arm with my good hand, desperation spilling over. “Please,” I beg, my voice cracking. “I freed you. Do this one thing for me.”
She gestures around us, to the ship engulfed in shadows and the swirling fog, her exasperation clear. “I believe I’ve already done plenty for you, Amara.”
“Please!” I plead, my voice trembling.
She heaves a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes as if I’ve asked her for a favor no one should be expected to grant. “Fine.”
With a loud pop, she vanishes into the void, and I barely have time to react before I see her reappear on the balcony beside Lanneth. My breath catches in my throat. I know what I asked for, but I never expected her to confront Lanneth directly. Even from here, I can see the way Lanneth shrinks before her, the queen’s haughty demeanor faltering. Their lips move in a silent exchange, and I would give anything to know what they’re saying. It doesn’t last long—just enough to unsettle the powerful queen.
The woman takes hold of Arax, and in another blink, they reappear on the deck beside me. She casts him to the ground with a careless flick, his body battered and broken, but alive.
“Happy now?” she asks, her tone laced with irritation and boredom. “Can we go?”
I nod, dropping to my knees beside Arax, cradling his head as his pained eyes flutter open.
“Let’s hope you’re as good at sailing as you are at playing with smoke,” Solena mutters from behind me, casting a wary glance at the woman.
The mysterious woman chuckles, the glint of amusement returning to her eyes as she brushes past us. “Sailing?” she muses, her voice filled with mischief. “Who said anything about sailing?”
And just like that, the ship lurches forward, not propelled by wind or water, but by the shadows themselves. The sea bends to her will, the ship gliding as if carried by invisible hands. I watch in awe as Baev’kalath drifts further into the fog, its dark spires disappearing into the night.
Just as I’m certain we’re safe, a blur catches my eye. A single Blade, emerging from the fog, hurls his sword toward the ship. It spins through the air, a silver arc of death aimed straight for the woman. I try to call out, but it happens too fast. The blade lodges itself in her back with a sickening thud.
She wavers in place, her body stiffening as the shock settles in. A thin stream of blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, and she raises a hand to wipe it away, staring at the crimson smear on her fingers with confusion.
Her teeth grit, her expression darkening as her gaze locks onto the lone Blade. She raises her hand, extends her fingers, and with a slow, deliberate clench of her fist, the Blade screams, his body disintegrating into ash that down into the sea.
Then, without another word, she collapses onto the deck.
Arax stirs, reaching out to me. “You must help her,” he says, his voice hoarse but urgent. “She is our only hope of surviving any of this.”
I trust Arax’s words without explanation. My fingers wrap around my rune necklace, the decision clear in my mind. But before I heal her, I must know one thing.
“Who is she?” I ask, my voice low, almost afraid of the answer.
Arax hesitates for a moment, his eyes distant as if dredging up memories from long ago.
“She is the bones that rattle beneath the rock,” he mutters darkly. “Her name is Zyphoro.”