Chapter 16
NEKRIONN AND THE SCOURGE
Seryn
The city was ominously alive. Hungry. It skittered over me like a spider in the dark, brushing against my skin. Every shadow seemed to twitch with its presence, every darkened alley a place it might have slipped through.
It left me with that uneasy feeling when the mind is caught between nightmare and anxious waking, unsure whether the sensation was real or imagined.
Knowing only that if it had been real, the arachnid had moved too fast to catch—vanished into the night, leaving only the prickling memory of its touch.
“So, how do we get an introduction to Gravy Stacy?” Breena interrupted my wandering thoughts, and I chuffed a laugh.
Therrok narrowed his eyes, stomping ahead without a response.
Breena winked at me as we followed, Thesa trailing behind us.
We wound through the streets, haze caressing our cheeks. A constant chill clung to my exposed skin, seeping under my leathers.
Breena and I turned in slow circles as we walked, our necks craning to take in the jagged, leaning structures. Fleshy mauve vines drooped between the towers, snaking through haphazardly carved windows. Every so often, I glimpsed pairs of eyes from those panes, following our progress.
Here and there, black and cerulean flames hovered around the vines like leaves, casting a dim, flickering light along the streets.
“Don’t stare. Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Thesa bit out.
Breena rolled her eyes and slipped past to catch up to Therrok. I slowed, walking beside the female vryka. “You all right? My mother mentioned you grew up in the city.”
“Yes.”
“Do you mean … you’re all right? Or that you grew up here?”
“Yes.”
I pressed my tongue into the inside of my cheek and rubbed the back of my neck. “That must have been … interesting. Challenging.”
Her nostrils flared, a faint shimmer of sapphire reflecting in her blackened eyes from the floating flames above.
“Do you have any remaining family here?”
She paused before the square stretching ahead of us and drew her glaive, the weapon’s end clinking against the black opal ground. Its pointed blade stabbed at the air. “Therrok is my family.” She jutted her narrow chin forward, and with a sigh, I followed her line of sight.
The piazza was a living, chaotic organism. Astrals and beings of every shape and size darted between stalls of strange, otherworldly wares. Whispers and shouts and snarls weaved together between the fog and commotion.
Therrok and Breena pushed through the crowds, heading toward a colossal archway at the other end. Thesa stomped ahead, and I trailed in her wake, careful not to make eye contact with anyone.
Several paces away, Therrok stopped to speak with a short, younger man. They exchanged hushed words, the man’s eyes shifting restlessly around them. Therrok thumped a beefy hand on the man’s shoulder before marching ahead again.
Someone bumped into my shoulder, a jeer brushing past my ear. “Watch yourself, morsel.”
My hand shot to my sheathed blade as I spun toward the source. A male vryka leaned close, sniffing me, crimson seeping over his ebony gaze. His bottom lip dropped, revealing glistening fangs.
He leaned in, and my blade snapped up, the point pricking the underside of his tapered jawline. Numerous salt-and-pepper braids hung around his gaunt cheeks.
“Watch yourself,” I snarled. “Unless you’d like a new hole in your head.”
“I like my meals … feisty,” he purred.
“Enough. This one is off limits, Evyg,” Thesa snapped, poking his shoulder with the blunt end of her polearm.
His attention flicked to her, one blue-gray nostril lifting, a pair of leathery wings twitching.
“Welcome home, Thesa. Take better care of your toys. Or at least don’t bring them into the Scourge’s den.
” His eyes dragged down my body. Prickles scuttled over my back at the intrusion. “Unless you’re offering her as a gift.”
I bared my teeth.
He smirked.
Thesa slammed her pole into the ground at a slant, the blade whipping in front of my face, cutting the space between him and us. He ran a fang over his bottom lip, shrugged, and stalked off, his plaits snapping behind him.
Thesa strode away. “Keep close.”
I hurried to match her pace. “I can handle myself.”
“All right,” she said, the tips of her wings relaxing, just a fraction. Coming from her, I took it as high praise.
“All right,” I echoed as we reached the arch, an unspoken agreement settling between us.
Therrok and Breena waited at the top of a vast, semicircular stairwell that sloped down into a dark mist. A crowd pressed past us, surging closer, eager for a glimpse of whatever lurked below.
Breena clucked her tongue. “So, let me guess. We’re heading down there. That where Gravy is?”
Therrok nodded, his usual irritation at the nickname vanishing. He was probably more concerned about our mission. Or being home. Likely both.
Descending, the vapor thinned as we neared a curved rim. My eyes widened at the scene before us, a throbbing sensation plucking at my pulse points the closer we got. Like invisible threads were drawing me toward the heart of the mammoth, black pit that lay below.
Therrok’s gaze tracked the stairway as it stretched wider at the base, wrapping around the entire arena’s rim. “The Cradle of Nyx.”
Across the pit, a throne sat on a raised dais, etched copper gleaming between patches of green patina. In it lounged a tall, lean man, his athletic frame at ease as though he owned every eye cast upon him, pale gray robes draping over him.
His chin-length, mud-colored hair was swept behind his ears, a copper circlet perched atop his head. A chain of hammered metal coins draped around his neck, clinking melodiously when he shifted.
His aura was neatly tucked away, his expression carved in boredom. The rumor, Mama said, was that his powers hailed from Evergryn. But instead of healing, his ember could tear the body apart. My eyes narrowed as I studied him, disgust creeping into my assessment.
At first glance, his face was instantly forgettable; a man you’d pass in the street and never notice again. But his eyes told another story. They slowly scanned the stadium, dissecting each soul they lingered on, picking them apart, weighing their weaknesses, and measuring how best to use them.
My shoulders stiffened; every bit of me yearned to launch my dagger into his heart. But something told me it wouldn’t reach its mark.
I fought the urge, unsettled by the unsolicited violence he sparked in me. “How do we get to him?”
“We don’t. His gang—the Scourge—has this place locked down. You’d be dead before you took three steps toward Gryvak,” Therrok said flatly.
“Then why the feck are we here?” Breena groused.
“Because I have a contact. She’s meeting me here and will get us an introduction.”
With a huff, Breena planted a hand on her hip. “Thought this would be more”—she dragged her thumbnail across her throat—“entertaining.”
Thesa closed her eyes for a moment before stationing herself against the waist-high wall circling the basin.
Nearly half an hour passed before the leader of the Scourge rose. He clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the crowd intently. A hush fell over the arena.
“Where’s your contact, Ther?” Thesa hissed.
His brow furrowed. “She should’ve been here already.”
My heart flipped. We needed to meet with Gryvak. Needed the amulet. There was no backup plan because there was no other option.
“Who would like to challenge the Cradle?” Gryvak’s silky voice spilled through the space. Everyone stilled, excitement and fear thick in the air.
He stepped to the platform’s edge, a false smile unnaturally curving his lips. It didn’t fool anyone. Malice radiated from him. “Does no one want a favor from the Scourge? Your deepest wish granted?”
“This guy is definitely dipping into the ambrosia,” Breena mumbled from the side of her mouth.
“What is with the constant talk of ambrosia?” Therrok rasped, biceps bunching as he crossed his arms.
“You should know,” she shot back.
A wheezy huff rattled from his chest. “You make no sense.”
She shrugged. “Sounds like you’ve dipped, too.”
He grumbled unintelligibly under his breath, his wings ruffling agitatedly behind him.
Leystaes lifted his rounded chin, thin fingers smoothing back his already slick hair. “Come now. Let’s not disappoint. Or shall I pick a volunteer?” A collective intake of breath rippled through the crowd.
“We need another way. Your contact is delaying us too much,” Thesa said, already striding along the brim.
Breena grinned, rushing after her, practically bouncing on her toes.
Heads turned. Whispers spread.
“Thesa,” Therrok growled. But his sister and Breena kept going, drawing more attention.
My scar throbbed, breaths quickening. If they didn’t stop, they would surely be detained. Or worse—volunteered.
I darted after the pair, Therrok on my heels.
Movement dashed in my peripheral, figures closing in.
Gryvak’s goons.
“We need to leave,” Therrok snarled.
“We’ve got his attention, yeah?” Breena smirked.
And we did.
Leystaes’ gaze pinned us, head tilted in what closely resembled mild interest. Then he raised one hand, crooking a finger. “The one in red will do.”
Ice flooded my veins.
Breena.
Images slammed into me. Her body broken, eyes gone dull.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. None of this was supposed to happen.
And it was my fault.
Everyone I loved paid the price.
Two beastlike creatures in pale robes grabbed Breena’s biceps. “Get yer hands off me before I cut ’em off!” she snapped, thrashing against their hold.
No. Not her.
Me.
Before anyone could stop me, I vaulted over the rim. My stomach lurched as the sloping wall yawned below, ready to swallow me whole.
Breena screamed my name as a vapor-like mist swept over the top of the pit. Therrok and Thesa lunged for me, but they were too late. Their hands slammed against the barrier.
As I tumbled into the abyss, the banestone scraped against me greedily, its celestial energy needling at my skin, clawing at my essence.
Through jolts of pain and flashes of stone, I glimpsed Gryvak above. A small smile sliced his bland face. “Excellent. It appears we have a volunteer.”
He settled in his throne, flicking his hand toward my friends as if they no longer mattered.
I was the entertainment.
The sacrifice.
Good.
At last, I reached the bottom, landing in a graceless heap. Ache pulsed through every limb. My eyelashes fluttered, fighting against the darkness crowding the edges of my vision.
“Let the games begin!” Gryvak drawled, each syllable a lance pinning me to the pit floor.
The crowd’s roar echoed down the tunnel of darkness my consciousness had surrendered to.