Chapter Fifteen #2
The merchant stiffened but did not argue.
Leander’s hand rested on the small of my back as he guided me away from the stall. “Thank you. I guess you know how to handle yourself. Were you here before The Cycle?”
His tone became softer, almost reluctant. “I’ve been here longer than you can imagine.” For the first time since I met him, he seemed guarded and less playful. He glanced past the market stalls, his gaze caught somewhere far away.
He stepped back, breaking whatever fragile connection had formed between us. “Come. There’s still more to see.”
A man with sunken cheeks held out a tarnished pocket watch at one stall. “A new lover. Just a small piece of your soul in return. You’ll hardly miss it.”
The offer made my stomach churn. “No, thank you.”
I pushed on into the market, when a voice stood out from the rest. “You look like someone who craves honesty.” The voice was warm, a ripple against the chaos of the market. I turned.
The woman stood at the entrance of a tent, the fabric drawn back just enough to reveal a glimpse of the inside – velvet cushions, lanterns glowing amber, and a smell of spiced tea.
She was striking, with dark caramel skin and hair cascading in loose curls over her shoulders.
My eyes caught on the gold cuffs glinting against her wrists.
“Why not come in for a moment,” she murmured. “Let’s trade.”
I frowned, sceptical at the offering. “What are you selling?” I asked.
“Truth.”
Hell was built on falsehoods, on masks and shadows. If there was one thing I was tired of, it was deception. Leander had promised me answers.
If there was one place that could give me answers, perhaps it was here. Where else but a truth tent could I find them? I didn’t want more cryptic words. So, I took a breath and I stepped inside.
The space was small and intimate. Thick cushions were arranged around a low, circular table.
A single candle flickered between us. In the corner of the room, I could have sworn I saw shadows shifting unnaturally.
The merchant settled opposite me, watching as I lowered myself onto one of the pillows.
“A truth for a truth,” she said, fingers trailing along the table’s edge. “That’s how I bargain.”
I frowned. “What kind of truth?”
“One that matters. One that could tip the odds in my favour.”
Leander leaned against the tent’s entrance, arms crossed, and his cobalt eyes narrowed just slightly.
I shuffled on the cushion. “Surely, these kinds of deals don’t end well.”
The merchant glanced at me. “No deal in Hell ever does. But truth cannot harm you physically, so there is no need to be afraid.”
I glanced at Leander. There was a strange comfort in having him near, a sense of steadiness I couldn’t explain. It made no sense. He was a wicked soul in Hell, someone I barely knew. And yet, standing beside him, considering this trade with a stranger felt a little less dangerous.
I turned to him. “Could this obliterate me? End me? Like the Letheling?”
His eyes met mine. “No,” he said. “It’s not fatal.”
Not fatal, but that left a lot of space for damage. I didn’t trust the merchant, but I wanted answers. I knew nobody else was willing to give them to me.
Still, my heart thudded.
“Will it hurt?” I asked, my voice lower than I meant it to be.
The merchant only smiled. “I cannot say. It depends on the truth you learn, and the truth you give.”
I could walk away. Refuse.
Instead, I looked once more at Leander. His eyes met mine, and I felt safe. Somehow, that steadied me.
Or it made me reckless.
I nodded. “I’ll trade.”
She reached for something beneath the table, drawing out a thin band of metal. It was a delicate bracelet, and she slipped it onto my wrist, the clasp clicking shut with a finality that sent a chill through me.
“When you make bargains here,” she said, “they can never be unmade.”
I flexed my fingers. The bracelet was light, deceptively so, but it sat against my skin like frost.
Then, the merchant started to mix strange ingredients in an old stone bowl. She stirred, all the while grinning and watching me eagerly. When she was done, her smile was even wider.
“Drink,” she said, sliding a small vial of the potion towards me.
The liquid was dark, like death’s touch made real. “And this isn’t fatal?” I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers.
She grinned slyly. “It will show you what you seek.”
I didn’t trust the bracelet locked around my wrist, and I certainly didn’t want to drink whatever peculiar potion sat before me.
But the deal was done. Walking away now wouldn’t just make me look weak, it would leave me in the merchant’s debt, and that was a currency I couldn’t afford to owe.
Besides, there was truth waiting at the end of this path.
All I needed was enough courage to face it.
I tilted my head back. “Bottoms up.” The liquid burned my throat as it went down.
Then, the world tipped sideways, and I fell.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a cabin.
Golden light poured through expansive windows and across the wood-panelled floor.
Soft, woven blankets bundled on a sofa called to me and promised to ease my aching joints.
I smelled pine and fresh earth drifting through the open doorway, carried on a mountain breeze.
I stretched to catch a glimpse of the view below and saw the forest stretching out in rolling waves of green.
The soft rustling of leaves and distant calls of birds comforted me and lifted me away from the troubles of Hell.
But this place was unknown to me. I knew it matched my dream once upon a time. It was what I had wanted for my future . . . before I died. What I’d wanted for Tobias and me.
My fingers trailed over the worn edge of the wooden table. A cup of tea was still steaming beside an open book.
The ache in my chest was unfamiliar, a longing that felt like grief. I had never known safety, or peace. But here, in this moment, I felt it.
I caught my reflection in the window glass, and I didn’t recognise myself for a moment.
It was my face, my forest-green eyes, and my red-auburn hair.
I examined every feature, and they were exactly as they had always been.
But my skin was smooth, almost luminous.
There were no frown lines, and no shadows carved beneath my eyes.
The exhaustion that had once lived in me like a second soul was gone.
Shadows stretched across the floor, and the revelation ended too soon. The warmth faded. The brightness dimmed. Through the glass window, the forest was shaking, and the trees trembled in a storm.
Whispers started as a trickle, and grew louder and louder, until the noise was a swarm of voices. I spun and stumbled, and gasped when I discovered I was no longer alone.
A broad and imposing figure stood at the cabin’s threshold. Their face, if they had one, was concealed by shadows.
“Why do you think you’re here?” His voice was silky, and a strange sensation overcame me. I had no doubt that he possessed great power.
A shudder shot down my spine. “This place is from my dreams.”
He said nothing for a beat, and then, “Why are you here?”
I swallowed, but my throat was dry. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
“You are not ready. Pity.”
My heartbeat pounded in my ears. The air around me was frigid now, and my breath misted in the gap between us. My palms tightened into fists, driving steel into my voice. “I want to know about The Cycle.”
He took a step into the cabin, and the wood shuddered beneath him. “I will show you.”
The cabin vanished, ripped away like a curtain torn from a window, leaving only a hollow, endless darkness.
The ground beneath me was no longer smooth wood but jagged, uneven rock, and I staggered on the uneven ledge.
A vast chamber appeared before me, its towering columns cracked and crumbling, worn by time yet untouched by ruin. The air was thick with dust, ancient and dry as if this place had not been disturbed in centuries.
And yet, it was alive somehow, I knew it in my very core.
Not alive in fire and fury, but with something old and restrained. There was a power that dwelled here, and it was not happy at my presence.
The carvings on the walls glowed, their lines etched with a magic that pulsed like a heartbeat. I couldn’t help the urge to reach out and touch them, ghosting my fingers over the surface, and the stories unfolded before me in the dimness.
Scenes of rebellion.
Demons rising, tearing down their ruler, their hands breaking chains and binding themselves instead to land, to power, to something greater.
I traced the outline of a figure – a tall, crowned man, arms outstretched as if to hold something together. His form cracked apart as the carvings wound onward, shattering into seven pieces, each one splitting off into the shapes of the domains I had seen.
The Heart of Hell.
My breath caught. The chasm stretched into the centre of the chamber, a void where no fire burned. But it wasn’t empty. Wind howled through it, not from air, but from power trapped, whirling, seeking release.
“It is locked,” the faceless man said, his voice cutting through the silence. “Because there must be a ruler to siphon the magic. It cannot move freely.”
I turned to him. He stood just at the edge of the chasm, his form shifting, warping the space around him. Shadows clung to him, swallowing the dim glow of the carvings.
“The others trapped him,” I murmured, the realisation slipping from my lips before I could stop it. “Salazar.”
The man’s voice was venomous, cold and furious.
“They conspired to shatter what I made whole.”
I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to the carvings once more. A new realisation crawled up my spine, unsettling and raw.
“This is the truth you sought,” the man continued, stepping closer. The shadows bent around him, pulling the air tight. “And yet you are blind to what waits ahead.”
The weight of his presence was suffocating now, pressing against my ribs like unseen hands. I forced myself to hold my ground.