3. Cast into the Dark
Cast into the Dark
ROHEN
Cursing at myself, I rounded the final corner and stepped out of the eastern wing of the palace. No matter how hard I’d tried to shove that godsforsaken captain from my mind, nothing proved sufficient to rid me of the sight of his expression when Sorva shooed me away.
His crimson irises harbored a twinge of relief, but that hadn’t been what caught my attention. No, it was the concern that swam through his stare and the implications it housed. If it were genuine, it meant that he fostered some sort of… care for me? Was that even possible for a man of his caliber?
You don’t give a damn. You don’t give a damn. You don’t give a damn.
It was becoming harder to believe my internal monologue.
Not because I falsely directed my wrath toward him, but because there had always been that lingering feeling.
An emotion that drifted to the bottom of my heart and planned to stay buried there, that was, until he was near.
It became a tumultuous wave whenever I was in his vicinity, suggesting the fate-woven tug Ellira had spoken of.
Fingers curling into fists, my nails carved crescent moons into my palms. With a huffed exhale, I stomped down the steps and followed the shrubs that lined the pathways leading to the garden tucked away at the back of the palace with every intention of returning to the ship.
The initial wave of panic had died down, and those attending the wedding had fled.
In their absence, an unsettling stillness clung to Serevalen.
It was as if the Capital was holding its breath, standing on the precipice of something detrimental—the vision of destruction I had seen.
I hadn’t wanted to believe that the implications of my subconscious clung to even a fraction of the truth, but as soon as I got a clear view of that woman, that Other, I knew we were already damned.
The king had been dipping his toes in the seas of corruption for far too long, and with the supposed warning the malevolent being had offered, I knew we were about to be cast back into the dark.
Dark rituals had taken place, including the bind silencing Caspian’s truth.
With them, portals had opened, and the divinity our ruler had thrust us into worshipping had crawled up from the cracks left behind.
They’d wasted no time polluting our realm, and yet I couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning of something far more deadly, something far more—
Fingers curled around my wrist, ripping me into a thick wall of bushes. Before a shout could slip from me, a hand cupped around my mouth, snuffing the sound into a muted muffle.
“Shut up unless you want us both to die.”
Syoran.
Slapping his arm, I pushed myself away from him. With a swift glance over my shoulder, I whispered harshly, “Touch me again, and I will carve my godsdamned dagger through Parran’s craftsmanship.”
Sneering, he spoke just as hushed as I had, the bite behind each syllable apparent. “I don’t have a godsdamned issue with you desiring to lock eyes with death. By the gods, I’ll call them over here and negotiate your life for my freedom.”
Them.
Sorva’s statement swathed my mind, carrying with it just as much venom as it had when it left her poisoned lips. “Utter another word, and I will ensure that those who walk alongside me obliterate those outside this palace. They are merely toying with them, as one does with their food.”
“What the fuck are you thinking about, Levitte?” Syoran hissed. “Your gaze is distant, and you’re staring at me. Which is fucking creepy, by the way.”
Rolling my eyes, I shoved aside the second half of his remark. “Them. It’s the Others.”
He dipped his chin and went to speak, but a conversation nearly too close forced him to remain quiet.
“Sorva’s ordered our presence,” a male said matter-of-factly, agitation sharpening his timbre.
The hum of a feminine voice rolled through the air, a feigned pout clinging to it. “Aw, but I was having so much fun playing hide and seek with that handsome pirate.”
With a sigh, he spoke again, “Vrax, we are needed for the ceremony.”
Silence until, “Really?” The single question dripping from features I knew her sinister glee had upturned.
“It is time, sister.”
Holding my breath, I waited for a reply, but nothing followed. My chest fell with the exhale that I hadn’t granted the privilege of falling as I glanced at Syoran. “Are they gone?” I mouthed.
He shifted just enough to peer through the leaves cloaking us. Taking a moment to examine our surroundings, he turned back and nodded. “Yes.”
Not wasting a second more, I peeled myself from our makeshift hiding spot.
Syoran was quick to follow, brushing his hands over his trousers before he stood to his full height.
With the shadowed foliage no longer concealing us, his bloodied shirt fell into my line of sight.
Four lines of crimson jutted across the linen, and my expression soured.
“You didn’t tell me you were injured.”
He trained me with an unamused stare. “Oh, I’m sorry.
I didn’t realize you cared to know, considering you threatened to do the same when I was simply trying to prevent you from having your head cleaved from your body”—his lips suddenly upturned as he explored my frame—“what the fuck happened to you?”
I offered him a flash of confusion before the realization settled. Attempting to rake my fingers through my hair, I groaned as soon as a sticky knot prevented me from progressing any further. “Your captain decided it was a good idea to toss me onto a table filled with hors d’oeuvres.”
“Mmm.” Lips falling into a tight line, he struggled to keep his laughter at bay. “I’m not sure if jam quite suits you.”
“Oh, fuck you, Syoran.”
He shrugged off my annoyance. “You wish for me to be far more direct? Alright. You look like shit.”
“And you fit right in.”
We stood there for what felt like a decade, though I was certain only seconds passed.
The tension that stretched between us served as a reminder of all that had occurred, the weeks we’d known one another carrying both violence and vengeance.
But among them, an underlying knowing of the impending doom lurked on the horizon, shining far brighter than the wounds we’d carved, both physical and metaphorical.
Everything was crumbling around us, and the only solid ground we stood on seemed to exist when all of us were together.
Finally electing to speak, I diverted to something far more dire. “Ellira showed me something, and I’m afraid it is not far away from coming true.”
“Which was?”
“A continent on fire with creatures not from our realm raiding the land. Then the silhouette of a woman, the woman whom I ran into when I went to try to secure Caspian.” Attempting to lay the imagery to rest, I swallowed.
“Sorva, the Beloved Other, as they call her, stated that she and Caspian had somewhere to be, and her two counterparts confirmed my suspicions.”
“She’s hosting a ritual…” His dark irises flashed with heightened concern. “What kind?”
Jaw feathering, I shook my head, every ounce of me desiring not to believe the blaring truth. “I’d assume something dark, like opening a portal between our realm and another. Perhaps… Perhaps theirs.”
“By the grace of the gods…” Syoran ran a hand down his face. “The king has already…”
“Damned us all,” I finished for him as I nipped at the inside of my cheek in search of the tang of my lineage, in search of comfort. “We are stepping into a battlefield, Syoran, and I’m afraid it is not one we will win without Caspian.”
He gestured toward the palace, his fears blooming. “But her brand keeps him here.”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
As much as I didn’t wish to, I admitted, “I saw her control him, Syoran. He has no say when she leverages that bind. She could order him to butcher all of us, and he would without so much as batting an eye until it was over.”
Nostrils flaring, he mumbled a slew of curses. “So what now? If we have failed to gather him and you’re convinced that, without him, only desolation awaits us, what are we supposed to do? Lay down our weapons and surrender to whatever the fuck they are plotting?”
Opening my mouth to reply, my mother’s voice stole my attention. “Artifacts. All five gods left an extension of themselves in this world. Once you have them, you awaken your dormant abilities. Magic flows through your veins, Child, but the curse plaguing this land prevents you from leveraging it.”
“Where…” I breathed, and Syoran’s face twisted with confusion.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re doing that weird shit again.”
“Scattered across the continent of Wraelira. Each Child is capable of sensing the gift their parent left behind. Trust your instincts, follow your gut, and retrace the steps you have made until this point.”
“What of the rest of the Children? Where can I find them?”
Her soft laughter brushed my subconscious, quickly fading alongside her presence. “All you must do is look around you.”
Syoran grabbed my shoulder. “Rohen!”
“Trust your instincts, follow your gut, and retrace the steps you have made until this point,” I whispered. “All you must do is look around you…”
“Again, weird shit.” Syoran sank to my height, his eyes searching mine. “What the hell are you talking about?”
My palms slapped against both of his cheeks as I cupped his face. “Oh, my gods!”
Face slightly squished, he grumbled, “Must I repeat myself? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Look around you… Syoran. Syoran. We have far more pieces of the puzzle than we’ve even realized.”
His brows rose. “Pieces of what fucking puzzle? Did you smoke Dreamroot while you were in there, or what?”
“For fuck’s sake, no!” Shaking his head once, I ripped him closer.
“Ellira. She’s offered clues. Five artifacts that belong to the gods have been scattered throughout the continent.
This treasure hunt never would’ve ended with Ellira’s Eyes.
You need all of them. The lore surrounding her trove doesn’t apply to just anyone; it applies to their Children.
It's a reclamation of power through lineage, an ownership of the throne for the gods to return.”
Eyes widening, a dawning realization cast itself through his gaze. “Holy… Holy shit.”
“Her power is not a mere handoff. It’s an offering hidden in the entanglement of human greed. It’s a promise to me, just as the other four artifacts are promises to the other godsborne.” Thoughts swam through my mind, tearing free from whatever had blocked them.
“So her Eyes are the first artifact?”
“Trust your instincts, follow your gut, and retrace the steps you have made until this point,” I repeated, gnawing at the inside of my cheek. “Retrace my steps to find the second Eye?”
“Oh, sweet child,” Ellira hummed. “The Eyes contain power, yes, but not to the depths of which the artifacts do. We knew our power starved the Others, and the Eyes served as placeholders to feed their famine. When cleaved, it was the last attempt by my counterpart and me to preserve what was lost: a lineage of the gods capable of overthrowing the darkness polluting Wraelira. They are known as Divari.”
It was my turn to mutter, “Holy shit.”
“What?” Syoran grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands from his face as he stood to his full height. “What did she say?”
“It’s not the Eyes. It’s something else, something they buried to protect their Children. To protect the Divari.”
Confusion returned as he posed, “Divari?”
With a soft smile, I nodded. “The Children of the gods, and I think I have an idea of where we can find them.”