CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Neryssa lifted her hand, and a white spiraled staff appeared in her grasp, tendrils of glittering magic revolving around it. She brought it down in six measured strikes against the floor, and the metal door creaked open, squealing along its thick hinges.
A cavernous room spread before us, dark and dreary, and oddly different from the calming aesthetic of the rest of the shop. Glinting weapons spanned the walls, full suits of armor hung on stands, and lanterns sprinkled flickering shadows across the ancient stone floor.
I hesitated before stepping inside behind Neryssa.
The woman’s appearance did not fit the room—she was beauty inside the dungeon.
Dangerous, like a princess relishing in the mayhem of an age-stricken tavern.
Her billowing dust-blue gown picked up dirt as it trailed behind, leaving a band of cleanliness in its wake.
Without turning, Neryssa spoke gently, her hands trailing the weapons as if searching for one in particular.
“You’ll need a blade. One only I have in possession.”
Damp air pressed against my skin, clammy as a riverside in summer heat, where even the breeze arrived too weak to matter. I had never seen a building manipulate the mind in the manner Neryssa’s shop did—how the size more than tripled indoors and the architectural material varied from inside to out.
“This place is special, darling. Enchanted to hide what lies inside. Sometimes magic isn’t a weapon at all, but a veil woven simply to hide the truth,” Noctis whispered at my side.
I shivered at the prospect of the danger we willingly walked into.
“Here it is.” Neryssa gripped the helm of a falchion sword. “Noctis will imbue it before you go in.”
Oh, gods. The sword stretched far longer than the comfort of my daggers. And imbuing it meant I would carry power I’d never wielded before.
I couldn’t do it.
Neryssa offered the weapon to the god, who received it with a slight nod. “As much as I love the idea of Caelyn warring on the side of safety, my court will not harm her.”
His sister’s eyes widened. “Is that really what you believe? She will, in fact, use the blade. It will, in fact, be life or death. Do not forget that you abandoned them for her.”
“I will be at her side in Aetherkin,” he replied, sternly.
“But you cannot complete the trials for her. You could have if you were still the god they worshipped, but you turned your back.” Neryssa’s words were not intended to harm. They carried love and admiration instead, softly speaking facts to her brother that he needed to hear.
Noctis gripped the leather-bound swirled hilt of the sword, his eyes flickering over the features of his sister as if assessing the truth in her claim before they closed.
A sonorous hum emanated through the chamber, guttural as his hand ignited in white light, the power flowing across the silver-glinting weapon, then soaked into its surface, dissipating into the blade.
I became mesmerized in the flow of energy.
Neryssa’s gaze snapped to me. “One more thing, Wavebreaker.” Urgency fueled her movements as if we were running against a clock nearly out of time.
She dug through the pocket of her gown and pulled out a vial, the liquid contents sparkling through the glass, swirling in tendrils of various shades of lavender.
“A healing potion,” Neryssa explained, and my confidence stumbled. “Straight into your mouth. Swallow it quickly.”
“I’ll need it?”
“Yes.” Indisputable.
Maybe I did need the blade. Or maybe the healing potion would be used when I hurt myself with the unfamiliar weapon.
Noctis shifted to my side, his arm extending the falchion sword.
When I took it, his hands roamed against my shoulders.
The gentle touch skimmed from the nape of my neck down to my shoulder blades, grazing the edge of the lace bodice I wore over my tunic.
I fought my eyes to stay open as he lowered a new sheathe over my head and around my upper back, securing it to my body tightly.
His fingers brushed the hand I held the weapon with, and I released it back to him.
He slid it with a scrape into the new sheath.
I shifted uncomfortably under the burden of weight the sword along my back gave.
“You’ve got chills, love. You seem to be enjoying my touch,” his voice brushed my skin like silk.
“It’s my body trying to escape your presence.”
Noctis chuckled into my shoulder, a breathy laugh that trailed along my neck, and my stomach flipped violently at his closeness.
At the familiarity that hit me. The memory of us sparring in the grassy field.
I never told him I’d remembered that part of our past, nor would I say the words I held tight to: I missed him—what little bit I remembered—but I didn’t know what parts I actually missed.
My body wanted to move closer, but my heart and brain restrained me.
“It’s time. I can’t tell you more. Fate is fickle, but we believe in you, Wavebreaker. You were born for this,” Neryssa whispered, breaking the moment between Noctis and I. The woman whistled through her teeth, and Raven fluffed his wings and took off toward the cavern entrance.
Neryssa tapped her staff along the ground seven times, and the stone above our heads fractured systematically, a gaping hole reaching to the sky. The floor grumbled under our feet, hurling Noctis and I through the sky along a wide pillar of land.
Toward the gates of Aetherkin Bound.
The wind battered us without mercy, but I clung to Noctis as he stood unmoving against it, his grip firm at my waist—a silent claim I chose not to fight.
I struggled to breathe as fear of the heights, the movement, and the rushing air against my face tightened its grip.
My heart ran rapidly, remembering the evening I had dragged myself onto Zahara’s ship.
The same night I had begged my goddess who had cast me aside to my death mere days prior.
The death which I had escaped, forcing my sister to take the downfall of my miracle.
My miracle that had turned into her hell.
The god’s hand guided my face downward to block the impact of wind, and I finally withdrew a breath. However, when I looked down, I nearly toppled over in fear watching the pillar we stood on grow thousands of meters high, propelling us into the sky.
Noctis’s grip tightened.
“Close your eyes. It won’t take much longer,” he murmured into my ear.
So, I did. Our bodies pressed together, ripping through the sky.
I wondered if it brought pleasure to the god to feel the wind ripple through his wings again.
He had tasted the sky, and then it was torn from him, sharp and merciless.
He had tasted love with me, and then it, too, was ripped away.
Yet, he held tight to me as if he refused to let me slip from his fingers.
The pillar slowed, then halted, and I inched open my eyes, blinking away the dryness and shuffling from Noctis’s hold.
“Could we just fly next time?” I asked shakily.
“I would be honored to carry you to my home,” he drawled wryly.
White fog dusted the ground, smoky tendrils hovering above its surface like the mist from an early morning day at sea.
It swirled around along the cool breeze, an enchanting invitation to step forward.
Temples of glass-blown delicacy towered above us, columns of transparent beauty reaching crystalline fingers toward the cosmos.
My feet met the ground as I stepped through the low hanging clouds off the shifting pillar.
A crystal gate bordered the entrance to the sky kingdom, a kaleidoscope of colors piercing through the material only steps before us.
Standing at the convergence of hues were two males, the wind whipping through their ivory clothing, the only indicator to me that they weren’t stone statues.
“Bru. Finnegan,” Noctis announced from my side. His voice was stern, but I could hear the trace of pain in his words. The beg for forgiveness that accompanied them. “Caelyn, this is my council.”
The man on the right stepped forward, and the other followed quickly, keeping close to each other as if thinking they were impenetrable. Then, they both fell to the ground with arms outstretched, bowing to their banished, rogue god.
I stood in shock—the council I expected to berate the god worshipped him at his feet.
“We have been expecting you, God Noctis,” the right male murmured loudly into the ground. Sprouts of thin, graying hair wrapped around his head, wrinkled hands a barrier between his face and the cloudy ground.
“Please. Stand. I do not deserve your worship,” Noctis demanded from my side. My heart twisted at his words—at the agony that laced his voice as he spoke to his own council.
They stood and dusted their matching clothes.
Noctis continued. “You must know, then, why we are here. It is urgent.”
The leftward man stepped forward, his perfectly slicked-back brown hair catching the light, his hands drawn together in front of him. His gaze traveled over Noctis, from head to the boot lost in the low clouds, as though he doubted the god before him was truly there. “You left us.”
“Do you know how hard it is to protect Aetherkin Bound without your powers?” the right council member spoke as he stepped forward.
“I left you everything my blood would allow, Finnegan—every ounce of raw magic that surges my veins is with you,” Noctis replied, but his voice wavered in disbelief. Once a strong, powerful god then shook with shame.
Old man Finnegan to the right.
Bru, the leftward male met Finnegan’s side.
“It’s barely been enough, Noctis. The Aeyronox Seal is failing. Prisoners are escaping. They have been killing kingdom rulers for months now.” His seething teeth flashed. “You. Have. Not. Been. Here.”
What is the Aeyronox Seal, and why is it failing?
Noctis’s head dropped, and his pain somehow ached through my own blood.
“There are trials. I will complete them. The ultimate test of character, right?” I questioned from the god’s side. If I could pass the trials that tested my character, maybe then they would see that his decision was worthy—that he was worthy. That his descension toward me was worthy.
The men hesitated, caught off guard by my rash interruption. Their eyes each roamed from me and back to Noctis as if measuring my merit to their worshipped god. I understood their hesitation. Understood the pain and fear that accompanied his banishing when he descended on his own free will.
But I also understood Noctis. The god who left his people to follow something for himself after decades of brutality, leaving behind enough power to protect. The god who would die for his people and even those in other Bounds.
“You are ruled against participating in the Maerjko trials,” Finnegan declared, his chest puffed.
Noctis’s gaze shot upward, anger replacing the guilt across his face. His nose upturned as he seethed, “Who ruled against her?”
“Us.” The words spilled from the man without any hesitation.
“Finnegan,” the god seethed. “Anyone who rules against her, rules against me.”
“Then so be it,” Bru spat.
Absolutely not.
“Are you afraid I will complete the challenges? That my character will be just, and you will be forced to forgive the god who finally chose himself for once?” I jumped in, afraid the taunting was near pushing Noctis past his limits.
“There will be no forgiveness,” Finnegan murmured, his expression tight with barely concealed pain.
“Tell me—what happens if I am good? If I mean well for the god that ensures your Bound lives in peace? The Bounds below are in peril, and they need that trident piece to survive. Are you going to keep it locked away over a grudge? Let thousands of innocents die? Let’s truly talk about a test of character.
” I felt the burning rage seeping into every vein of my body as I awaited a response.
The council stood still, their shoulders barely lifting as they shallowly breathed. The silence scraped against me as I studied the males, their eyes snapping from color to a dead, empty white. Then, they appeared back to normal instantly.
“No mortal deserves to speak about our character. Your two trials will be back-to-back as written in law by the council before you. They will begin now.”