Chapter 17
Wolfe
“What Stirred Beneath”
Night had fallen, casting the realm in deeper shades of shadow and bone-white light.
The metal-colored moon hung overhead like a tarnished coin, its cold radiance reflecting off the waveless waters that stretched endlessly around me.
Kaem's magic propelled the ship forward with unnatural smoothness, the vessel cutting through waters that held no current, no life—only the ancient power that governed this cursed realm.
We hadn't escaped yet.
The Land of the Dead still held us in its grasp, and every fiber of my being ached to be free of it.
But freedom felt leagues away, drifting somewhere beyond that lifeless horizon where even the moon seemed reluctant to shine.
I stood at the ship's railing, my hands gripping the salt-weathered wood as I stared out at the motionless expanse.
The water below was like black glass, reflecting nothing but the void above.
No waves lapped at the hull. No wind stirred the air.
Even the silence felt wrong—heavy and expectant, as though the realm itself was listening.
Listening and waiting.
In the unnatural quiet, my thoughts churned darker than the waters beneath me. There was too much on my mind, too many threads pulling me in different directions.
Duty warred with desire. And protection with possession.
Beneath it all, my body still trembled from the strain of holding my death form for so long.
The shadows had receded, the skeletal mask had dissolved, but the cost lingered in my bones like frost that refused to thaw. Every muscle ached as though I'd been torn apart and pieced back together wrong.
It didn’t help that I was still healing from my wound.
After I spoke with my Bloodsworn, I took my leave and slept for hours.
Sleeping was the last thing I’d wanted to do, but I couldn’t fight the weakness in my body.
An injury like mine would take significant time to heal. Even for a Fae like me.
What I feared most was that my Fae essence was slipping away from me, and I might never be able to fully restore it. Then I’d lose more of myself. Or all of me.
I was warned about the use of my Deathwalker powers. But warnings were easy. Restraint was not.
Power was always hungry, craving for more and more and more.
I’d been this way for too long.
The ring should have been found already.
I should be wearing it now.
I should be the king of Galaythia.
Instead, I was back at square one with the situation substantially worse than ever—because I still didn’t know where to find the ring. And my death powers were growing.
The Reaper was a fucking asshole I hoped to never see again, but his assumptions were right. Death looked good on me.
That monstrosity I became when I took on my Deathwalker powers looked good because it was becoming a part of me.
That was what he meant.
And he didn’t stop me from paying the tithe out of the goodness of his nonexistent heart. The laws of death forbade taking tribute from those who already belonged.
I flexed my fingers against the railing. So much to worry about, and yet there was only one thing that was truly on my mind.
Her.
I’d purposely avoided Elariya, something I thought I’d never do again.
I thought I’d stopped playing that game when I decided to claim her as mine.
But life wasn’t so simple.
Life fucked me over just for being my father’s heir, stole my control, then spat in my face by taking my girl.
Nothing in all the realms could have prepared me for this. Or…seeing her this morning and watching her looking at me like I was a stranger.
That spark in her hazel eyes I’d loved so much was nowhere to be found. When she’d looked at me, I could have been anyone.
And all I’d wanted to do was pull her into my arms and love her.
I’d wanted to go back to two weeks ago when we’d belonged to each other.
Now …now it was like I’d stepped into an alternate dimension. I was still me and she was someone else.
But what had I expected?
Like I’d said earlier, I knew it was coming.
My mind, heart, body, and soul just refused to accept this new normal. A nightmare in the making.
The Seer warned that Elariya may not always feel the same way about me when she woke from each reset. That was bad enough. The fucking warning had already haunted my mind like ghosts. And now I was being told I had to let her go.
Let her go back to Stormfell and marry Thayden.
As if that motherfucking prick hadn’t tried to kill me.
What kind of world did we live in where something like that could go unpunished?
How the fuck could I allow that to go unpunished?
I knew Alaric was right about everything. His idea to watch Thayden and let the bastard think he’d won was sensible. More importantly, he was right. As long as I was alive, Galaythia would be dangerous for Elariya.
But I just wanted her to be with me.
I hadn’t spoken about it since last night, but it was clear when we met earlier that I was furious. I was glad no one had pressed me on the matter because I hadn’t made my decision yet.
Right now, I was trying not to lose what was left of my control.
"You look more troubled than this cursed realm itself." Kaem's rusty voice cut through my thoughts. "And that's saying something, considering where we are."
I didn't turn as his footsteps approached and the weathered merchant joined me at the railing.
I hadn’t spoken to him yet. I knew he had a lot of questions.
Questions I didn’t want to answer, but his presence was steady and familiar. A welcome reprieve from the chaos in my head.
"Hope I didn’t interrupt your travels by summoning you here." I continued gazing ahead at the waters.
Kaem sighed. “I can assure you whatever I planned to do wouldn’t have been more interesting than this. Never been to the Land of the Dead, never seen a Reaper, and I…” His voice trailed off.
I cut him a glance, already knowing. “Never seen a Deathwalker.”
He shook his head. “I can’t say that I have, my boy.”
My boy.
It was strange. Here we were, talking about serious matters, but I was still able to take comfort in the familiar term of address.
Kaem was the only living soul who still called me that. He’d been a friend and ally to my family since the days of my grandfather. At eighteen hundred years old, my mere three hundred years made me a boy to him.
“So, I guess the rumors are true.” He stared back at me, brows raised, expectancy in his eyes.
“They are. But you already knew that.”
Kaem placed a hand to his heart and patted his chest. “You know me, young Nightblade. I never officially know something until you tell me. Or I see it for myself.”
Galaythia was still in the dark. Let them stay there. They’d heard whispers of my curse, of my ruthless terror, but they’d never seen me in Deathwalker form. To some, it was a myth. I wanted to keep it that way. Fear of the unknown kept people obedient—and my secrets stayed where they belonged.
“Sorry you had to find out like that.”
“I completely understand. I suppose it should be an honor to be someone you’d seek out your hour of need.”
Outside of my Veythral and the Seer, Kaem was the only person I could call on in an emergency. Not only as an ally but for his extraordinary expertise in using certain magic.
Kaem was what we called a traveling merchant. One who’d travelled to all realms, dimensions, and planes of existence.
He was a collector of every- and anything, including powers.
I knew he’d gathered death magic over the years, so when we needed a ship, he was the first person to cross my mind. He was the only one who knew where to find my ship, and the only one who could manipulate the magic in this realm well enough to sail its sea.
Kaem cut me a curious stare. “Is this the part where we talk? Or do you need more time?”
I looked back at him, and my shoulders sagged. “I think I owe you an explanation.”
He chuckled. “Sound just like your father. I’d pick him up, too, from here, there, and everywhere.
He always felt like he needed to explain himself.
I’ll tell you now what I told him—you don’t have to explain anything.
Only tell me if you want to. Granted, I never picked him up in the Land of the Dead, so there’s that. ”
A weak smile tugged on my lips. “You’re a good friend, Kaem. I do owe you an explanation, if only for your troubles on these seas.”
His expression grew serious, and he glanced at my chest. My shirt covered my bandages, but he was looking at me like he knew I wasn’t whole.
“You got hurt, didn’t you? Real bad,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I did.”
“Bad enough to end up in the Land of the Dead?”
“Bad enough to take refuge in the Land of the Dead,” I clarified. “I was in Morg?ven.”
His skin paled. “Fuck. What happened to you? What madness sent you there, boy?”
I looked him over. There were so few people I could trust. He was one of them, but I feared what telling him my secrets might do. The fewer people who knew, the better.
But the stakes were rising by the minute, and I was running out of options.
There was only so much I could keep under control before it blew up in my face. All my worst nightmares could have come to be.
Anything from all of us dying in Morg?ven to having to fight the fucking Reaper if he’d decided to keep Elariya prisoner. In which case we could have all died.
“Worried about telling me?” Kaem inclined his head.
“I trust you. I’m just not sure I should get you involved.”
He shook his head and glanced briefly into the open sea. “I’m already involved, son. I’ve seen things no one was meant to see and heard the whispers of dark magic in the land. I know forces we cannot explain are upon you. And I know that somehow, it’s all to do with your ring.”
His eyes met mine with understanding, and I found that I couldn’t look away.
“Am I right?” He leaned closer.
“Yes, and there is so much more at work that is beyond my sight.”