Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
ANU
“ W hen exactly did you discover the abnormality?” Stefen asked, from where he sat at one of the library’s mahogany tables. He’d ask the same question, in different ways, three times now. As if the missing part of a puzzle might present itself if he kept turning over the same piece. “What day?”
They’d been poring over ancient tomes since Alaric had confided his fears. Palomi had arrived the next day. Her news only further confirmed what he suspected; a darkness was scouring the land on Ventus. If they didn’t figure out its origin soon, it would only be a matter of time before it was in Anu.
“The Sunday before I called for you,” Alaric said, scanning a shelf. “An emissary coming from Ventus felt its presence when he crossed back over. The following day I dispatched the two sentinels.”
Only one of them returned three days later. Alaric had taken Stefen to the dungeons to see the male the night he explained everything. Rather, he took his brother to see what remained of the archangel.
Only his body. Bloody from trying to tear off his own skin. They’d had to chain him to the walls to keep him from destroying himself further. He was reduced to little more than a rabid beast, snarling and foaming from the mouth, soulless black shark eyes staring out from behind the bars of his own mental prison.
Alaric had never encountered anything like it. Even Trophonius was mystified. The oracle had locked himself in his chambers for two days, reading everything he could get his hands on. When he finally emerged, his face was grim. “Four of thousands. One of stars,” he said before vanishing into whatever parallel universe he resided in when he wasn’t at court.
Alaric supposed that was something. Infuriating as it was having an all-seeing oracle bound to the universe, never able to reveal all that they knew. At least the riddle gave them a jumping off point.
Palomi’s arrival was shedding more light on the mystery. Her inside connections at Windsong confirmed Calian was aware and actively searching for his own answers. There was still no word from Hornhall on what, or if, they knew.
Alaric hated how reclusive Ventus was; how they withheld their intelligence, even from each other. More than that, he hated having to tell Stefen his nephew was involved in the team of Warborn warriors hunting for answers.
Palomi straightened. “I found something.” She flipped the book for Stefen, seated across from her. “It’s written in a nearly extinct language of my kind. But it mentions a fifth realm. One of legends and myths.” She pointed as Alaric walked over. “Then there’s this annotation scribbled in the margin.”
Alaric looked over her shoulder as she read it aloud, “The birth of stars, the resting of souls. Shadows and light.” She looked up. “Balance and chaos.”
“A fifth realm.” Stefen went completely still. More still than Alaric had ever seen. “Merick has spoken of it.” He stared off, contemplative. “Not from scholarly pursuits or life experience. More so something she’s felt. ” His brother’s gaze met his. “ A realm of stars.”
Alaric took a seat, bracing his forearms on the table. “Did she say anything about who, or what, might reside there?”
“Only stars.” Stefen’s gaze had drifted off again. He leaned back in his chair. “Trophonius once said Merick was like a story that had never been written. But that the writer had dreamed of her before the birth of time.”
“He also confirmed she had the gift of Sight.” Palomi looked down at the manuscript and reread. “The birth of stars, the resting of souls.” She glanced up. “Could this fifth realm be where all life begins? …Where it ends?”
Stefen reached for the book and scanned the page. “Shadows and light. Balance and chaos,” he recited the scribed text in the margin. “If this place does exist, and it houses all souls, at the beginning and end of their journey; there would be both good and bad collected there.”
His sea-green eyes met Alaric’s. “What if someone found a way in?”
“Or…” When Palomi paused, they both looked at her. “Someone’s found a way to let them out?”
Hornhall
“ H old this.” Katarra handed the hissing wyvern to a waiting groom the second the boy raced up to take hold of Anarchy.
“Champion Talon...” Lord Ulrich's words fell away, along with his smile, when the horse toting the decapitated body walked through the castle gates. “Lord Bermon is missing his head.”
“He took issue with your orders to follow the champion’s lead.” Archer dismounted.
Katarra slung a leg over her saddle and hopped down. “ Everyone’s entitled to play the fool once in a while.” She pulled off her riding gloves with her teeth as she walked up to the King’s Advisor. “Lord Bermon was abusing the privilege.”
Lord Ulrich was smart enough to not take his eyes off her. “He never was a good listener.” He pointed in the general direction of the headless body and directed the servant at his side. “Erect a funeral pyre.”
“And the boy?" Katarra didn’t look to the horse carrying the rebel’s body.
Lord Ulrich did. “I will see that his body gets back to the forest. Where his kin will likely find him.” He turned to the castle. “I’ll need to study the wyvern.”
“He’s mine,” Katarra said flatly. “You can observe him when I am present. But you cannot touch him.”
Archer groused behind her. Lord Ulrich stiffened, but he nodded. “That can be arranged.”
Katarra turned to the groom, too busy trying to keep hold of the gnawing and spitting beast to hear anything being discussed. “Here.” She took the wyvern and handed Anarchy's reins to the lad. “Get him washed and fed.”
“That creature can't be permitted inside,” Durrant snapped. The wyvern pup bared its razor-sharp teeth at the idiot as Katarra strode past. “It's a wild beast!”
“It's a fucking baby.”
Just as Katarra crossed the threshold into the castle, she heard Archer giving his men orders. She took the steps two at a time as the wyvern gnawed on her thumb. She could already hear the reprimand coming. Right now, she just wanted to be alone.
The little fire ball bit down, breaking the skin this time.
“Ouch!” She nudged open her chamber door, and asked the toothy bundle in her arms, “Is this the thanks I get?”
The mini dragon let out an ear-piercing screech and a puff of smoke. She set it down. The wyvern whirled around and glared at her before pouncing on her boots .
“Okay, listen here.” She shook her foot, dislodging the tiny beast, and knelt down. “No growling.”
The pup snarled.
Katarra couldn't help but chuckle. “Fine. Snarling is allowed. For now.”
She uncoiled to her feet, shifted back into her normal body, and walked to the window. Sure enough, the guards were riding out with the boy. The lad couldn’t have been older than ten. “Stupid kid.”
Something crashed behind her. She turned to see a discarded wine bottle rolling across the floor. A scaly green ball of growling fury swiftly followed.
Katarra walked over to the wyvern, now tugging viciously at the bedding. “Well, what the hell shall I call you?”
Her mind ran back over the events of the day. The month. The years. The realm she belonged to. The realm she was fighting in. The odds against her. The promise she had made to herself.
The loyalty of one rebel boy to a tiny wyvern pup…
“Legion,” she said.
The round-eyed beasty growled at her.
“It’s settled then. I need a good legion of warriors around me.” She plucked a piece of leftover ham off a tray and tossed it at the wyvern.
The pup’s eyes grew huge right before it fell on the meat. She smiled and set the whole tray down on the floor before taking a seat next to it. After a good five minutes, the contents of the tray were gone and the wyvern’s eyes blinked sleepily.
She held out her hand. The pup ambled over, sniffed her fingers, and belched up a puff of smoke. Then it crawled into her lap, circled three times, snuggled down, laid its head on her thigh, and fell asleep.
With a smile, she stroked a finger down its long smooth neck. “Legion.”