Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Zander glanced at me, his jaw tight, his eyes still burning from the argument with Major Ledor.
“Tae,” he said, not taking his eyes off me, “take her to Meri. Now.”
Tae nodded immediately and helped me to my feet, his arm looping around my shoulders to steady me.
I leaned into him, legs barely cooperating as we started toward the healers’ quadrant.
Behind us, I heard Zander’s voice again—quiet but distinct. He wasn’t done with the major. Not by a long shot.
“You alright?” Tae asked as we passed through the garden paths, his grip firm but gentle.
“I feel like I’ve been grilled from the inside out,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice light, but the raw ache in my chest made it thin.
Tae gave a low chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The more powerful the magic, the worse the backlash. At least for humans. I don’t think the fae suffered the same.”
We passed beneath an ivy-wrapped arch and into the cool shade of the healers’ quadrant. The scent of herbs hit me instantly, yarrow, thyme, and something sharper I couldn’t place.
A younger healer with ink-stained fingers led us to an open cot near the back, gesturing for me to sit while they prepped a calming tea.
“I’m okay,” I told Tae, managing a faint smile. “You don’t need to wait. I just need rest.”
He studied me for a second longer, then nodded. “Alright. But I’ll be nearby.”
I watched him go, his broad back vanishing through the archway.
The cot was warm beneath me, and my limbs began to relax for the first time all day.
Another healer murmured something as they checked my pulse and started dabbing at the bruising magic burns still faintly glowing across my wrist.
I let my eyes drift shut.
And before Meri even arrived, sleep pulled me under.
The world around me twisted, the air thickening like water, dragging me through memory and dream.
First, it was my old room at the Order compound—narrow and dim, the walls lined with cracked stone and the thin mattress tucked beneath a worn painting.
Then the vision shifted.
I was racing barefoot through the tunnel beneath the walls, the one that led to the hidden beach. The wind howled behind me, my breath ragged in my throat as I ran toward the distant sound of crashing waves and freedom.
Then, suddenly, silence.
The tunnel disappeared, replaced by a wide, open field. The sky above was dusky gray, the horizon lit by a sun that never moved.
I stood there, heart pounding.
And I wasn’t alone.
Kaelith.
And Hein.
They stood before me, their massive forms coiled in stillness, heads lowered, eyes locked on me with too much weight.
Their lips didn’t move.
But I heard them.
You doubt her, Hein’s voice rumbled through my mind, deep and thunderous, like a storm still forming.
She’s not ready, Kaelith answered, her tone cool and coiled with frustration.
My heart stuttered. I took a step forward, fists clenched. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, voice echoing strangely in the open field.
Kaelith turned her head slightly, golden eyes gleaming like twin suns.
You must survive without me.
Her voice pulsed through my chest, raw and final.
Or not at all.
And just like that, the field began to dissolve around me, petals turning to ash, earth vanishing beneath my feet.
I screamed her name.
But she was already gone.
The next dream came on like a wave crashing over my body. Hot, sudden, and choking.
I wasn’t in the healer’s cot.
I was in a chamber carved from black stone, slick with moisture, the air heavy with the metallic sting of blood and old magic. Runes pulsed faintly along the walls, ancient and alive, their glow beating in time with something I couldn’t name.
At the center of the room stood a figure cloaked in crimson robes, hood drawn low over his face. His shoulders were broad, his stance regal and poised, but there was something… wrong. His presence cracked the surrounding air, warping the dream.
Beside him stood Seraveth.
She smiled at me with blood-stained lips, her silver hair falling loose across her shoulders like a mockery of grace.
The robed figure laughed, low and rich, but familiar, disturbingly so.
His voice echoed through the chamber, through my bones, crawling beneath my skin. I knew that voice. Or I had once.
But his face was hidden.
Shadowed.
Seraveth stepped forward and raised her hand.
A knife. Long and curved, glistening with blood.
It wasn’t until then that I saw what was laid out before them. Who was.
Zander.
He was sprawled on the stone altar, armor torn open, blood soaking into the carved grooves beneath him.
His eyes were closed. Too still.
“No—” My scream ripped from my throat, raw and broken. “Zander!”
But the chamber swallowed my voice, and Seraveth just smiled wider.
The blade hovered over him.
And I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t stop it.
I woke with a gasp, my body jerking against the cot as if I’d been yanked out of fire. My skin was clammy with sweat, the remnants of that nightmare still coiled like thorns in my chest.
My hands trembled as I pushed myself upright.
Zander was already beside me, his fingers gently wrapped around mine.
“You were whimpering in your sleep,” he said softly, his voice hoarse from lack of rest. “I came to check on you.”
I blinked at him, trying to slow my breathing. “I’m… I’m not sure what happened.”
His brow furrowed, concern flickering across his features. “Major Ledor was taking liberties he shouldn’t have. That trial wasn’t sanctioned. I’m looking into it.”
I stared down at the space between us, our hands still clasped.
But I wasn’t talking about the trial.
I didn’t tell him about the blood-soaked altar. About Seraveth. About the robed figure whose laugh still echoed in my skull.
I said nothing.
The door creaked open, and Remy stepped inside.
He paused just inside the threshold, eyes falling immediately on me… and then on Zander, still holding my hand.
He didn’t say a word.
Didn’t offer some witty interruption.
He just watched.
But I could feel it. The irritation rolling off him like heat from a forge.
Zander didn’t move.
And neither did I.
I sat on the edge of the cot; the blanket twisted around my waist, the cold still clinging to my skin despite the warmth of the healer’s hall. Zander sat beside me, not touching now, but close enough that the silence between us felt heavy, like something unsaid pressing on both our chests.
“I’ve been having strange dreams,” I said finally, voice low, like the wrong tone might summon the robed figure again.
Zander glanced over, brow furrowing. “Everyone dreams, Ashe. Especially after a trial like that.”
“No,” I said, louder than I meant to. “Not like this. It’s more than memory. More than fear.” I swallowed hard. “It feels… like I’m connected. To them.”
His eyes darkened. “The Blood Fae?”
I nodded. “I saw Seraveth again. But this time… she wasn’t alone.”
Zander was quiet for a long breath. “You think it’s more than just dreams?”
“I know it is,” I whispered. “They feel like… memories I never lived.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “We could ask Alahathrial. He is still in the west wing. He might know something.”
My breath caught. “You think I should ask him?”
Zander nodded slowly. “You said yourself, you’re connected somehow. We need answers. And we’re not going to get them through dreams.”
I let that settle, my pulse ticking at my wrist. I hated the idea of sharing my dreams with a stranger. But I hated the uncertainty more.
“I’ll create a distraction,” Remy said before I could speak. “If the guards don’t know where you are, they won’t stop you.”
Zander straightened. “That’s risky.”
Remy shrugged. “So is being haunted by other people’s memories.”
My gaze flicked between the two of them. One bound to me by fate, the other by a past that refused to die.
“I’ll go,” I said quietly. “But I’m going in alone.”
Neither of them liked it.
“No.”
Zander’s voice was as thick as steel, final in the way that left no room for argument.
I turned to face him, lips parted, already ready to fight.
But he held up a hand. “If we get caught down there, the only thing keeping us out of our own godsdamned dungeon is me. I’m the only excuse they’ll accept. If you go in alone and get discovered, it’s treason.”
I clenched my jaw, frustrated but knowing he was right.
Remy, standing just off to the side, exhaled slowly. He looked like he hated it even more than I did.
But he nodded. “Fine. Then we do this right.”
Zander raised a brow. “What’s your idea?”
Remy smirked, already rolling his shoulders like he was warming up. “A fight. Between me and Tae.”
I blinked. “Wait… what?”
“Nobody’ll be surprised,” Remy said dryly. “We’ve had… differences. Mostly in front of people. It’ll look real enough.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You think he’ll go for it?”
Remy gave a single, confident nod. “Oh, Tae will enjoy it.”
I made a mental note to ask my squad mate what that history was about later, but right now, I needed this distraction more than I needed answers.
We hashed out the timing, the signals, how long the chaos would need to last. Zander would accompany me into the catacombs while Remy and Tae drew attention away from the west wing.
Once the plan was set, Remy clapped Zander on the shoulder, shot me a knowing look, and disappeared into the halls to find Tae.
Zander and I made our way through the corridors, slipping down into the lower level where the castle turned cold and narrow.
We moved into position near the catacomb entrance, shadows curling along the ancient stones.
Waiting.
The silence stretched long between us.
Then, from somewhere above, a crash, followed by shouting.
Then another thud.
The unmistakable chaos of fists colliding and guards reacting.
Zander glanced at me once, his eyes focused, then motioned forward.
“Let’s move.”
And we vanished into the dark.