Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lucidius Blastwood rounded the edge of the cave, his gait oddly predatory.
His gray cloak nearly blended into the stone walls around us, making him appear as a living piece of the volcano.
His eyes went first to his son, standing weakly with arms around my shoulders.
Beneath my hands, the muscles in Malakai’s scarred back tensed.
The Revered’s gaze swept across his son’s unchained wrists and ankles, then to the dagger returned to my thigh, absorbing the scene.
I watched him process what I had been coming to terms with since my eyes landed on Malakai—the gruesome truth of what had happened two years ago when his son disappeared.
I waited for the disbelief, the grief, the anguish to splash across his features.
“Lucidius?” I repeated, breaking his stupor. Malakai’s fingers curled against my shoulder.
Lucidius lived in the Revered’s Palace in Damenal, the city atop the peaks.
He rarely returned home to Palerman. Was he realizing as I had that all this time, his son had been so close?
Was he toiling through the guilt of a father not sensing the pain of his son?
Did he blame himself for not stopping it sooner?
“Lucidius,” I said louder, an edge of pleading seeping into my voice. “We need to get out of here. Malakai…he’s weakened. We have to get him out. Can you show us the way?”
He must know how to get out of the Spirit Volcano. He was the Revered, and this land was under his jurisdiction. He had found us here, within these cavernous walls and flame.
The unmarked shift in his being that I noticed at my birthday struck me again, an unidentifiable emotion trickling down my spine. How had he found us?
“No, Ophelia,” Malakai rasped. He cleared his throat. “He cannot help us. Or rather, he will not.”
I looked from father to son, struggling to grasp the hatred in Malakai’s eyes. So bright. Burning. A flush rose to his cheeks as he glared at his father.
No, I refused, biting my lip to keep from shouting the words throughout the cave. It can’t be. The trickle down my spine spread along my bones, and I finally recognized it for what it had been—a warning.
But even as the denial roared through my brain, my heart knew it to be true. I stared at Malakai, my mouth agape, but he kept those smoldering eyes on his father, the venom in them returning a semblance of life to his face.
“He brought me here.” Underneath the malice in his words, I heard the breaking of Malakai’s heart that followed that confession. Like it was a truth he had been refusing.
The volcano could have erupted around us, and I would not have heard it. No sound or thought reached my mind other than the echo of those words. He brought me here.
My hands stumbled over the long scars crossing the length of Malakai’s back. From lashings. His father…his own father had done this to him.
“But—” I looked at the Ax carved into Malakai’s chest, grasping on to the first thing I could. “The Engrossians.”
“Working with him,” Malakai clipped.
The man standing before us, the Revered Mystique Warrior, protector and leader of our people, upholder of justice, was responsible for the disappearance and torture of his only son and heir.
The love of my life and my partner. Not only that, but he betrayed our own people, those who relied on him, by conspiring with our greatest enemy.
Red tinted my vision as it narrowed in on Lucidius’s grimace.
All I saw across his sharp features was my blinding desire for revenge.
How could anyone enact such treatment against his own son?
There was no justifiable answer, but I knew that it meant something within Lucidius had been warped.
Changed into this despicable, disgusting being that stood before me.
“Why?” I growled at the man. “You kidnapped and tortured your son. You must have a very good reason, Revered.” I spat the title at him, satisfied to see him flinch at my ire.
A shadow of emotion flitted across his face. Was it remorse? I didn’t care. No amount of penance could absolve him of the acts he committed.
I’d kill him. No matter what he said next, what explanation he offered, Lucidius Blastwood would die at the end of my blade.
“I did not intend for this to be the outcome.” The Revered stood feet from us now.
My sword was at my hip. In two strides I could end this, get my revenge and silence him for good.
My hand flinched toward the hilt, but I froze when Malakai leaned into me, his body warm and steadying, communicating his thoughts with a gentle nudge. Not yet.
We needed answers. He needed answers. And the longer Lucidius spoke, the more strength Malakai could gain back.
“I may have believed that once, Father. But you did not stop it either.”
I tightened my arms around Malakai’s torso, sending him reassurance. I’m here for you, I channeled the sentiment into that merged piece of our souls in the Bind. Whatever he needed to say, whatever happened next, I was here.
“I only wanted to protect you. I had no control over this.” Lucidius waved a hand at the chains hanging from the ceiling, and his gaze hardened, an unreadable mask slipping over whatever emotions he truly felt.
“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “We are in your domain, certainly you are responsible.”
The Revered’s eyes darkened, the circles beneath them deepening as he angled his chin down at me.
The condescension in his gaze was infuriating.
“Ophelia.” An angry growl rumbled in Malakai’s chest when his father said my name, but Lucidius remained unbothered.
“Do you truly believe I would torture my son?”
I was silent, unsure what to believe of the man before me anymore.
The one who had been appointed Revered as the most powerful Mystique alive, but had brought shame to the title and himself.
He wasn’t who I thought he was—that much was clear—and that meant I couldn’t know what lengths he would go to.
The question still hung in front of me: Why did he do this?
As if he read that unspoken inquiry, Lucidius said in his chilling voice, “Over two years ago, I made a deal with Kakias.”
“Queen Kakias,” I breathed, my hands stilling against Malakai.
Lucidius nodded. “She demanded Malakai in exchange for the end of the war.”
“So, you handed over your heir? Just like that?”
“It was not an easy decision.” His features were unreadable. “I saw how our people suffered, and I made a sacrifice that has eaten away at me every day since.”
“You’re lying!” Malakai barked, energy slowly returning to his drained muscles where they draped around me.
Lucidius looked between me and his son, eyes dejected.
“We would have been entirely extinguished by the Engrossians thanks to the sorcia they partnered with. Alone they couldn’t have beaten us, but with her…
” He swallowed. “The Mystiques would have become extinct. The Engrossians would have ruled over the mountains. I couldn’t have that.
I thought Malakai would be presumed dead and live out his days in solitude.
There’s a cabin in the northernmost region of the range. I did not expect torture and—”
“Do you truly think that is the truth?” Malakai scoffed, and Lucidius flinched.
“Or do you forget that I knew everything before coming into this Spirit-forsaken volcano? It was not tortured out of my memory as you may have hoped. I held on to it all for when this day might come.” Malakai turned his gaze to me, voice softening a touch.
“What he said is not the whole story, Ophelia.”
I looked at him for only a brief second, afraid to take my eyes off of Lucidius, but I saw such pain festering behind his green irises that it could only be from one thing—betrayal. “What is the truth?”
Malakai deflated. “He’s painting his actions as a sacrifice on his part, but every decision he made was selfish. He does not care about me.”
Lucidius’s jaw tightened. “That is where you’re wrong, son.”
“Am I?” Malakai gestured to the chains at his feet.
The Revered nodded, but his expression did not falter. “I never wanted this.”
“But you caused it. Your actions for more than a century brought this about—your nefarious plans and dreams.” Malakai pulled me closer to him. Whether it was to protect me from the truth or to lean on me for strength, I was not sure.
Silence surrounded us.
I did not care what Lucidius said. What truth he thought was correct. He had known that his son was being beaten for two years. Two years of scars and lashes and…carvings. I held no sympathy for the man, regardless of the tale he spun.
I raised my chin to the Revered, wrapping my fingers around Malakai’s hip and squeezing to communicate that I understood.
“But you still have not explained why, Lucidius. What do the Engrossians gain in eliminating Malakai from rule? We would have chosen a new ruler after you. With the end of the war, we were rebuilding. You cannot expect me to believe Kakias waged an entire war simply to get Malakai out of the way.” Even for the queen of darkness, that was a steep cost.
In a blink, something in Lucidius’s face shifted, and I knew I had found the exact question he had hoped to steer me away from.
His veil of feigned remorse dropped completely.
His brows lowered, and the shadows under his eyes deepened until his expression turned into a cold, cruel image of nightmares.
The gray of his cloak suddenly did not make him a piece of the volcano, but a commander of the sinister actions contained within. Understanding coated my bones with cold dread.
“The war wasn’t a surprise, was it?” I guessed.