Chapter 26
Lucina
Dawn in Pirn was peaceful; the slow rising of the sun, the soft amber lights dimming as morning breaks. Even when summer ended, and the cool weather swept in, it was still something to be admired—how calm it all felt.
I can’t count on one hand the number of places I’ve been that have felt that peaceful.
Dawn outside the bunker is grim. Eerie. Suffocating. But perhaps it isn’t the biting breeze or the dull grey light over the miles and miles of barren plains that gives it that edge. Perhaps it’s what I’m about to endure that’s filled my stomach with this much dread.
I don’t think it’s death I’m afraid of, but failure. Letting everyone down and wasting what’s left of their hope on a plan I can’t execute.
Shoving my stiff hands into the pockets of my jacket, I distract myself by running through everything Phoenix told me about Alesi—I’ve gone over it all nearly a hundred times in the hours I was supposed to be sleeping.
I look up when Callan approaches the group, Devon in tow.
The former sweeps me head to heel, and I hate that I can’t even look at him without the accompanying pinch of pain in my chest.
Lucina, it’s poison.
It’s never been used for anything good.
I can’t unhear it, but I so badly wish I could. Of course Callan is triggered by it—my father’s people ruined his. They traumatized him at his most impressionable age, and I can’t blame him for that. It isn’t fair.
What do you expect from me?
But neither is that.
Gemma didn’t look at me any different, and the same went for Kimber and Selene. My coven is still coming to terms with the situation but Nix didn’t flinch at the sight of gold eyes. There’s no strain on me and Pax’s friendship, so why is it a challenge with Callan?
I exhale a heavy breath, pacifying my thoughts and setting aside the issue. It isn’t important right now, and he said he’d fix it. All I can do is trust that he will.
With the whole coven now gathered around what’s left of the fire—small kindlings in a pile of ash—Callan clears his throat.
“Alright.” He nods in my direction. “Let’s go over the plan again.”
Pushing my hands deeper into my pockets, I let out a steadying breath. “You and Pax are taking me through Streatham and up to the Estate gates,” I start. “I’ll cross alone, find a way into the dungeons, and find a way to take down the ward.”
I’ve spent a decent amount of time with Easton in the last few weeks, learning everything he knows about the magic of wards. Between him and Selene, I feel pretty confident that I can figure it out.
The problem is, all we have are theories. No one has ever taken down a blood ward of this size and potency. We’re just crossing our fingers that one of theories will work.
There isn’t a single step of our plan that I’m not worried about. All of it will require my absolute best effort, and the margin for error is essentially zero. I feel the weight on my shoulders—it would be impossible not to.
Callan raises a brow expectantly. “And tonight?”
“Tonight,” I continue, “I’ll signal when I’ve found somewhere safe.”
He nods, his exhaled breath a puff of white air in front of his face. “We’ll camp out here, waiting for your signal, and when you’re ready to take down the ward—”
“Boom!” Phoenix mimes an explosion with his hands, grinning like a psychopath at the way we all flinched at his interruption.
Pax smacks the back of his head, but Nix’s smile only widens.
Recentering his patience, Callan carries on, “Two of us will distract, drawing out the Rogues to the northern border while two of us lead the captured Sol through the southern side of the city. Will all meet back back here to escort the rescues back to the Banyan.” Callan looks at me, silver eyes sharp. “We won’t leave without you.”
I nod, imagining the plan in motion. Imagining a line of Sol that look like Iris did—skin and bones—sneaking through the city and enduring the trek back to the Banyan.
“Cin,” Hunter pulls attention. “You have everything you need?”
I nod again, feeling the weight of my bag on my shoulders. Most of its contents are ward-related, but there’s also a list of the translations Callan and I came up with, a change of clothes, and a couple mender pills just in case. Anything more would be too hard to hide beneath my illusion of Alesi.
“Alright.” Callan unfolds his arms and straightens. My stomach sinks. “Let’s go.”
I force my feet to shift, falling into step between Callan and Pax. Devon, Hunter, and Phoenix lead, staying far enough ahead to warn us of any threat, and Easton keeps a few steps behind.
We walk in silence, cresting the small hill in front of us, and I nearly choke when the silhouette of Streatham comes into view.
It was built in a radial layout, the Estate at the center and a wide city around it. Though I’ve never seen it in all its glory, I can tell it’s been ruined.
From here, every building looks grey, with large holes in the sides of most, and there’s no evidence of life, or color, or joy of any kind—how I’d always imagined The City of Light to feel.
I glance at Callan, whose jaw is clenched so tight I wonder how he breathes under all that tension.
This isn’t the first time he’s seen Streatham, or the dark sky above it, but he doesn’t look desensitized to it at all. Neither does Pax, who is doing everything he can to avoid looking at the broken city before us while still monitoring our surroundings.
I force down a deep breath. All of a sudden, it feels like I’ve been shoved under a microscope. Dropped into a tank to be observed by whoever is on the other side of the glass.
I turn to look over my shoulder, the hair on the back of my neck rising, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary around us. Just the sparse woods we came from and miles and miles of barren plains beyond it.
Still, something doesn’t seem right.
“What is it?” Callan asks, tracing my stare.
I search for a little bit longer, then I shake my head, returning my gaze forward. “Nothing,” I reply.
He doesn’t buy it at first, both he and Pax doing a thorough sweep of the empty space behind us, and when they don’t find anything, they return their attention ahead.
Callan slides his hand through mine.
It slows the rapid beating of my heart.
As soon as we enter the city, a sharp wind cuts across our path, blowing through the rubble of the nearby buildings. Hinges squeak to our right. The barely attached front door of what looks to have been a shop of some kind swings slowly back and forth.
Nix and Hunter split, slipping through the shadows of nearby buildings, one to the left and the other to the right. Devon continues forward, head on a swivel.
Callan moves to walk behind me, and Pax slides in front, keeping me sandwiched in the middle. Every step towards the Estate gates feels like walking over a frozen lake. Too much pressure in the wrong spot, and it will crack, and the break would be a scream through this dead quiet.
I take in the destruction around us. The singe marks on the brick buildings and the craters in the stone-paved roads.
Ivy’s Nana used to say that land holds memories as people do. Energy imprinted into the ground like fossils—something you can’t see but you can feel. And this land feels heavy.
As if the sky has collapsed on top of it, burying everything it once was, and what exists now is only a graveyard. Empty, haunted, and lifeless.
Callan’s hands find my waist, and I flinch, snapping back into my body with a jolt.
“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, trying to slow my breathing.
We’ve come to a break in the buildings. Devon, Hunter, and Nix are waiting up ahead, crouched behind the wide columns that dissect the gates. The Estate gates—the massive city center towering high above us.
This is as far as they can take me.
Fear grips my heart, choking the organ, and I’m about to fully succumb to it when Callan grabs my wrist and pulls me behind the crumbling building to our left.
It takes me a second to get my bearings, but I’m pretty sure it used to be a church. Tall, narrow windows line the wall that remains, each one shattered. Broken glass litters the floor, smashed pews line the aisle, and the only thing in the room that hasn’t been destroyed is the altar.
I’m gaping at the scene before me when Callan lets go of my wrist, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.
For one blissful moment, all the panic, fear, and dread cease. I latch onto that relief and kiss him back, not realizing how badly I needed it. After everything that was said last night and given everything I’m about to walk into, this stolen moment is exactly what I needed—what we needed.
And when Callan pulls away, my stomach knots itself once more.
“Remember what I told you?” He asks, pushing my braid over my shoulder.
“You’ve told me lots of things.”
Callan’s eyes soften, dipping into something sorrowful. “Don’t hesitate. Ever,” he tells me. “We have gut feelings, as humans do, but ours are guided by magic. Ancient and powerful and wise. Promise me you’ll listen to it and never, ever, hesitate.”
I swallow against the lump forming in my throat and nod. “I promise.”
“Good.” Callan glances up at the sky, through the gaping hole where the ceiling used to be. To where Lune Sylra still lingers in the slowly rising dawn. “I’ll be there every step.” He lets his forehead fall to mine, his hold tightening. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper back, the lump in my throat swelling around the word.
“I love you.”
That pinch of pain returns in my chest. “I love you, too.”
Closing the distance between us for one final kiss, Callan pulls himself away, glancing to where Pax waits just outside. “Go ahead with your illusion,” he tells me.
I nod, taking a much-needed breath before flooding my veins with a ration of Sol magic, letting it seep through my skin and cover my body in the illusion of the girl I’ve memorized.
I’m a servant in the Estate, I recite to myself. I enjoy reading and sneaking drinks from the kitchen.
My new appearance tingles as it spreads, morphing my features until I’m, hopefully, a replica of Alesi.
I prefer solace to the company of others, and I never smile fully.
“Ready?” Callan asks, turning back to face me. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t look directly in my eyes either.
“Ready.” I reinforce the illusion, finding a comfortable grip on my magic, and step out into the open.
Pax straightens as I approach, approving my appearance with a nod and a proud smile. I can’t stomach a look back in Callan’s direction, so I force myself forward. One step after another.
My name is Alesi.
I was chosen to join the Rogues in Streatham.
I left my family behind in Onyile, but they probably miss me a lot more than I miss them.
I approach the gates ahead, and Devon, still crouched behind a column, signals me forward. Hunter watches from the other side, keeping an eye on the main door to the Estate.
When I get close enough to the gates to see the spires, my stomach drops.
Skeletons hang by their bare bones, tattered fabric catching the sharp breeze. All that remains of the high-ranked Sol who were murdered the night of the attack.
It’s horrific. That’s the only word I can think of to describe it. Absolutely fucking horrific.
Bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to keep walking. Force my attention forward.
The tips of my boots meet the entrance, and I freeze, feeling the buzz of the blood ward for the very first time.
It hums in my ears, vibrating against the ground beneath my boots, and I narrow my stare on the translucent barrier before me; its sheen barely detectable in the dim light.
Blood wards don’t take kindly to intruders, Cin. Selene’s voice plays out on a loop in my head. If it doesn’t recognize your blood, it’ll kick you back.
Braving a step forward, my heart lurches into my throat when I feel foreign magic ripple across my skin.
A more powerful one might even kill you.
I take another step, practically jumping forward, and when both of my feet find ground on the other side, I freeze.
Despite how confident I felt that it would work, there’s always been a little part of me that doubted it. A little fear that it would all be for nothing.
It’s the first miracle.
The first winning hand in what will be a very long game. The first step in doing something useful with the corrupt magic I inherited. And it feels…good. Really good.
Turning back, I look out past the gate, unable to see my coven, but I know they’re there. I know they’re watching.
My lips—Alesi’s mouth—curve into a smile. Not one of those bored ones Nix had me practice. This one is full and bright and wicked.
Then I strengthen my illusion, cross the dead grass at my feet, pull open the servant’s door, and slip into the Estate.