CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bater came to a halt before an archway carved from a single, gargantuan slab of obsidian. The stone here was a glutton for light, swallowing every stray glimmer and refusing to reflect even the faint pulse that characterized the rest of the Umbral.
It stood as a literal void.
A cavern opened before us, vast and seemingly endless, its vaulted ceiling lost to the hungry shadows above. Mist curled around my ankles in thick, gray ribbons, cold enough that I almost jerked back before I could stop myself.
Shadows flickered at the very edges of my vision—countless restless spirits darting through the gloom.
These were not the melodic whispers that had greeted me upon my arrival. These were fractured things, humming with grief and an unsettled anger that had me stepping closer to Bater.
“They are untethered,” he said. “Without a loyal cell to house them, they drift. They are lost, and they are very volatile.”
I kept walking, my chest tightening under the pressure of their collective sorrow. I forced my pace to remain steady even as the hum of their voices vibrated through my ribs and made my fingers tremble.
We stopped before a circle formed by large, round blocks of stone, and in the middle stood a figure.
Neya was cloaked in robes of bone-white and had her hair pulled back with a severity that made her features look like they were carved from ice. Her golden eyes locked onto me with a surgical precision that made me feel like a specimen under a microscope.
She did not bother with the pretense of a greeting. Her attention flicked to Bater, her chin tilting in a silent question.
“She is ready to train,” he announced.
My eyes shot to him with a frown tugging at my lips. Was he leaving me alone with her?
Neya’s lips curved in acknowledgment that did not reach her eyes.
“Very well.” She lifted a hand and gestured toward the cleared patch of stone at the center of the circle. “Come, Sayel. Show me what you are worth.”
Her voice carried enough contempt to make it clear what she expected to see—a fragile human playing at power she did not understand.
Heat flared low in my chest, a slow, simmering anger rising to meet the challenge.
Bater stared straight ahead, carefully avoiding my gaze.
With a quiet huff of breath, I stepped forward, the cool mist curling around my boots as I crossed into the circle.
Every spirit in the cavern seemed to lean closer as I reached the center of the floor, their hunger pressing against my mind, their pull scratching at the very edges of my focus.
Neya began to circle me. She moved with effortless grace, her steps nearly soundless against the stone as the mist swirled around her ankles. The spirits followed her motion instinctively, drawn to her presence until shadows gathered and folded around her form.
“You feel them. That is the first step,” she instructed. “The spirits always show themselves to those who cannot yet master them.”
The mist thickened around me, brushing against my skin in cold, creeping currents. It was not ordinary fog. Grief and fear pressed into my mind with it, a tangle of fractured emotions that seeped steadily into my thoughts.
My body trembled beneath the weight of it. Their sorrow dragged at me, their fury scraping through my focus until my balance wavered and the edges of my vision blurred.
I drew a slow breath and flexed my fingers, trying to steady myself. I willed the spirits to follow the motion, though I had no idea how one was meant to command them.
Neya stepped closer, her amber eyes burning through the haze like twin coals.
My hands lifted higher, palms open and facing upward, and the spirits surged. My knees threatened to buckle under the sheer intensity of their jerky, frantic movements, but I stood my ground.
Shadows coiled around my fingertips, and my skin prickled with a heat so intense it felt like a second pulse.
Neya stilled. Her poise wavered, her gaze widening just enough to reveal a flicker of genuine shock.
My lips parted, but the shrill shriek of the spirits poured through my skull until thought dissolved into white noise. The vortex swelled too fast, filling every corner of my being until it demanded a release I did not know how to give.
I clenched my fists, trying to reign in the violence I could feel brewing in the air, but the spirits were too strong, their movements increasing until they formed a blinding, silver light that seared across my vision.
“Stop,” I whispered, barely hearing my own voice through the cacophony, but they did not listen. Their sounds sharpened, rising to a fevered pitch that scraped against the obsidian walls.
“What are you doing?” Neya shrieked. “Stop it! They are under your command.”
I blinked, the world a blur of silver and shadow, and abruptly dropped my hands, hoping the power would collapse inward and retreat. But the thought fractured, and the power followed that fracture, veering sharply away from my intention.
Quicker than a lightning strike, the energy lanced out and landed directly on Neya’s chest, hurling her across the cavern like a leaf in a gale. Her body hit the obsidian wall with a force that made the stone itself shudder and groan, dust breaking loose from the ceiling in a fine, dark powder.
The spirits retreated with murmurs, settling into the mist as the cavern fell silent.
My chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, and the fire that had filled me was replaced by a hollow ache so sharp it made my stomach turn.
I stared in horror at Neya, her white robes now dulled and streaked with dust, her body crumpled like a discarded doll at the base of the shattered wall.
Regret washed over me, fast and hard, drowning the remnants of my anger.
“I did not mean—” The words caught in my throat.
Bater was at her side in an instant, his face pale as he bent low, his hands hovering over her chest. For a moment, he said nothing, and then he released a shuddering exhale.
“She is not dead,” he murmured, his voice tight. “But she is hurt.”
His head lifted, and his gaze met mine. “What did you do?”
“I do not know,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “The spirits crawled into my head and fed on my anger, and I could not force them out.”
I pressed a hand to my temple, the echo of their cries still rattling inside my skull.
Bater rose slowly and caught my arm, his grip suddenly harsh, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Let go of me,” I said, panic twisting through my chest.
His hold tightened, and his voice dropped to a low whisper edged with command. “You must leave. I will send a healer for Neya. You need to rest.”
My body was still vibrating from the torrent I had unleashed, every nerve buzzing with the aftermath.
“Go,” I said, letting my voice falter as I pressed my other hand to my forehead. “Go and tell Talon. I just need a moment alone. I did not mean to hurt her.”
Bater frowned, his gaze flicking between me and Neya’s crumpled form on the stone. For a moment he hesitated.
Then the severity of her injuries won out.
He muttered a sharp curse and took off at a run, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until the sound faded into the distance.
Only when he was gone did I brace a hand against the wall and steady my breathing.
My body was shaking, yes.
But I was alone now.
And I was not about to waste it.
The Umbral swallowed me as I moved through its twisting veins of stone, the corridors tightening and the air growing colder and heavier the deeper I went.
The carved markings on the walls vanished, replaced by bare, unwelcoming stone scarred with marks that looked as though desperate hands had clawed at the rock. The air carried a smell that turned my stomach—dust and damp mingled with something sour and metallic.
Like old blood.
I kept moving, one hand braced against the wall, though every instinct urged me to turn back.
When the iron doors finally emerged at the end of the corridor, I knew I had found the heart of this city’s rot.
The gate was forged from scarred black iron, a brutal contrast to the elegant spires above. No luminous crystals lit this place. Only the cold breath of the mountain remained.
I shoved the gate aside, the hinges screaming in protest before the door thudded against the stone.
Beyond it, iron cells stretched into the darkness in a long, merciless row. Each one glowed with a weak, sickly light that revealed a body folded inside.
Like something discarded.
Revulsion clawed up my throat and I staggered back, my shoulder striking the wall.
These had once been people.
Now they were husks—bodies emptied of whatever had made them human. Their eyes were milked over, reflecting the dim light like dull glass. Their skin had gone ashen, shadowed with deep violet bruising beneath hollow cheeks.
My eyes flitted through the cells, searching for any recognizable faces and a strangled noise escaped me when my eyes landed on a familiar head of blonde hair.
Had it not been for the unruly curls that tickled her waist, Sena Torvin would have been unrecognizable. Her honey colored eyes were no longer and her lips not tipped up in their usual grin.
My knees almost gave out at the sight of the girl who had raced me through the reeds and laughed until her face went red.
I looked away from her soulless form and swallowed the lump in my throat. Staring at her was not going to give me any answers and it definitely was not making me believe it was a great choice to come down here.
Drawing a slow breath, I pushed deeper into the corridor.
I kept my eyes forward until I reached a cell that glowed far dimmer than the others. Its front had been sealed with a heavy slab of stone, leaving only a narrow opening no wider than two outstretched arms.
I leaned closer and peered through the gap. I had expected a beast—something with claws and a hunger that matched the darkness of the mountain.
Instead, I found a man.
He sat with his head bowed, his ribs tracing sharp, skeletal lines beneath skin as pale as funeral shrouds. But it was the way he held his hands—fingers curled as if still reaching for a sword that had been stripped from him centuries ago—that stopped my breath.
He lifted his head, the movement stiff and pained. When the weak, sickly light finally hit his face, it did not reveal a monster. It revealed a man whose emerald eyes were the exact, haunting shade from the stories.
“Xylos,” I whispered.
He blinked at me, the movement stiff. “Who are you?”
“Kaelia,” I uttered.
He rose slowly, towering even in his weakened state, his bones shifting beneath barely-there muscle.
“Are you okay?”
His voice was a low growl. “What do you think, little mortal?”
I did not have time to answer, because his eyes suddenly cut past me and his body tensed like a drawn bow, every muscle locking.
I turned to follow his gaze and my breath snagged when I saw a body in the entryway. Neya stood in the shadows of the chamber, her amber gaze lit like flame.
Xylos’s hands gripped the stone edges of the slit, his voice cracking into a plea. “Neya.”
Neya’s jaw clenched, her features turning to ice, but she did not reply as her eyes darted between us.
“My love, please,” he croaked.
My love?
Before I could form one of the many questions swimming in my mind, Neya growled. “You should not be down here, Kaelia.”
She crossed the distance in a blur of white, her grip like a tight band around my arm.
She dragged me away from the cell with a strength that brooked no resistance, her eyes never leaving Xylos even as he shoved his thick arms through the small gap, clawing at the air as if to reach for the hem of her cloak.
“Wai—” I started, but she cut me off with a lethal glare causing me to sigh. “I just want to ask him a few questions.”
“Absolutely not. You have done more than enough damage just by coming down here,” she seethed. “I doubt Talon gave you his consent.”
I stopped walking, my body locking up at the truth in her comment, and tugged my arm back. “Let me go, Neya.”
“No, and if you wish for me to keep this from Talon, you will start walking.”
The thought of Talon discovering my betrayal turned my blood to ice.
I screwed my eyes closed and let her drag me away from the cell and into the winding corridors.
Xylos’s voice followed us as we exited. “Neya!”
She flinched, her nails digging deep into the soft flesh of my arm until I winced, but she did not look back.