Chapter 3 #2
Her silence stretches like a taut string before she finally speaks.
“You acknowledge the risk. You are the risk, brother. If the sigils fail, they could lead the demon straight to us. To her.” She turns slightly, her profile sharp against the dawn.
“Have you ever considered that if we can’t find her, it means Gygarth can’t either? And maybe it’s better that way?”
I scoff, the sound bitter in my throat. “What are you saying? That it’s better for Amara to remain lost?”
Her stony gaze flicks to me. “We both know what will happen if we fail. She’ll die, and your child will be infused with the void’s power, just as you were. But if she stays hidden, she and the child might be spared. Is that not worth giving up this quest?”
Her words strike deep, drawing anger from a place I’ve tried to bury.
“You forget,” I say, my voice edged with ire. “Gygarth is not the only one who wishes Amara harm. The Golden Son is a part of this, and whatever the Ithranor are planning, it was worth crossing me to get to her. Do you think I can just leave her to that fate?”
Zyphoro shakes her head, a dry snicker slipping from her lips. “You could have stopped this.”
“How could I have known the Golden Son had allied with the Ithranor?” I reply tersely.
“Not that,” she snaps, spinning to face me.
Her black curls whip in the wind, framing her storm-lit eyes as they burn into mine.
“You knew what she was before she ever set foot in Baev’kalath, but you said nothing.
Did nothing. You kept her as your little secret, all the while knowing what she would become.
You knew she would be more than just a prize to Gygarth and his wretched consort, Lanneth.
She would be coveted and feared by every Fae in existence, because she’s Awakened.
You knew what that meant, and instead of doing what was necessary, what was expected of you, you let her live.
You should have killed her in that forest.”
The venom in her words ignites something primal in me. My teeth bare, smoke curling between my fingers like serpents in the air, but Zyphoro does not flinch. Nothing ever frightens Zyphoro.
“How dare you,” I hiss, my voice low and venomous. “I told you everything in confidence, and now you use it against me?”
But her gaze is not laced with malice or hatred. It holds something heavier. Sadder. A truth I refuse to accept.
“If you had killed her then,” she says, her voice quiet now, almost a whisper, “she wouldn’t be suffering as she is now. She wouldn’t have become the weapon everyone desires. The tool they will destroy each other to possess.”
“You forget, sister,” I snarl through clenched teeth, the smoke around me thickening into an ominous mist. “If not for Amara, you would still be rotting in that enchanted cage. Lanneth would still rule, and our father would still be her puppet.”
A ghost of a grin tugs at her lips, one laced with resignation, not humor.
She bows her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her.
“That’s the difference between us, brother.
The difference that has always been.” She lifts her gaze.
“I would have stayed in that cage gladly if it meant preventing this cursed cycle. If it meant sparing you from being bound to Gygarth’s shadow.
But you…you weren’t willing to sacrifice your happiness for hers.
You wanted her too much to see reason. You convinced yourself you could save her. ”
“I tried to resist,” I say, the admission barely a breath.
Her laugh pierces the air, mocking and bitter. “And yet you failed miserably.”
I step closer, my anger barely contained. “Then why are you here? Why bother helping me when you think she’s better off lost?”
Her gaze hardens, her expression unreadable as she raises a hand. Shadows twist and writhe around her fingers, coalescing into a dagger as dark as night.
“You know why,” she says softly. The blade gleams menacingly as it catches the faintest light.
“I’m here in case you fail again…or if you succeed.
I am the bones that rattle beneath the rock, the reminder of a fate written in blood that cannot be unwritten, no matter how much you wish it so.
And I will have my vengeance, Daedalus. Whether it be on Gygarth… or you.”
I know exactly what she speaks of, and the thought of her trapped in that cage for all those years grips my chest with an iron fist, each breath crushed beneath the weight of regret.
“You were lost to me,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with unspoken sorrow.
“Just as much as you were to everyone else. I couldn’t help you, Zyphoro.
” A bitter sting pricks behind my eyes, and I swallow hard against it.
“I couldn’t even remember that I’d lost you. ”
A wry smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, sharp and knowing, as she waves her fingers.
The shadowy blade in her hand dissipates into nothingness, a phantom of her fury.
“I wish I could believe that, brother,” she says, her tone laced with quiet cynicism.
“I truly do. But as every creature who’s had the misfortune of loving you learns sooner or later, you and deceit walk hand in hand. ”
Before I can muster another word, she ensures she has the last. Her wings burst from her back, the motion so forceful it tears through the air with a whip-crack sound.
The updraft nearly stings my face, forcing me to turn away as feathers scatter like dark embers in the wind.
She steps backward without hesitation, falling over the edge, her silhouette vanishing from sight before reappearing in a graceful arc.
She swoops across the deck and climbs into the sky, weaving effortlessly among the seabirds as she heads for the shore, her figure cutting through the burnt orange glow of dawn.
“I would have saved you if I could,” I murmur to her distant form, though I know my words will never reach her.
The descent down the ladder gives me far too much time to stew in my thoughts, her words lingering like echoes in my head.
Zyphoro has never softened her truths, nor has she hidden the cold fact that she would kill me if it came to that.
I do not doubt her. In some strange, twisted way, I appreciate her candor.
She has made my failings unmistakably clear, and if I fall short again, knowing she would end me feels almost.. .reassuring.
When my boots finally hit the deck, I hear a rough cough behind me.
Turning, I find Orios standing there, and as always, I’m struck by the sheer immensity of him.
Even stripped of his Reaper’s armor, he remains a towering monolith of muscle with his long, thick black hair tied back in a knot, though lately, he leaves much of it loose to fall over his broad shoulders, the dark strands framing his stony expression.
Orios never waits for orders. By the time I notice a task needs doing, he’s already halfway through it, no matter how grueling or thankless the work.
It’s a quality I respect, perhaps the one I admire most. But above all, what sets him apart is his silence.
Unlike the other Fae aboard this damned vessel, who seem to relish every opportunity to point out their prince’s flaws, Orios keeps his opinions and his judgments to himself.
For that alone, he’s earned my favor.
“Rook,” Orios says, his tone steady. “Do you want us to go ashore armored and armed?”
I appreciate his vigilance. “Only lightly. It’s best we move among the people quietly and avoid drawing attention. Wear layers. Hide your runes.”
He nods, still so rigid and disciplined, as if he were back in line with the Reapers on the sparring grounds. “As you wish.”
With a sharp turn, he heads below deck, his every step a stark reminder of Baev’kalath. Much like that cursed ladder is of losing my wings.
Word has reached me of the chaos consuming my kingdom.
Lady Ilyra’s spies have proven invaluable.
Their messages carried on the wind, painting a grim portrait of what’s unfolding.
As one of my most trusted advisors, she governs in my absence, but even her influence falters.
The noble thrall houses, already fractious, refuse to yield, their infighting so bitter that the Legion of Saints roams freely, unchecked and unchallenged.
The Sundered Kingdoms are living up to their name in ways I never dared imagine.
While the Mordorin holds dominion over the Untold Sea, no Fae stands to oppose the human army on the mainland.
I tighten my jaw, a wave of guilt and dread crashing over me. Baev’kalath crumbles in my absence while I chase something I desire more. More than my kingdom. More than my duty.
And when I return, if I return, I may find nothing waiting for me but ash and ruin.
The world I knew may be gone, overtaken by the very enemies I once swore to hold at bay.
Their banners might hang from the towers I was meant to protect.
Their laws written over the bones of my people.
I may come back to silence, to strangers, to a kingdom that no longer remembers my name.But I would make the same choice again.
Again and again.
Century after century.
For even the smallest chance that she might smile at me once more…and say her heart is still mine.