Chapter 25 Storm Leaping
twenty-five
Storm Leaping
Miralyte
The stone corridors felt colder in the deep hours of night. I wrapped my shawl tighter around me and shivered. It wasn't cold outside, but the air within the palace had a way of carrying a chill. A chill that only seemed to grow as I ventured deeper into the vessel quarters.
I pressed myself closer to the shadows, grateful that Tomos had finally succumbed to exhaustion. He'd been watching me like a hawk for weeks, rarely allowing me to go anywhere alone. Not that I could blame him.
The weeks I'd spent buried in the library's dusty tomes had taught me more than I'd bargained for.
The fae language was intricate, flowing like water through my fingers every time I thought I'd grasped it.
But slowly, painfully, I'd begun to decode the portal magic.
The texts all said the same thing: no mortal could open a gateway between realms.
Only fae blood. High fae blood.
That meant there was no way I could open my own portal back to my old world. But then again, nothing about me was ordinary anymore. If my blood could alter a curse, then surely it could bend the rules of magic, too.
If there was even a chance I could get Pelbie to safety before this place became a tomb, I had to try.
I paused at the junction of two corridors, my heart hammering against my ribs. Not from fear of being caught, but from the memory that surfaced unbidden. Zydar's hands on my face. The way his thumb had traced my jaw like I was something precious instead of something broken.
The thought made my stomach twist with self-loathing.
How could I let myself feel this way about him? How could my body betray me so completely? The fae had taken everything from me. They had stolen my family, my friends, my future. They had ripped away every hope and dream I'd ever had.
And yet, here I was, obsessing over one.
And Zydar wasn't just any fae. He was their Warlord. His hands were stained with the blood of thousands, maybe more. He'd probably killed humans just like me without a second thought, crushed rebellions, destroyed families.
But when he touched me, I didn't feel any of that. I didn't feel the hatred or the rage or the fear.
I felt alive.
It was wrong. So, so wrong. But I couldn't help it. I pressed my forehead against the cool stone wall, trying to breathe through the wave of shame that crashed over me.
How could I let myself want him? How could I let him break through the walls I'd spent years building around my heart?
I had sworn vengeance on his kind, swore to watch their world burn.
Yet here I was, trembling like a frightened child because he'd touched me.
It was pathetic. Weak. Disgusting. I was a traitor to my own sister's memory. A fool who'd fallen for the very monster who'd helped destroy my world.
And worst of all, I knew I'd let him take me again and again.
I took a deep breath, pushing the thought away. I couldn't afford to dwell on it now.
My gaze drifted to the door in front of me. It was unlocked. Of course it was. Why would they lock away someone who had nowhere to run?
The Vessel quarters were luxurious compared to the rest of the palace. Soft carpets muffled my footsteps as I approached her bed. She lay curled beneath silk sheets, her dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.
"Come on," I whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. "We're leaving."
Pelbie's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. She rubbed at them with the back of her hand, looking younger than her twenty years in her cotton nightdress.
"Leaving?" She pushed herself up on her elbows, blinking at me in the dim light. "What are you talking about, Mira?"
"Look, I don't have time to explain everything. We need to go. Now."
"I don't want to leave Brond here," she said, and something in my chest twisted at the way her voice softened when she said his name.
"Pelbie, listen to me—"
"Mira, what are you talking about? I appreciate you looking out for me, I really do, but this isn't a terrible place. I'm completely safe here. I have more food than I can eat, a lovely view, I'm not training anymore, I'm being taken care of and—"
"You fell in love with him." The words came out harsher than I intended.
She looked away, color flooding her cheeks.
"I can't believe you. That's what you're thinking about when our lives are at stake?"
"You're one to talk," Pelbie shot back, sitting up fully now. "What about you? Yes, I can see it all over your face, Miralyte. He means something to you."
The accusation hit like a physical blow and I stepped back. "You're mistaken. He doesn't mean anything to me."
"Keep telling yourself that."
I clenched my hands into fists. "Pelbie, please. We don't have time for this. The Rot is spreading faster than they can contain it. If I can't give them the cure they need, everyone here is going to die. Including Brond. Including you."
"Then give them the cure."
"I can't. The cure is my... heart." The words tasted bitter in my mouth. "They'll have to kill me."
"Kill you?" She stared at me, wide eyed. "No, there has to be another way."
"There's not. And we're out of time." I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic rising in my chest. "Please, Pelbie. Come with me. Help me open the portal. We can find a safe place in the human realm, and we'll figure out how to keep them from dying."
She hesitated, looking around her room. I knew she didn't want to leave Brond behind. "It's forbidden, Mira. If we're caught, we could be killed."
"If we stay, we'll die anyway."
She shook her head, pulling the blankets up around herself like armor. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Pelbie—"
"No." Her voice turned sharp, cutting. "I'm tired of this, Mira. I'm weary of you forever thinking you know what's best for me. Always deciding what I need, where I should go, what I should do."
"That's not what this is about."
"Isn't it?" She climbed out of bed, facing me with her chin lifted in defiance. "Just like four years ago when you decided I needed to leave the village. When you packed my things and tore me from all I knew without so much as asking what I wanted."
The memory hit like ice water in my veins. "That was different."
"Was it? Or was it just another time when Miralyte thought she knew better than everyone else?"
"Those men would have killed you, Pelbie. They were already speaking of it. About what they wanted to do to the daughter of the girl who slew their leader."
"And maybe that would have been better than being forced to live a life I never asked for. Then maybe, I wouldn't have been chosen for the Tithe! Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess if you'd left me alone."
"You were sixteen."
"I'm not sixteen anymore." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And I don't understand why you keep doing this. We're not blood-related, Mira. I'm not your responsibility. I never asked you to—"
"You were crying in the stables," I said quietly. "When I found you that night. You had bruises on your wrists where he'd grabbed you. You were terrified and alone and no one else gave a damn what happened to you."
Her face crumpled slightly, but she held her ground. "That doesn't mean—"
"You were the closest person I'd ever had to a sister," I continued, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I couldn't stand the thought of them hurting you. Of them taking away the one good, pure, beautiful piece of our lives. You were the only family I had left."
"Don't you get it, Mira?" Her voice was quiet, almost pleading. "I'm not your sister. Your sister died a long time ago. She's gone, and I'm not her."
The words hit like a knife to the gut. I stared at her, unable to speak.
"I'm not going with you," she said, her tone firm. "I'm staying here. And if you try to make me leave, I'll scream so loud they'll hear me in the lower city."
I clenched my jaw, fighting back the wave of emotions crashing through me. I couldn't believe she was saying these words. That she was choosing to stay, despite the danger.
"Fine," I said, turning away. "If that's what you want, then fine. I'll go alone."
I turned toward the door, my hands shaking with rage and hurt and something deeper I didn't want to name.
"Mira, wait—"
But I was already gone, disappearing back into the shadows of the corridor. If she wanted to stay and die with her precious Brond, that was her choice to make.
I had a portal to open.
The map led me through corridors I'd memorized from weeks of careful study. Left at the tapestry of the storm king. Right past the alcove with broken statues. Down the narrow staircase that spiraled into the palace's ancient heart.
But when I reached the place where the Storm Leaping chamber should have been, there was nothing.
Just a blank wall of gray stone. Cold and ordinary and wrong.
I pressed my hands against the surface, searching for hidden seams or triggers. The map was clear. The portal room was supposed to be right here. Had something changed? Had the palace itself shifted while I wasn't watching?
My fingers found nothing but smooth stone that didn't give under pressure.
"No." The word came out as barely a whisper. I'd been so sure. The ancient texts, the careful translation of fae symbols, the weeks of planning. All of it pointed to this exact location.
I stepped back, panic rising in my throat like bile. If there was no portal room, there was no escape. No way to save Pelbie or anyone else. We would all die here while the Rot consumed everything.
Movement caught the corner of my eye.
A flash of golden light, delicate and ethereal. I turned my head and saw it standing at the far end of the corridor. The emberhart.
I had no idea how the creature kept finding me, but the sight of her was a small comfort in the midst of despair. It shouldn't be here. Emberharts belonged to the Sun Court, not the Thunder Court. They were creatures of light and growing things, not storm and shadow.
"No way," I breathed. "It's you."
The creature turned its head toward me, ancient eyes meeting mine for just a moment. Then it started walking away.
"Wait!" I called out, louder than I should have. "Hold on!"
The emberhart didn't stop. It moved with fluid grace down the corridor, hooves making no sound against the stone floor. I ran after it, my bare feet slapping against cold marble. The creature stayed just ahead of me, always visible but never close enough to touch.
It turned left into a passage I hadn't noticed before. I followed, my breathing harsh in the narrow space. The walls pressed closer here, carved with symbols that hurt to look at directly.
When I rounded the corner, the emberhart was gone.
Dead end. Nothing but another blank wall stretching from floor to ceiling.
I wanted to scream. To pound my fists against the stone until they bled. Another trick. Another dead end. Another—
The energy hit me like a physical force.
It was the same feeling I'd experienced in the black garden when Narietta had touched the hidden door. That sense of magic waiting just beneath the surface. Old power that hummed with potential.
Had the emberhart brought me here on purpose?
I reached out and pressed my palm against the wall. My hand slid right through the stone like it was made of water.
An illusion. The wall was nothing but air and trickery.
I stepped forward and felt the magic part around me like a curtain. Cold stone gave way to open space and suddenly I was standing in the Storm Leaping chamber.
The real one.
The room stretched up into darkness above me.
Silver lines ran through black stone walls like veins of lightning frozen in place.
They pulsed with soft light that made my skin look pale as bone.
The floor was carved marble, white and cold under my bare feet.
Circles of stone surrounded a raised altar in the center. Black obsidian that reflected nothing.
I walked to the altar and ran my hands over its surface. Smooth. Waiting. The books had given me nothing useful. They only said high fae could open portals here. No details. No instructions. Every high fae already knew what to do.
I searched for a handle. Some kind of mechanism. There had to be a magical artifact somewhere. Something to activate the portal magic.
There was only the altar.
I stared at it, my mind racing. There had to be something I was missing. Some hidden compartment or secret panel. Ancient fae magic wouldn't be so simple as just touching stone.
But then again, maybe it was exactly that simple.
An altar. Altars were for offerings. For sacrifice. For blood.
My fingers found the scissors beneath my skirts, hidden against my thigh. I drew them out slowly, the blade catching the pale light from the silver veins.
I drew the sharp edge along the tip of my finger, pressing deep.
Pain blossomed across the pad of my fingertip. Blood welled, dark red and warm. I smeared it across the center of the altar.
"Please."
Nothing happened.
The blood hit the obsidian surface and pooled there. Ordinary.
I squeezed my fist tighter, forcing more to drip down. Still nothing.
Then the altar began to drink.
Light spread from where my blood had touched the stone, racing outward in veins that mirrored the silver patterns on the walls.
The chamber filled with energy that made my teeth ache and my bones hum.
The carved circles in the marble floor blazed to life, one after another, until the entire room pulsed like a giant heartbeat.
Above me, the ceiling cracked.
Not stone breaking, but reality itself tearing open. A hairline fracture of brilliant white light split the darkness, widening with each pulse of power from the altar. Thunder rolled through the chamber. The earth shook beneath my feet.
This was it. The portal. The answer I'd been seeking.
I stepped into the blinding light.