Chapter 3
THE HESPIRA
Gavrel
We wound down gloomy switchbacks for the better part of an hour, descending from the plateau on which we’d started.
On a relatively flat terrace, I lingered for a moment and craned my neck to regard the escarpment we’d traversed.
A flicker of opalescence dashed past my peripheral vision, but when I looked that way, only the bleak scenery met my gaze.
My brow furrowed, shaking off the feeling that we were being followed.
This place was a dizzying maze of ledges, basins, and sheer cliffs, layered to confound and unsettle any unlucky soul forced to dwell in the nightmarescape.
I focused on sidestepping any sudden bursts of black fire and slick patches underfoot, having already learned my lesson; two clumsy steps had nearly sent me sprawling earlier.
The trick was to listen for the sputtering hiss of a blaze igniting and to watch for the faint gleam along a stone’s glassy fractures. Each was a warning of treacherous footing.
Maya and I spoke, but our words came in surges, truths spilling fitfully out between us like honey wine sloshing over the rims of overfilled goblets.
When it was my turn to listen, awe and pride swelled within me, warming me from the inside as gooseflesh prickled my skin in the chilled, stagnant air.
“Neoma is incredible,” I said, avoiding a sharp boulder. “She’s worked hard to bring the Korax together and turn it into something cohesive. I’ve no doubt that they will win the battles ahead.”
A smile curved her lips. “She always had a way about her. People are drawn to her. They gather around her like ducklings. She never asked for it. It just … it just happens.” Her voice hitched at the end.
A large shadow shifted behind us, and the centaur, Argedes, sidled next to Maya. He tossed his long, white hair behind his brawny shoulders, and his hearty chuckle ricocheted off the protruding rock formations. “Sounds familiar, eh?”
The corner of my mouth lifted. It hadn’t taken long for the creature to warm to me. “Seems you have the same gift, Maya,” I agreed.
She waved a hand as if batting away the notion, but Argedes was already sucking a breath in, burnished copper-hued eyes lighting up, readying himself for a performance.
“You should have seen us before she came along,” he declared.
“A lowly bunch of miscreants, hiding in any dark corner that offered scarce respite from the nightmares chasing us. Fighting off attacks and scavenging for scraps. Partaking in the most scandalous activities just to survive. Some more so than others.” He winked at Therrok and threw his arms up dramatically, eliciting snickers from several of the others.
Therrok’s eyes squinted as he looked at the centaur from the corners of his eyes, his wings twitching in annoyance.
Argedes ignored him, his hand sweeping toward Maya. “And then she fell from the sky, climbing out of the ruins, hair ablaze like wildfire, voice ringing across the abyss—”
“Get on with it,” Thesa yelled from several paces ahead.
Argedes’ long, pale tail flicked in the air. “And she spoke of prophecies, maintaining Kosmos’ balance, and equality. Freedom.”
A hush rippled down the line of misfits.
“She became our guiding star,” he finished with a flourish. “Our evening star, the Hespira, if you will. At least that’s the name people whisper when they talk of our exploits. The name seemed fitting for the stealthiest cadre of rebels who ever nipped at Phobetor’s ankles.”
Maya groaned under her breath. “Ancients help me. He exaggerates.”
“He does not,” Therrok muttered.
Argedes snapped his fingers. “See? The blood-drinker agrees.”
The vryka’s top lip curled back, exposing sharp incisors. The centaur guffawed.
Therrok shoved his shoulder against Argedes’ flank. “Less theatrics. More walking.”
Maya shook her head. “They do love a good prophecy.”
“So, you’re a believer?” I wasn’t entirely confident in the Fates’ predictions, but recent events were shifting what I thought I knew.
Her throat bobbed. “My mother taught me the scriptures as a young girl, and I passed on the knowledge to this group. Especially the Hollowed Stars prophecy. It’s become a beacon of hope through the dark, a promise that Phobetor and the Elders’ reign won’t last forever.
That balance will return. And so we fight, however we can. ”
We continued downward. The path narrowed between roughened cliffs and drop-offs that yawned deep into the abyss. When I grew quiet, Maya nudged my arm.
“Tell me more,” she prompted.
So I did.
I told her everything. About the Korax and the attack on Helos. About the Elders and how dilapidated Midst Fall had become. Of Seryn breaking the amber boulder and of my plummet into the Nether Void.
I told her how Seryn’s gift had awoken, of her daughter refusing to kneel before any Fate, and of her stubbornness and bravery.
Her steps slowed, awe sinking into her features.
We walked in silence for a few moments before our attention wandered to our left. A raging mass of red-orange water battered the jagged crags, the waves sliding off the obsidian stone so it gleamed as though coated with blackened blood.
“It looks like liquid fire, doesn’t it? The Insomnis Sea is always a sight to behold,” Maya mused.
A low rumble of agreement stirred in my chest as I scanned the horizon. Even in the ominous bowels of the Nether Void, the fabled sea was mesmerizing. You could lose yourself in its depths, whether in cerulean dream or persimmon nightmare.
Defiant, Phobetor’s palace pierced the firmament in the distance, rising from its black-fire-opal islet. Unlike Morpheus’ palace, no bridges led to its shining copper doors. Instead, a spine of dark stairs, from the entrance and to the sea, coiled around the base like a snake constricting its prey.
I narrowed my eyes. The sun, a black sphere rimmed in violet fire, crept toward the horizon, casting a silvery glow across the line where sky and ocean met. Light winked along the fortress’ edges, making it come alive, shivering in anticipation.
We reached a lower gap and kept to the path skirting along a ragged cliff at our right, its looming face a constant companion. Overhead, a flock of massive, twisted birds cut across the dimming sky, their crooked wings stirring the cinders adrift in the air.
Trepidation skittered up my back, but I fought to keep from seeing an omen in the creatures as Maya’s words echoed through me. I shifted my jaw, releasing the nerves settling in the hinges.
When Seryn was seven, Balor had dangled her over a cliff, the Surrelian River raging below. Maya had intervened, her power snapping out to catch her daughter and drive his ember back. It was sheer misfortune that Melina had witnessed the ordeal.
My lips pressed together at the thought of Balor until a sliver of satisfaction curled one corner. Seryn’s blade had found his chest before I pulled Melina through the dungeon portal.
I glanced at Maya, her steps sure, focus unwavering.
No wonder her daughters were remarkable. The woman had survived the nightmare realm for over a decade.
On that fateful day during the Dormancy, she’d had a confrontation with Melina. And in the aftermath, she’d found herself imprisoned within the limbo tombs.
I frowned at the thought of the glass globes my brother had also been a victim of. “I can’t imagine how horrible that was, Maya. Kaden won’t talk about his time in them.”
Her expression darkened. “I can still feel them sometimes. The nightmares. My worst fears. Living them over and over. It was so cold inside the orbs, but it also felt like my blood burned within me. And no matter how hard I fought to break free, the terror burrowed deeper into my bones. I saw my daughters—everyone I loved—dying in horrific ways. Every moment was pure horror slicing into my mind. I have no idea how long I was trapped.”
I swallowed. “How did you escape?”
Her cheeks puffed with a long exhale. “Phantasos. One moment, I was inside the glass, the next, she was taking my hand, my prison shattering around us, and reapers screeching into the dark. She opened a portal and told me that the dawn didn’t fear the night.
That I had a part to play in what came next.
That the balance had to be maintained. I didn’t doubt her.
Why would I?” Her hand swept across the air before her.
“But then I was here. Nothing is ever simple with Ancients.”
Bloody Ancients.
Despite Phantasos’ help thus far, I wasn’t sure the Ancient of Illusions could be trusted. Could any celestial being?
I swallowed, my throat dry and scratchy. Imagining Maya caught in an eternal loop of her daughters’ deaths gutted me. “But you survived.”
“So did you,” she replied. “As will Seryn and Letti.”
I released a slow breath, my thoughts shifting to my khorda.
Her face materialized in my mind.
Images of her channeling her power while she worked with the Augur.
The moment she shed her doubts and fully stepped into her gift.
When I took her against a tree, the night of the Moonbud Revelry, and felt her unravel in my arms.
The way she looked at me, as if she’d maim anyone who dared to wrong me.
Seryn softly humming whenever she tasted something she enjoyed.
“You love her,” Maya stated as we trailed behind the others, and I squeezed my baldric tightly.
It wasn’t a question.
I shut my eyes for a moment. If I didn’t give the words shape, I could pretend they weren’t true. Could endure the Void like Maya had done all these turns.
“I thought it would be Kaden,” she added.
Irritation and grief crawled over my shoulders. My jaw ticked as missing my brother—my worry for him—curdled into something harsher. The thought of them together was a dull knife in my gut, the blade twisting.
She is mine.
“It was,” I ground out.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, dropping my hands and flexing them.
Calm down. Fucking void.
A soft smile tipped up the corners of her mouth at my petulant tone. “You’re her fated khorda, though.”
With tension bunching my muscles, I regarded her fully, eyebrows lifting and the pang of my cursed rune burning behind my ribs.
Maya sighed. “I know what it is to be separated from your other half. And I hear it when you speak of her.” She wrapped her arms around herself for a moment before letting them fall. “There’s so much to tell. I … I’ve been away too long.”
“She never gave up hope. That you were alive,” I said, pressing the base of my thumb into my scar.
She crushed her eyes closed briefly before shaking her head as if dislodging something unpleasant. “I can’t wait to hold my daughters in my arms again. Not a moment has passed that I haven’t thought of Seryn and Letti. And Gideon—I’m grateful to him for watching over them.”
Sourness lined my mouth, but I held in my words. Now wasn’t the time to divulge what her husband had done to my mother. How abysmally he’d treated Seryn all these turns. Didn’t protect her from the Akridais hunting her.
As if sensing my unease, Maya touched my wrist. “She isn’t his, you know.”
I flinched, steps faltering. “What are you saying?”
She continued forward, forcing me to follow. “He wasn’t an easy man, but he was never cruel. He knew all along Seryn wasn’t his, but married me anyway. I ran away from home long ago after I was gifted a warning … in my dreams.”
My thoughts bumped into one another.
She looked up at the vermilion sky. “Morpheus is my khorda. That’s who Seryn freed. I feel him. Here.” She rubbed her palm over her heart, like I so often did. “Her true father.” Her statements fell, crunching under my boots.
My heart knocked against my rib cage, jostling bits of memories and unanswered questions into place.
I cursed.
“Her ember. It … it all makes sense,” I murmured.
“She’s powerful, isn’t she? I knew she would be. And what of Letti? Have they had a good life?”
“Mostly, yes. Gideon was always more caring toward Letti. And she’s amazing, Maya. Bright and funny. Kind.” I offered a smile, and her hazel irises looked almost gold. “Seryn—she’s magnificent. Strong and clever. She’s … everything.”
Emotion choked me. The thought of never seeing the other half of my soul again—it was too much. Maya’s eyes softened as her gaze swept over my face.
I pushed my shoulders back, swallowing hard when despair stuck in my throat.