Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Prehnite
My vision is hazy, like a screen separates me from the room. I blink several times, the image slowly becoming clearer like a disturbed pond settling into a smooth, glassy surface.
Dusty old shelves surround me—a small room, lined with books covered in cobwebs. There’s a small candle in the middle of the room, flickering against an invisible breeze and casting shadows along the walls. Gold paint shimmers from behind the webs, marking the spines of each tome.
I take a deep breath, my senses muted but aware enough to breathe in the scent that only surrounds old parchment.
Something stirs in my chest—a familiarity with this place.
A book has been left open on a small table in the center of the cramped room. I lightly pad over to it and peer down, reading the words on the open page.
Divinos Constellation,
The largest and oldest constellation created by Eurydice and Astoria. Also referred to as the Story of the Divine. A star representing each god and goddess, the only constellation that changes brightness depending on which god or goddess has the most power.
Eurydice’s star will always be the brightest, for she is the Keeper of Souls on Caelum.
My eyes scroll to the bottom of the page, finding another entry.
Vulpes Constellation,
Also known as the Winning Piece. A tale about Vidaris’s greatest weapon that she hid in the sky until she’s ready to use it, though the constellation hasn’t been seen in centuries.
Something about this place…
I spin around, my eyes searching the shelves. A title grabs my attention, and I tilt my head to read it written across the spine: The Healers: Creatures of the Wood. My breath catches, trapped in my lungs. I find another title. An Aegis Fae Training Guide.
This room—I’ve been here before.
When Graylen was the last person I wanted to see each day, he led me to a small room—a room filled with secrets about Penyth, about the fae and their magic. It’s no coincidence that this room is in the castle in Crea—the same place Moros is.
My teeth grind against one another as reality comes crashing down around me. Moros has Nightfall in the castle.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I spin around just as a figure shuffles into the room. His hair is peppered with gray, just as it was the last time I saw him. He wears a navy tunic threaded with swirls of gold, a necklace with large jewels hanging from his neck.
Moros. The man who’s told the kingdom his name is Wyman, a wealthy duke who was brother to the late King Avalon and uncle to the current king—Adrian. The last human king who has fed off of darkness to remain alive for centuries.
A man who let himself become corrupted by a vile evil, opening the door for Vidaris to have a foothold in our realm.
His head is down, and he’s mumbling to himself as he reads a book. I take a step back.
He freezes.
My lungs constrict as his gaze flicks up, his eyes searching the room—looking right through me. A sneer curls his lips and shadows gather in his hands as he snaps the tome shut.
“Who’s watching me?” he murmurs, his shadows slowly leaking to the floor and pooling into the room. They look…wrong. Streaked with crackling light and giving off a foul stench.
His gaze settles near me—slightly over my shoulder, but far closer than I would like.
If he knows I’m here, then he may know what we’re looking for. Which means he may move it to another location. If we figure out where it is, the last thing we want is for him to move it to the furthest corner of Crea.
“Who are you?” he whispers, stepping closer.
I press myself against the small table, expecting it to screech as I bump into it, but it stays perfectly still. His shadows creep closer, hissing like snakes as they stalk toward my feet.
My muscles tense as my vision begins to blur. Every fiber of my being feels as if it’s been pulled—yanked away—toward a force I can’t escape. Everything around me is dark, my heart pounding as I try to breathe.
I take a deep breath, my nostrils flaring as a familiar scent wraps around me like a warm blanket on a chilly winter night—the smell of the air right before rain falls.
The dusty room shifts and another image begins to take form.
Green eyes stare back at me. Eyes that shine like gleaming emeralds—a beacon to my wandering soul. They draw me toward him, anchoring me as I float through nothingness.
The image becomes clearer, but I already know it’s him. I would know those eyes—that scent—anywhere.
“Graylen?” I breathe as his entire face slowly morphs into view.
He doesn’t hear me—doesn’t see me—but it’s him.
A single tear rolls down his cheek, streaking through dirt and—
Nausea barrels into me as I realize it’s blood smeared across his face, no skin visible even as the tear falls. It’s a mixture of dark, dried blood and bright, wet new.
“Uh, Lu?” a warm, light voice calls through the haze, followed by a press of a hand against my shoulder.
I cling to the image of Graylen’s face, willing my soul to stay with him. But the hand on my shoulder squeezes, and I find myself standing in front of Aster again, Calix positioned beside me, watching me closely.
“You spaced out for a second,” Calix says slowly. “Everything good?”
I swallow, the sound of crackling fire and laughter filling my ears. When I look up from the piece of the blade, I find everyone watching me, waiting for a response. It takes me a few breaths to blink through the haze, to feel the rocky terrain beneath my feet.
The scent of fresh rain still lingers in the air.
“The shard showed me something,” I croak, my voice hoarse.
Not just something, but somewhere. Someone.
My mind races as I try to make sense of the two visions I saw. Moros in Crea and Graylen in the Vale. Why would the shard show me both? I can’t stop the swell of hope that bursts through my chest.
Nyx’s words float into my mind, whispering against my ear. Remember—Nightfall can pierce any darkness.
And the darkest thing I know…is the Vale.
What if this shard could do more than lead me to Crea?
“It showed me a room—somewhere I’ve been before.” My hands tremble and squeeze into fists. I start with what I saw first, trying to stay calm. But my blood thrums in anticipation, and my words come out rushed. “At the castle in Crea.”
My eyes drift down to the pearly white shard in my hand, burning like a hot piece of coal against my palm. This was different from when I touched the cave wall—different from the crystal-clear awareness I had with Nyx.
What the shard showed me was hazier, like I was looking through a foggy lens.
“What are you saying?” Leda says slowly, pressing closer.
“I’m saying—” I take a shaky breath, my pulse pounding, “—I know exactly where Nightfall is.”
The shard in my hand suddenly flares with warmth, searing into my flesh with a violent hiss. I gasp and throw it to the ground, my palm itching and burning and numb. Willow rushes over to me, grabbing my hand and examining it.
“By the gods,” she mumbles. “I’ll get Mylah to bring some salve.”
A white burn mark is scorched into my palm in the shape of the shard—it branded me with its jagged edges. I bring my hand closer to my face, my stomach churning as I look at the mark left behind.
“It isn’t healing,” I whisper, half to myself.
I reach for the threads of magic inside of me, giving them a light tug. But when I pull on it, my magic barrels into me as if I used all of my strength to call on it. Smoke fills my eyes as a swell of heat rolls over me like a cresting wave.
The smell of fresh dirt fills my nose next, small pieces of grass tickling my ankles. At nearly the same time, I hear the Andronicus crashing in the distance, an awareness that wasn’t there a few moments ago.
It’s as if my magic—Undine, Woodland, Nocturna, and Aegis—is brimming through my body, shouting for attention, begging to be released.
“Little princess.” A voice like warm honey drips into my mind. A voice that matches the emerald eyes the shard showed me.
I let out a quiet sob, every nerve in my body overwhelmed.
The fire in my veins, so like Graylen’s, goes first. As if the thread of it in my soul was doused with a bucket of water, the piece of me that belongs to the Aegis is gone. I feel it go quiet, a painful, abrupt end like an axe cleaving a log in two.
Next, the sound of the sea goes silent, along with the smell of dirt. I squeeze my eyes closed, tears streaming down my cheeks as shouts begin to ring out around me.
But I don’t really hear them—can’t hear them as I feel my magic being drained from my soul.
“Little princess,” the smooth voice calls out faintly in my mind, and my knees begin to tremble.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
A sharp pain pierces my chest, gripping my heart and yanking as if an invisible hand was trying to rip it out. My hands fly up, pressing against my sternum as my pulse races.
“Stop!” I scream into the cool night air, my voice breathless.
But when I blink, the voice stops.
I spin around, calling on my fire—anything that would stop the source of this pain as the stabbing in my chest slashes into me over and over again.
Only…my magic doesn’t answer.
Wide eyes filled with shock and fear stare back at me—the faces of my friends.
My sister. They watch me like I’m a caged animal, afraid to move toward me but afraid that I’ll run if they look away.
Leda’s mouth is moving, as is Brielle’s—her face ashen—but my shallow breaths are the only sound that reaches my ears.
Just when the sharp ache begins to dull, a scream fills my head. A cry of agony so raw that it sends me to my knees. A choking sob works its way into my throat because it isn’t my scream. Isn’t a cry that belongs to anyone surrounding me.
But I know that voice; I can feel the thread that binds me to Graylen springing to life, if only to make me feel his anguish, his torment.
When I feel the swell of my shadows in my chest, I know what’s going to happen next. It starts to trickle out of me, disappearing into an invisible vapor as my Nocturna magic begins to drain, too.
With every ounce of strength in my body, I clamp down on it, slamming the door to my soul shut. If the well of my Essence was the size of a lake before, now it’s a shallow puddle, nothing more than a few drops of magic left.
My arms tremble as I brace myself on the ground. “Graylen—”
The scream abruptly halts. It’s more than I’ve felt from him while awake. I scramble to reach for the connection between us, only to find it silent once more.
Whatever is happening to him, it was enough to reach through the barrier keeping him from me. He was in enough pain that it broke through the plane of the Vale and reached me here.
My nostrils flare, and I push myself off of the ground. Despite the ache lingering in my chest, my pulse begins to even out. The tremors in my arms recede, and my breath grows steady.
“Take her to the healer’s cottage,” Leda barks. “We aren’t leaving tonight.”
Voices rise around me, and the cry of a wyvern fills the air above us.
An eerie calm settles around me like a warm blanket, promising death as it whispers in my ear what I’m about to do.
“No.” The word is even—strong. Loud enough that it pauses the chatter around me. I look to Leda first, knowing she isn’t going to like what I’m about to say.
Graylen’s pain still lingers in my chest, mixing with the empty ache of my magic’s silence.
I should’ve never agreed to wait—should’ve left the others here and gone to get him. Even if he wants me to stay away, I can’t. Not anymore. He may think he was buying me time to get away, but we’re stronger together.
My gaze falls to the ground. The shard glows as if begging me to pick it up again.
Nightfall can pierce any darkness.
Nothing is darker than the Vale, and I’m to put what Nyx said to the test.
“I’m leaving Kauri as planned. Tonight.” I slowly take a deep breath, holding Leda’s gaze as I say, “But not before I get Graylen back.”
I’m getting Graylen out of the Vale, and Divine helps me, I’ll do anything to make that happen.