Chapter 64
Sixty-Four
Tourmaline
The scream of my childhood friend pulls me deeper into the dark library, running into stray chairs and catching corners of study tables. My left ankle snags on solid wood, and I barely have time to right myself as I tumble forward. I scream in frustration, shoving yet another chair out of my way.
Opal’s scream echoes from the left, and I take a sharp turn as my eyes finally begin to adjust to the darkness. Then her cries fall silent. My legs burn as I sprint through the three-floor library, headed straight toward where Opal’s cries came from.
I hiss as I reach the far left wall, a bookcase stretching along the entirety of it. There are endless rows of books, but no Opal.
Another pleading cry comes from deeper in the library—maybe a level or two up.
But I can’t see well enough to find the stairs to the next level.
“Opal!” I shout, my voice ringing in my ears.
Silence answers.
My hands begin to shake, but I force a quick breath to try to calm myself.
“Lunaria, slow down,” Adrian huffs from behind me. “You nearly reached how far you can go without me with that damn collar on.”
My fingers fly to my throat.
The magic suppressor.
I spin around to face Adrian. Even with my magic teetering on the edge of emptiness, the collar might be dulling my senses.
“Take it off,” I nearly shout.
He only pauses a brief moment before complying, making quick work of snapping it off.
The moment the cool metal slips from my neck, I close my eyes—trying to focus on my senses instead of running blindly through the massive room.
My Essence stays quiet, but my ears twitch as a soft cry reaches me, my fae hearing enhancing what’s around me. I try not to think about the way my magic doesn’t stir within me or roar back to life—try to ignore the pain that fills my chest at its absence.
The hidden room.
I spin around, realizing where I’ve run to in the library.
It’s the same area Graylen led me to when I was here for the matching. The same place I needed to search to find the dagger.
I used to brush these things off as coincidences, but in this realm—with Moros slinking around and Vidaris up to goddess knows what—there isn’t a chance this is just a coincidence.
“We’re about to walk into a trap,” I growl to Adrian. “Stay close.”
Adrian lets out a small squeak behind me. I feel him press closer. “Maybe we should wait on Graylen—”
The soft cry from a moment ago grows into a loud sob.
“No,” I toss over my shoulder as I feel along the wall. “He should be here soon.”
I move along the bookcase until it sounds like Opal’s soft pleas are coming from right behind it. With my eyes closed and palms pressed against the spines of old books, I feel for any flicker of magic around me.
Almost instantly, I recognize a sensation of something not belonging beneath my hands—a tingling that itches against my skin.
Adrian gasps beside me, and before I open my eyes, I already know what will be waiting there.
“How did you do that?” Adrian whispers in awe.
I open my eyes to find a door before me, one that certainly wasn’t there before.
Glancing over my shoulder, I whisper, “Stay here while I check on Opal. I don’t want to scare her.” I spin back toward the bookshelf and pluck the nearest book off the shelf. Shoving it into Adrian’s hands, I add, “Drop this on the floor if you see someone coming.”
It’s the best plan I can come up with while my brain is screaming at me to get into that room. What is Opal doing in there? How did she get in there?
Without waiting for a response, I leave Adrian standing outside the door—cracking it enough that if someone walks in, they won’t see me.
Unlike the library, there’s a dim, shimmering light cast over the room. A tall taper candle is lit in the center of a two-chair table, three small sconces on the wall burning enough to illuminate the perimeter.
For a moment, all I see is an empty, old room. It’s as dusty as ever, gold-foiled spines shimmering on cramped bookcases.
“Opal,” I whisper, my voice feeling too loud in the small space.
I step around the table, moving to the narrow area between it and the bookcase on the far wall.
My heart freezes.
Opal is crumpled into a heap on the stone floor, her face buried in her hands and her knees pulled to her chest in a fetal position.
“Opal?” I whisper gently.
She doesn’t move, just continues to softly weep into her palms.
I slowly crouch down beside her and rest my hand on her shoulder, afraid to startle her. But still, she doesn’t stir—doesn’t seem to notice I’m touching her.
I shake her and repeat, louder, “Opal.”
Nothing.
Memories of finding Linnick dead in the servants’ quarters flash into my mind, causing my pulse to thunder in my temples.
Opal is still breathing—still crying.
“This isn’t like Linnick,” I whisper to myself, steeling my spine as I shake her again.
She rolls over from the force of my hands, not of her own accord, and my breath catches.
Her eyes are closed, and her cries have quieted. Her mouth moves quietly with unintelligible muttering.
She’s…sleeping.
Opal mumbles again and smacks her lips together, something I’ve seen her do countless times when we took naps by the creek in the camp.
Crouched beside her, I grip her shoulders and shake harder than before. “Opal, wake up.”
Her eyes spring open, her mouth falling into an O as she gasps. She tries to scramble away from me, but there’s nowhere to go. She hits her head against the ancient bookshelf.
“Shh, Opal, it’s me,” I hiss, glancing nervously over my shoulder at the door. “It’s Lu.”
The door doesn’t move, nor does Adrian give the signal that means someone is close.
I look back at Opal, her eyes wide with fear as she takes me in.
“Lu?” she gasps. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The answer stays trapped within me.
I don’t know what Moros is capable of—if he has a way to see into her thoughts or control her, force her to tell him what she knows. I can’t be fully honest with her—not yet.
Once I get her away from that monster, I’ll tell her everything.
Instead of answering, I fling my arms around her and pull her close. We huddle on the ground against dusty books as we cling to each other.
“Are you okay?” I deflect, my voice muffled against her hair. “I saw—” I stop myself, not sure how to explain dreamwalking to her. “I heard you crying and found you in here.”
She nods against my shoulder, and I pull back to see her face. It’s still splotchy with a new wave of fresh tears lining her bright blue eyes.
“The nightmares,” she chokes out and looks down at her hands. “I know they bother Wyman, but—”
My eyes widen.
“The guards know the drill by now—they hear me screaming or crying, they don’t bother checking in.” Her eyes lift to meet mine, shiny with unshed tears.
Her words send a wave of rage rolling through me.
“What do you mean, they know the drill by now?” My voice is soft, but edged with fury.
Opal sniffles and wipes her nose on the end of her sleeve.
Tears stream down her pink cheeks. “I usually cry myself to sleep in here after Wyman throws me in.” She swipes a tear away.
“My nightmares…they’ve been bad the last season, but they were the worst they’ve ever been tonight.
He makes me wait for him in the library and then shuts me in this awful room so I don’t disturb him or the guards. ”
My blood boils.
Opal is tough, but this? Being kept in this room that only he can access?
It isn’t fair to her—but it also doesn’t add up.
This is the room the shard showed me in a vision, and now Moros is keeping his supposed wife in here at night?
Opal leans forward, fiddling with a necklace. It’s a thick chain; the end where the charm sits is heavy and hidden beneath her dress.
“Opal—” My voice catches as she leans forward, showing the top of the charm.
No, not a charm. The hilt of a dagger.
A jewel rests on the end, glinting against the flickering candlelight and casting an array of rainbows against the wall.
But it isn’t just any jewel. It reminds me of the one depicted on the cave wall back in Kauri. The one on Nightfall.
“What is that?” I whisper slowly.
“This?” Opal mutters, playing with the necklace again. She reaches down, pulling the object out from the front of her dress. “It’s cursed! But he forces me to wear it—it shouldn’t even count as jewelry. Who puts a dagger on a chain and calls it fashion?”
The dagger is encased in a sheath, protecting her skin from the sharp edges. She slides it off, revealing the blade within.
My body stills.
It’s the exact dagger depicted on the cave wall in Kauri.
A clear jewel rests in the pommel, splintered like a spider’s web throughout and encased in a gold plate. The rest of the hilt is solid black, delicately rounded and curled on its handles.
But the blade…it’s as white as bone. In fact, it looks like it was made from real bone.
A dark substance dripped from the point, as if dipped in a liquid that hardened in place.
It’s nearly perfect aside from the coin-sized chunk missing from its side.
The same size as the shard in my vest. The image in Kauri wasn’t this detailed, but it was enough to know that this is the same dagger.
Suddenly, a burning sensation prickles at my chest, right where I’ve kept the shard of Nightfall tucked away in my vest. My hand flies to where it’s stored, the burning turning into a searing hot temperature as if begging to be released.
Moros has been keeping it with her this whole time—forcing her to stay in this room to keep it safe. No one would think to check her for the dagger.
Opal’s right; it isn’t just a necklace.
It’s Nightfall.