Chapter 45
Nelle
Idrifted nowhere and everywhere.
My thoughts were a constant stream of darkness slipping through my mind.
All of it reminding me I was no one and nothing.
There was no point in fighting to free myself.
No reason for me to pick myself back up and trudge back to the tower.
I may as well lie here suffocating beneath the weight of eternal darkness.
I’d stay until my birthday had passed and a new terror strangled my will.
Graysen’s command would rouse me from this crypt below the Keep, and I’d be the one stepping up upon the auction block at the Witches Ball.
And then…
Then I’d enter the void where Hazus would collect my soul, make my final walk through the gates of Nine Hells, and be at rest.
Something sticky and wet dragged up my cheek.
A huff of breath warmed the chilled skin at my neck.
The strange sensation awoke me from my bleak thoughts.
My weary gaze slid sideways. The flashlight that had rolled free when I’d collapsed shone toward the wall blocking my escape, its dying beam a feeble push against the crushing darkness.
Its faint glow caught a shimmer, something wavering like smoke.
An otherworldly apparition. A ghostly trick of the mind.
Maybe my sanity had finally crumbled under the threat of my fate.
Claws scraped at stone. Then, a hard nudge rocked me.
It was real.
The wetness on my cheeks—real too.
My voice cracked. “Sage?”
Sage feverishly licked my neck like the puppy he once was, his whiskers tickling my skin. I’d stopped crying a while back, but I could feel more welling up inside. I didn’t know how long I’d lain on the dusty floor of the escape tunnel. How he’d even found me.
The wraith-wolf sprang into excited movement. He danced on the spot and let out a volley of barks that ricocheted down the passageway.
He wanted me to move. To rise. To follow.
But I was made of nothingness.
I had no will, no desire to do anything but lie here.
Down here, buried in stone without moonlight and sunshine, I’d succumb to stone sickness. Perhaps it would be a blessing to fall into hibernation rather than face the Witches Ball.
Sage stilled, ears flicking forward. His eerie silver eyes narrowed, wrinkles creasing along his snout as he bared his teeth. A low, angry growl rumbled from his barrel chest.
He wanted me on my feet. To keep fighting.
He refused to let me suffocate beneath the waves of hopelessness.
My breath whirled a tiny cloud of dust from the floor when I gasped, “I can’t…”
Sage padded forward, his eyes hooding further as he glared and huffed.
I raised a heavy hand to stroke across the cool fur of his cheek, the otherworldliness feathering and scattering between my fingers.
Home. Comfort. Safety. That’s what he felt like.
Sage’s presence seeped into the cracks and crevices, the deep fissures that had broken me.
Not enough to reforge me completely, but enough to get me to my feet.
“Alright, puppy. Okay…”
He wagged his tail and loosened an eager bark.
Exhaustion pulled at my limbs as I pushed myself up to sit on my knees.
I rubbed the heel of my palm over my sore, puffy eyes, and a bone-deep shiver rattled through me.
Even readjusting my shawl around my shoulders, opening the messenger bag, and digging out the spare flashlight felt like an enormous task.
Icy roughness abraded my skin when I braced a hand against the escape-tunnel wall to help myself stand.
I took a step forward back the way I’d come. The light sweeping ahead jittered in my shaky grip. But I could breathe a little easier with my free hand resting on the withers of my friend stalking beside me. Together, Sage and I pushed through oppressive darkness.
On and on we walked.
Time stretched endlessly.
Dust stirred under my lifeless pace as I followed the passageway and dragged myself up the hewn staircase, climbing up, up, up. But when I reached the entrance to the escape tunnel hidden within the library, the wall was solid.
I’d been locked in.
A jolt of terror slammed against my ribs.
Yet…
I glanced down at Sage and frowned. “How did you get in here?”
Sage, of course, couldn’t answer me. He didn’t seem worried either. He just stared up at me, tongue lolling and tail wagging in bright, excited sweeps.
The wall was indeed solid when I brushed my free hand over its jagged surface. How were we going to get out?
Sage snuffled along the wall until he found a spot that arrested his attention. The quick series of barks echoed down the passageway. I crouched down to investigate with my wraith-wolf hovering close by.
My flashlight skittered over the rock. At first, I saw nothing…
Until I spotted a small emblem.
It could easily be mistaken for scratches, but I recognized the markings because it was the same language inked on Graysen’s body—Ukkenskrit.
I pushed on the emblem, and the sound of shifting stone scraped at my ears as it slid inward. A loud click of the trigger before it sprang back into place.
My eyes sliced to Sage standing beside me, his gaze pinned on the tiny area where my finger rested on the markings of Ukkenskrit. How did he know? Was it like singing to like, his highly attuned senses, pulling him to the right spot, or had someone shown him?
The fleeting thought disappeared as fast as it had come when the secret door swung open to reveal Tabitha’s little reading nook with her romance books lining the walls.
The Keep was quiet as we moved through its hallways, the furniture and antiques restored to order after the brunnie’s rampage.
Brisk cold air ruffled my hair, its windy fingers slipping around my figure to tease my filthy dress as I left the Keep to wander across the cobblestones with Sage at my heels.
Night had fallen, and starlight pricked the dark sky.
A sharp tug of awareness lifted my gaze to the balcony that wrapped around the top of the tower. I couldn’t make out anything in the moonlight and shadows, but a part of me wondered if Graysen was up there, looking down.
I didn’t care.
I barely cared about anything.
The dark tide of hopelessness washed through me once more, heavy and merciless.
My weary footsteps were ponderous as I hauled myself up the tower’s staircase. It felt like walking to my doom. Everything had gone wrong. Every avenue I’d hunted down was shut to me. I wasn’t going to be able to save myself.
I swiped at the salty residue of tears trailing down my cheeks. Raw. Every inch of me felt raw and flayed. I’d broken so severely there was nothing left to put back together. I was just empty flesh stitched to bone and sinew.
The Crowthers had won.
They were going to sell me at the Witches Ball, and I was powerless to stop them.
I stepped onto the stone landing outside our quarters, my body swaying with fatigue and misery. Cold metal met my palm as I wrapped my fingers around the handle, levered, and pushed the door open, the weight of it as stout as a concrete seawall.
But instead of entering, I lingered at the threshold, feeling on the verge of breaking and weeping all over again. Wyrmfire burning in the sconces behind me seeped light between my feet, staining the carpet indigo, as dark and blue as my heart.