Chapter Grim
GRIM
There he was. The lost king was just a man sitting by himself at the bottom of the sea, far from any other prisoner. His back was to them, but Grim could see a flash of silver hair and luminous skin.
He was tied down not by one single chain but ten.
They snaked around his ankles, his wrists, his neck, his waist. Even so, he wasn’t fighting to get loose like the others. No, he seemed perfectly at peace, as if he hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t drowning anymore.
This was him. Grim was sure of it.
They didn’t waste a moment. They hurried closer, and when Grim could finally get a look at him, he observed that unlike the other prisoners, he was perfectly intact. His skin had not pruned and decayed over time. Sea creatures had not burrowed into his hair and skin.
The man’s eyes, however, were open and unblinking—and missing their pupils. There was only swirling, misty white. His spine was straight. His legs were crossed in front of him. He made no indication that he knew he was no longer alone.
“How do we wake him?” Oro asked.
Grim shrugged and snatched the dagger from Oro’s hand. He trained it against the prisoner’s neck.
And the man’s eyes rolled down from the back of his head. His pupils were silver, gleaming. Otherworldly.
He looked up at Grim and seemed almost disappointed.
“It’s time, then?” he said in a voice that echoed along the tide-swept walls.
Grim frowned. “Time for what?”
“For my story to come to an end,” he said simply. He gazed past Grim, at Oro.
“Three kings. Reunited,” the man said, under his breath. He huffed a strange laugh. “I suppose it came true after all . . .”
“What did?” Oro demanded.
The man ignored the Sunling’s question. He seemed unconcerned by the blade Grim still had trained at his throat.
He just groaned as he stood, as if he had been sitting for a long while, even though he must have been floating before, when the water hadn’t been swept away. He stretched his neck with a crack.
Grim finally threw the dagger down. He didn’t have time for riddles, or games. “We—”
“I know who you are,” the man said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen everything.”
Grim wondered how that was possible, when this bastard had been stuck sitting by himself beneath the ocean for who knows how many hundreds—or thousands—of years, then decided he actually didn’t give a fuck. He said, “Good. Then you know why we’re here.”
The man nodded. He looked them both over. “You want to reach her.”
Her. Somehow, this lost king knew about Isla.
“Can you help us?” Oro asked.
He nodded again . . . then pursed his lips. “Though I’m not sure whether I’m going to.”
If Grim could access his shadows, they would be wrapped around this man’s neck. But he coudn’t. He reached for the dagger once more, but Oro gave him a look that said it wouldn’t be in their best interest to slice this being into a bloody mess, though clearly the Sunling was also considering it.
“Why not?” Grim ground out.
“The future is split, just as she is. I’m sure you know that already . . .” he sighed. “There’s still a chance he wins. And giving you what I have would only add to that chance.”
“Who? Who could still win?” Oro said.
The man looked over at Grim. “Who do you think?”
Cronan. And even his name in Grim’s thoughts sent a chill through his blood. The original Nightshade. The one who had started the tradition of all Nightshade rulers siring dozens of children who fought to the death to decide the strongest heir—and decide who would continue the line.
The ruler Grim, for centuries, had assumed was dead. But he wasn’t. His coffin had been empty this entire time. It was a portal to the otherworld, where he had escaped.
Grim had inherited Cronan’s flair. Portaling. It was their only hope now at getting her back. It, and this lost king.
The man then said the words Grim had been too terrified to truly consider. “Cronan will find her, if he hasn’t already.”
Grim’s knees nearly buckled. His soul seemed to press against his ribs, as if in agony, as if begging to go to her by any means necessary.
Cronan was famed for his cruelty. He was also the most powerful Nightshade in history. Grim guessed that he, like so many of his ancestors before him, was desperate to claim Infinite. And now, the only thing that stood between him and that diamond was his wife’s life.
Grim’s vision turned black with panic. He would have fallen over, if it wasn’t for Oro, holding him steady. He looked over at the Sunling and saw an understanding. They were both united in their worry. In their pain. In their love for her.
What a strange thing . . . to be grateful to a man for loving his wife.
“He’s been looking for her, all this time . . .” the lost king continued. “Though he didn’t quite know what he was searching for.”
“Why?” Grim demanded, surprised he could even get the word out.
“She’s his Worldkey.”
“His what?” Oro said.
The man gazed upward, as if only now realizing that he could glimpse the sky far above them.
He frowned. “Cronan has spent millennia tearing apart galaxies, looking for a single place. Only this world stands between him and what he wants. He was banished from here long ago . . . Isla is his key back.”
“How?” Oro demanded.
“She has all six abilities, and wears the diamond Infinite, which cast him out. With her help, he could return. And if that stone were ever wielded together with his sword and crown . . . he would have the power to rule everything . . .”
Grim thought back to Cronan’s sword, the weapon he and Isla had desperately searched for, for months.
It was how they fell in love. He had needed the blade to control the dreks, the vicious monsters who had nearly ended his realm.
Isla had helped him. She had unlocked the curse on it. And the price had been her life.
Dread spilled through Grim’s bones. This entire time . . . he had searched for and claimed everything his ancestor needed. As if he had been a pawn in a grand plan.
And now Isla was in danger because of it. When all he had ever wanted was to save her . . .
“In this world exists one last key, fated to unlock the entire universe, including the world he seeks. With it, he could conquer every galaxy. Join them. Control any and all power that flows through them.” The lost king continued, “This entire world was a prison once, you know,” the man said, looking lost in his mind again.
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and only white remained.
“It exists on a bridge between galaxies. Some of the most powerful relics in the universe were hidden here. It was no coincidence that Cronan portaled Lark and Horus and their people to this world. He was after the diamond. But the diamond was not like other items he had claimed. It required a soul. It required love. He thought he could trick it with a manufactured home and the motions of love, but the diamond was not fooled. When he tried to claim it . . . it cursed him. This world became a poison for him, and he was forced to flee . . .” He blinked, his pupils returning.
The man’s expression was almost pitying.
“The universe would have remained safe if she had just stayed.”
Oro took a step forward. “If she would have stayed, Lark would have destroyed this world. She made a sacrifice to save us all.”
“And might have doomed the universe in the process,” the lost king said simply.
Now. Now was the moment Grim was going to kill him.
But the king turned and said, “After Cronan left, he tried to create his own world, using his tie to Lark’s power.
But it was twisted . . . wrong. Now, all who exist there are those who perished due to a curse derived from his power.
” He looked at Oro. “You’ve been to it.”
Oro’s brow furrowed. “No, I haven’t.”
“Where did you think the island disappeared to during the curses?”
“The storms—”
“Were part of that world.”
Oro shook his head. “No. We could see the storms engulf the island. We could see the frozen shards of them off the coast during the Centennial.”
The silver-haired king simply shrugged a shoulder.
“Worlds oftentimes bleed into each other. Especially when they’re portaled in and out of one another.
That’s what we should all fear . . .” He peered at Grim and Oro.
“Go to the cursed world, where the victims of the curses live, and find the knowledge that was lost. All the realms must play their role in this war,” he said.
He exhaled deeply. “I have lived . . . a thousand lives. Right here.” Grim didn’t know what he meant.
He truly did not care. “And it has all led to this.” He considered them for a long moment before continuing.
“History repeats itself, again and again. Break the cycle. Be strong enough to make the right choice.” With those words, he beckoned for Oro to come closer and searched the Sunling’s face.
Grim’s impatience was about to break when the lost king finally blinked, his previously wary expression now confident.
Whatever he had found in Oro’s expression had seemed to allow him to make a decision.
The lost king reached out his palm. And gold rose from deep within his skin until it broke free to rest in his hand. A pile of golden, thickly woven, glimmering threads that looked almost like sand, fused together.
“One of the last remaining pieces Cronan needs to take over the universe,” he said.
“The Threads of Time. It must not fall into his hands.” His silver eyes glimmered.
“This is the key to breaking the universe . . . and to saving it. You must find a way to get it to her. It is the only thing that can help her right everything.”
Grim reached for the threads. . . . but the lost king seemed to hesitate.
“She becomes the villain of this world just as many times as she becomes its hero,” he said.