Chapter 55
“For Boreas’s sake,” Marshen mumbled.
We walked in silent anticipation, nothing around us other than waves of red rock wherever the flame illuminated. Beyond was plain onyx, no end in sight.
“Here, hold this,” I told Marshen, handing him the flame.
I took out the compass. Shit. The water from the Depths or the lake—or both—must have ruined it.
The north-pointing needle was pointing everywhere but north.
It swivelled left to right without ever settling.
We had no recollection of the time of day, we had no idea where we were.
All we knew was that we had to keep moving forward.
My stomach grumbled, my feet itched, and exhaustion was getting the better of me. Not to mention the skin irritation from walking for hours in wet clothes and shoes.
“Do you think it’s nighttime?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. But I’m starving and tired, so yeah, it’s probably the middle of the night.”
“Can we rest for a bit?” I asked. “I wish I could change into something dry.”
The air felt cool against my exposed shoulders, but at least my camisole was almost dry.
I was barefoot in my undergarments, sitting on my shirt with my back against the wall.
Marshen was in a similar situation. We hung our trousers and socks on two rocks that jutted out of the rugged cave wall, with the hopes of them drying.
I took out my waterskin and hoped that the bone-infested water hadn’t seeped its way through it.
I asked Marshen to smell it before we gulped down half of it.
Four blemished apples rested on top of a soaked blanket.
That was all the food that we had left. I handed one to Marshen and took one for myself, saving the other two for later, despite our lingering appetite. Half a waterskin and two apples.
Will we be rewarded with Dunehaven, or will we starve to death?
I thought about what we had faced, wondered about what was next. I drifted off into a terror-filled sleep that had me jolting up in sweat. My breaths came deep and urgent. I tried to compose myself, unsure if I was out for minutes or hours. I gasped the moment I looked to my right.
Was it daytime?
Based on the fact that our clothes had almost dried, I would say we’d slept for at least a few hours.
“Marshen, get up,” I urged, nudging his leg.
We hurried towards the minuscule speck of light that shone at the end of the tunnel.
It started small, but moving towards it, the little bead gradually morphed into a deviated beam of light, the shape of a floating curtain.
We advanced steadily, carefully, until we could finally make out what it was that we were desperately approaching.
An entrance to another cavern.
I bit my lower lip, my brows knitted as I realised how the light came about. The sunlight was not supposed to be there.
Crumbled rocks lay strewn on the cave floor as if someone managed to bombard their way through the exit. Not just someone…
Burn marks.
And when a small whiff of an unfortunately familiar stench reached my nostrils, it triggered an instant fear that released a shiver along my spine. “The Phoenix was here,” I asserted. My face puckered as if I had eaten a sour lemon as the memory of Aegir’s burned side resurfaced.
He burned for me, yet he said her name in no longer than one second.
I pushed my thoughts aside, focusing on my surroundings.
“Well, at least we can say that we found the exit,” Marshen said.
“Yes. We did. But so did the Naaris before us.” They managed to enter through what was deeply hidden…they managed to enter Ilma unseen through Crystal Bay. “They must have some kind of external help, some masked ally, I’m sure of it.” I spun around, trying to make sense of my setting.
“I think you might be onto something. They’re suspiciously sneaky, and not to mention the fact that they managed to hinder the people of Ilma from accessing their powers,” Marshen added.
“And they found the need to disturb what is sacred to Ramel, to Amfir,” I murmured.
I could tell that what they inflicted here was just that.
The slope of soot-tinted rocky terrain, the scorched logs, and the shrivelled black roots gave it away.
To say nothing of what looked like a sarcophagus in the centre of the vaulted cavern, its slab fractured in two at its side.
My throat worked. We forced ourselves in between rocks and stalagmites that rose out of the grainy floor.
I planted my feet and pushed myself along their slopes.
I dared to peek inside, and so, I bravely took another two steps.
I sometimes wish that I hadn’t done that, but curiosity always managed to get the best of me.
What I saw was a withered, mummified figure, its once-preserving embalming strips charred and brittle.
It was hard to distinguish between desiccated flesh and scorched bandages, yet I could clearly observe its sunbaked, claylike mouth in between burnt strips.
Agape, as if caught in an eternal, soundless scream.
Its hands were also exposed, blackened bony digits rested on its lower belly.
They appeared tight and clenched as if they were holding something precious.
But there was nothing precious in that desecrated and singed sarcophagus.
“Let’s get the jolly fuck out of here,” Marshen urged the second he laid his eyes on the body.
“Yes,” I whispered. Yet for some reason, I remained stunned, feeling mournful and appalled as I looked into its hollow eye sockets.
I hated the Naaris the moment Selmira explained why we had to ration water, and then I hated them more when I was old enough to understand that they were the reason why I couldn’t seek the healer Priestesses of Ilma.
But now, now that I saw firsthand the disrespect and their destructive nature towards Amfir, towards my people—now I loathed them.
I loathed them with every fibre of my body.