Chapter Eleven
“May the shadows guide your way” was born in an age of war, when Mal Blackburn reigned as the first wyverian queen.
In those days, she wielded her god-gifted power without restraint, bending the shadows themselves to her will.
Across the chaos of the battlefield, she sent them slithering and stretching like living things, guiding her soldiers towards their enemies.
Darkness became her instrument; the land itself seemed to breathe with it as she unleashed shadow after shadow to swallow those who dared oppose her.
And so the wyverian army became something more than feared.
It became legend. For when their enemies glimpsed the shadows creeping across the earth, silent and inevitable, they knew what followed close behind.
Doom.
And the wyverians? They did not flee from that darkness. They trusted it. They followed it, allowing the shadows to lead them, certain that wherever they stretched, victory would be waiting.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal watched as most of the servants departed at Ash’s warning. Only a handful remained behind to tend to Adriana, Keir, and Cronan, who would stay at the castle in their absence to warn the king and his army the moment he returned.
She helped her mother mount Umbra, the queen’s own wyvern. Ayaru, who had once belonged to Haven, would follow close behind. Ash would ride Daku, Mal would take her own mount, Nyx, and Nisha would remain behind for Adriana and the others.
Unease stirred within Mal at the thought of her mother riding alone, but she did not voice it. Instead, she squared her shoulders and gave the signal to depart. Her mother was queen of the wyverian lands. They were not weak.
‘May the shadows guide your way,’ Mal said, moments before her shadow wyvern unfurled its vast black wings and hurled itself into the sky.
She did not know where they were headed, only that they would follow Ash, who had glimpsed her uncle’s hiding place in his visions. Mal did not like the plan. A quiet suspicion coiled in her chest: this journey was not merely about evading Persephone. There was more to it, something yet unseen.
And soon enough, she would learn what it was.
They flew above jagged volcanic mountains until the land finally surrendered to the coast. Mal watched the famed black sands unfurl beneath them, the sea beyond as dark and restless as ink.
She found herself wondering what lay past those storm-lashed waters—if there was anything at all—and whether, one day, she might uncover a world hidden beyond their own.
They followed the shoreline for hours until pale cliffs rose ahead, jagged rock clinging to their sides and towering over the sea. Ash signalled for them to descend to the sands below, and Mal offered no protest.
The moment she dismounted Nyx, she ran a loving hand along her shadow wyvern’s scaled neck.
Her boots sank into the wet black sand as a cold breeze tugged at her hair.
She helped her mother down, her chest tightening at the realisation that such assistance had once been unnecessary.
Her mother had never needed help with things so small.
Mal caught Ash watching her from beside Daku. There was something unreadable in his golden eyes, something that unsettled her, something she was no longer certain she trusted.
Aware of the direction of her thoughts, she turned away and looked up at the cliffs.
Nestled within the rock was a small castle.
A modest keep, clearly intended as a retreat for the royal family during visits to the coast. Mal had never seen it before.
Nor did she recognise the wyverian man now standing at the base of the cliffs, where a narrow path wound upwards to the keep.
He stood slightly hunched, as though the weight of the world pressed heavily upon him.
He wore traditional wyverian garb, a black sheepskin coat draped over his shoulders.
His dark hair fell unkempt to his jaw, a week’s worth of stubble shadowed his face, and his black eyes were sunken, eyes that spoke of sleepless nights.
‘Morthos?’ Mal breathed, wondering if this man truly was her uncle. She had never met him. He had been banished when she was little more than an infant, and her father had never once spoken of his younger brother.
The man squinted at her, then his eyes widened in recognition. He released a weary sigh before motioning for them to follow.
Mal hurried to her mother’s side, slipping an arm through hers to help her across the black sands towards the narrow path leading up the cliffs.
Ash walked on ahead in silence. Mal’s gaze lingered on his back.
She spared her wyverns one last look before signalling for them to seek nesting grounds.
They answered with a single piercing screech before leaping skyward and vanishing into the clouds.
They climbed the winding, narrow stone steps until they reached a small path leading to the entrance. The keep itself was built from dark stone, tall and narrow, leaning precariously, as though it might at any moment tumble down onto the beach below.
The instant they stepped inside, Mal’s eyes sharpened. The interior was cloaked in shadow and neglect. It was a place long abandoned by both care and affection. The images within their frames had nearly faded to nothing, lamps lay thick with dust, and no flame had warmed them in a very long time.
‘It’s only me here,’ Morthos said with a shrug.
‘My mother needs to rest,’ Mal replied, keeping the queen close at her side.
Morthos nodded. ‘Upstairs. Take whichever room you like.’ He looked away from the queen, pointedly avoiding her eyes.
Mal shot Ash a warning look before guiding her mother up the narrow stone staircase. The upper floor offered little improvement over the hall below. The corridor was marginally wider, but the rooms bore the same neglect—beds untouched for years, blanketed in thick layers of dust.
Mal chose a chamber that overlooked the beach. A black wooden rocking chair sat by the window, and she helped her mother into it. ‘I’ll try to clean the bedding a little,’ Mal said softly, crouching before her.
‘Where is Kai?’ the queen asked, her black eyes fixed upon the distant sea. ‘Where is my Kage?’
Mal’s heart clenched painfully.
‘I don’t know where Kai is…’ She bit down on her lip, fighting the sting of tears. ‘And Kage is away for now, walking his own path.’
The queen nodded, her gaze drifting.
‘I dream of her,’ Queen Senka murmured, her voice trembling. ‘Of Haven. I see her every time I sleep. Do you dream of her too?’
For the first time, the queen looked at Mal.
‘I don’t dream much anymore, mother.’
Senka inclined her head, her eyes clouding as she turned back to the window. ‘I think I should like to sleep for a while.’
Mal nodded and rose, leaving her mother to rest while she returned downstairs to Ash, and to the uncle she barely knew. She cast one final glance back before closing the door, leaving Queen Senka rocking gently by the window, dark eyes shut, reaching for her lost daughter through dreams.
…
Mal found her uncle and Ash in what appeared to be the keep’s main hall.
The sight was a dismal one: dust and sand carpeted the floor, blown in through the open arches, while vines crept lazily around the columns that overlooked the beach below.
With care, it might once have been beautiful, but Morthos had allowed it to rot, like a wound left untended until it festered beyond saving.
Mal took the seat at the head of the long wooden table, Ash settling at the far end, her uncle between them. She couldn’t help the faint smile that touched her lips at the symmetry of it. The creature lingering behind her seemed equally entertained.
‘We’ve never met,’ Mal said at last, by way of introduction. ‘I imagine there’s a reason for that, uncle.’
Morthos inclined his head, long strands of black hair slipping loose to veil his pale face. Beneath the weariness, she could still glimpse what he must once have been; a formidable warrior, now dulled by time and neglect.
‘Why are you here?’ he asked, his voice low and guarded.
‘Ask my husband.’ Mal tilted her head towards the golden man seated opposite her.
Morthos cast Ash a sideways glance from beneath his hair, then appeared to weigh something internally before muttering a string of indistinct words under his breath. Mal drummed her fingers against the table, unimpressed.
‘Why did my father banish you?’ she pressed.
Morthos went still, his eyes widening for a brief, unguarded moment.
‘Answer her,’ Ash commanded, his voice low and edged with danger.
Mal blinked at the severity of it. The authority in his tone was unfamiliar, unsettling. This was not the gentle, attentive husband she thought she knew. Slowly, she was beginning to realise there was more to Ash than she had ever seen.
Perhaps there was more to herself as well.
Morthos let out a long breath and lifted his head.
He closed his eyes briefly, as though steadying himself, then opened them again and met Mal’s gaze with naked apprehension.
He swallowed hard and tapped his index finger twice against the table.
The small, meaningless gesture caught her attention just long enough to distract her.
When her eyes returned to his, his expression had turned to stone.
‘Your father banished me,’ Morthos said evenly, ‘because when you were born… I tried to kill you.’