Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Kaelith touched down on the black sand with a hiss of wind and ash, her massive wings folding against her sides as I slid from her back. The beach was jagged and cold beneath my boots, littered with the skeletal remains of ships that had once tried to reach this cursed place.
There was no point in stealth. Severeth had been expecting me.
The air trembled, and a faint hum sliced through the tension. A hole in the wards—thin, silver like a tear in a veil—shimmered into being. Kaelith growled low in her throat behind me.
Stay close, I whispered. But don’t follow. Not unless I call for you.
She is not to be trusted.
I know.
I took a breath, steadying my nerves, and stepped through the shimmer.
The magic slid over my skin like ice, then flame, then… nothing.
The beach vanished behind me.
I stood on a stone road that wound through a dead forest, eerie branches clawing at the sky. No birds. No wind. Just silence and rot.
Ash clung to the withered trunks like snow.
The path led upward, a slow incline toward the jagged silhouette that loomed above everything else—Veralin’s castle.
It rose like a black crown over the isle, its towers crooked and broken, the walls scorched and crumbling in places, as if fire had tried to burn it down and failed.
Magic still pulsed faintly from its stones, a sickly red that bled across the sky like a second sunset.
The gates were already open. Of course they were.
I crossed the threshold.
The great hall was hollowed out, its vaulted ceiling veined with dark magic, the chandeliers broken, rusted chains hanging like nooses from above.
Ancient banners lined the walls, displaying the Blood King’s sigil, which, though faded, remained visible—a serpent wrapped around a crown, its mouth open in a scream.
My boots echoed across the stone as I walked toward the end of the room.
A dragon statue carved from obsidian, jagged and sharp-edged, stood in the center. I had the feeling it was of Veralin’s dragon as it was large and black like midnight.
I could feel him.
Watching.
Waiting.
And somewhere beyond these stone walls… Elara.
I crossed the room and the heavy doors groaned as they opened, their iron hinges shrieking like wounded beasts. The air inside was metallic, damp, and pulsing with ancient magic that coiled like smoke through the halls.
My boots struck the black stone floor with every step, echoing off vaulted ceilings choked with shadows. Flames flickered in braziers of dark iron, casting shifting patterns across the floor like slithering creatures.
The Blood Fae lined the corridor, on either side, as silent as statues. Their crimson eyes tracked my every move, unreadable. Some wore armor that looked like it had been forged in nightmares, others robes laced with bone charms and sigils I didn’t recognize. But none stopped me.
They’d been ordered not to.
As I reached the far end of the corridor, one stepped forward, a tall female with pallid skin and cruel eyes. She didn’t speak. Just placed a hand against the obsidian door.
It creaked open on its own.
A wave of pressure rolled out from within. Cold. Ancient. Saturated with power.
I stepped through the threshold.
The throne room was vast and circular, wreathed in red flame and shadow. Columns twisted like petrified roots climbed toward the ceiling high above. The very air felt heavier here, the stone beneath my feet darker, older—as if it remembered every drop of blood spilled in this room.
At the center of it all, on a dais carved of the same black stone as the castle itself, sat Veralin.
The Blood King.
He reclined on his jagged throne as if it had grown around him.
His cloak was deep-crimson, draped over one shoulder and pinned with a brooch shaped like a bleeding fang.
His skin was as pale as moonlight, stretched tight over sharp cheekbones.
His eyes, the color of dying embers, sparked when they met mine.
He smiled.
“Hello, Storm-born,” he said, his voice low and rich, a blade wrapped in silk. “We have been waiting for you.”
My throat tightened.
Elara had to be close. And whatever this was… it had only just begun.
The Blood King stood slowly, his presence expanding like a storm cloud unfurling across the sky.
Power radiated from him in heavy, relentless waves, pressing against my chest like a second heartbeat.
His crimson eyes locked on mine, ageless and unblinking.
The tattered hem of his long, black robe dragged across the stone as he descended from his throne—more shadow than man, more myth than flesh.
“Where is Elara?” I asked, bracing myself against the pull of his magic. She had to be safe. She had to be.
His lips curved, the faintest hint of amusement in their line. “She is with your sister.”
I stared at him. “My… what?”
“Sister,” he repeated with a tilt of his head, as if testing the word on his tongue. “One you’ve never met. She is a few years older than you. Our associates acquired her when your mother was pregnant with you.”
My stomach twisted. What kind of game was this?
“But before you see either of them,” he continued, “you must answer a question. Tell me the truth, and you may proceed. Lie, and I will bury your tongue in the sand outside my walls.”
I swallowed, hard. “What’s the question?”
He stepped down fully from the dais, the heat of his magic crackling against my skin. “The wards were down. Now, they are not. How did that happen?”
I blinked. “The wards are back up?”
His expression didn’t change. “They are. The pool breathes once more, though its rhythm is faint. So I ask again, how?”
I shook my head, surprised. Quinn had been sure the pool was dying. The black water. The loss of two warders. The steady fading. But then…
Alahathrial.
“He—there’s a fae in the castle,” I said slowly. “His name is Alahathrial. He…” I met Veralin’s stare. “He said he was boosting the pool. He admitted it couldn’t last forever. He mentioned something about fifty years.”
Veralin’s mouth curled at the edges, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “So, he lives still. And meddling, as always. His magic is not compatible with the pool’s origin. He should know better.”
“He said that too,” I whispered.
The Blood King turned away, just slightly. “He can supplement it, yes. Enough to trick the wards into breathing. A fool’s effort. But… you did not lie.” He exhaled, something between satisfaction and regret in the sound. “Very well.”
He raised a hand, and one of the robed Blood Fae behind me stepped forward.
“You will see her now. Both of them.”
My pulse kicked up. “Where?”
His voice was silk-wrapped steel. “The dungeons. Where all the kingdom’s secrets are buried.”
The fae gestured for me to follow. And with one last glance at my grandfather’s cold crimson gaze, I stepped into the dark.
I followed the Blood Fae down a narrow corridor that reeked of damp stone and old blood.
The torches lining the walls flickered with a sickly-green flame, casting jagged shadows that seemed to whisper as we passed.
The corridor ended at a heavy iron door, and the fae unlocked it without a word before slipping away into the dark.
Inside the dungeon, was a cell. The air was colder. Heavier.
And then I saw Elara curled against a woman’s chest, asleep, her small hands fisted in the fabric of the stranger’s cloak.
The young woman held her like something precious, something breakable.
She looked up as I entered, her eyes sharp, as violet as twilight.
But her hair was a deep-chestnut, curling softly around her bruised face.
“Who are you?” she asked the moment the door shut behind me.
“My name is Ashe,” I said gently. “I’m here for Elara.”
The woman exhaled like it hurt. “She said you would come.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t believe her.”
I stepped closer, eyes drifting to the blood on her lip, the angry bruises blooming across her cheeks. “Are you really… Veralin’s granddaughter?”
She gave a slow nod and closed her eyes again. “Unfortunately.”
I swallowed hard. “What happened to you?”
She opened her eyes and looked down at Elara, brushing a strand of hair from the girl’s face with trembling fingers. “At least this one will go free.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, voice softer now. “How have you survived here?”
She hesitated before answering. “My name is Veyna.” She looked up at me again, and for the first time, I saw the weight she carried. Not just in her posture, but in the shadows behind her eyes. “And I survived by being exactly what he wanted me to be. Obedient. Silent. Forgotten.”
Her hand slid protectively over Elara’s back. “But not anymore.”
I stepped forward slowly. “Then come with me. Both of you.”
Her eyes watered but she didn’t cry. “He’ll kill us.”
“No,” I said, kneeling beside them. “He wants me. And he made a mistake bringing you into this. He just gave me another reason to burn his entire kingdom to ash.”
Elara stirred in Veyna’s arms, her lashes fluttering as she woke with a gasp. She blinked, taking in the dim dungeon, her small body stiffening when she realized where she was.
Then her eyes landed on me.
“Ashe!” she cried, scrambling to her feet and bolting to the bars. Her hands wrapped around the iron as she pressed her face to the cold metal. “Where’s Zander?”
I stepped forward, keeping my voice even. “He’s not here, sweetheart. This is a solo mission. But we’re getting out. I promise.”
Her brows scrunched together, panic flickering in her lavender eyes. “Veyna can glamor us. She said so. If we can get out of the dungeon and past the guards, she can hide us.”
I turned to Veyna. “Is that true? You can use glamour?”
“It’s my gift,” she said weakly, pushing herself up with one hand on the stone wall. “But I’m tired. Weak. He… punished me for speaking up when they took her.”
“Where’s the key to this door?” I asked, already moving toward the rusted lock.
“You need a fae key,” she said quickly. “Not even their guards carry them. I doubt you’ll find—”
Her words died in her throat as I reached beneath my armor and pulled out the small, twisting key I’d acquired from the sanctuary.
“Like this?” I said.
Veyna blinked, her lips parting. “Yes. Where did you get that?”
I smirked as I slipped it into the lock. “It’s a long story.”
The lock gave a soft click.
Elara’s eyes went wide, and then, I saw hope bloom in her expression. “Are we really getting out?”
“Yeah,” I said, pushing open the door and pulling her into a hug. “We are.”
Veyna stepped out slowly, her limbs shaky, but her eyes sharper now. “Let’s move before they realize you’re not as obedient as you seem.”
“I’m not obedient,” I muttered. “I’m pissed.”
I turned as I heard the fae guard returning.