Chapter 2
Von
F ind her.
With every strike of my phantom heart, that message rang out. Again, and again. A steady, constant thrum pushing adrenaline into my bloodless veins. Pushing me into madness as I grappled with reality. I had lost her. My mate. My Sage.
But I would get her back.
It was a vow I had roared for all to hear, to the heavens, to the Creator above. I didn’t care what it would take. Rivers of blood, piles of bones, souls upon souls—whatever the cost, I would pay it for her, without hesitation.
I knew she might hate me for what I was willing to do in her name, but that’s why she had always been the hero, and I the villain.
With my shadows clawing at the air behind me, I stormed into a cell at the very back of my dungeon, in the underbelly of my obsidian castle. The air was thick, riddled with the stench of rot, shit, and piss.
In the dim blue firelight provided by the braziers placed outside the cells, my eyes locked on the redheaded ass-licker. Before he could loosen his brown-tipped tongue, the iron of my fist smashed into his jaw, sending him careening to the floor.
I barely recognized my own voice, more demented creature than immortal, as I demanded, “Where is Soren?”
“Aggressive,” Folkoln said as he strolled around me, watching Arkyn as he rolled onto his side, choking and sputtering. “But tell me, brother, if you snap his jaw off, how will he tell you the information you seek?”
Ignoring him, I grabbed hold of Arkyn’s collar and lifted him from the cell floor. I shoved him against the wall, teeth gnashing as I reiterated, “Where is he?”
“I told you before, he’s probably at the castle,” he sputtered, his hands grabbing hold of my wrists, squirming like a maggot covered in its own filth as he tried to fight my unbreakable hold.
“He’s not.” I squeezed my fist, cinching the cloth tighter, allowing him a fraction of the air he needed to properly breathe.
I could have easily snatched the air from his lungs without lifting a finger, but right now, more than ever, I needed to use my hands.
I needed to feel the crux of pain as I split my knuckles open, needed to feel every bit of it so I could stay grounded in my cause.
A flutter of wings sounded, followed by light footsteps.
“I found him, my king,” Fallon’s voice came from the cell door .
My eyes remained on Arkyn. “Where?”
“In Belamour.”
I shoved Arkyn into the wall, the volcanic glass spiderwebbing with deep fissures. Releasing him from my chokehold, he slid to the floor, gulping down mouthfuls of air.
Turning, I faced Fallon.
Her eyes stretched wide, the air in the back of her throat catching. I was no stranger to the look she gave me, my immortal ears familiar with the whisper of a breath faltering. It was the same response everyone else seemed to emit whenever they saw me, now more than ever—
Fear.
After the Three Spinners agreed to help me get Sage back, I had just barely wrangled my beast form into submission, but he had not left me unmarked.
My eyes were stained an inky, otherworldly black.
My ears, sharpened into points, like two daggers, remained, as well as the menacing horns.
My skin was stained with bolts of onyx as if I was the conduit between the heavens and the earth, struck by the electricity produced from warring clouds.
In truth, when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I no longer recognized myself, but that disconnect was not because of my appearance. It was deeper than flesh and bone, and it went directly to the core of my being.
If I ever had any humanity in me, it had been destroyed when she died.
When I lost Sage the first time, when our babe died with her, I fell into the abyss of darkness.
There, in the swirling pit of emptiness, I was forged into the hunter, my task at the forefront of my mind—tracking down the immortal who murdered my mate and my child.
I had vowed to make Nicholas suffer, ten-fold the amount he had inflicted upon her.
And that was exactly what I had done, before I ended his miserable life.
Now, I was being forged into that same creature, but this time, it was different. Although the years were long, I had hope back then. I’d known Sage would reincarnate, and eventually, we would be reunited.
But now I knew the truth. She would not.
And it changed everything.
It had changed me .
It had made me . . . whatever I was now.
“Show me,” I said to Fallon.
“Alright.” She nodded, her form shifting into a raven.
“Lock the cell,” I directed Folkoln, his reply lost as my umbra swept around me, taking me to the Living Realm.
The Jewel of Edenvale was going to shit, and it was going to shit fast.
For hundreds of years, Belamour had been a sanctuary for the wealthy and the upper class due to its proximity to the castle, which had traditionally housed a great deal of the monarchy’s army.
But when news had spread of Aurelius’s and the mortal king’s deaths, Edenvale had been thrust into chaos, fumbling to decide on a new heir—the mortal king’s young son or his estranged nephew.
As the idiots of the court argued over which one to choose, mortals did as they always did when they had no authority to answer to—they began to pillage, turning their sights on the richest city in Edenvale first.
In less than a few weeks, a good portion of the opulent, indulgent city was left in ruin.
The once polished, brick-paved streets were full of mud and excrement.
The stained-glass windows were shattered, the stores gutted and ransacked, though some establishments and houses had been left untouched, Sage’s and my manor included.
When my winds had whispered to me about what was happening in Belamour, I’d come here and placed wards around the gothic manor I had built for Sage—ensuring it would not be harmed.
During the too-short time we spent together, the memories of that place were something I cherished, and I would do everything to guard it, to ensure it would still be standing when I finally brought her home.
Fallon flew beside me as I walked, her wings held straight out as she drifted on a pocket of air. Bits of ash rained down on us. A crackling, popping fire chewed at a building to my right. People dashed toward it, carrying buckets of water as they attempted to quench the ravenous flames.
The boisterous laughter of a drunk, copulating pair caught my attention—the man’s dirty, unwashed ass on full display as he jerked into the woman, his trousers slung down by his feet.
I did not see how she could find any pleasure, all things considered, but she had her head tossed back and was moaning in ecstasy.
Mortals.
What a peculiar bunch.
Fallon tucked her wings in as she descended to the ground, shifting into her human form at the same time. She nodded toward an inn a few buildings down. “That’s it.”
Like the majority of the buildings on this street, the inn looked to have seen much better days. The windows were boarded up with slats of wood, and the door looked like it was one swift kick away from falling off its hinges.
As we walked up to it, I looked up at the cracked wood sign swinging above the entrance.
The Little French Cat Inn.
I quirked a brow at the strange name, repeating my earlier sentiments—
Mortals.
When we walked inside, the scent of ale and damp wood was strong.
People sat at their tables, hunched over their drinks as they spoke to one another.
Their conversations fell short as they turned toward me, horror spreading from face to face, passing like a torch.
I scanned each one. Not a single, sniveling Soren to be found.
“Where did you see him?” I asked Fallon.
“He was over there, sitting at the bar,” she replied, nodding in the indicated direction.
“Well, he’s not there now,” I observed before I started to walk between the tables, my bootheels sticking to the ale-covered floors.
Fallon scurried behind me. “My king, where are you going?”
I eyed the face of the weathered innkeeper. “To have a little conversation.”
As I approached the man, he reared back into the cupboard behind him, causing the bottles and cups to chatter. I slid onto a wooden stool and dropped my elbow to the bar top with a loud thunk . The man nearly jumped out of his swiftly paling skin.
“C-c-c-an I get you something?” he stammered.
“The hospitality,” I said with a saccharine grin, one that quickly fell from my lips. “I’m looking for a boy around eighteen years of age. Dirty blond hair. Brown eyes.” I raised my hand to just below my shoulder. “About this tall.” I wiggled my fingers. “Missing a few of these.”
The innkeeper glanced at the stairwell.
That one look told me all I needed to know.
“Room.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t ask it like one.
He swallowed harshly, his Adam’s apple performing a desperate bob, as if it were attempting to squirm out of him, something I imagined his soul wanted to do as well.
“The king asked you a question,” Fallon grated. “I suggest you answer it.”
“You best listen to her. I’m a desperate soul, and you know what they say about desperate souls, don’t you?” I paused for a moment, my gaze shifting lazily from one side of the room to the other. “They’ll burn it all to the ground to get what they want.”
“Second floor. Room twenty-four,” he squeaked, clenching the countertop behind him .
I tapped the counter twice, my rings clattering against the stone top. “Thank you, boss.”
My shadows swept around me, taking me to the second floor.
I walked by the first three rooms, stopping when I found the one I was looking for. My knuckles drummed gently against the door as I purred, “Housekeeping.”
I could hear the little worm’s heart pounding on the other side.
My hand lowered to the handle, but it wouldn’t twist. I rolled my eyes. Mortals and their fickle locks. A blast of my angry winds sent the door flying open, smashing it into oblivion against the wall on the other side of the room.
Soren was in a crouched position, a blade in his good hand. “Don’t come any closer,” he sputtered, voice trembling.
Fallon’s footsteps sounded as she came running behind me.
“Took you long enough,” I teased her under my breath.
“I mean it,” Soren warned, the blood chased from his skin, turning it ashen.
A flick of my eyes summoned a blast of air to smash into Soren’s hand, knocking the weapon onto the floor. His face snapped to the side, his body tense as he decided what to do—make a run for the weapon or try something else.
Unfortunately for him, I was in no mood to play.
Harnessing the darkness, I flashed from where I stood and resurfaced behind him. My hand wrapped around his throat as I said, “You’re coming with me.”