Chapter 24 #3
Nexus seemed to know where they were going. His paws made no sound on the floor as they descended through the quiet halls. She grabbed a torch to light their way. Instinct warned she shouldn’t wander the castle alone. But the dragon bracelet masking her scent provided a warm, nervous comfort.
The corridors narrowed, then opened again, spilling her into a vast chamber she’d seen before. It was empty, silent, and cold. At the far end, a throne carved from shadow and bone stood upon a dais, massive enough to dwarf any mortal king.
A forgotten throne for a forgotten god.
Nexus meowed, the tiny sound echoing in the vast space. Alora hesitated, then stepped closer, her breath fogging faintly in the chill. Beyond the dais, half hidden by draped cobwebs of shadow, she saw a familiar door.
The door that led to the Netherworld Gate.
Her pulse quickened. Previously, the door had been sealed. Now it yawned open, exhaling a faint wind that smelled of iron and smoke.
“There it is,” she whispered.
The kitten darted ahead.
“Nexus, wait.” She started toward the door, heart hammering as she crossed the threshold.
The air changed as she entered the chamber.
It was colder here, the kind of cold that clung to bone. The torchlight flickered at the threshold, as though even fire dared not breathe too loudly in this place.
Before her rose a monstrous structure.
Part gate, part tomb, part wound in the earth itself.
It sat upon a mound of black stone and bone, its jagged spires piercing upward like the teeth of some ancient god.
The metal of the gates was scorched and blackened, latticed with cruel thorns and sharp edges that hummed faintly when she drew near.
Faces were etched into the stone. Hundreds, maybe thousands, some screaming, some silent, their mouths open in perpetual agony. Their features were half-eroded, their eyes hollow, as if the mountain itself had swallowed their souls and left the echo.
It wasn’t glowing. Not like the fires she’d seen in the other halls. The Gate lay still, merely cold stone and shadow.
The faint red she’d glimpsed earlier came not from it, but from the ground.
A carpet of crimson, spindly blossoms had sprouted from the mound, glowing faintly like flickers of flame in the dark. Their petals swayed though there was no wind or sun. Their scent was sweet, and wrong.
Alora’s hands shook.
She’d seen those flowers before…
Her steps slowed, each one echoing in the quiet. The closer she came, the louder the quiet grew, as if the world had stopped breathing. Something deep in her chest stirred, a pull like a thread of unseen magic tugging her forward.
Her hand lifted, drawn as if by instinct, reaching toward a bloom.
A voice surfaced from the shadows.
“I don’t recommend that.”
Alora gasped, spinning around.
A figure approached from the furthest corner of the chamber.
It could have been sculpted from the same black stone, if not for the slow ripple of life beneath his skin.
His body gleamed like onyx stretched over muscle, armored in spines and barbs that grew from him rather than worn.
White hair like silken strands framed a face both exquisite and dreadful.
High-boned, almost noble, yet too still, too perfect, like a corpse that refused to decay.
There was an eerie clicking sound as he moved closer.
Then she found the source of it.
Behind him unfolded six spined appendages. They flexed as he moved, scraping the floor with a whisper like knives drawn from their sheaths. Web-like filaments shimmered faintly in the gloom around his arachnid claws.
Alora swallowed, tensing as he positioned himself between her and the exit. As he stepped into the torchlight, recognition jolted through her.
He was one of the Dominions from the balcony, the ones who Deimos refused to name.
She reached for the knife strapped to her thigh.
The Dominion smiled at the action.
“Well, well,” he murmured. “At last, I have the pleasure of meeting our queen.”
His voice was smooth as silk, low and measured, laced with cold amusement that made a chill skitter down her spine.
“Stay back,” Alora warned.
But moved closer and she stumbled backward. “You are rather bold to wander in here alone. Many dangers lurk about.”
Her pulse hammered, something buzzing beneath her skin. The mountain rumbled. Karag D?r was with her.
Alora lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His quiet chuckle carried across the stone. “It would be such a shame if harm came to the queen our king so desperately sought.”
She blinked, taken aback by his words. The air around her snapped tight, like a held breath.
Then he reached for her face.
Nexus roared.
The kitten’s form rippled, stretching, bones reforming beneath his black pelt.
Alora yelped, falling back on the carpet of flowers.
Gaping up at the massive black beast between them.
It resembled a panther with grand horns and three times her size.
Its feathered wings unfurled like banners, bearing glistening fangs.
The Dominion stopped mid-step, eyes widening slightly. “Curious.”
Alora gaped.
The creature stood between her and the demon like a living omen. She froze, struck silent by the beauty of it.
“Nexus…?” she whispered, breathless.
The creature growled deep, tail lashing.
A deep quake shook the mountain. The Gate pulsated red with a low, unnatural hum, washing the walls in a bloody glow that throbbed like a heartbeat. Whispering bled through the stone in a distorted language Alora didn’t understand yet it sank deep into her bones.
The Dominion’s gaze snapped to the Gate, then to her, alarm flashing across his face.
The air crackled.
Shadows roiled behind her, and the light from the Gate winked out as an unmistakable ripple tore through the chamber.
And from dark emerged Rune.
His presence drowned the room in raw fury, etched into every line of his features. His eyes burned red like living flame as his gaze locked on the Dominion.
“Sal’vathar.”
The single name echoed through the chamber like thunder.
The Dominion froze for a breath, then lowered his head, opening his arms deferentially as he took several steps back. “Sire, greetings. I was—”
“Leaving,” Rune said, his voice more menacing than she’d ever heard it.
The single command rippled through the atmosphere.
Sal’vathar bowed and vanished into shadow without another sound.
Alora’s breath trembled, her palms shaking against the ground. Rune’s gaze slid to her next, sharp and unreadable.
“Are you hurt?” he asked tightly.
She swallowed hard and shook her head, her heart still pounding. Nexus had already shifted back into a kitten. The little horned beast curling at her feet with a soft, unbothered purr.
Alora exhaled shakily. “Oh no, don’t feign innocence. I saw what you did.”
Nexus mewed at her with those big, sweet eyes.
“Interesting pet you’ve found,” Rune mused, his tone more even.
She looked up at him warily, but he looked pensive as he studied the strange kitten, if not a little unnerved.
“I suppose it would do to have such a creature to protect you in times when you are…” His gaze returned to hers and this time she did see anger. “Unescorted.”
He held out his hand.
Alora hesitated before she took it and he lifted her back onto her feet.
A muscle ticked in Rune’s jaw when he noticed the scrapes on her palms. “Hadeon was supposed to be guarding you this morning.”
“It wasn’t his fault I managed to slip away,” Alora said quickly, worried for the stoic Harbinger.
Rune’s burning gaze shifted to her, his towering frame a wall of wrath. Shadows swarmed around him like a storm.
His growl echoed through the cavern. “It would be very much his fault if you had been harmed.”
“That was one of the Dominions, wasn’t it?” Alora whispered.
He exhaled sharply. “You should not have been alone with him.”
Had she been in danger? Perhaps a foolish question to ask. Her body had not stopped shaking.
Rune took one look at her and expelled a sharp exhale, rubbing his face. “I should feed him to the mountain.”
She blinked, an unmistakable shiver crawling down her back at the coldness in his tone. “That will not be necessary,” she said, struggling to steady herself.
“I decide what is necessary. And at the moment, I find little reason not to disembowel him for frightening my queen.”
His voice was low. Guttural. Unbearably possessive.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Rune carefully took the knife from her shaking fingers. He cradled her palm with maddening tenderness, so at odds with the fury carved into his face. A soft, unnatural warmth seeped into her bones.
His next words were a soft murmur in the quiet. “Only I have the privilege of making you tremble.”
His voice sank through her like molten metal, and she hated the way her pulse answered. The warmth of his touch was unbearable—too gentle. Too intimate.
Alora’s lungs caught with a breath. The scrapes were gone. He’d healed her.
She pulled her hand back, breaking the contact with more force than she meant to. “How did you know I was here?”
“I always know you where you are,” Rune murmured, glancing down at her ring. “I can feel the way your heart beats. When you’re sad. When you’re happy.” His eyes lifted to hers again. “More so when you’re afraid.”
Her stomach knotted with something perilously close to fascination. He had sensed her fear. The fury was fading from his features, and beneath it, she somehow also sensed his fear, too.
Of not arriving on time.
“Where did you get this?” Rune held up the knife, the black blade glinting.
Alora cleared her throat and shrugged. “I … borrowed it from Calla.”
The first thing Hadeon taught her was how to kill demons with Nightstone.
Rune arched a brow and tucked the blade away. “I warned you not to wander the castle by yourself, Alora.”
She rolled her eyes at his critical tone. “Then you should not have left me alone for so long.”
For a moment, his expression faltered, something flickering there. Then it was gone, replaced by that infuriating calm.
“Well, did you find what you were looking for?”
Alora almost blurted yes while gazing at him but then glanced away to the intimidating structure behind her. “I found your Gate.”
The torchlight illuminated the glyphs carved deep into the stone archway. Though the shapes were jagged and alien, her blood thrummed with recognition. Words rose unbidden to her tongue, slipping from her lips.
NAER VA THREX ULKAI.
NAER VA THREX ILLKEN.
Rune stilled, his crimson eyes flaring. “You can read Hellspeech.”
Alora blinked, shaken. She knew no other language than the one she was raised with, and yet she had also read the glyphs clearly, as she read the ones carved into the training yard.
“I-I can’t…” Alora stuttered. “I mean, the words came to me. What does it mean?”
Rune stepped closer, shadows restless at his feet. His voice dropped low, heavy with the gravity of it as he translated:
“None shall pass unjudged. None shall pass uncleansed.”
She shuddered and looked away from the effigies of screaming souls in fire.
Reading a language she didn’t understand was startling, but Rune looked more alarmed by the flowers growing around the Gate.
“Blood Blooms.”
His gaze snapped to her. “What did you say?”
“My mother wrote about them in her journal,” Alora said, recalling the sketch of those spindly petals. “The fae call them spider lilies. Some say they bloom where souls part ways. That they are the last light the dead see before crossing into shadow.”
Rune studied her for a long minute, then he turned away. “Come along, songbird.”
“Where are we going?”
“You and I will cross blades today.”
She froze. Was that an invitation, or a warning?
He spared her a glance over his shoulder. “I wish to test your mettle.”
Rune usually spoke idly, but there was something different about him this time. Whatever this meant, she could feel it would not be merely a test of skill, but of trust.
Nexus padded at her heels as Alora followed him out of the chamber, their footsteps echoing in the dark.