Chapter 40 Beneath the Endless Dark #2
She exhales. One long, broken breath. But steady. Sure. Matching mine.
“Thank you,” she whispers, pressing her brow to mine, her heartbeat mingling with mine in the dark.
The Veinroads stretch on, winding deeper beneath the earth, a place suspended between worlds. Auryn walks close to my side, holding my arm now in trust and not in fear. Now and again, I stop to check forks in the road.
“How do you know where to go?” she asks.
“The Shields,” I explain. “I can feel them.
Also—“ I take her hand and place it over a raised part of the walls.
“Can you feel this? Those that traveled here, including myself, marked certain roads. Some are carvings. Some are sigils. There is a safe path through. The other ways are unexplored. Unsafe.”
“Do these roads go deep?”
I nod, though she cannot see it. “We have some records that say they are endless. Many lost their lives trying to prove it.”
Vargrún burns at my nape, and I reach up to scratch at it.
“Does it hurt?” she asks. “The rune.”
“Itches,” I shrug. “Gets worse when I’m close to the Flaeme.”
“What is that? You never did explain.” Her voice falters.
I pause, fixing my gaze on her. “Do you regret it? Choosing this path…”
“No.” Her answer comes clear. Unwavering. My shoulders relax, though I don’t remember tensing them. “Though I wish I could see your face now. Know what you are thinking.”
“That you regret this. Choosing Krystopolis…choosing me.”
Auryn steps closer. “Kail…I told you I would forgive you.”
I search her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I have the right to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
My throat tightens. “I’m not sure I can avoid it. Auryn—” I stop. Start again. “Krystopolis is treacherous. Rules. Doctrine. Rituals. It consumes.”
Her shoulders straighten. “I saw…”
I barely choke out the words past my guilt. “I asked you to come with me.”
She reaches for my hand, weaving her fingers through mine. “For once,” she murmurs, “you did ask me. And I chose to.”
Because I’ve done so much to her without asking. Breaking her from the safety of the ice. Awakening her into a world she never chose. Taking her with me through the Moores and trying to build a life in a place without me. All without permission. All for my own gain.
And now, when I would give her up to save her. When I would let her choose a path that doesn’t take from her—she chooses me regardless. Despite the warning of the vision. Despite Vargrún biting at my sanity. Despite the darkness of the coming years.
She chooses me.
I grit my teeth, but I can’t bite back the sound that escapes me.
Raw. Torn. Furious. Helpless, as the Resh’Agar should never be.
I draw her to me until her brow presses to my chest, until she can hear the unsteady cadence of my heart.
“It’s racing,” she says. “Kail…”
“You are the only one that can break its stillness.”
She presses closer, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft. Vulnerable.
“Kailorien, what are we to each other? Are we tied together because of this Bond? Or something else?”
My answer is steady, stripped bare.
“Must it have a name? I want you by my side. I carry you in my heart. I never want to lose you. That is what I know.”
Before she can speak, I lean down, and press my lips over what is most sacred in my life—her fluttering, courageous, wondrous heart. Just like before, I take a breath and exhale all of me, sealing warmth into her chest. A wordless vow I pray her soul will hear.
The silence that follows my confession is no longer heavy, but shared.
When we walk again, we walk together. The tunnel narrows, the air sharpening with the promise of what lies ahead.
As we step through the mouth of it, everything changes.
The air grows sharper. The aura of ancient, powerful magic sparks against our skin.
Before us stretches a vast chasm—the Maw—its depths drowned in shadow. Across it, past the Arc of Mourning, stands an emerald city made of crystal and stone.
Krystopolis.
My home.
My prison.
A cavern cradles it—the Daesa Major—more vast than mortal minds can grasp.
Towers rise like black crystal teeth, their spires bleeding green light from the caged mana within.
At the heart, twin mirror shafts stab downwards from the cavern ceiling.
And surrounding the entire construct is a golden glowing layer of magic.
There is enough light here for Auryn to see the glory of the Crystal City that will bow to her one day. Enough to see the place that will take everything from her. But not if I can stop it. Not if I can find a way to protect her there.
Her hand tightens on my arm. “Are those…”
“The Shields,” I nod. “My chains. My burden.”
“And those structures?”
“The Mirror Shafts,” I explain, gesturing. “They connect to Stonewake and run up through the mountain. It is the only way for the city to see light from the Surface.”
Only one bridge cuts the abyss—narrow, merciless, their sole path forward.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
“As it is meant to be. But within, you will find that not all is at it seems.”
Auryn raises her chin, straightening her shoulders. “Teach me, Kailorien. Teach me everything. The Doctrine. The rituals. Whatever I need to know.”
I nod, wishing—hoping—such a thing could be enough.
“You’re afraid,” she says.
“Yes,” I admit. “I am. Because once we cross the Shields…I won’t be this anymore.”
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Krystopolis doesn’t allow for softness. Or honesty. The moment I step inside, I become him. The Resh’Agar. And I don’t know if I can protect you…and still fulfill my duty.”
She leans into my touch when I cup her cheek. “Then let me protect you instead.”
Her words make my heart race again. “You deserve more than a man who forgets himself behind a title.”
“Then promise me,” she says. “Promise that when you forget, you’ll return to me.”
My voice breaks on my vow. “Unequivocally.”
She takes my hand.
Not as Sokar to Resh’Agar. Not as myth to myth. But as ourselves.
And together, step by step, we cross the bridge into the city.