Chapter Thirty-Three
Kael
The oil clung to my skin, warm and slick despite the coolness of the River Caverns. It coated every bit of my skin, every ridge and scar, erasing my natural scent.
I stood naked beside the glowing pool I’d been bathed in, claws flexing at my sides as one of the Zha’Torin dragged a strip of pigment across my chest with the tip of a brush.
The war paint was dark, thick, designed to mute the glow of my kethra so it wouldn’t give away movement or emotions during the trials.
It smelled faintly of ash and mineral resin, sharp and acrid, making my nostrils burn.
Nothing could be hidden when an alpha was naked and oiled. Not weapons, nor wounds, or weakness. The trial demanded it.
Across the chamber, Rath watched me with open amusement.
He was already painted and prepared. His skin gleamed with oil, his orange kethra dulled beneath streaks of black and rust-red pigment that cut across his torso and down his arms. Hair drawn into a tight braid like mine, the scar that bisected his ridges stood out, the divot from the stroke of a blade that would have taken his head.
If only I’d been that lucky.
His mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk as another Zha’Torin finished tracing the markings along his shoulders.
“So patient now. I wonder if you’ll break before we meet in the arena.”
I ignored him. I had learned long ago that Rath fed on reaction. On the crack in another’s control, the moment where anger slipped free.
I would not give him that. Not now.
My heart throbbed, a low ache that hadn’t faded since I’d left Serenya in the outer River Caverns.
Separation pain.
Part of me hadn’t been sure it was real or just a tale the Karzhari told to make alphas stay close to their omegas after their heat ended.
Supposedly it wouldn’t be as intense once the link between us settled, unless a pair was separated for an extended time or distance, but fresh, the bond cause discomfort even from small separations.
I flexed my jaw, breathing through it as the Zha’Torin stepped back and studied his work. Before I could urge him to hurry, footsteps thundered down the corridor from the main cavern.
Instincts surged. Whoever was coming, whatever news they carried, was urgent.
Rhydek strode into the chamber, shouldering past two Zha’Torin who tried to stop him. His orange kethra pulsed sharp and violent, so similar in color to how Serenya’s had begun, although a different luth’rein.
His gaze locked on mine and my chest tightened. He wouldn’t interrupt the preparations without cause. He knew how serious this was.
“Where is Serenya?”
He was supposed to be with her. I’d called him to the River Cavern so she wouldn’t be alone.
Rhydek stopped close enough to keep his voice low. For the briefest instant, something flickered across his face.
“I can’t find her.”
The world narrowed, my Torashkar my single focus.
“What do you mean, you can’t find her?”
My voice came out controlled, calm, but my chest fractured from the pressure building inside me.
“She knew to remain in the River Caverns. She wouldn’t wander.”
Rhydek bowed his head.
“I searched the main pools and river. Your clan’s pool. She’s not here.”
The ache beneath my ribs sharpened, twisting and stealing my breath. I searched for her through our link on instinct, ripping the tunnel I’d collapsed to mute her fears wide open, and found…
Nothing.
Not subdued. Not muffled.
Gone.
As if the bond that connected us had never happened.
My heart stumbled.
The bond was eternal. It wasn’t possible to break a bond once a claim was made unless…
I forced my focus inward, clawing at the place where a piece of her had taken root inside me, but there was nothing.
No fears.
No worries.
No Serenya.
The empty place yawned wide and endless, a void where her presence should have been. For a heartbeat, one word pulsed in my head.
Dead.
A roar tore from my throat. I lunged forward, shoving past Rhydek and slamming into the nearest Zha’Torin. The male stumbled back with a startled cry, but others moved between me and the exit.
“Where is she?”
Hands grabbed for me. Rhydek, Zha’Torin, nothing but bodies pressing close as Rath laughed behind me.
“Oh, this is better than I imagined. Already unraveling, Torvakai? Your omega disappeared?”
I tore free of the clinging hands, tempted to turn back and end Rath now, but the pull to find Serenya was stronger. I would tear apart Korvashan stone by stone if I had to.
“Enough.”
The voice cut through the chaos, resonant and commanding. Teylan stepped into view a blink later, his posture stealing my focus.
The Zha’Torin were not the caretakers the Karzhari were. Their faith demanded training and obedience even beyond what a warrior received, and to reach Torzha’Torin, Teylan had defeated them all. He was one of the few Morraki I’d consider a threat if he hadn’t been a friend and devoted to Shaevrin.
His robes were unadorned, his kethra steady and clear, but his eyes were sharp as they fixed on me, and his stance was one ready for attack.
As if he had reason to think I was a threat.
“The duress trial has begun.”
The words slammed into me like a blow, my mind stuttering as it refused to accept that Teylan would have used Serenya as part of the Ravak’torr.
“No one may aid you,” Teylan continued. “No one may interfere.”
I faced him, fury ripping through my control. The kethra not yet covered in war paint flared bright enough to reflect in the pools, drenching the cavern in the red of blood.
“This is not duress. This is—”
“—a trial to prove your bond has not weakened you.”
This voice thundered over mine and then dropped quiet enough I had to strain to hear him over my own racing heart.
“Or that it has.”
My claws curled, biting into my palms.
“Did you take her?”
Inclining his head, he only said, “She has been taken.”
Not an admission, but not denial.
I could only hope it wasn’t the traitors who attacked her before if it hadn’t been Teylan.
“She’s an omega!”
My roar echoed in the chamber, “omega” repeating as Teylan’s amber eyes met mine. Omegas were treasured. Protected.
“She is.”
The chamber went silent, no one daring to come between us. Even Rath’s laughter had ended.
“You dare—”
Teylan raised his hand and cut me off.
“You will still present for the Ravak’torr in the Veyr’vokkar arena at the appointed time, or you will forfeit your position, Torvakai.”
The weight of it crushed me. Instinct screamed to chase after Serenya, to find her, to make sure she was okay…
But duty demanded I remain. Finish the preparations. Submit to the trials.
Trust the rite.
The horns sounded, low, echoing through all of Korvashan. The first call, summoning my people to come bear witness to the trials.
I turned and ran. Her scent hit me the moment I cleared the tunnel to the alpha chamber, fresh, but already fading.
I followed it at a sprint, bare feet slapping stone as I tore through the tunnels.
My breaths came hard and fast, my chest burning as I shoved past startled Morraki going about their day.
Some shouted before they recognized me. Others froze, startled to see me dashing through Korvashan in nothing but half-finished war paint.
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I had to find Serenya before I ran out of time.
The trail twisted, doubling back on itself, leading me through dark corridors and abandoned stairways. My claws scraped walls as I took turns too fast for my tail to keep me stable, shoulders slamming into stone.
I didn’t feel the sting of ripped flesh or the trickle of blood. It didn’t matter. None of it did if Serenya was truly gone.
Her scent led me to a folded strip of fabric. A piece of the Shavari’zorr, torn, still crusted with her slick.
Frustration warred with fear. Even if logic said Teylan and his Zha’Torin would never hurt an omega, the empty bond had instincts overriding thought.
I turned back the way I’d come only to hit another trail branching away, overlapping the first.
Then another.
And another.
False traces, deliberate, meant to waste time and lead me astray.
I snarled, tearing off in one direction only to end up in a dead cavern marked with symbols carved into the stone.
No veyrari.
The second horn sounded, vibrating the stone around me. I ran harder.
Upward.
Downward.
Through market tunnels where civilians pressed against walls to let me pass, eyes wide and kethra flaring. Whispers followed me, my people concerned that I didn’t know what I was doing.
That Rath was right.
More Morraki moved toward the arena to witness the fallout.
Another clue, a smear of pigment that smelled of her on the wall, pointed in two directions. A symbol over each was meant to guide my choice, but I couldn’t take the time to puzzle what they meant.
I chose wrong. The tunnel I followed looped back toward the River Caverns, dumping me out beside the bathing pools for children.
I slammed my fist into the wall, stone cracking beneath the blow.
I had to think. This was the duress trial. They wanted me to panic. Wanted me chasing ghosts.
The horns sounded again, the final warning before I gave up my position.
I tore myself away from the scent trail, forcing my legs toward the arena. Every instinct fought me. Every step burned. My chest was a throbbing cavity dripping acid, aching with the knowledge that if she was hurt or scared, it was because of me.
The archway to the arena loomed ahead, black stone giving way to bright light. Inside, a single pile of stones stood in the middle of the sand, lit by Vorrashan from the opening in the cavern’s roof.
Unlike in the Bonding Hall, there was no protection here to keep out the wind. It tore at me, tugging my braid and whipping particles of sand against my bare flesh to stick in the oil. All around, Morraki filled the tiers.
Silent.
Watching.
I stopped in front of the waist-high stone pillar, lungs heaving, blood slicking my knuckles from torn skin. My tail dragged through the sand, leaving a line that disappeared into the dark tunnel behind me.
A game lay atop the pillar. Etched stones, shifting plates, symbols of movement and sacrifice.
Drenn’karin.
Enemy storm. A strategy game all warriors learned, but few defeated.
“Dra’vorhann.”
The announcement echoed through the arena and I forced myself to breathe. To focus. Forced my hands to steady as I stared at the pieces, deciphering the path to victory.
Time stretched into agony as I worked through the problem, mind battling the instinct to rush, logic warring with fear of the unknown. A wrong move reset the board, reduced resources, and lost time. Made victory harder and harder until it became impossible and the player failed.
I hesitated, planning out each move before touching a single piece. Then I selected each stone and plate with care, placing it with precision.
I held my breath as I shifted the final piece, the area so quiet I could pretend my people weren’t watching.
Waiting to see if I failed.
The mechanism clicked. Stone slid aside, revealing a sigil burned into the pillar where the game had rested.
The symbol for korravai in the center of multiple circles painted red.
The Veyr’vokkar arena.
Serenya was here.
Relief surged only to be ripped away as the gates slammed shut behind me. The crowd roared to life as Rath stepped through the opposite gate, glare locked on me as he smirked.
“Looks like she’s close enough to watch her alpha fail.”
I bared my teeth, but something in my chest stirred. The faintest flutter, like the kicks of a babe still in the womb.
My veyrari, my shael, was alive. She was here, somewhere amidst the crowd.
But I didn’t have time to look around or search for her. Rath was circling and I had to defend my position.
And my life, because Rath would never settle for less in the Veyr’vokkar.