18. Thalia
THALIA
N othing had changed.
My fingers grazed over the rusty mechanism that controlled the main gates, and the beast within me recoiled as I remembered the terrible sound it made when it had first trapped me in this hell, remembered how that same sound brought hope when I’d finally been freed.
Damien came to a stop at my side and rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing me back from the memories burned into my mind. “We’ll get them all out.”
I nodded, looking forward to where Micah was checking the tunnel that led to the prisoner’s block.
We started toward him, two other teams following closely behind us.
Before I turned into the tunnel, I glanced at Lucia, at Barrett standing amidst Marcus and other warriors as she discussed the plan with them.
Barrett’s steel eyes lifted briefly to me, something akin to worry flitting across them before he averted his gaze.
Something twisted in my chest, and I pulled myself away to lead the others into the tunnel. Barrett and Lucia would be all right .
The beast nuzzled against my consciousness. Surely you’re not starting to care about the steel-eyed warrior.
I let out a sigh as I took each stony step with care, watching for any sign of guards or fighters…or creatures. You should be focused on what we might find down here.
It isn’t anything we haven’t faced before.
I couldn’t argue with the beast’s logic, but it had been ten years since this place had fallen. There was no telling what manner of foul creature had taken shelter here, what terrible atrocities the fae might be committing deep within this hellscape.
The tunnels broke into three directions before us, and I came to a stop.
“We split here,” Damien said, turning back to the teams. “Each tunnel leads to one of three cell blocks. There is no telling what we will find there. You have twenty minutes to scout each location before we regroup here. If you’re not back, we will assume you were attacked.
If the area is clear and you find captives without the presence of aggressors, send two members of your team back to report. ”
The others nodded before they headed down their tunnels and I turned down ours, the walls far more familiar than I wished they were.
Each step grew heavier, voices echoing in the back of my mind, voices that had been snuffed out by the cruelty of Arden’s actions, of every fae’s actions in this Godsforsaken place.
The tunnel opened into a larger hall of carved stone, walls lined with barred rooms extending as far as I could see.
Micah’s hand took mine as I stood at the entrance, near frozen as I assessed everything I’d ever known growing up. Every memory was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.
I lowered to a knee, carefully inspecting the floor where the dust had been disturbed, whether by some creature or fae guard, I wasn’t sure.
“Stay alert,” I muttered, and the warriors drew their weapons as they stepped around Micah and me to search for any captives that might be held here.
The hall was silent, but I continued, drawn in by the horrible familiarity of it all. I’d sworn I would never set foot in this place again, and yet, here I was.
The beast curled within me as if wrapping me in an embrace. It is not without reason.
It wasn’t, but this would be the last time anyone would set foot in this place. I would make sure of that, no matter what it took.
My feet moved of their own accord, leading me to a familiar cell.
I lifted my fingers to touch the bars. The warding on the iron was weak but still present enough to leave my skin tingling, my magic recoiling.
The rusted metal resisted as I tried to open the door, but it eventually gave way with a heavy groan that left the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I stepped into the cell.
I took in the deteriorating wooden table and shelves littered with cracked pots and bowls, the twin cots side by side in the corner.
I drew closer to the bed, finding familiar lines carved into the stone above it. My heart quickened at the sight of them, and I lifted my hand to run my fingers along the grooves, the weight and meaning of every etching leaving my heart heavy—so many lines, marking an immeasurable passage of time.
Micah’s presence brushed against me as he lingered in the doorway to the cell.
My cell.
“I didn’t know when my birthday was,” I muttered, and Micah stopped at my side, looking around, and something within me hated him seeing it all.
“None of us did, so we always celebrated together. Few of us were ever allowed to go outside, so many lived their lives never to see the sun or moons. We used the fighting seasons to measure time.”
Micah’s hands balled into fists, his fury burning in our bond inked between my breasts.
“I guess it was pointless to try,” I muttered, feeling each groove, remembering each mark I’d left in a desperate attempt to not let this place swallow me whole.