Chapter Twenty-Seven
Darkness and dust consumed me as I tumbled through nothingness, striking numerous things on the way down. My cries echoed back to me, damp rotting roots slipping through my fingers, slowing my descent, but when I met the ground, I hit with winding impact. The force sent me rolling until I bounced off a brick wall, dirt coating my lips.
Wood rained down, forcing me to duck into a ball, hands over my head as I was showered with debris. I choked on dust, retching as the creak of the ruins settling once more echoed around me. I pushed most of the wreckage off me, shattered pieces of rot-eaten wood and dry roots. Spitting the grittiness from my mouth, as I started to right myself. Damp leaves clung to my walking suit, thankfully carpeting the ground enough to break my fall.
The wishing stone hung free from my dress, thrumming like a heartbeat. Bathing the confined space in a soft silvery light.
I pressed my palms against damp earth, weeds sliding between my fingers as I dragged myself unsteadily to my feet.
‘Emrys?’ I coughed, squinting in the darkness, weak light streaming from the hole I’d come through a few floors above. Trying to blink the dirt from my eyes, shaking my head only to shower myself in more.
Circular brick walls surrounded me, as if I stood in the base of a tower. A lone door opposite me was obstructed by debris that had come down with me.
The only sound was the distant drip of water that echoed ominously back to me and the groaning of the wooden supports above.
I needed to find Emrys. He didn’t have the fallback of possessing Kysillian blood and being annoyingly difficult to maim after all.
Seeing no other way out, I dragged myself over the larger chunks of wood, moving towards the warped door. Finally making it to the wall, my fingers tangled with thick ivy, pulling it away from the frame in search of the handle.
My hand closed around it. Ignoring the ache in my shoulders, I gave it a sharp turn, pushing against the wood, only for the rusted lump to come apart in my hand. I’d only managed to push the door a mere inch from the frame. Annoyed, I tossed the remains of the handle aside, forcing the door the rest of the way open with my shoulder, only to be assaulted by stale air and cobwebs. The darkness beyond containing nothing but a bitter cold.
I summoned an illumination orb, allowing it to leave my hand and hover in the dark, barely lighting a few feet before me as the darkness devoured the light. Rats scurried from one shadow to another, the density of the damp making me cough as I pulled thick cobwebs from my path.
I’d spent most of my time at the Institute in the ruins beneath it, unbothered by the decay of lost places, and yet, something about this place felt wrong.
The orb moved further into the gloom, but there was only collapsed rooms and roots. A maze of decay and dark tunnels with arched doorways made from thick stone.
Old. This place was too old. A creaking sound echoed through the darkness, making my heart climb further up my throat.
‘Bats,’ I reasoned quietly to myself, taking another step, eyes desperately searching the darkness beyond for any sliver of light.
Something in me shifted restlessly. The stone around my neck flickered faster, copying the panicked beat of my heart.
A hiss brushed my ear, turning me around only to see the dark I’d come from. A strange distant scuttling followed, echoing from one of the archways I’d passed. The orb moved, bathing the dark in pale light, revealing nothing but puddles and grime.
Nothing there.
Ignoring my childish imagination, I quickened my steps, grasping onto that stone around my neck, letting the warmth of it reassure me as I followed the orb, ducking under roots and shrivelled vines.
‘Emrys?’ I called again, trying not to sound too desperate as the foulness of this place pressed closer. The air thicker, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs.
I turned another corner, boots sinking into a puddle of stagnant water. Then I felt it. Ice cold, almost burning with its intensity, like a frosty breath against the nape of my neck.
A searing pain wrapped around my wrist, a curse slipping from my lips as I grabbed it. The burns Montagor had given me throbbed painfully. The orb dispersed with my distress.
The stone around my neck became blinding with its brightness, casting long, sharp shadows down the dark, ruined hallway.
Run , a quite voice whispered in my mind. Small and scared.
Something was wrong. A strange pressure in the air told me I wasn’t alone. That scuttling came back, something changing in the darkness, moving in the shadows out of the corner of my eye.
Little troll . The pain in my hand intensified with the memory of that voice, almost taking my knees from beneath me. I panted as I stumbled into the dank wall.
No. That wasn’t real.
I shook the memory away, screwing my eyes shut to push it further into the back of my mind. Then I heard it. The familiar click of heeled boots and the intensity of his stride. The sound of his cane as he slapped it against the dorm doors. A warning.
A sick game of chance as he taunted his next victim.
My head shot up, heart pounding as I watched the gloom before me, feeling the vicious bite of that dark in the silence. Something watching. Lurking.
Run , that warning whispered again. Desperate.
I followed its command, turning back the way I’d come only to crash into a brick wall that hadn’t been there before. My fingers curling against the damp stone.
No.
That memory of that stinging bite came back to the nape of my neck, slipping down my spine.
‘Little troll,’ came that taunting voice from over my shoulder. My whole body trembled and my vision dimmed, making my head spin as bile crawled up my throat.
‘S-stop,’ I begged. Just as I’d begged back then.
Those steps still came, a figure walking towards me from the darkness, swinging its cane, a strange smoke rising from it as the horrid stench of burning flesh met my nose.
‘Little troll,’ he called in the bitterly cheery way he always had, stepping into the dim light so I could see the charred remains of him: lips peeled back, black flesh, and hollow pits for eyes, his remains still smoldering as he continued to move towards me.
I could smell him, feel the heat of his charred flesh. He was real.
A broken sob escaped my lips. Shaking overtook my limbs, fear taking control of everything else as I slipped onto my knees. The air too thick.
Please ! A horrid screaming filled the air, bowing me over. Shattering my heart.
Alma. That was Alma.
‘Stop,’ I begged, a weak, childish whimper leaving me as I pressed my palms over my ears, shaking my head. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.
Then those screams came again. Louder as I tried desperately to get to my feet. As I clawed at the rough stone wall but my legs wouldn’t work.
I needed to find her. Needed to stop it.
My magic ignited in my veins, brutal and wild. Ravenous to be free. To unleash its molten rage just as it had upon him once before. As I tried to reach down into that chaotic well inside of me.
Not real. This wasn’t real.
‘No !’ I curled my hands against my chest, refusing to let out my magic, to let it consume me. The pain of it bowed me over, body trembling with the ferocity of it. I shook my head wildly, trying to hold on to my sanity.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Magic burned my flesh and agony turned my limbs against me as his laugh came back through the darkness.
Smoke gathered in my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. All I could feel was the callous, cruel nature of his touch, the pain of my hunger and the brutality of their punishments.
My back stung with a sharp cutting pain I knew too well, right at the base of my spine, where those lash marks remained even now. The pain stealing my breath and making me scream.
Run . Another phantom pain streaked my back, bending me over as I grabbed onto the roots and vines. They turned to ash beneath my heated palms. I recoiled, forcing myself up onto my weak legs, tumbling into rough brick and using it to push myself further into the dark.
I ran, letting the sharp roots claw at my skin, only for them to become small, charred hands emerging between the cracks of the brick around me, grasping and pulling.
Then came their screams. Desperate and shrill.
Those hands came from the fractures in the stone floor, wrapping around my ankles and dragging me down. My chin made painful impact with the stone. I kicked and screamed as I felt something cut into my calf, deep and sharp like claws. I kicked again, breaking free with a painful sob, crawling into the dark but unable to look away. Unable to stop listening to the screaming.
Another phantom pain of a lash came to my back, knocking me to the cold floor, more hands grasping and pulling at my hair and throat. Too many, pulling me against the wall.
A hideous sharp tightness took hold of my chest. The ferocity of my magic bowed me over. I tried to hold onto the damp stone, tried to ground myself, but there was nothing but smoke in my lungs and the sound of him coming closer.
Little troll.
‘No !’ I screamed. My hands erupted. The narrow passageway devoured in blue-and-purple flames, the force of it turning any plant life to ash, erasing those hands that held me in place. Silencing their screams. A storm of chaotic wildfire. Smoke crawled up my throat as weakness consumed my limbs. But he remained in the centre of it. Dark and crumbling, aflame as he had been once before.
The damp air smothered that fire in a moment. The darkness eating it whole.
Then those screams started again.
Beg. The charred remains of Master Daunton leered closer. Ready to kill me again.
‘No !’ I panted, my magic burning through my veins to protect me from the impossible: the brutality of my mistakes. My eyes screwed shut as I pressed my palms against my ears, trying to push it out. To wake up. To make the nightmare go away.
Alma’s screaming echoed all around me, followed by all the others, louder than the roar of my flames … louder than anything else.
‘Stop !’ the agonised cry left my lips, my body trembling as I tried to hold on. To stop those flames consuming me too. I curled into myself, painfully pressing down on my ears, trying to block it out.
Kat , another voice called. But I shook my head.
There was just smoke and fear. Cold, familiar magic swept around me like a breeze, flooding my lungs with air.
Something touched my arm. I cried out, eyes screwed tight as I kicked and fought.
‘Kat.’ The cold leather of Emrys’s gloves pressed against my cheeks as he held my face, unbothered as my fists struck his arms.
I was frozen in place by the deep concern in his dark eyes as he crouched before me, but there was no relief as I panted for breath, tasting the tears on my lips as I struggled to pull in enough air. Drowning in the pain of it.
I shook my head. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t come.
Nobody had.
Yet, as my hands circled his wrists, he remained before me. The darkness of his eyes reflected the suddenly soft glow from the wishing stone between us.
His thumbs dragged gently across my cheeks. The rich scent of beasam bark chased everything else away as I uncurled my trembling fingers to take hold of his ruined jacket lapel, to feel the thick familiar material of it. The warmth of him, the brutal strength of his hold.
Real. He was real.
He was here.
A weak sob clawed its way up my throat, but there was no relief as my palms continued to burn with the evidence of what I’d done. Ash rained down around us, gathering on his broad shoulders and in his hair. I could have killed him. I’d allowed my nightmare to ignite the chaos in my veins. Allowed it to consume everything. I would have killed him for nothing more than childish fear.
Murderer , that voice hissed and I felt tears slide down my burning cheeks that he caught with his thumb. He leant forward, gathering me closer to him. As if his body was a shield against the horror of this world. Against that darkness behind him.
‘It’s not real, Kat,’ he whispered against my skin, the ghost of a kiss against the side of my ruined hair. His hands gently moving down my stiff back, still tender with those phantom pains, but I didn’t pull away.
Couldn’t.
I trembled, unable to stop shaking, holding him tighter as I let the comfort of his magic soothe my flushed skin.
‘It’s all right.’ His hand moved to the back of my head, a reverence in his touch that I leant into.
I never thought it would be okay again. I thought I’d die, my magic continuing to churn viciously in my stomach.
Emrys pulled back gently to root around in his pocket for something, a cylindrical crystal he tossed carelessly to the ground.
‘Come on.’ His arm went beneath my legs, another around my waist as he scooped me up easily. My arms looped around his neck in fear he’d drop me once he fully gauged my weight.
His foot came down on the crystal, a dark grey smoke rose and with another step we weren’t in the dank darkness anymore. Both slightly breathless and covered in mud, we were greeted by the comforting smell of old books. The study of Blackthorn Manor. Home .
Emrys tried to put me down gently, but the moment my right leg touched the ground, a hissed breath left my lips. My calf burned with pain as I felt a wetness running down my ankle, and I was back in his arms.
He moved to his desk, sweeping the contents to the side as he placed me on top of it. Books, pages of notes and samples clattering uselessly to the ground.
‘You shouldn’t—’ I began but the pain in my chest made me stop. Heat flared in my veins and stole my voice. I leant forward, hands curling around the edge of the desk as the agony of suppressing my magic came over me again, forcing me to tense every inch of my body to keep it contained.
‘You’re trembling.’ His hands came to the side of my throat, trying to see me, but I couldn’t raise my head. Couldn’t be distracted by him.
‘How did you bring us here?’ I asked through clenched teeth.
‘Portal stone,’ he answered dismissively. Of course. A stone that had been banned in one of the first centuries, but he was in possession of it.
‘The—’ I began before I clamped my mouth shut, another wash of pain coming over me. Breath hissed between my lips, and I wondered if I could make it to the hearth.
‘Beings die from suppression, Kat.’ There was a warning in his voice, but I was in too much pain to contemplate it.
Suppression. Restricting wild magic until it consumed a being from the inside out. Usually starting with their mind.
‘It will pass in a minute.’ I shook my head and tried to drag in another deep breath through my tight throat.
He took hold of my wrists, pulling them from the desk and gently forcing my burning palms to lay flat against his own. His gloves missing. The strange irregular thumping of his pulse and the magic deep in his blood. Wild and waiting, just like mine. Cooler, stranger, but the same.
The pain faded on that realisation, my magic too curious to attack, to even remember what had unsettled it as I felt Emrys’s pulse beat chaotically against my skin.
Something about it, the ancient part of my own magic recognised. Recognised it enough to go silent. My head tipped back to see his handsome face. To see how worry creased his brow, and how those storm-grey eyes were focused on nothing but my lips. As if every breath that passed through them mattered to him.
‘Better?’ he asked, so softly.
I could only nod.
A stillness passed between us as his gaze moved to focus on my eyes, his jaw tightening on whatever he saw there. Yet he didn’t break his focus on me, not until he was satisfied, I wasn’t going to hurt myself.
‘Let’s get you cleaned up, Croinn.’