CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Talon’s arm draped across my waist should have been enough to settle me.
It was heavy and warm, his breath brushing the back of my neck in slow, steady pulls. Usually that rhythm would have dragged me under within minutes.
Tonight, sleep would not come.
The moss-lit ceiling glimmered faintly above us, shadows shifting softly along the stone. I tried to follow the rise and fall of Talon’s breathing.
But every time I began to drift, those foggy, lifeless eyes surfaced again.
The silk sheets whispered against my skin when I shifted, the faint scent of cedar clinging to the air. Everything about the room was warm, safe, quiet.
Yet just beneath us, locked behind stone and iron, Xylos was still there.
Waiting.
Talon had done what he believed was necessary. He carried Umbral on his shoulders—its safety, its survival.
I knew that. I understood the choices he had to make. But understanding did nothing to quiet the tightness in my chest.
Sena Torvin had already been erased. Judged and discarded as if she had never mattered at all.
And Xylos… Xylos waited for the same fate.
Talon shifted behind me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist. I froze, holding my breath until his grip loosened again.
He had promised me it would be handled, but what if I set Xylos free?
Quietly. Just long enough for him to disappear beyond the city walls. No one would ever know. The threat would be gone, and maybe Talon would see that no harm had come of it.
Maybe he would understand.
Even as the thought formed, guilt twisted in my stomach.
I turned slowly, pressing my forehead against Talon’s shoulder. His warmth soaked into me, grounding and familiar.
For a moment I almost let it win.
Almost let myself sink back into sleep and leave the problem for morning.
But the restlessness inside me refused to fade.
I waited until his breathing deepened and his arm loosened its hold, before I slowly slid from the bed.
The cold stone floor bit into my feet, chasing away the last of my hesitation.
I pulled my coat around my shoulders and glanced back.
Talon still slept on the moss bed, turned slightly onto his side. Without the sharp focus of his waking gaze, his features softened. His lashes rested against his cheeks, and his mouth curved in the faintest pout as he breathed.
He looked younger in sleep. Peaceful.
The sight twisted something deep in my chest.
I lingered a moment longer than I should have, memorizing the quiet lines of his face.
Then I forced myself to turn away and slipped into the dark.
The stairway descended into shadow, each step stealing a little more warmth from the air. The deeper I went, the dimmer the light became, the pale glow of the cavern fungi fading behind me until only bare stone surrounded the path.
The walls pressed closer here, the passage winding deeper into the place where mercy was judged—and more often than not, denied.
I did not know whether I meant to free Xylos or only to see him. I only knew that if I turned back now I would never forgive myself for choosing comfort over conscience.
When I reached the stone-framed glass enclosure, Vesuva slithered forward.
Both heads lifted at once, twin tongues flicking against the glass. Emerald and amethyst eyes fixed on me as she watched in silence, her dark scales rippling with each restless shift.
I raised a trembling hand and pressed it to the chilled surface. My fingertip traced a slow arc—hesitant at first, then steadier. Vesuva mirrored the motion on the other side of the barrier, her scales sliding softly along the glass as a low, pleased hiss rose from her chest.
“Will you help me?”
Her eyes flared, as if she understood my plea. The tip of her tail flicked towards the opening of the closure and I walked to it hesitantly.
It was not wise to trust an animal deemed aggressive, but I was willing to take the chance.
With a decisive click, the warded lock yielded under my fingers. The door swung wide, and the large serpent poured herself into the hallway.
She was a mass of muscle and shadow, yet she moved with the weightless ease of a nightmare.
Vesuva circled me, her massive form creating a wall of heat and scales that felt more like a sanctuary than a threat.
I lowered my hand to the point where her necks fused and offered her a soft pat.
“Come on,” I breathed.
We moved through the corridors together, the stone beneath Vesuva’s coils whispering with every shift of her body. Dim light skimmed over her scales, catching on muted greens and blacks that moved like living shadow.
At the wrought-iron gates leading into the chamber, Vesuva slowed. Her body drew taut, every coil tightening with quiet tension. Then she pressed forward, forcing her way through the narrow gap between the bars.
The iron screamed.
The sound ripped through the chamber as the gates bent inward, metal groaning as they dragged themselves open. I flinched despite myself, already knowing there would be no hiding the path we had taken.
The chamber beyond stretched wide and oppressive, thick with lingering spirits.
They brushed against my senses in quiet murmurs—not quite voices, not quite thoughts, but something caught between the two. They did not rush me as they had during the Gauntlet, but their presence clung to my skin, raising a slow prickle of unease with every step deeper into the room.
I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to let their grief sink its teeth into me again.
At the far end of the chamber, a narrow strip of sickly light revealed the outline of a stone cell waiting in the gloom.
I hurried ahead, peering in to see Xylos lying motionless on the narrow bench. Dark hair spilled across his brow, his chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm.
I looked around the cell, but saw no hinge to grasp and no seam to test beneath my fingers. There was nothing crafted that could be forced or undone.
I bit down on my lip, considering whether to call on the untamed spirits again. I did not want a repeat of the Gauntlet.
But Eladaria’s lessons rose in my mind, steadier than instinct—reminding me that power answered patience far more readily than force.
I closed my eyes and lifted my hands, palms open.
The air thickened instantly, pressing against my skin. It felt like stepping beneath deep water, the weight of it tightening around my chest as I tried to draw the spirits closer.
I pushed anyway, pulling on every thread of power I could find.
Nothing answered.
The silence stretched until my jaw clenched, leaving only the growing strain in my arms and the faint tremor in my breath.
With a muttered curse, I spread my hands wider and thrust my arms forward.
Light and shadow flickered faintly at my fingertips—unstable and trembling.
I closed my eyes, focusing on expanding the fragile form when a voice shattered the stillness.
“Hey! You cannot be down here.”
My eyes flew open as a guard charged toward us, disbelief hardening into fury across his face.
“Vesuva, move!” I hissed.
The serpent answered with a low hiss, her body tightening as she prepared to strike.
The guard faltered, recognition flashing across his expression before he raised his Spirit Spear. Its tip burned with hostile light, aimed squarely at her.
“No!”
The air around me surged, closing in until my skin prickled and my lungs struggled to draw a full breath.
Spectral wisps rushed toward my hands, fragments of spirit gathering in a restless storm around my fingers.
They swarmed in a rush, winding around my arms and palms, forming a trembling veil of power that sent sharp pain lancing through my bones.
Still, I pushed forward.
The force burst from me in a blinding surge, light and smoke twisting together as it struck the stone with a thunderous crack. The impact tore through the wall, fragments of rock breaking free as dust and splintered debris filled the chamber before crashing back to the floor.
The sound echoed through the chamber, loud enough that the Veythar in the sleeping quarters above would hear.
The guard screamed as the shock hurled him backward, his cloak whipping around him as he struck the ground in a crumpled heap.
I blinked through the dusty haze to see Xylos jolting upright.
His gaze darted to the empty space where the wall had been, then to the fading spirits dissolving into the air.
“I was correct to assume you were not completely mortal.”
Ignoring him, my eyes scanned the chamber. “We must leave. Is there somewhere you can go?”
He nodded once. “If my wing remains unclaimed, it will serve.”
I turned wordlessly, Xylos following quietly behind me.
“Does Talon know?” he asked.
I shook my head, my throat so tight it felt like I was swallowing glass. I was relieved Xylos was standing, yes, but the weight of the truth I omitted was already beginning to crush me.
He reached out, resting a hand briefly against my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable.
I gave a small, jerky nod and took a step toward the exit.
A wet groan tore through the stillness behind us. I spun around, my pulse spiking as I watched the guard’s fingers twitch against the obsidian floor, his shadow beginning to stir in the gloom.
He struggled upright, terror widening his eyes as he lifted his spear again—this time pointing it directly at me.
My heart skipped a violent beat, my feet rooted to the stone.
Vesuva struck before I could move, her body surging forward in a flash of emerald and shadow. The spear was torn from the guard’s grip as she coiled around him, her massive form tightening in a single crushing bind.
Shadows spilled from him then, drawn into her waiting form as though his very breath had been stolen. Her scales swelled with the stolen power, her eyes igniting with a fierce, otherworldly light.
The guard went limp within seconds. When she loosened her coils, he crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap.
I stood frozen, breath caught painfully in my chest.
Xylos met Vesuva’s gaze with something close to fondness.
“I missed you,” he murmured.
Her low rumble echoed through the chamber, dangerous but restrained. Xylos stiffened, then let out a quiet, nervous laugh.
“Yes. Of course,” he said quickly, turning back to me. “We should go.”