Chapter 10
S O R E N
L ike a changing of the guards, everything is set into motion once I’m removed from the throne room. The act feels necessary, and yet there’s a pulse of something brushing over me with such subtlety I barely register it. The hells is that about?
One of the guards looks at my wrists, as if he might want to bind them. I arch my brow, a silent challenge daring him to try. His hands fidget like he doesn’t know how to approach me, until he steps back against the wall and gives up. It’s evident he doesn’t think it’s worth it.
Damn right.
Glancing over my shoulder I see Ritter is leaving his room, and I make exaggerated efforts to move against the wall so he might pass, as if mocking his importance when we both know I’m the conduit to his daughter. The old man doesn’t look at me as he walks by, and for an annoying moment in time, I’m a little fascinated to be here , negotiating and strategizing with the Scorpion while the world thinks him lost.
He is a legend, after all.
Ritter’s energy burns through those around us, almost as if his entire aura contains more power than the rest. His presence is both magnetic and suffocating with its intensity, and I’d wish he’d put that damn ring back on.
He walks with confidence, and I get a good look at him and know the distinct weight in a gaze of a man that has seen, and done, a lot .
“Take Soren to the Commons. Give him blood rejuvenation if we have it and send someone to fetch replacement ingredients. Neither he nor his men are touched. They’re to aid us without hesitation—” my head tilts, as I didn’t fucking agree to that “—Soren is to remain in the Commons until I make plans to adjust our arrangement here. I need time to myself. I’ll be back.”
Biting my tongue is almost physical rather than metaphorical as , once again, everything swings into motion when someone tells me to move.
I momentarily almost retort, despising the way Ritter just volunteered my aid?—
Stop .
My ego is not what matters here.
As I’m guided forward, I need to be prepared for it all, including letting these cunts bind my wrists, even if it pisses me off. I’m essentially in enemy territory, and that means this is an exercise in utilizing my compliant side, which is quite underused.
Maybe this is good for me; a bitter dose of discipline to strip me back down to what I’m here for in the first place; my sister, not establishing my rank as a Zenith. So that means if the Scorpion is going to bark orders like this, I’ll do what I can to roll with it.
The area outside Ritter’s little nest is where I’m taken, right to a cornered alcove with a blanket crudely covering a pile of hay, almost insultingly so. I lie down on it when it’s clear that’s where I’m staying put for the time being, and my bones feel like they can finally rest, even if the straw pokes into my skin. Closing my eyes, I open myself up fully, stretching my senses outward like unfurling tendrils. Every wavering emotion and deep fear that these men possess grows more vivid the longer I remain still.
Rorge clears his throat, and as soon as he begins speaking, the noise of this place silences. “This Zenith is supposedly our ally for now, so leave him be. I assume Scorpion wants him here so we can all keep an eye on him. Don’t let him leave this corner.”
The room’s energy tightens as they all seem to take this responsibility seriously, and meanwhile, I lace my fingers and just let my body rest, eyes still closed. “Yes, please watch over me as I nap. Very dangerous business.”
I breathe out a heavy sigh, moving my shoulders to get comfortable. A fierce wave of judgment pulses through the room, with only less than a handful who seem amused.
I breathe slowly so my heart rate can even out, not giving a shit what any of these people think. It’s oddly relaxing since I know Jane is safe—I do trust Ritter to keep a very close eye on her. I assume my men will be informed that we’re temporarily allies, and if not, I can tell I’ll be able to pass that on soon.
One way or another, this is a clear moment of rest to regain what strength I can.
And to think.
Jane is truly the center of all this attention, isn’t she? I can sense her inner fire hasn’t had enough oxygen to breathe, and she needs to let these changing winds fuel her so she can ignite. Unleashing her potential is critical , so when all these fuckers come for her, she can slit their throats herself . The more prepared—mentally, emotionally, and physically—she is, the better we all are.
At the same time, she won’t have the luxury to properly heal the wounds that have been ripped back open and exposed, which means patchwork for now, because we need to leave as soon as possible; to formulate a plan.
I need a plan.
My fingers tighten in their hold.
Shit . What comes next will be one of the hardest challenges I’ve ever faced. How is a man supposed to take on a broken god, an entire cult, and another Zenith all at once? Even if Ritter doesn’t want to kill me now , it’s still a conditional handshake.
And what about the detail that Cypress, that worthless cunt that she is, might actually be able to get me to my sister?
Protecting Jane is literally my life’s purpose if what Ritter says is true, that drive layered with many different obligations. Learning that Misery is deeply entrenched in her shadow quite honestly fucking unnerves me, and the way every aspect of her aura bleeds destruction makes sense now if that god is hunting her, and logic tells me that getting too close is dangerous as fuck.
I could very easily die in this.
Can I risk that?
What would happen to Serena if I died? Has she given up on being found? Has my sister suffered and endured abandonment for the latter half of our lives, or has she found her own peace? If I found her now, would she even be able to function? Surely, I can offer her something with my powers. A way to numb her trauma, even.
We’re all evolving without understanding in these coasts, so what if I learned how to ease Serena’s terrors? If these gods can fuck with our energies, surely I can learn how to push my powers onto another.
My death, on the other hand, will make that impossible.
That sinking feeling of considering I’ll truly never see Serena again rears its head, thrashing in my chest. It’s a sense of defeat that hollows me out. Cypress doesn’t give a shit if I see my family again, and I know that. I could die in the exact breath that saves Jane from Misery, still fulfilling her promises.
What am I to do, though? Just leave Jane and hunt for my sister on my own as if none of this ever existed? Jane’s tangible, real, and grazes against something in my chest that has me seeing and feeling shit I’m frankly unprepared for. I know, without much pushback, that there’s something in the fates with her.
Some part of her is meant for me.
Deserting her isn’t just a failure my ego dislikes, but I simply can’t even consider it. I won’t leave her.
So, what does that fucking mean ? I can’t risk my life for Jane while also ensuring I find Serena.
I mindlessly rub the rings on my fingers, running a fingertip over the snake design the Council crafted for me. I joined thoseassholes for their resources, so I could man a pursuit over the Black Sea to find my kin.
Literally everything I’ve done has been rooted in trying to find my sister.
As I try to focus on feeling out what’s best, it’s damn near impossible in this room, the energies swirling together while there’s a foreboding danger, thick like miasma, somewhere to my right, and I know it’s circling Jane.
Jane .
The idea of Misery, Blackwell, or the Order of Ash getting the tip of their pinky on her enrages me, because they will destroy her if they capture her.
The thought that I’d lie my head down in an empty bed, her soft hair gone from this world—the fire blown out that is so desperate to rumble—makes me grip my fingers so tight the circulation diminishes.
I care for her.
I must ensure she doesn’t drown in Misery’s murk?—
Anya’s presence spreads through the chatter of the room, and I open my eyes, her aura being one that blends easily into the background; there is no chaos inside of her, only purpose . Drive.
Yet I know that subtle, calm energy anywhere.
As her aura approaches me, I observe the face she wears—a woman closer to Jane’s age with a messy, black braid down the middle of her head, bringing a stool over and placing a basket next to me.
Mossy green eyes meet mine—so different from the usual dark brown—but I know who they really belong to. “I haven’t had time to study her full mannerisms, so make it short.”
A skin shifter.
Ritter and Anya are the only two that I know of with these powers in the Balar Coasts, although their type tends to avoid the shit out of me—I can spot them a league away if I know the energy they’re supposed to have.
I sit up from lying down. My vision momentarily fades when limited blood pulses through my veins. I still don’t know the purpose of suffering that attack, especially since it’s not a simple one to recover from.
It better be for a good reason.
Looking at a stranger’s face, I ask, “Where is everyone?”
“More are making their way down here,” she answers, pulling out tonics from the basket. “Elise has left to secure passage. Our trusted liaison is aware, and may do what he can to ensure an exit route. The rest are assuming their positions. I came to confirm that you are allied with the Scorpion? That’s what we were just told before I entered.”
“Unfortunately, that fucker is our ally for now. I’ll be on a tight leash while we’re in his domain.”
“Drink that bottle, then,” Anya instructs, rising to her feet. “I’m going to leave before people get suspicious. Get your energy back.”
“Where is the woman?” I ask, looking her body up and down to insinuate the skin suit.
“Safe. Just temporarily borrowing her flesh. She’s being treated well. We assumed it would be best not to piss off Ritter too much.”
I grunt in reply, having recalled Anya mentioning she secured someone she believed to be among Ritter, a follower who frequents Skull’s Row to shop for ingredients—perfect for identity theft since she doesn’t sit in one place.
At least the fates are smiling on us a little .
As Anya departs, I assume that this confirms Ritter doesn’t have anyone like me among him too. Otherwise they’d be able to sense Anya like a murderer smeared in blood. Uncorking the small bottle given to me, I immediately bring it to my lips, grimacing when the thick liquid tastes like rust and seawater.
What a foul aftertaste.
I lie back down on the blanket that hay pokes through to let the magical concoction work, trying my best to ignore the assault on my tastebuds.
As my exhaustion gets the best of me, my mind drifts back to Jane. If she is meant to be anything akin to permanent in my life, then I owe her that unwavering dedication I know I have.
The kind I never give out.
It’s a weakness. A huge fucking soft spot that anyone can strike, and it would cripple me.
Gods does that make me uncomfortable .
I know I need to speak to him soon. He’s the only one I know like me who is as skilled as I am, so maybe he’ll have insight and understanding.
I’d literally burn the world down for someone born to be mine .
I’d burn the world down for Jane.