Chapter 25
I’m no longer kneeling in the mouth of the mountain.
I realize that I’m standing in someone’s house in the heart of Daramveer.
A crowd of people stands before me, their backs turned in my direction.
The dim living space has been cleared of furniture to make room for a healing ritual.
I blink through the haze and find my mother sitting before an elderly man on the brink of death.
A sob leaves my throat at the sight of her, alive and inches from me.
Expecting the people to turn, they remain focused, and I remain invisible.
My mother leans closer to a loved one, hovering over, watching the ritual be performed.
I can’t make out their exchange, but my mother’s eyes show nothing but love.
Her hands gracefully move over the elderly man’s torso as she assesses the internal damage that likely occurred from an infection.
House calls like this weren’t uncommon for the healers who worked at the House of Hedro.
Those too sick to travel were never ignored.
Skilled healers would travel all hours of the night if necessary.
The ritual necessities around the patient and my mother seem similar to how I left the cave moments ago. My mother holds a crystal, saying silent prayers to Raddnoke to help her heal this man. Her hair swells like a strong breeze traveling through the still room.
The black crystal begins to illuminate, not with a white light but a black glow, the opposite of light—the kind of darkness that promises to devour any soul.
Markings begin forming on the crystal when I realize I’ve seen those Rigils.
She continues to chant and whispers into the stone, not noticing the ancient texts glowing.
The breeze pauses, and the room goes silent, waiting.
The hair on my neck stands, and my breath hits my chest.
“Mom, let go of the crystal,” I say, but no one hears.
My mind goes back to the forest. I felt darkness leaking from the stone, and the electricity traveling through me was anything but pure.
“Mom! Gods, let go!” I scream again.
My mother’s head snaps back, and the onlookers jolt, many gasping at the sight.
A scream leaves my mother’s mouth as the black light from the crystal moves from her hands into her body.
Soon, the shadows are engulfed, and my mother can no longer be seen through the shadows moving around her small body.
Tears stream down my eyes as I realize I’m watching the moment my mother died. The night my internal light went out. The family members watch in shock at the terror unfolding before them.
Rose bounds from the kitchen, throwing extra supplies into the air, a failed attempt to get there faster.
She crashes to her knees, a blast of light leaving her palms toward my mother.
A small opening forms in the shadows as Rose grabs my mother through the crack.
Her lifeless body is snatched from the darkness and lands in Rose’s lap, a pained sob leaving her throat. I try to stand but can’t move.
Drifting further away, I stretch my arms out, begging to stay, to help.
“No!” I sob as my body turns to mist. The figures fade into the distance, and I’m ripped from the vision, leaving my mother’s lifeless body behind.
I wake to find myself on the cave floor, still clutching the crystal tight as blood trickles down my arms. I hear my name being called.
“Briar, don’t do this to me. Open your eyes.”
With a renewed focus, I spring up, but dizziness sends me crashing back down. The darkness envelops me once again.
Seconds, minutes, hours—I'm not sure how long it's been when I finally wake up on the cave floor, still battling through the third trial. I slowly sit up, a headache and brain fog almost blinding me.
Rose.
Why was Rose there when my mother died?
I scan the cave, expecting to find Rohhit dead. He sleeps soundly in a different position than when I fainted. Blood is no longer leaking from his leg, and I notice his chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm.
Oak is asleep as well, curled in the fetal position.
Coward. I probably scared him to death.
I snort at the sight. But why are they all sleeping? Someone should be awake, keeping guard until morning.
“You can relax, Briar. I told them to rest.”
The hair on my neck prickles as I slowly turn.
Silas sits leaning against the stone wall at the cave’s entrance, his arms resting on his propped knees.
“Your scream echoed through the mountain. You best be happy to see me and not hundreds of creatures sitting here.” He rubs his head, looking exhausted.
“You really gave us quite a scare, Princess.”
I twist my body to face him so I don’t disturb the others, and he continues, “Rohhit is going to be fine. The ritual almost killed you, but it did save him.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“I’d never forgive him if you sacrificed your life for his.
However, the bleeding has stopped, and he’s resting—thanks to you.
” His deep voice flows through the cave like a dark lullaby.
I glance toward Rohhit’s sleeping body.
“His leg seems to be healing. He’ll likely be out for a few hours and limping for a few days. Oak, on the other hand, is exhausted from nearly shitting his pants.”
The corners of my mouth twitch.
He returns a soft smile. “You look awful.”
“You don’t look your best either, Prince Nastronde. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you truly look tired.” I try to stand, but my legs give out under me.
In an instant, Silas is there, guiding me back to the cold cave floor. “Don’t try that again.” His strong hands wrap around my waist. “You need to give your body a little time before you spring up like that.”
I listen and take a moment to relax. Then, my gaze shifts to his emerald eyes.
Silas is only two years older than I am, but his eyes seem older.
They carry dark memories that no one should experience in a lifetime, especially not at such a young age.
He meets my intense stare, and I swear I see a flicker of pain in his eyes before he quickly turns his head away.
“You are freezing.” His arm moves from around my waist. “Take this.”
He removes his outer shirt, exposing his muscled arms and chest. Small scars pepper his skin. I take his shirt and wrap it around my bare shoulders. “That looks nice on you.” He smirks. “Get some rest. I want to show you something before the others wake.”
“Thank you, Silas.”
“For what?”
“For everything.” I smile, and he reciprocates.
Moving closer, I rest my head on his chest, longing for his touch and warmth.
We gaze out over the forest for a moment, neither of us speaking, only the sounds of our breaths filling the silence.
He takes my hand, gently tracing his fingers around mine.
The slow strokes feel tender. I glance up again, studying his face for a moment.
His sharp jaw and the worried expression on his brow convey so much.
“I’m okay, Silas,” I whisper.
He looks at me, his brows slightly furrowing. “When I got to the cave, you were unconscious.” He pauses, still drawing small circles around my fingers. “Oak told me what happened, and I didn’t believe him until I saw your face. Your eyes were closed, but you looked horrified.”
I grab his hand. “I’m okay, Silas. I promise.”
He nods, and I know he doesn’t believe me.
“You said you wanted to show me something. Show me!”
He gives me a cautious look before it’s replaced with a wide grin as he stands.
He extends his hand for me to take. I take his hand as he pulls me up with a gentle force, making sure I’m stable before he continues forward.
“They’ll be fine,” he says confidentially.
“That ritual you performed seemed to cast a ward around this cave. No one should be able to see it, let alone enter here with a nasty shock.”
He doesn’t drop my hand as he walks deeper into the cave.
“I’m not going back there! Oak said he saw something.”
He pulls me along, “He’s probably not wrong, but don’t you trust me?”
Not making the mistake of leaving my weapons, I hostler my axes and allow him to guide me deeper into the darkness.
“I’m going to earn your trust one day, Princess. I don’t think you’re foolish for having concerns. I have heard I have a reputation.”
Being from Andorwood comes with zero trust and many rumors that cast the kingdom in a poor light.
Knowing he will one day be the king there sounds like a curse—worse than me being Queen of Daramveer.
The ‘King of Creatures, Death, and the Forgotten has a nice ring to it.
Some rumors speak of creatures larger than the mountains themselves dwelling deep beneath Andorwood.
However, no one has ever seen one or dared to ask a resident about it.
I can’t imagine a child being raised there—at least, I had a somewhat normal childhood.
The things he must have experienced at such a young age make my heart break.
As we continue deeper into the cave, my eyes travel to his face, drawn to the white scar so close to his left eye.
It cuts directly through his eyebrow, leaving a bare spot where the injury healed over time.
It’s faded over his life but noticeable, even in the darkness of the cave.
“It’s from when I was a child,” he says.
“My father had an interesting way of punishing me. Instead of basic punishments for speaking out or just being a child, I was forced to fight like an animal in a cage. Some mistakes during these fights almost cost me my life. I learned to prepare and study, and those errors stopped.”
Sorrow fills me as I can’t imagine a child ever going through that. Yet, my childhood with my father wasn’t much better.
“This scar came from one of those fights with a man much older than me. I was around twelve, if I remember correctly. It’s a reminder now that I cherish.”