Chapter 47
Alora
The moment the wards shattered, a current of magic ruptured the air. It sent a seismic quake through the stones of the castle and the blinding light above Alora vanished. The glyphs winked out, one by one, until the dungeon fell into stillness and darkness.
Only a single candle on the desk remained.
Rihan gasped where he knelt outside the array. A small knife trembled in his hands, one of the glyphs in the stone tile slashed clean through.
A tempest howled like a raging beast outside, and the earth shook as though it had burst open. It ended abruptly and silence crept in for a breath.
Then the screaming began.
A clamor of steel and terrified shouts followed. The sound of something not human rushed the halls. The castle shook, and a monstrous roar rang out, making her heart tremble.
More blood would spill tonight.
“Go…” She urged the frightened boy. “Find your mother and hide … stay hidden until dawn.”
Her brother nodded and ran for the hidden doorway. He vanished into the dark corridor, the brick falling back into place.
The center of the room burst with a mist of shadows.
An otherworldly creature stepped through it as if the night had birthed him.
Feral, crimson eyes immediately fell on her, fangs bared in a snarl. He was terrifying, otherworldly. Horns glinted on his head, leathery wings with sharp spurs loomed at his back. A creature radiating darkness.
Yet her heart swelled with relief.
Her hands shook as she reached out for him, choking back a sob.
He was already rushing toward her. The magic bindings around her wrists evaporated into smoke.
She slipped off the slab, and he caught her as she sagged against him, breath shallow, muscles trembling.
Her body was like a sculpture of fractured glass held together by his arms.
“I’m here, Alora.” And his guttural voice made her eyes well.
That was her name? She couldn’t recall his anymore, but her soul called for him regardless.
Mate.
This was her mate.
“Yes…” he agreed, searching her eyes. “Mine.”
The cold ground vanished as he gently lifted her in his arms. She read the contained rage in his eyes, but his every touch was gentle.
He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes glowing like fire at the sight of her battered body. The magic stolen. The glyphs carved into her chest. Her skin no longer glowed.
“He will not live to see the dawn, Alora.” Rune’s growl shook the chamber. “They will all meet the Abyss for this.”
A silvery sheen swept over her with his vow.
She reached for his face with a shaky hand. The rage swiftly drained from his gaze as he cupped it against his cheek. He was warm against her icy palm.
His name, what was his name?
His gaze shuttered but his voice was soft, broken. “Have you forgotten me again, songbird?”
Again…?
This beautiful creature of the night looked at her with so much longing and worry, it made her heart ache. She was important to him, and he to her. How unfortunate that she found the source of her breath only to lose it.
Her teary eyes rolled as her strength waned and her vision faded.
“Alora?” He called, frightened, patting her face.
I’m dying…
“No. I refuse to allow that.” His palm gently rested on her chest and warmth filled her brittle bones. Crimson light and shadow flared beneath his hand, sinking into her being. It revived her distant pain, and she cried out. “I know, I know,” he hushed her softly. “I’m sorry.”
He kissed her and more magic poured into her, a lifeline that brought warmth back to her bones. Her heart raced wildly, lungs expanding for air. Whatever he was doing, it was feeding her life. And she needed more.
Take as much as you need.
Instinct reacted and Alora kissed him deeply, clinging to him as if he were the source of life itself. Shadows poured into her, returning strength to her cold body and it was delicious. But he groaned, wincing and she made herself stop before taking more.
Rune panted, resting his forehead against hers. “Look at me, love.”
She tried.
“Look at me.” He lifted her chin, his red eyes holding hers. “Do you remember who I am?” His expression shuttered with hesitation, an ache passing through his eyes.
His name surfaced from the depths of her mind like a leaf in the wind.
Rune. She whispered it through the connection between them.
Alora repeated the name, savoring its familiar shape. Reclaiming a sliver of the knowledge she had lost.
Rune’s shoulders sagged with relief, a faint curve on the edges of his lips. “There you are…”
Crimson light glowed around her body as he continued to work on saving her life. Her wounds knitted together like embers fading. She admired him through her blurred vision, limp and helpless in his arms. But she didn’t care.
“Did you do that?” Rune glanced at the slashed glyph that broke the spell. “My clever girl.”
She managed a weak smile. I had help… my brother…
Rune’s brows rose at that. His gaze returned to the array, and alarm flickered across his face. “Tell me more later,” he murmured.
He ripped his cloak free and wrapped it around her. Lifting her in his arms again, he swept out of the dungeon, quiet as a ghost. Her eyes drifted closed, exhaustion dragging her to sleep. But the scent of fresh blood instantly had her alert.
Bodies littered the passageways, contorted beyond recognition save for the Calveron crest on their breastplates. One torch still burned low, illuminating the dead.
Rune strode past the carnage toward the stairwell ahead and the distant cries and the unmistakable roar of something not-quite-human. Alora shut her eyes, burying her face against his chest. The temperature shifted as he whisked them away in shadow and emerged into the main hall.
Gore painted the floors, entrails marking a path toward the throne room.
The clash of steel led her to spot Caelum.
His name she remembered, perhaps because she knew him the longest. He fought like a dance master, evading blades and parrying attacks.
Beside him was a massive black Minotaur and a panther with wings.
It tore into a Calveron soldier, ripping out its jugular, silencing his screams. Then the creature fixed Alora with constellations in its eyes.
She knew those eyes.
“Nexus, your familiar,” Rune said with a half-smile, though no amusement reached his burning gaze. “He found Lord Zuma and your knight in the city and brought them to me when I couldn’t breach the castle alone. They came to your aid.”
His expression shifted, and she sensed his bitterness at not being able to save her himself. But underneath his anger was gratitude. Alora couldn’t help but hope this meant perhaps he and Caelum could one day be friends.
Rune’s mouth twitched. I admire your optimism.
Caelum cut down the last soldier as he turned to them. At the sight of her, relief and worry crossed his features. “Prince Eldrik and some of his retinue escaped,” he told Rune.
His stiffen, his grip tensing, but Rune’s resolute expression didn’t change.
“I will gather my herd to track him,” Zuma offered.
“No need,” Rune turned toward the Grand Hall. “He will not escape this land alive.”
Shadows surged around them again, pulling her into him. The entryway vanished. When her vision cleared, they were in a grand, candlelit chamber soaked in blood.
A wave of cold horror fell over her skin.
The throne room had become a feast of carnage.
Bodies of Calveron soldiers were splayed like grotesque decorations, some speared clean through the walls, their limbs twitching; others crumpled across the banquet table, heads severed and missing entirely.
Red slicked the marble floors in rivers, pooling beneath slumped torsos and severed arms still clutching useless blades.
A soldier lay bisected at the waist, his spine like a broken stem, while another was pinned to a pillar by his own spear driven through his throat.
Outside, the Calveron banners burned.
The stink of entrails and smoke hung thick in the air, as if the castle itself was choking on the violence.
Calla moved like a dancer through the ruin, blades singing.
Hadeon jerked his hammer free from the back of a fae, bone-cracking with the force.
Deimos was a silent phantom, appearing behind soldiers in poofs of smoke, severing throats with his claws and vanish again, leaving them choking on their blood on the floor.
The three Harbingers were a storm of wrath and precision, each a different flavor of death.
And there was no mercy left to give.
Rune tilted his head, shadows licking up his arms like eager pets. “Murder and mayhem, my queen.”
She was frozen, staring at the carnage. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. She was equal parts horrified and … gratified. And the thought made her sick.
Rune’s shadows coiled tighter, then swept her off her feet. In the blink of an eye, they appeared on the throne with her seated on his lap.
Calla dragged the General of the Calveron army forward, forcing him down on his knees. Alora trembled, feeling like she had seen this before.
“Where is your prince going?” Rune asked.
The fae shook, his jaw tense. He was as white as a sheet, but brave enough to hold Rune’s gaze. “God of Shadows, forgive us. We should not have offended you. If we had known—”
Black smoke lashed out and severed the head off a soldier’s neck behind the general.
“Do not speak lies to the founder of them.” Rune snarled, his voice dropping with an eerie resonance. Darkness swarmed across the floor. “The walls of this castle have been lined with spells to keep me out.”
Shadows slashed another soldier in half.
“Eldrik knew exactly who he took, and he thought his wards were enough to protect him from me.”
With a brutal snap, a spear of shadow pierced another Calveron soldier through the face, pinning him to the wall. The General shook, the front of his trousers growing wet. The torches went out one by one, darkness swallowing the room.
No light, but the red of demon eyes.