Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
The corridors beneath the main castle were colder, older. The stones here wept with moisture that smelled of earth and decay. Briar's torn dress dragged through puddles she couldn't see in the dark, the silk heavy and ruined. Every footstep seemed too loud.
"Left here," she whispered to Karse.
They pressed against the wall as footsteps echoed from ahead.
Withered. Two of them, their antlered heads turning slowly as they patrolled.
Briar held her breath, feeling Karse's heat behind her, ready to burn if needed.
The creatures passed, their decayed robes brushing the floor with sounds like dead leaves.
They moved deeper. The warmth in her chest pulled stronger now, reaching for something below. Her throat still bled sluggishly from Malus's bite, each pulse of her heart sending fresh trickles down her chest.
Another patrol. They ducked into an alcove, Briar's back pressed against Karse's chest. His scales radiated warmth, but she couldn't stop shivering. The Withered passed so close she could smell them—rot and winter and ancient earth.
"How much further?" Karse breathed against her ear.
"Next corridor."
Once the coast was clear, they crept forward and stepped around the corner.
The hall stretched on endlessly, ending in darkness and shadow.
Briar didn’t hesitate, passing the door leading to the oubliette without sparing it a glance.
The hall narrowed and Briar slowed, angling her steps until she saw the shimmer.
It was still there, just as Briar remembered it from what felt like a lifetime ago.
"Are you planning to walk through solid stone?" Karse asked dryly. "Because while I appreciate optimism, I don't think that's how walls work."
Briar moved to the seemingly blank wall, reaching for where the hidden latch would be. "It's here."
"Of course it is. Invisible doors. Fae can’t make anything practical."
"Wait."
The voice came from shadows so thick they seemed solid. Briar's entire body went rigid, ice flooding her veins. She spun toward the sound, the warmth in her chest flaring defensive heat.
She knew that voice.
Ferria stepped into the weak torchlight.
Her dark hair hung limp and tangled, nothing like the perfect waves Briar remembered.
Her dress was torn at the hem, stained with things Briar had no desire to identify.
Hollows carved themselves beneath her eyes, and her hands trembled slightly as she raised them, palms out, empty.
"You." The word ripped from Briar's throat, raw and violent. She took half a step towards her, the warmth surged, responding to her rage, wanting to burn. “All of this is your fault."
"I know." Ferria's voice held none of its usual music. Just exhaustion.
"Do you?" Briar took another step forward, and Karse's hand settled on her arm—not restraining, just present. "Do you know what he's done? What your precious Malus has become?"
"I've been living in the walls for three days.
" Ferria's eyes stayed steady on Briar's face.
"Sleeping in service corridors. Eating scraps.
I've heard the screams from the great hall.
Seen the blood on servants' clothes. Smelled what the Withered do to anyone who resists.
" Her voice cracked slightly. "Yes, I know what I helped create. "
"Then why are you here?"
"Same reason you are." Ferria's gaze shifted to the hidden door. "Eliam."
Hearing Ferria say it, after everything, made Briar’s stomach twist.
"You don't get to—"
"I don't care what I get to do." Ferria's flatness cut through Briar's building tirade. "If I could get him out myself, I would. I'd leave you here to whatever end Malus planned. But the Withered don't respond to illusions, and I can't fight them alone."
The honesty was brutal. No apology, no pretense of redemption.
"She could have raised the alarm," Karse said, doing little to temper Briar’s mounting fury. "Could have run to Malus the moment she saw us sneaking around. She didn't."
"The dungeons are guarded," Ferria continued. "Heavily. But I know the castle's secrets. Service passages that run parallel to the main routes."
"Why should we believe you?"
"Because I spent years sneaking through this castle to meet with Malus.
" Bitterness crept into her voice. "Years of planning, scheming, and for what?
He promised me Eliam. Told me once he had power, I could have what I wanted.
Instead, he throws Eliam in the dungeons and starts feeding on humans like we're back in the Night Court's glory days. "
A door slammed somewhere above them. They all froze.
"We don't have time for this," Karse said. "Either we take her with us or we leave her here, but standing around debating gives Malus time to wake up."
Briar's jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. Every instinct screamed against trusting Ferria. But Karse was right. And Ferria was here, knowing the risk, offering help they might need.
"One wrong move," Briar said quietly, "one hint of betrayal, and Karse burns you to ash."
"Gladly," Karse added, heat-shimmer rising from his scales.
Ferria nodded.
Briar turned to the hidden door again, finding the latch by memory and pressure. The mechanism clicked, and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of deep earth and old water and something else—despair, maybe. The darkness beyond was absolute.
"I'll go first," Ferria said. "If there are guards at the top of the stairs—"
"I’ll torch them," Karse said with a shrug.
They stepped through the door, first Ferria, then Briar, then Karse. The moment Briar's foot hit the first step, her fingers found the wall for balance, brushing against the familiar moss. It flared with pale green light at her touch, just as it always did.
She kept her hand on the wall as they descended, the phosphorescent glow lighting their way before fading back to darkness.
"What is that?" Karse whispered from behind, his voice carrying genuine curiosity.
"Luminous moss," Ferria answered flatly. "It grows throughout the lower levels."
The stairs seemed to go on forever, though Briar knew it was just the exhaustion making each step feel heavier.
Behind her, Karse's breathing was controlled but she could feel his heat, his readiness. Ahead, Ferria moved silently, her illusion magic wrapped around her even though it wouldn't work on the Withered.
The warmth in Briar's chest pulled harder with each step down, reaching desperately for what waited below. It knew how close they were.
The door at the bottom of the stairs hung askew, wood rotted through in places, the ancient hinges barely holding. Briar pushed through, the wood groaning and splintering where she touched it. The sound echoed wrong in the space beyond—too big, too hollow.
The chamber opened before them, vast enough that the moss-light couldn't reach the far walls.
More of the luminous growth carpeted the floor here, pulsing in slow waves as they entered, casting everything in that sickly green glow.
The air tasted of minerals and damp stone, thick enough to choke on.
Cells lined the walls, carved directly from the rock.
Most stood open, their bars long since rusted away or torn free.
But at the far end, she could see two that remained sealed.
Her heart lurched. Eliam was there. She could feel him through the warmth in her chest, that pull so strong now it physically hurt.
"There," she breathed, already moving forward.
The moss beneath her bare feet was slick and cold, squelching between her toes. Behind her, she heard Karse make a disgusted sound—something about the smell—but she didn't care. Eliam was there, just across this empty chamber, just—
Movement.
Not sudden, but wrong. Shapes that had seemed like shadows or stone pillars began to shift. Straighten. Turn.
Six Withered stepped into the moss-light.
They'd been standing perfectly still against the walls, so motionless she'd mistaken them for architecture. Now they moved with that horrible wrongness—too smooth, too synchronized, like puppets on shared strings. Their antlered heads turned toward the intruders in unison.
Briar's blood turned to ice. They were between her and the cells. Between her and Eliam.
The nearest Withered took a step forward. Where its foot touched, the moss blackened and died, leaving a perfect print of decay. The temperature dropped, her breath suddenly visible in small puffs.
"Well," Karse said behind her, heat already radiating from his body. "This should be fun."
The Withered didn't speak. They never did. They just started walking forward, closing the distance with inevitable purpose, their robes dragging through the moss and leaving trails of rot in their wake.
"Six of them," Ferria whispered. "Too many."
"Speak for yourself." Karse's voice had gone hard, eager. Fire flickered between his fingers, casting dancing shadows on the walls. "I've been cold for days."
The lead Withered raised one decrepit hand, reaching for Briar. She could see the flesh hanging loose on its fingers, could smell the sweet-sick scent of decay rolling off it in waves. The warmth in her chest flared, defensive, but she knew it wouldn't be enough. Not against six.
"Move!" Karse shoved her aside as he unleashed a torrent of flame.
The fire hit the Withered straight on, and for a moment the creature was entirely engulfed. The heat washed over Briar's face, so intense after the cold that her eyes watered. When the flames cleared, the Withered was gone—nothing left but a pile of ash and ancient bone.
Five left.
They didn't react to their companion's destruction. Didn't pause or reassess. They just kept coming, spreading out now to surround the group.
"Can you do that five more times?" Ferria asked, her hands already weaving illusions that Briar knew wouldn't work.
"We're about to find out," Karse said, grinning wickedly.