Chapter 35 Esme
ESME
We keep a safe distance from Anees as we track him across the city. The longer I wear this shadow cloak over us, the better I get at controlling it. There are fewer pauses along the way. My spiritual essence must be getting used to its new nature—faster, forced by the circumstances.
A quiet fire smolders within me, a longing I must snuff out. Finding Dayn is the only way.
“What is this place?” Brynn whispers.
The walls of the tunnel close in around us. Ahead, the flame flickers in Anees’s bare hand as he works his way through. Behind us, pitch black darkness threatens to swallow all three of us if we linger. So we move.
Cautiously. Slowly.
“There’s a network of secret tunnels under the city,” I tell my sister. “It’s supposed to be an escape system connecting to the outer edges of Draethys, in case the dragons ever need to evacuate safely.”
“Secret tunnels under a secret city,” Chad scoffs.
“When they first came down here, they were fewer in number. Many of them injured and weak. In need of a safe place to recover. They worried the humans might find them and that they’d have to worm their way deeper into the ground in order to survive,” I explain, recounting what I’ve learned from the Bellatorium’s history class.
“They’re not easily accessible, though. And they’re practically forgotten by most because Draethys turned out to be safe. ”
“And well concealed,” Brynn adds. “Wasn’t easy to figure out the Salt Flats entrance.”
“At great risk,” Chad mutters.
The passage opens into a wider junction. We hang back, watching the lantern-light sway beyond, then slip forward to follow Anees into a sprawling catacomb. The scent of black limestone mingles with the sharp tang of aged wine and whiskey.
“Oh,” I breathe as Anees slips left through a narrow arch.
“What is it?” Brynn asks.
“We’re under the royal palace,” I whisper. “This is the dungeon. Prison cells on the west side and barrels piled up on the east.”
Then I feel it. Heat floods my veins, a sudden fever that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
My breath catches as the blood bond with Dayn surges through me like an electric current, stronger with each step downward.
The palace had been too far above, but here in these tunnels, the connection between us pulses with undeniable life.
My fingers tremble slightly as I press them against the cool stone wall to steady myself, fighting the urge to run toward him, to close this maddening distance between us.
“He's close,” I whisper.
We follow Anees's path through the left passage, our footsteps quiet against damp stone as we enter a hallway lit by guttering torches.
Water beads on limestone overhead, dripping into shallow puddles we carefully skirt.
I've ventured into parts of these tunnels before, but never this deep beneath the palace.
Chad's fingers catch my wrist.
Ahead, the passage forks again. Anees veers right.
I nod once and press forward. We find him at what appears to be a dead end, speaking through a steel door etched with glowing runes. From our position, I can just make out the shimmering barrier of warding magic surrounding the entrance.
“This is your last chance to reconsider,” Anees says.
Dayn's voice reverberates through the tunnel, deep and defiant. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Can't say I didn't try,” Anees replies with a sigh. “Farewell, brother. I offered you every opportunity, but your stubbornness blinds you to the inevitable. That's why history will leave you behind.”
His footsteps fade as he disappears through a side passage.
The moment he's gone, liquid heat floods my body, a molten current racing from my chest to my fingertips.
I hurry forward, pressing my palm against the cold steel door, my skin tingling where it meets the metal as if recognizing something that belongs to me.
“Dayn.”
“Esme?” Dayn's voice comes through the door, rough with emotion.
“Found you.” The words escape me in a breathless rush.
“I was going to find you.” His voice drops to a possessive growl that makes my skin flush hot.
“Like last time.” The blood bond between us pulses like a live wire, electricity dancing beneath my skin, pooling low in my belly.
My breath catches as his presence floods my senses—something dangerously wild.
Is this just the blood bond affecting me or is it…
something else now? I still feel the press of his ring against my finger, the metal lingering like a brand, a physical memory that makes my breath catch and sends a flush crawling up my neck.
My skin burns with phantom touches, his fingers tracing fire across my collarbone, down my torso, along the sensitive curve where my waist meets my hip… His mouth on my neck…
Gods, what is wrong with me?
I inhale, fighting to steady my voice. “Yeah, well, figured you earned the surprise this time.”
“You need to leave,” he says, but his tone betrays him, command layered over desperation.
“Are you serious?” My fingers press harder against the door.
“What's the plan?” Brynn asks behind me.
“Who is that with you?” Dayn's voice drops an octave, still possessive and sharp.
A smile tugs at my lips. “Just my sister and her boyfriend.”
“Chad and I are not—” Brynn's voice slices through the gloom.
Chad clears his throat. “I confirm, our relationship is strictly professional—”
“Your sister is here?” Dayn's voice cuts through the door.
“Long story.” I run my fingers along the edge of the doorframe, tracing the glowing symbols. “Containment wards. You've got matching ones on your side?”
“Identical,” Dayn replies. “We need synchronized disruption… Do you see the triangular flame sigil above the frame?”
I spot it after a moment, etched deep into the stone. “Got it, Professor.”
I hear his voice catch. Then: “On three. One...”
Shadow energy pools in my palm, coalescing into a thin, razor-sharp blade between my fingers.
“Two, three, now.”
I drive the shadow-blade into the rune with every particle of me.
The stone resists, then gives. The sigil flares brilliant orange—like a miniature supernova—before dying in a cascade of hissing sparks that rain down my arm, burning pinpricks against my skin that I barely notice through the rush of power surging through my veins. Here’s to you, Dayn.
“Next is the circled arrow,” he instructs.
We work through three more runes in sequence, each one failing with a shower of dying sparks.
“Your shadow manipulation has improved,” Dayn observes through the door, his voice carrying that professor tone that suddenly makes my stomach flip. He’s doing it on purpose. “Though your technique could use refinement.”
“Save the lecture for office hours, Professor,” I mutter.
Finally, I kneel at the lock, manipulating my shadow-blade inside the mechanism.
“Listen for the pins,” he instructs.
I bite back a smile. “I know how to pick a lock.” The mechanism surrenders with a satisfying click. “A-minus, at least,” I murmur.
“I’d give you an A-plus.”
The tunnel echoes with approaching footsteps. “Over there!” A voice ricochets off stone walls. “Halt!” That was to be expected.
A fireball hurtles toward us, its heat singing my skin before I've fully registered the danger.
“Down!” I dive to the floor, stone scraping my palms. Chad and Brynn flatten themselves beside me as the flames roar overhead.
The cell door blasts off its hinges. Dayn steps through the wreckage, metal shards raining around him like deadly confetti.
His shirt is torn open across his chest, dark hair wild around his face.
His gaze burns into mine, all restraint stripped away, and for a heartbeat, I forget where we are, how to breathe.
“Thanks, for saving me,” he says in a low tone. “Now, my turn.”
Another spell launches toward us, and Dayn steps in front of me, his body shielding mine as his hand slices upward.
The counter-surge that erupts from his fingertips collides with the incoming fireball.
I feel the scorch of his magic against my skin, the power radiating from him in waves that almost make my knees weak.
The guards scream as Dayn's flames engulf them.
Their armor liquefies, running in silver rivulets down their bodies before their flesh blackens and crumbles.
In seconds, only ash remains, wisps of smoke curling upward in the sudden, heavy silence.
Dayn turns back to me, chest heaving, a bead of sweat tracing the column of his throat.
“Gods above,” Brynn whispers, pushing herself up on trembling arms.
Chad adjusts his jacket, eyes fixed on Dayn, who—strangely, suddenly—stares back at him with narrowed eyes.
“I know you,” Dayn says, his voice abruptly tight with recognition.
Warning prickles across my skin. I look between them, suddenly uneasy.
“You're mistaken,” Chad replies coolly.
Brynn's brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
Dayn's frown deepens. “Chad Valgrave. You used to slip into Rothmere's office at Heathborne. Always carrying those leather portfolios… Neither you nor Rothmere probably ever noticed me watching. I tended to observe things from the shadows.”
“That's absurd,” Brynn scoffs, but her laugh falters when Chad's face blanches to the color of bone.
Dayn leans forward. “Half-darkblood, wasn't it? Rothmere's special infiltration project. The perfect spy to plant inside Darkbirch's inner circle.”
“What?” Brynn whispers. Her fingers, which had been hovering near Chad's arm, move away. “Chad?” Her voice hardens as she squares her shoulders.
“He's mistaken,” Chad insists, though his eyes struggle to meet hers.
“You used to be slighter when visiting Rothmere's study,” Dayn continues. “You've filled out since then. Gained muscle. So the Chancellor found you a path into Darkbirch after all. Interesting—last I heard, they were considering abandoning that particular experiment.”
“I never—”
“Dayn,” Brynn cuts in, her voice eerily calm despite the slight tremble in her fingers. “How exactly do you know Heathborne's operations so intimately?”
The question hangs between us. I could answer, but Dayn steps forward.
Dayn's voice drops to a low rumble. “In case you haven’t heard, I was Heathborne's prisoner for decades. Their laboratory rat.” His gaze locks onto Chad.
“I remember every face that passed through Rothmere's inner sanctum. Including the half-breed son of a demon father and darkblood mother—both conveniently murdered before they could interfere with his recruitment.”
The color drains from Brynn's face as recognition dawns. “Chad?”
“Let me explain—” Chad's hand reaches toward her, but I'm faster.
Shadows coalesce between my fingers, forming a blade that materializes against his throat. The edge kisses his skin, a hair's breadth from opening his carotid.
“Heathborne sent you to track Dayn,” I say, voice deadly calm. “Didn't they?”
Chad swallows, his Adam's apple brushing my blade. “Yes. I’m sorry. But—”
Brynn lunges forward with a strangled cry, magic failing her as she swings bare fists at Chad's face. He jerks backward, narrowly avoiding the blow.
“I'm still one of you,” he pleads, palms raised. “Still darkblood—”
“You're a traitor!” Brynn's voice cracks, tears glistening.
Something shifts in Chad's eyes—calculation replacing desperation. Before I can reposition my blade, he spins and bolts down the corridor.
“After him!” Brynn lurches forward.
I let the shadow blade dissolve back into my skin and catch Brynn's arm as she lunges forward.
“Let him go,” I say, my voice low. “Draethys will hunt him down. This realm doesn't tolerate outsiders.”
Dayn's eyes narrow. “You never suspected?”
Brynn's shoulders sag. “The coven paired us. He was my—” Her voice breaks. She takes a step back. “I trusted him.”
The tremor in her voice tells me more than her words. And a bitter laugh escapes me. The hypocrisy stings. I infiltrated Heathborne with the same calculated precision. I wore masks, built false connections, earned trust only to betray it.
But there’s no time for that now. I glance at Dayn, at the prison we just escaped. Beyond these tunnels waits the dragon city, another kind of prison. And beyond that, the slow heartbeat of a coming war.
A war already shifting in the dark.