Chapter 28
28
SAOIRSE
S aoirse’s mind was on the brink of collapse.
Recognition warred with denial, crashing together like vigorous waves threatening to pull her under. No. It cannot be.
Saoirse felt her legs give out, the bite of stone against her bare knees skinning her soft flesh. She stared at the hollow-eyed woman behind the bars, not fully comprehending what? who ?she was looking at. Behind her, she could feel Rook’s hands settle on her shoulders. But she barely felt his comforting touch. Her mind refused to see the skeletal figure as her mother, and yet her heart lurched toward the woman.
How is this possible?
Though her body was grown now, Saoirse felt much smaller as she stared into the shadowy cell, at the woman who should have been long dead. Suddenly, she was the same ten-year-old-girl that had attended her mother’s funeral on a cloud-veiled day. Memories slapped her in the face as she stared at her mother. She could still taste the briny wind of the morning the day she’d sent her mother’s coffin into the sea. She could still recall the sobs that had torn from her father’s throat as a torch was dropped into the thrashing ocean waves, the bright blue eternal flames clinging to the coffin as it burned the wood. The sapphire blue flames glimmered through the waves like a dropped gemstone, vanishing into the darkness.
She hadn’t seen her mother’s body, of course. They’d sent an empty coffin into the sea as a symbolic gesture. They’d been told Eleyera’s body had been burned beyond recognition after the carriage was attacked by Ballar’s assassins. They’d set the carriage ablaze once their targets’ lives had been taken, leaving nothing behind save for ash and scorched earth. Terradrin officials had claimed no remains could be retrieved. The former rulers of Aurandel and Elorshin had a permanent resting place on Terradrin soil.
Saoirse’s father had raged against the Terradrin ambassador who’d delivered the news.
“It is a small mercy ,” the apologetic ambassador had read from the scroll. “ Having no remains will spare you of the trauma of seeing her in such a state. Your last memories of Eleyera will be as she was: vibrant and full of life. We send our deepest sympathies to you and your court. Please know that every effort is being made to eradicate the group responsible for such heinous crimes ?”
Saoirse hadn’t understood what political ramifications her mother’s murder held at the time. All she knew was that she’d lost her mother and that she would never hear her lullabies again. She’d lived the last eight years with a piece of her soul missing. Hatred for the kingdoms responsible for Eleyera’s death had sharpened into a weapon she wielded every day as she trained with the Torqen. Her mother’s murder had driven her to compete in the Tournament, had shaped every decision that she’d made for almost a decade.
But now her mother was here .
She couldn’t deny her identity. The shell of a woman in the cage was her mother. That voice, weakened and frail as it was, was the same one that had sung to her as a child. Those moon-blue eyes were the same ones Saoirse had inherited.
“Saoirse?” came that familiar voice, both the same and different than it had once been. It was hardened with torment and reedy with malnourishment. But the syllables of Saoirse’s name were uttered reverently, breathed out in a way only a parent could.
She was alive .
More tears welled in Saoirse’s eyes as her mother’s knobby fingers draped over her own. She clutched the iron bars like a lifeline, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. “Mother,” she said again, voice splintered with pain and disbelief.
“You’ve grown so much,” her mother breathed, trembling fingers moving to trace over her cheeks.
“How is this possible? You?you died.”
It felt like her heart was being torn apart for the second time in her life. Memories blurred behind her tears: every time she cried in Aurelia’s arms on the anniversary of her mother’s death, every moment she’d broken down at the sight of her mother’s portrait in the royal gallery, the sorrow that never truly left her father’s eyes after all these years.
Even as her world spun out of control, something pricked in the back of her mind. Titansblood . She had wondered where the underguards had found mangrove and willowherb, questioned why they had any need for titansblood down here. Suddenly, it all made sense. Her mother had been kept as a prisoner for eight years. Their store of titansblood had been for her mother. They’d been keeping her alive. She felt sick to her stomach.
“I thought I had died, too,” her mother whispered. Her tear-glazed eyes grew distant. “One minute, I was speaking with the king and queen of Aurandel, and the next, I was drenched in a pool of my own blood. We’d been discovered, you see. It was supposed to be a secret meeting…but they found out. I never meant to get them killed.” A sob hitched in her mother’s throat.
“I stared at the sky for what seemed like hours, watching as smoke choked out the stars and the metallic taste of blood thickened on my tongue. Eventually, the pain of my wounds subsided, dulling to a numbness that tingled in my paralyzed limbs. As I bled out, I thought of you.” Her mother’s eyes scraped over Saoirse’s face, gaze burning as if she could still see the little girl she’d once sung to every night.
“When it was discovered I was still alive, I was plucked from the wreckage of the carriages, half-dead and delirious. I didn’t know what was real and what was a dream. The hooded figures who collected me could’ve very well been ghosts for all I knew. As they carried me away, I saw the king and queen of Aurandel lying in puddles of their blood, their eyes unseeing. They were gone. I wish I could’ve been slain alongside them that night. It would have spared me from this Hel I’ve lived for the last eight years.”
Eleyera’s waxen lips trembled as she recalled that horrific night, a sheen of guilt misting over her features as she thought of Aurandel’s fallen monarchs. Her eyes drifted past Saoirse’s shoulders, landing on Rook. She took in his wings and inky dark hair, recognition and understanding sparking in her gaze. “You’re their son, aren’t you?”
Rook gave a wordless nod, his fingers tightening involuntarily.
“You have your father’s likeness and your mother’s eyes. You were but a small lad then, weren’t you? I’m so sorry they met with me that day. It’s my fault that they died. If I hadn’t arranged that meeting…”
“No,” Rook cut in sharply. “It isn’t your fault. For the last eight years, I will admit that I blamed you and your kingdom for what happened that night.” He squeezed Saoirse’s shoulders. “But I was wrong. Your daughter showed me that. You couldn’t have known those Terradrin rebels would ambush you and carry out their assassination plot.”
“Terradrin rebels?”
“Yes, the rebel group that attacked your carriages was led by Ballar Grimstone,” Rook said. “They’d been planning an uprising for a decade, waiting for the right opportunity to kill off Revelore’s rulers one by one. They took advantage of your secret meeting with my parents, and had it not been for the swift action of Terradrin officials in the wake of the murders, they might have succeeded in killing off more Revelorian rulers.”
Her mother’s eyebrows knit together with confusion. “Ballar Grimstone was not among the assassins that night. Nor were any one of his rebel followers. His rebellious sect held radical ideas, but he never would’ve resorted to murder.”
“Terradrin officials told us what happened,” Saoirse countered, remembering every vivid detail that came in the days that followed. “Grivur enacted a thorough eradication of Ballar’s rebel group right after the murders. The inquisition went on for several years, painstakingly weeding out all of Ballar’s followers. Anyone found to be associated with the movement was executed. The rebellion was completely disbanded.”
An expression of pure horror replaced her mother’s confusion, the shadows deepening in the hollows of her gaunt cheekbones as her mouth fell open. “Executed?” Her enlarged eyes grew even wider. “Ballar and his followers were blamed for the attack?” Her horror suddenly bloomed into outrage, a muscle in her jaw ticking with anger. “How could they ?”
“They?” Saoirse asked. Her mother’s eyes burned with palpable disgust. She would’ve thought Eleyera would be pleased that those who’d conducted such heinous atrocities had paid for their crimes. But instead of being relieved that justice had been served, she seemed incensed by Ballar’s execution. “Mother, what are you talking about?”
“The Order of Elders. They found out about what I knew. I don’t know how, but they did. They learned I had discovered the truth and that I was going to share it with Aurandel’s rulers. They were the assassins who swarmed the carriage and plunged their blades into our bodies. They couldn’t allow the truth to get out, so they had to kill us. They must’ve used Ballar’s rebellion as a scapegoat.”
The confession fell upon Saoirse like stinging rain, sliding off her shoulders without truly sinking in. She stared at her mother blankly, mind uselessly grasping at words that didn’t seem to fit together properly. Her hands went limp, slipping from the iron bars and falling to her lap. She suddenly felt dizzy, the stone cave walls warping and buckling in her peripheral vision as her mother’s words solidified into something sickening.
“Ballar’s followers had grown considerably, posing a threat to Grivur’s reign. They were mostly harmless, calling for reformation in the Under Kingdom’s court but never speaking out against the Tournament or Aurandel’s possession of the Crown. Nevertheless, it was well known that Grivur was waiting for any opportunity to exterminate the group. Clearly, it didn’t take much convincing for him to believe the Elders when they blamed the assassinations on Ballar and his followers. I’m sure he relished the chance to abolish those who questioned his corruption.”
For several minutes, thick silence suffused the air as Saoirse and Rook processed the truth. The cavern seemed to close in and collapse around them. Her mother looked between them, eight years of trauma and torture gleaming in her eyes. Saoirse shouldn’t have been surprised that the Order of Elders had been the orchestrators of such brutal murders, but years of believing in the crimes of Ballar’s rebellion shackled her understanding. Saoirse’s heart lurched for all the countless families who’d been executed or banished over an act they were never involved in.
A horrifying realization dawned on her, sinking deep in the pit of her stomach like a stone in the Adonis river. Rymir had betrayed them all in the name of his father’s legacy, a legacy that wasn’t even real . He didn’t know the truth. Just like everyone else, Rymir had been deceived by the Elders and convinced of Ballar’s guilt all these years, using his father’s untimely martyrdom as proof of the royal corruption he had railed against.
With all the Order’s crimes coming to light recently, it made sense. If anyone questioned their authority or came to know the truth of their servitude to the Titans, they’d need to be eliminated. Her mother must’ve learned something truly significant if the Elders felt threatened enough to arrange an assassination plot. What knowledge had Eleyera unearthed?
Rook pieced together the same question, asking, “What did you find out? What were you trying to share with my parents?”
“I learned the truth. About everything. I learned that our kingdoms had been lied to.”
“You learned about how the Order of Elders has been trying to resurrect the Titans for centuries, didn’t you?” Saoirse asked, her mind racing.
Her mother leveled a grave nod, eyes flickering with surprise. “How do you know about that?”
“It’s a long story,” Saoirse replied wearily. It would take hours to describe how she’d made a foolhardy bargain with Selussa for the chance to compete in the Tournament. “I’ll tell you everything after we free you from this cell, but the crux of the story is that Selussa was set free and now she’s collecting all the Relics. We came to Terradrin to find the third Relic before she did.”
Her mother’s eyes momentarily widened with shock, but then they gleamed with pride as she surveyed Saoirse through the bars.
“Yes, we certainly have much to catch up on, don’t we? To answer your question, yes, I uncovered the truth about how the Elders summoned Selussa from Hel a hundred years ago and how her impersonation of Princess Yrsa spiraled into a war that nearly destroyed Revelore. But that isn’t all I discovered. I learned that the Myths of Old are not only real but that they are very flawed. Have you ever wondered why we stopped believing in the myths, wondered why we have temples scattered across the continent, and yet we see the old stories as archaic, irrelevant folklore? I discovered why the myths faded from memory and why Revelore forgot about the Relics over time. Think about it: if the Relics could be used to bring back the Titans, why weren’t they carefully guarded and kept in the vaults of kings over the centuries?”
Her mother paused, letting her questions hang in the air like the stalactites dripping down from the ceiling, threatening to pierce through elusive truths Saoirse couldn’t quite understand. Her mouth tasted of ash, her mind feeling sluggish as she tried to comprehend what her mother was saying. “I?” she started. “I don’t understand.”
Eleyera began cryptically, “We’ve been taught that the mythical sirens were deceptive and crafty creatures, willing to betray their allies in exchange for gold and treasure. This belief persisted so ardently over the years that the word ‘siren’ became synonymous with trickery. Many debate if sirens were even real in the first place, as though their existence was a mere trick of the Titans. They became as fantastical as the constellations in the night sky, half-myth and half-nightmare. The only stories we have of sirens have been tarnished beyond recognition, leaving only pieces of what they might have been like. But they play a part in this story, just like any of us.”
Saoirse’s mind was reeling, her mother’s words evoking shards of glass-like memories that didn’t make sense. What was her mother implying? Had she simply gone mad down here, her mind collapsing into unfathomable delusion? With isolation as her only companion, it would be easy to succumb to madness.
“But if you possessed such dangerous knowledge, why did the Elders keep you alive?” Saoirse asked, puzzled. “Why didn’t they finish the job when they’d discovered you survived? Why would they keep you imprisoned here all these years?”
Her mother pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Because I know more than the Order does. I discovered a truth that not even their ancient texts speak of. The truth was secretly recorded by Cira, the Mer warrior who took Basilia’s place as queen after the war. I found a series of secret writings between her and the Auran Oracles, who knew the whole truth about what the Four Kinsmen had done. And when I uncovered the real story, I destroyed her letters before the Elders could find them.”
Saoirse inhaled sharply as understanding dawned. “They spared your life because you’re the only one who knows what was contained in those letters. They’ve kept you here because Cira’s records would be lost with your death.”
Her mother gave a slow, unblinking nod of confirmation. “They’ve tried to torture it out of me, but I never gave up. After eight long years, they stopped the physical torture and mind games, instead trying to break me through isolation. I haven’t spoken to anyone in years. They thought that my solitary confinement would break me, but it hasn’t. I’ve been chased to the edge of insanity, but memories of you and your father kept me tethered to reality. The hope of seeing you again and protecting you from the Order of Elders has been the guiding light that I’ve clung to.”
Saoirse felt a burst of pride in her chest, punctuated by deep sorrow. Her beautiful mother, with her lullabies and her bold dreams of a unified Revelore, was the strongest person she knew. It broke her heart to imagine Eleyera’s unending suffering. The entire world had moved on from her death, thinking that her ashes had been buried in the earth. But in reality, she’d been tortured to the brink of insanity and endured more horrors than anyone could imagine.
Rook asked, “What truths do the Elders not know? What secrets were hidden in those letters?”
Eleyera looked between both of them, pale blue eyes glinting in the shadows. “We’ve been taught that there have only ever been four kingdoms of Revelore. But at the dawn of time, there were originally five kingdoms. The Four Kinsmen deceived us all. Everything we know about the Myths of Old is a lie. Even the Elders have been deceived?”
A grating sound suddenly reverberated through the chamber and the floor began to quake, interrupting whatever Eleyera was saying. Saoirse steadied herself against Rook as the cave walls rumbled. She looked down the tunnel they’d come from, watching in horror as the passageway writhed and opened new apertures and pathways like the cavities of a honeycomb.
“Larken is rearranging the labyrinth,” Rook shouted over the trembling rocks. “Our time is running out!”
The quaking stone abruptly halted, and the settling dust revealed newly formed passages that snaked out from the main tunnel in every direction. Along with the freshly created doorways, the rushing water had returned, bubbling down the first tunnel as though a cork had been removed. The water poured down the slanted tunnel with a soft shushing sound. Several inches of water lapped up their ankles and slipped in between the iron bars of her mother’s cell.
“Hel’s teeth,” Rook cursed as the water continued filling the small space, rising steadily up their legs like cloying rot. If they didn’t find their way out of the labyrinth soon, he would drown. “We need to get ahead of this water.”
Saoirse turned her gaze back to her mother, heart in her throat. “We can’t leave her .”
Rook cupped her face in his hands, regret and fear burning in his eyes. “The trial is halfway over. If we do not find our way out by the end of the game, Grivur will assume we died. He’ll send the underguards to retrieve our bodies. They’ll find out we discovered your mother and then we’ll all be killed.” He eyed the advancing tide, now gurgling over their knees. “And this chamber will be flooded in a matter of minutes. I cannot stay here. I’m so sorry, Saoirse.”
Eleyera stretched her hand between the bars, wrapping her fingers around Saoirse’s forearm. Fresh tears scorched trails of fire down her cheeks as she looked at her mother. Everything in Saoirse’s soul begged her to stay. There was still so much left unspoken, so many years they needed to make up for. She didn’t think she could bear to be separated from her mother a second time, to have her ripped away again as though the waves had returned her mother only to drag her back to its merciless depths. Saoirse couldn’t stop seeing the empty coffin they’d sent out into the sea, a vacant burial box she had nearly reached for as it sank beyond reach.
“I can’t leave you.” Her voice came out in a rasp.
“You must,” her mother countered, voice warbled as though it echoed from behind a wall of water. “You will survive this. Do not jeopardize your life for mine.”
The rushing tide rose to Saoirse’s waist, tugging insistently on her thin shift. There were so many questions brimming on her tongue, fighting desperately to get out. What truth did her mother learn? Why were sirens so important to the Myths of Old? What was the mysterious prophecy she’d spoken of?
Rook’s voice cleaved through her chaotic mind as he said, “Saoirse, I’m so sorry, but we need to leave.”
A cry lodged in her throat, and she nodded numbly, taking a step back from the iron bars. She felt Rook’s fingers twine around her own, but her eyes never left her mother’s mournful gaze. Saoirse swallowed down the knot of questions on her tongue, forcing herself to continue stepping away from her mother’s cell.
“I’ll come back for you,” Saoirse vowed. “I promise to free you from this prison if it’s the last thing I do.” She wasn’t sure how she would manage it, but she would. She would save her mother even if it cost her everything. That coffin she’d buried in the sea eight years ago was empty; it had always been empty.
And she would keep it that way.
Her mother didn’t believe her. Saoirse could see the pity and resignation that slipped over her gaunt face like a veil. But her mother gave a gentle nod and plastered a false smile across her face. “My brave girl. I love you.” Eleyera’s skeletal frame was more pronounced as her ragged clothing was soaked through by the swelling waves. “Leave now, before it is too late.”
And then Saoirse and Rook were splashing down the tunnel, her mother’s eyes vanishing back into the shadows as though she were never there. Every agonizing step away from her mother felt like hot coals burning into the soles of Saoirse’s scarred feet. Blood pounded in her ears as Rook dragged her along, their slippery, tangled fingers cold as fish scales.
She barely registered the rapid surging of the water or the shuddering cave walls as she replayed her mother’s cryptic revelations. Saoirse thought they’d learned everything there was to know about shrouded conspiracies and long-forgotten lore, but apparently, she’d only just cracked the surface of a mountain of even more secrets. Just as the Myths of Old were convoluted and conflicting, her own understanding of reality seemed flawed. With Rymir’s betrayal and the revelation of Ballar’s innocence, the line between myth and reality had become muddled and blurred. It was now even more imperative that they survive Grivur’s games and defeat Selussa. She and Rook needed to find the truth once and for all. All of it.
Saoirse pushed the overwhelming waves of emotion back behind that mental wall, confining them to a prison she’d face later. She forced herself to focus on getting out of the flooded tunnels alive.
They ran through the labyrinth of stone pathways for what seemed like an hour, muscles burning as the water harried their every stride. Rook’s fingers never strayed from Saoirse’s. A metal plate embedded into the stone appeared every so often, confirming they were headed in the right direction. In some sections of the tunnels, they had to crawl under low-hanging ceilings, their faces only inches above the waves. Rook’s bulky wings made it difficult to squeeze through the tight channels of stone, but at least he had consistent air to breathe.
As they turned a sharp corner, Saoirse’s heart leaped to her throat. A dead end. She frantically looked for an alternative passage. The water that had chased them down the tunnel lapped against the barricade of rock. With nowhere else to go, the rise of the tide began to accelerate, clawing up to their waists.
“There!” Rook cried, pointing to a small opening on the ceiling. The shoulder-width hole loomed several feet above them. Rook meshed his fingers together, forming a stirrup-like foothold. “I’ll lift you.”
Saoirse slipped her foot into his hands and steadied herself against his broad shoulders. Rook lifted her carefully, pushing her up to the hole in the ceiling. She could feel his arms trembling as he lifted her, whether from fatigue or fear, she couldn’t tell. His forehead pressed against her abdomen as she struggled to find a hold on the lip of the fissure, hands slick against the rough stone. She wasn’t quite high enough. Sensing her futile efforts, Rook adjusted his hold and gingerly brought her legs into a standing position on his shoulders. She winced as his hands slipped over her bare calves and feet. Was he horrified by the mangled scars that curved over her skin? She nearly lost her balance, but his strong hands pressed firmly against the small of her back and never let go.
Mercifully, the extra inches of height allowed Saoirse to dig her fingers into a hold. She pulled herself up through the opening, every inch of her exhausted body screaming with effort. Once her legs slipped over the edge, she turned back to look down on Rook from above.
The water was churning against his shoulders now. His face flushed with panic as he raised his arms up to her. Saoirse lay down on her stomach, the uneven rock floor cutting through her thin shift as she stretched her hands through the opening. She could feel his searching fingertips graze against hers, but they slipped out of her hold. She leaned further into the hole, grimacing as the jagged edge tore against the soft undersides of her arms.
That horrible grating sound suddenly echoed down the tunnel again, evidence of the flooded tunnels rearranging themselves. She watched in horror as the water rushed into the dead end even faster, swelling up to Rook’s jaw. The tunnel was being compressed, the rock walls collapsing in on itself like soft clay buckling on a potter’s wheel.
“Reach!” she cried, half from pain and half from desperation.
The tunnel was sealing itself up like a tomb, pushing the waves down the dead end. She leaned further through the hole, feeling her skin tear. At last, she grabbed a hold of Rook’s hands. She pulled him up with as much strength as she could muster, screaming as the rock cut into her arms. Rook kicked against the water, using the rising tide to his advantage. Her nails dug into his forearms as she used her weight to yank him through the small hole. The rugged opening probably felt like Hel against his folded wings, but she didn’t falter even as he hissed with pain. When he made it into the narrow passageway, the momentum of her straining launched them both against the floor. The hole filled up just as his feet slipped through, pushing one last surge of water into the chamber.
They lay exhausted on the floor, chests heaving as they stared at the cavernous ceiling that unspooled above them. The bioluminescent moss that shone down on them reminded her of the night sky. Saoirse waited for her racing heartbeat to recede before she sat up and analyzed her bloodied arms. The jagged opening had torn her skin to ribbons, but oddly, she didn’t feel pain anymore.
“ Titans , Saoirse,” came Rook’s voice. He scrambled over to her, eyes bright with horror as he took in the cuts that latticed down her upper arms.
“It’s all right,” she offered hurriedly. “We’re both alive, and that’s what matters. You don’t look very good yourself.” Her eyes skimmed over Rook’s blood-streaked wings. She was surprised he had even made it through the opening at all.
“We may be alive, but we haven’t made it out yet,” he broke off, eyes looking beyond Saoirse’s shoulder. “ Wait .”
She turned, relief washing over her when she found the dim light that spilled into the cavern at the end of the chamber. It was blue, the color of eternal flames. She was suddenly aware of how much fresher the air felt against her smarting skin. “We made it,” she breathed. “We survived.”
Together, they rose on shaking legs. Saoirse leaned against Rook as they limped toward the light. She was desperate to be free of these Titans-damned tunnels, but she felt strangely saddened that they would be parted yet again, separated by bars of iron in a stale prison block. She thought of her mother, still trapped in her cell under miles of stone, wreathed in darkness.
She stopped for a moment, looking up at Rook. His sapphire blue eyes burned like embers against the night. She could feel her mental wall cracking, every unearthed secret and knife-sharp emotion she’d shoved away threatening to burst through any moment. Her knees threatened to buckle from the weight of it all. She thought of the next trial, of all the impossible tasks set before her.
“We may have survived this, but the storm has yet to begin. It’s almost upon us, Rook. I can feel it nearing with every step. I don’t know if I will be able to weather it.”
His fingers found her jaw, tilting her face up to his own. His eyes pierced her soul. “You don’t have to weather the storm, Saoirse. You are the storm. Your winds are merciless and your waves unyielding. You are a drowning tide. I would gladly drown in your undercurrent, in your storm. Neither Selussa nor all the ancient magic of this world will be able to withstand your might.”
Saoirse pulled his face to hers, lips finding his own. She could feel his hands in her wet hair, gentle as spring rain. She was terrified of what was to come, but for the first time in a long time, she knew she wasn’t alone. She wished they had more time, more everything .
As they broke apart, the world came caving in. Underguards spilled into the chamber, brandishing torches and gleaming onyx spears. Violent light seeped into the cave-like scorching fire, burning up the momentary safety Saoirse had felt in Rook’s arms. Too soon, a hood was thrown over her head and her arms twisted behind her back.
The last thing she saw was Rook’s piercing blue eyes, bright as the dawn. As she was shoved from the cave, she heard his voice echoing like a song in her ears: I would gladly drown in your undercurrent, in your storm.
Saoirse straightened her back, rejecting the fear that nipped at her heels like frost on new leaves. She would face the final trial with her head held high. She would face Selussa’s wrath with a smile on her lips. And if she should die, she would fight until the end.
I am the storm.