TWENTY-FOUR
Amelia slowed her hurried steps the moment she heard voices ahead. She crouched behind some crates, heart slamming against her ribs, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes darted everywhere, an enormous cavern up ahead seemed empty as she surveyed, though there was a soft humming of voices.
Inching around the crate, she peered ahead, two tunnels spanned in different directions. Her hand brushed over something soft, and Amelia glanced quickly at it, eyes darting away again before going back.
It was the same dark robe the attackers had been wearing in the alley. Amelia stood slowly, picking up the cloak. Something fell to the ground with a hiss, and she glanced at it. A mask.
She tilted her head.
Alright then .
She shucked off her cloak, quickly replacing it with the dark fabric before fixing the mask around her head.
She immediately loathed the way her breath quickened as the cloth covered her mouth, her periphery slimming behind the hood, feeling claustrophobic. She willed herself to be strong, furiously remembering that somewhere up ahead, Silas needed her.
Amelia had never considered herself a brave person.
She had let her parents do awful things to her for a long time, and even after that, she had been too cowardly to trust anyone else.
The bravest thing she had ever done was travel into the Rift. Look where that had gotten her.
Now, Amelia could hardly comprehend what she was doing. Sneaking through a cave in the middle of the icy wilderness, where people who had just held a knife to her throat and taken Silas, were hiding.
Was she afraid?
Desperately.
A cold sweat dampened her forehead, her body wouldn’t stop shaking, heart pumping blood through her at an alarming rate. The runes in the middle of her back throbbed uncomfortably in rhythm with her erratic heartbeat.
But she wouldn’t leave Silas.
Not when he needed her.
Not when she had finally made a choice to trust someone, a monumental occasion. He couldn’t be torn from her now.
She refused.
Securing the mask, she stood to her full height and stepped out from behind the crates. Amelia walked forwards with the air of purposefulness, like she belonged there, one of them.
She breathed heavily behind the mask, moistening the fabric, taking the left tunnel on instinct.
Her hands open and closed as she walked, footsteps echoing off the narrow walls.
A murmur of a voice, and then someone stepped out from a doorway ahead. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she forced her feet to keep moving, rather than turning to flee like her body demanded.
The figure, dressed in black as Amelia was, walked towards her.
Her breaths quickened, hands curling into fists, waiting for the shout of discovery, to be taken by hands, to be thrown to the ground.
The figure reached her, gave a swift nod, and walked by.
Amelia released a slow breath, striding forwards on shaky legs. She glanced into the doorway the figure had emerged from. It was a small room, holding two wooden beds with thin mattresses.
She continued down the hall, peering into doorways she passed. It seemed to be the sleeping quarters, finding nothing but beds and small containers stuffed with woollen blankets and warm clothing meant to stave off the cold.
Amelia spotted a narrow sliver in the wall to her right. She moved over to it quietly, looking inside. It led downwards, a small stairwell carved into the dirt.
Amelia ducked into the gap, jogging quickly down the steps.
Reaching the bottom, she turned a corner, before coming to a sudden stop. The stairwell opened into a large chamber with an arched ceiling. A long, narrow table stretched along the centre.
Sat at the table, were at least twenty people.
Some had their faces covered, while others didn’t bother, their faces clear and free, hoods laying across their shoulders. They chatted and moved about the chamber with the ease of being at home, some eating, while others read from books.
Amelia stood frozen in the doorway for a beat too long, wondering how she hadn’t heard the gentle murmuring of voices.
She considered ducking back into the stairwell, but as she shifted her foot, a face lifted, spotting her standing there.
Shit .
Amelia forced herself to walk, trying to adopt a carefree posture, moving with purpose. She belonged. She was one of them.
Nothing to see here.
She spotted a door ahead across the chamber, and she fixed her eyes there, not looking at anyone else as she strode at a controlled pace.
“…it could happen tonight.”
“I’ve never seen it before, the vessel exchange.”
Amelia paused, turning her head. A man and a woman sat near the head of the table, speaking in quiet tones that just reached her ears.
“No, none of us have.”
“He’s here now. I can’t believe the vessel is actually here.”
Amelia turned quickly, walking for the door, and not breathing until she was through it and out of sight.
The vessel.
Silas.
Her desperation rose as she looked down another long hallway. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get lost. Even if she found Silas, would she be able to get them out of here?
Her heart pounded harder, her body freezing as she stood just beyond the door of the large chamber. Amelia shuffled back a step, her spine hitting the rock wall. Her breaths sped up as she begun to panic.
It consumed her quickly, locking her joints into place, gasping to get the breaths in.
Amelia reached up, wrenching away the hood and mask so she might pull in more air.
She had felt this many times before, it was just rarer for her these days.
Her vision tunnelled, until all she could see was the curving rock wall ahead of her.
Without realising it, Amelia had closed her eyes, placing a hand to her chest. In her mind, Silas was there before her, placing his own hand over the fingers pressed to her sternum. He was whispering to her.
Breathe.
Breathe with me, Winslow.
She sucked in a deep breath, attempting to control the pace of it.
Slow in.
Slow out.
His bright blue eyes were before her, guiding her.
Her other hand shifted, feeling against the dusty rock wall by her hip. The surface was rough in places, smooth in others. She kept her focus there, at the tips of her fingers while she steadied her breathing slowly.
After a minute, Amelia opened her eyes, glancing around. The hallway was still blessedly empty.
She could do this.
Pushing away from the wall, she walked with her back straight, a clear purpose in her mind.
Get Silas.
Get out of there.
Determination rose like a building wave, ready to crest and break apart.
Amelia had always felt fragile and weak, using anything at her disposal to rise above and feel superior despite it.
She refused to feel weak in this moment.
The magic sizzled in her blood, tingling in her fingers.
What she had absorbed when she entered the cave flowed through her, right there, accessible.
She would not let herself feel weak.
Amelia was strong.
She was powerful.
The ground around her shook with the dull hum of power, dust beginning to float from the low ceiling in little rivulets. But she was not afraid of it. Because it was her .
Silas’ body went rigid, ice curling through his veins as his mother stepped into the room. The lamp flickered, casting deep shadows over her face, highlighting the sharp lines of her expression. An expression of poise, control.
But her eyes.
He had known that look since childhood. It wasn’t cruelty. It was purpose.
His throat was dry when he spoke again. “Why are you here?”
Why would you hand me over like this?
Her gaze flicked over him, lips pressing into a thin line, as though she sensed the unspoken question filled with a deep hurt.
“Silas,” she said on a sigh.
A silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring. The leader folded his hands behind his back.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he said in his familiar voice, before nodding to Silas’ mother as he walked past her, exiting.
He turned his gaze to his mother, searching her face for some sign of regret, of hesitation. There was none. “You knew,” he whispered. “You knew these people would take me. That’s why you didn’t want me to leave Lunarian…you knew they were coming for me.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I ensured you would not be harmed.”
“Do I look unharmed to you?” His voice cracked with anger. “My own mother delivered me to these zealots.”
She took a step forwards, lowering her voice.
“You are my son,” Veralind said, voice cold like ice but holding a hint of something else, something that could be a shred of regret, or perhaps doubt.
“But you are also bonded, Silas. That is an unbreakable magical contract that is beyond rare…” Her voice turned reverent, eyes widening as her beliefs overtook her.
“I knew it from the moment you told me you and Amelia had been bound.” Her tone descended into a hushed whisper. “I knew what it meant.”
Silas clenched his teeth. “You knew that it meant I would be kidnapped? Thanks for the heads up on that.”
Veralind shook her head at his sarcasm. “No, Silas. I knew it meant that you would bring balance.”
He scoffed, looking away, trying not to think about the fact that he had no parents, not anymore.
“The Rift grows by the day, and the Midnight Realm grows closer, ready to swallow us whole,” Veralind said, and Silas set his icy stare at her. “Your father knew it, that’s why he risked everything to find the answers.”
Silas exhaled with disbelief. “So, what then? What are they going to do to me?”
She smiled sadly and shook her head. “Don’t worry darling. I’ve been assured you won’t be harmed. She will be the sacrifice.”
He stiffened, hands curling into immediate fists. “What?”
Veralind flicked a piece of dust off the shoulder of her robes. “Amelia. She will be the sacrifice for the ritual.”
Silas blinked, before laughing hysterically. “Mother, what the fuck are you talking about?”