24 #2
I peered down at King Gabriel’s skeleton, wincing as I noted the state of his bones.
His skull had cracked like an egg, scattering his teeth, and his arm lay in jagged shards beneath a rock.
The rest of his skeleton was missing, presumably underneath the rest of the rubble.
It appeared that the ancient king had died here centuries ago, along with many of his knights.
But he was the only one pinned by the majority of the rocks.
The rest of the skeletons were farther away, and their armor was mostly intact.
Erebus suddenly began pacing, cursing under his breath.
“Of course Mithras would know,” Erebus growled, vehemently shaking his head.
“This has been his citadel for centuries. He’d know if this entrance was compromised.
” His composure changed dramatically; anger surged through him, hot as an inferno.
“Mithras did this. There’s no one else who’d be capable of such an atrocity. ”
“He’s a monster,” I bit out, forcing myself to look away from the wreckage. The air here was growing heavy, oppressive, and the faint scent of decay lingered just beneath the dampness. “But why collapse the entrance? If the entrance is destroyed, the Weavers are trapped, right?”
“They would be, yes. Just as Mithras trapped us.” Erebus’s eyes suddenly brightened. “But there is another way inside the tombs. A secret entrance only known to the Weavers.”
Interesting.
“If only the Weavers knew of it, how did you find it?”
He exhaled slowly, looking back at King Gabriel’s skeleton a final time. “I used to know everything about this place. What is a boy without his shadows and dreams to guide him true?”
His words lingered like a phantom in the gloom.
Erebus walked away before I could find words, his cloak whispering over the stone.
I waited for a breath, staring at the bones of the king who’d been Mithras’s father.
A father who was killed by his only son.
And when I finally turned to follow, the weight of the past pressed into me, making the room feel colder than ever before.
The climb back to the surface was grueling. Each step upward seemed steeper than the last, the damp air weighing heavily on my lungs. I could feel the cold seeping into my boots, numbing my toes. Erebus said little as we ascended, his gaze fixed forward, his movements brisk and efficient.
When we reached the corridor above, Erebus paused, his head tilting slightly as if he was listening for something. I opened my mouth to ask what he’d heard, but he silenced me with a sharp gesture, his gloved hand raised.
“Footsteps,” he warned, his voice barely audible.
I strained my ears, and sure enough, the faint echo of boots against stone reached us. My heart leapt into my throat. We had lingered too long. Erebus grabbed my wrist, his touch firm but not unkind, and pulled me into a shadowed alcove.
The footsteps grew louder, their cadence steady and deliberate.
A golden glow preceded the figures who emerged around the corner—a pair of legionnaires in shining cream-and-gold uniforms, their polished armor reflecting the dim torchlight.
Their masks wore impassive expressions, gazes sweeping the corridor with mechanical precision.
I held my breath, my back pressed against the cold stone wall.
Erebus towered over me, caging me with his body.
His breath tickled my hair, warm and pleasant.
Part of me desperately wanted to use this stolen moment to hold him—to press my mouth against his in a bid to ensure our silence.
But another part of me, the part that won out, was horrified at what might happen if I lost control.
What Corrupt me might be capable of.
If I snapped during a kiss, what might I do?
Would I bite into him, feeling the hot, metallic taste of his blood on my tongue, unable to stop?
Would I grip him too hard, crushing him beneath the weight of my own twisted need?
I felt the ghost of Raelion slither around my neck, squeezing slightly.
Shivering in pleasure as if he knew how depraved my thoughts had become.
I shuddered, disgusted with myself.
Fortunately, the guards passed without incident, their footsteps fading into the distance. Only when the silence returned did Erebus uncover me, cautiously stepping from the alcove.
“This way,” he urged, oblivious to my darkening thoughts.
Erebus confidently navigated the labyrinthine halls, though I couldn’t tell if he truly remembered the way or was simply following his gut.
Oddly, the citadel’s grandeur began to fade the farther we ventured from its heart.
The walls here were bare stone, their surfaces rough and uneven, and the faint scent of salt hung in the air.
Eventually, we reached another narrow staircase that spiraled downward, its steps worn smooth by centuries of use. The air grew even colder as we descended, the salty tang growing stronger with each step. By the time we reached the bottom, the distant roar of the sea was unmistakable.
The staircase opened into a small antechamber, its walls damp and streaked with moss. A heavy wooden door stood before us, its surface warped and weathered by time. A rusted lock, already open, dangled uselessly from its latch.
“This is it,” Erebus said, his voice quiet but certain.
“Mithras and I used to leave the citadel through this door. If we had time after lessons to explore, or if we wanted to watch the sun rise, we’d…
” He trailed off, swallowing hard. His eyes became steely, his earlier anger restored. “That was a long time ago.”
The wind slammed into us the moment we pushed the door open, sharp with brine and thick with the distant cries of gulls.
It carried the rhythmic crash of waves against jagged rocks, a ceaseless, thunderous lullaby that echoed through the night.
Beneath our boots, the sand was wet and gritty, speckled with smooth, water-worn stones that gleamed like scattered stars.
The tide rolled in with a whisper and then a roar, pulling back to surge forward again.
Above, the heavens stretched vast and endless.
The stars burned cold and bright, their silver light washing over the landscape in a dreamlike glow.
We picked our way across the beach, the sound of the waves growing louder with each step.
The rocks were slick with spray, their surfaces glistening in the moonlight, and the sand, mud-like, clung stubbornly to my boots, trying to pry them off.
It wasn’t long before we found it—a crumbling stone archway hidden by time and the creeping embrace of vines.
If Erebus hadn’t pointed it out, the entrance would have been invisible.
“I wasn’t sure it would still be here,” he murmured, almost to himself.
I stepped beside him, peering into the darkness. The air that wafted out was damp and heavy, carrying with it the faintest hint of something metallic—blood, or perhaps rust.