Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
Does he know I lied?
“He probably ran to his rooms.”
My blood runs cold. I must remind myself that he needs me alive.
No one will obey him without a member of the royal family to carry out his will.
“I came here from the Western Court. He—”
“I think I know where he is hiding.” The shadouk reaches for me, but I step aside under the guise of looking around him. “Earlier this evening, I overheard him talking about a hidden room there.”
There is no such place. Even if Eojin had not been with me, he would have shown me the second he discovered it.
“Eojin never mentioned—” My voice is weak and quiet, lacking any quality a Crown Prince should possess.
“Brothers do not always share everything,” he counters. “Come along, Nephew, there is no time to waste.”
To object would give away what I know. The only choice is to go along with him. Perhaps I can lead him away…
Outside the Temple Tower, save for the distant shouts of the guard captain giving orders.
I trail behind the shadouk through the long corridors with my head down, like an obedient prince, deferring to a respected elder. My gaze darts, searching for signs of Eojin’s escape, even knowing that if they were successful, there would be nothing to give them away.
Every so often, he glances back. I do my best to offer a trusting smile, though too much uncertainty roils within me to know if it is believable.
We enter the building where Eojin and I share our connected apartments. The entire Western Court is abandoned. It’s unnaturally quiet—a city of death and destruction.
He leads me into the study in my apartments.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
The shadouk stops and crouches. He glances over his shoulder, motioning impatiently for me to come closer.
His hand is pressed to the ground, fingertips sinking below the surface. There is no secret room before him—only dirt. It fills me with dread. Stories of humans burying their dead inside the earth fill my mind.
For several minutes, nothing happens.
I nearly leap out of my skin when he inhales sharply, and bright, red light shines from his eyes.
Be not afraid, prince. I am with you, my guardian’s voice speaks reassuringly within my mind.
A rectangle of crimson light cuts through the dirt, opening at our feet. A faint, sickly light radiates from below, casting a barely there outline on the narrow steps leading into the depths.
“Go on,” the shadouk urges. “Find your brother. I will be right behind you.”
Determined to save my brother, I swallow my fear and descend.
The soft slide of leather soles trails behind, carrying the heavy presence, growing heavier and more oppressive with every heartbeat. Each breath seeming to say, Run. Run while you still can.
An eternity seems to pass, though in reality it is only minutes by the time we reach the hard-packed earth at the bottom.
We emerge into a yawning cavern with a dark pool in the center.
A long, narrow strip hovers above the water from the shore to a platform in the center, where a tall mirror frame stands.
Large swatches of moss grow in random patches along the rough walls, emitting the sickly, strange light that allows me to see where I’m going.
A young boy sits hunched and leaning forward before the mirror with his legs crossed.
Brother?
“Eojin!” I call, running for him.
I race over the narrow path. The water that I first thought was black, sloshes over in thick crimson waves. I wonder if it’s an illusion, or the blood of all those who’ve died tonight. It’s not until I reach the center platform that I realize the boy is not sitting before the mirror, but within.
I whirl around, ready to bolt, only to find the narrow path back to solid ground blocked.
“What is this?” My voice shakes, betraying the terror gripping my spine.
Black veins pulse within the whites of his eyes, swallowing his winter blue irises and spreading like ink into the whites until he stares at me through two shadowy voids.
“It is only the two of us now, Nephew.” The shadouk walks forward along the glass. Each heavy footfall sends a wave of red liquid washing over it. “The rest of the family is dead.”
Not Eojin.
I shake my head. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, but it is,” he growls the words with malicious glee, letting the ruse slip away.
My hands ball into fists as I stand before the towering monster disguised as the uncle I’ve only seen through paintings. “Why?”
“Because I loved her first. Yet she chose your father instead, when I am the firstborn. This—the crown, the throne, and all of Arum is mine by rights—she was mine!”
I gather my energy, preparing to call upon my dragon.
“Now I will take what is mine,” he calls.
The demon from the dinner lowers from the darkness above.
Their eyes shine, molten. Red irises form in the depths of the shadouk’s, pushing through the inky voids.
More black veins spill from his eyes and across his face, spreading down his neck and under his collar, and over the backs of his hands within seconds.
He lifts a hand, summoning a glowing red orb above his palm.
Imugi’s snowy form darts from the stairwell, soaring toward me as fast as they can. But the other demon sees them and swoops, slamming into them. The impact flings Imugi against the wall with a resounding crack.
The sound echoes in my ears, growing louder with the wail of crackling power that strikes me a moment later. My body rises into the air, lifted by giant, unseen hands. The power solidifies and turns into ropes of thorns that pierce my skin.
My guardian’s screams fill my head as my own echo in my ears.
I collapse in a heap on the ground, breathless. The air feels too heavy, as if taking the shadouk’s side, trying to keep me down. It takes everything I have to get up again.
The monster chuckles, amused by the effort I exert on such a simple thing. He points to the ground and swirls his finger, motioning for me to turn. My body obeys his command as if it is no longer mine to control.
The boy in the mirror lifts his head and gracefully gets to his feet. He turns, the upper part of him shrouded in a shadow that cuts diagonally across his torso.
He takes a step forward. The unnatural umbra melts away, revealing his face.
It is not my brother, as I’d assumed…
My reflection stares at me. His head lists to the side in a jerking motion. Vines of bloody thorns, wrapped around his limbs and body, push outward. The mirror’s surface ripples as his hand passes through it.
A cold smile stretches over the lips of the other me a second before his fist plunges into my chest. He rips his arm back to whatever nightmare realm lies on the other side of the glass.
Slowly, he unfurls his fingers, revealing my pearl—the connection to both my guardian and my magic. I lunge, only to slam into the hard surface. I claw and scrape uselessly at the glass.
Dragon! I call to the guardian within me. Dragon!
There is no answer beyond a restless writhing that lets me know he is still there.
The boy within the mirror holds his free hand, open above my pearl. His fingers undulate, pulling on invisible strings. Light blue light shines as he works my power from it.
He throws the glowing orb of magic. It smacks against the glass, seeping in and seeps in, becoming one with it. A cold grin stretches over his mouth right before he hurls the pearl. I flinch at the loud crack and watch in horror as it fuses with the mirror.
The soft crunching of cracking glass feathers outward, growing louder and faster as fissures race across the surface.
Then, silence.
Three heartbeats… four… five.
The shards explode in a fierce explosion.
Blinding, searing pain slashes over one eye. My hands fly up, hovering over the area.
“Your memories will be gone within minutes, and soon the pain you feel will be a distant dream, half remembered,” my uncle’s voice whispers into my ear.
The writhing inside me stretches. Shimmering scales break out across my hands, then disappear with each thrash of dragon’s claws.
“Soon, everyone will know that you killed your family because you were too impatient to wait to sit on the throne.”
“That’s… not true,” I grind out as I fight to keep my guardian contained.
“When the world wakes, they will know of your treachery, but I will be by your side, watching as you fail to regain the broken shards of your power until the day you finally succumb. When that day comes, I will take great pleasure in ripping out your throat. And all of Arum will cheer me as I claim my crown, once and for all.”
“No!” I scream.
In my anger, the tenuous grasp I had on my guardian slips. The dragon breaks free, sending my consciousness plummeting into darkness.
There is the vague sensation of flying over the palace—a roar summoning a massive storm to envelope the entire kingdom. Images of the fae lands and cities blur past. A blast of ice cuts through the forest, clearing the way.
I wake, cold and afraid, the next morning with Imugi at my side. We are on a platform surrounded by a small pool of water that looks like a sheet of silver. Before me is the polished metal backing of the broken mirror with lines forming a map of the missing pieces.
With a groan, I sit up. The cut running through my eye from brow to cheek stings with the rawness of it. My hand goes to my eye, fingers brushing over the sharp edge still protruding. My heart stumbles.
Blood seeps from the wound like a crimson river. I grip the shard with both hands, ignoring the pain of the jagged edges that dig into the tender skin of my palm.
A scream rips from my throat as I try to remove it in a single pull. But my hold is slippery from the new injuries. Bit by bit, I make progress. Each attempt is agony. Several times, I stop to wretch from the pain.
Finally, it slips free, and I let it drop.
Imugi breathes a puff of fog over my face, instantly dulling the pain. My skin tightens as it stitches itself back together.
Carefully, I press the shard against the mirror backing. It shines and stays in place. I feel a fraction of my power return to me.
How do I know to do that?
An instinct? No.
I squeeze my eyes shut, frowning as I struggle to remember.
A curse…
“You! You did this!” The words are a harsh whisper in the back of my mind.
The one I cast.
Why?
There are holes in my memory—too many to understand. Something went wrong. I ended up tangled up in its threads. How?
Every muscle in my body screams in protest as I climb to my feet and leave the cavern.
Outside is chaos. Shouts and screams fill the air as those who are able hurry to tend to the injured.
The death bell on the Temple Tower tolls out.
My family is dead.
I run to the Eastern Court. My uncle is there. He catches me before I can do more than glimpse the remains of my parents, mutilated beyond recognition. Two more adult forms lie beside them, and one the size of a child, only a few years younger than me.
My brother…
No… that’s not right.
I am an only child.