Throne of Nightmares (Princes of Sin #3)

Prologue Prince Sloth

PROLOGUE

Prince Sloth

MOUNT LYRA, BELLINGTON.

SHIFTING ISLES.

YOU’RE SURE THIS is the temple, Your Highness?”

Xavier’s low voice only held a small note of doubt, but the fear rolling off him in waves was impossible for my heightened senses to miss.

His concern had nothing to do with the artifact we’d come for and everything to do with retrieving it, though it would be wiser to fear the book more than the deadly fall we now faced.

“Yes.”

My assurance didn’t calm his nerves; if anything, they flickered more erratically.

I had no doubt we were where we needed to be.

So far, the chamber located inside the labyrinth of tunnels built into the snowcapped mountain fit the description exactly.

Towering walls made of a smoky, opaque black stone, with silver mica set deep within, glittered like a thousand tiny stars had frozen inside, the whorls forming undiscovered constellations.

I surveyed the cavern’s edge in the spill of moonlight trickling down from a hole carved into the mountain’s peak, calculating the best path for our descent.

There weren’t any good options to choose from—just bad or worse.

The climb down from our tunnel was mostly a sheer drop that I gauged to be around four hundred feet before it ended with large, brutal stakes driven into the ground at slight angles.

One slip would be the last mistake anyone ever made.

Skeletons of those who’d attempted to steal from the goddess before were impaled on many of those crude torture rods, the flesh not fully rotted on some.

For others, their bones had been picked clean by whatever monsters called this treacherous place home and acted as pale warnings emerging from the shadows.

Temple Knights—a small sect of religious warriors who served one of the most infamous old gods and who lived only in this dimension—crafted locations like this to hide any remaining holy treasure, places rigged with nasty surprises that gave their favorite goddess the blood tithes she craved.

While some might enter the temple, none would leave without paying a price.

Judging from the corpses littering the ground, that had been true.

Until tonight.

I would be leaving with the book, even if I had to fight the gods themselves.

Temple Knights had mastered the art of ensuring their goddess’s secrets remained hidden from those intent on stealing power they weren’t owed. They’d share just enough information to lure people to the temples, but once one was inside, there was little chance of escape.

No god had been more vicious with their games than the Goddess of Night.

She liked to watch the ones she toyed with suffer, finding joy in their pain.

Ancient myths described her as a deity who originally held power over dreams but soon discovered her taste for nightmares outweighed any mercy she once possessed.

In the twisted world of the gods, fortune favored the depraved.

Nyantha had been a dark, glittering jewel during the height of her reign, and many mortals sought to please her by celebrating everything associated with the magic of night: the stars, the moon, dreams, and darkness.

All brought a sense of comfort and wonder.

Until the darkness grew teeth and nipped at the faithful.

The mountaintop had even been partially carved off an eon before to serve as a window for the moon to watch this underground chamber, offering a prime view of all who entered uninvited.

The temple’s imposing entrance was also meant to strike fear into the bravest of men, to remind them they were mere specks in the eyes of the gods.

It was fortunate that I wasn’t mortal.

And even more fortunate that the old gods and goddesses had not held any true power over this world in ages.

Most had disappeared to other realms long before my brothers and I ever set foot in the Underworld.

Others we’d helped to send on their way.

Unlike the few goddesses who were born of this realm and still remained, the old gods were something else.

Most were forgotten, their names existing only in the oldest of books—several of which were secured in my private collection, far from curious minds.

Once mortals began to fear the night, they stopped offering gifts to the deity who tormented them, and what little power she’d retained faded even more.

Though remnants remained in places like this.

I exhaled slowly, my breath floating through the frigid air in an ominous warning of its own.

My brothers and I were considered lethal to most, the midnight monsters feared by man, but even we Princes of Sin knew when to tread carefully.

Xavier shifted from foot to foot beside me. His nerves were understandable but distracting as I silently plotted and he grew more tense.

In several archival ledgers, I’d read that not only was the chamber at the bottom warded against magic users to prevent us from easily entering the sacred space below, but it was also haunted by the souls of those who’d come hunting for its treasure before.

In the unnatural stillness of the subterranean chamber, with only the empty eyes of the dead watching us, I didn’t doubt those tales.

Something slumbered here.

Something of immense and terrible power.

I felt the odd magic begin to pulse deep within my chest like a slow second heartbeat.

Whatever lurked below had cracked an eye, waiting.

I wasn’t devout, unless sinning was considered a religion, but prayed it was the Liber Noctem.

The dark book had evaded me for centuries, but I’d persisted, tracking every story, every careless note or poem or fable written, trying to find its location after the old gods had spirited it away and refused to grant me access to it.

The Liber Noctem was also more commonly called the Book of Nightmares, with good reason; it could be used to create just as easily as to destroy.

But that wasn’t the worst it could do.

“I’ll go down first.” I glanced at Xavier. His face paled, rivaling the color of the bones below. “If you want to wait here, I’ll retrieve the book and be back soon.”

“No. I’m coming.”

His jaw set in a hard line.

As the master librarian for my House of Sin, he was just as eager as I was to see the mythical Book of Nightmares in person.

Unlike me, he wasn’t immortal.

I nodded once, dropping the subject.

We’d already discussed the dangers before setting out on this recovery expedition. There was no need to rehash the risks.

I turned back to the ledge, the strange power below sending out more pulse waves, a slow tempo forming in the beat, tempting me like a siren’s song.

I wondered if Xavier sensed it too, if it was tormenting him the same way or worse.

There was only one way to put an end to it.

“Watch where I step and follow my movements exactly.”

Without another word, I hoisted the leather satchel I’d brought onto my shoulder and began my descent.

I dropped to the ground, pushing myself back until my legs dangled over the edge of nothing. Xavier drew in a sharp breath as my boots slid over smooth stone, searching for the slightest foothold while I methodically moved one hand at a time, locating tiny crevices to grip.

There were barely any, and my fingertips quickly began to cramp from holding my full weight, the agony only serving to harden my resolve.

No matter if I broke every bone in my body, I wouldn’t leave this temple without the Liber Noctem.

As if to test my silent vow, one of my knuckles snapped loudly, dislocating.

I gritted my teeth and kept moving. Slowly. Excruciatingly. My flesh ripping on sharpened spots, the slippery blood adding an extra layer of strain.

I wasn’t foolish enough to think the journey would be easy, so I didn’t waste time cursing the difficulty. Anything worth having required hard work and sacrifice or else it wouldn’t be that valuable.

Cuts would heal; bones would mend.

But failure would mean destruction for every realm.

I tuned out everything, the fear emitting from Xavier, the strange pull of dark power—all that mattered was the next handhold or foothold.

Each movement brought me closer to victory.

Sweat dotted my brow, dripping into my eyes, the salt of it burning.

I didn’t dare brush it away.

Finally, with the ground in sight, I pushed off the cliff, gracefully landing between two stakes. My boots slapped hard-packed earth, dust flying up to greet me, dirtying my leathers.

Blood continued to seep from my fingers, and I watched, oddly transfixed, as a single drop splattered onto a skull.

My healing powers normally stitched together any wound in seconds, which meant the rumors of the temple being warded against invading magic were true.

Relief speared through me. I was glad I hadn’t tried to test it out.

The subtle pounding of magic grew more intense now that I was closer to its source, making me wonder if the book sensed my power or if it simply hoped for another sacrifice.

While Xavier began his descent, I pivoted in place, my gaze raking over the cavern in a slow, methodical sweep. It wasn’t what I expected.

There were no runes. No altar. No book.

Only the bones of those who’d tried and failed to steal the Liber Noctem and the increasingly strong foreign power thrumming through me.

It felt wrong, like a chord plucked violently in a favorite song, making a once comforting sound suddenly foreboding.

I shoved the invasive pulse from my thoughts, forcing myself to focus on what we needed to do next. The faster we retrieved the book, the faster we could return to my House of Sin and secure it in the archives.

I needed to ensure the book never found its way back to its master.

The runes were supposedly the next step to unveiling the book’s location.

I scanned the chamber a second time, taking in every inch.

The walls were the same glittering black stone, but there wasn’t a carving or blemish to be found in the smooth surface.

There were no doors or openings, no way out aside from the tunnel we’d climbed down from. As far as temples went, it was spartan.