Chapter Twenty-Five #2
I’ve never seen this side of Rathe before, having only entered near the royal estate, and the sight before me is…wow.
Darkadia is like nothing I’ve seen before yet somehow feels familiar.
Black cliffs jut up like broken fangs, steam curling from the cracks where the underground fires breathe. The sky itself feels different here—darker, sharper, threaded with old magic that doesn’t exist on Earth’s polite little campus.
And gods help me…it feels like home.
A weird comfort crawls up my spine, settling behind my ribs like it recognizes the chaos in the landscape. Strange, because this is the place where they claim they saw the Isle’s Kiss.
Even fucking weirder, because the flowers shouldn’t exist here at all.
My boot sinks into something soft and warm.
I look down.
A slick, iridescent film coats the ground, the colors shifting like oil in water—greens bleeding into glittery violets, violets twisting to black. It pulses once beneath my heel, like it’s breathing. Like it’s…reaching for me.
“What the hell is this?” I mutter.
Knight stops beside me. “Evidence, and you’re ruining it.”
London comes around, studying the puddle at my feet. “Vicente froze the residual magical so we can try to track its source.”
“She doesn’t need to know all the details,” Creed snips. “Not when she has given us crumbs of information and still gotten her way.”
I think I’ll start calling him crybaby Creed because damn.
Legend’s fingers brush my palms, sending a spark through my fingertips.
“Lift your foot and hold it still until the magic falls,” he tells me.
I follow his instructions, only the magic doesn’t fall. It wraps around my boots, seeping beyond the material until I’m staring at nothing but smooth, black leather. My head snaps up to his but he’s facing forward, so I just stretch past the puddle.
I take another step and nearly slide, planting my hand against a charred tree trunk to catch myself. The bark shivers beneath my palm, shedding sparks of blue flame.
I jerk back. “Okay, that’s new.”
“It’s threatening you.” Sinner whistles behind me. “Don’t touch anything in the Dragon Lands unless you want an arm ripped off.”
“Dragons love me,” I say, inspecting my hand further because it didn’t feel like it came from the threat of the tree. That I also felt…but the flame, it felt like the warning I tossed back.
“These ones won’t.” Sinner seems so certain that determination burns hotter than the flame still warming my hand.
Bet.
I walk a little faster, and the others push ahead of me.
The path narrows, funneling us between two slabs of jagged stones. A low rumble shivers through the ground, faint at first, then pulsing again as we push deeper. The smell shifts, too, less forest and more rot. So thick it sinks into your tongue and coats the back of your teeth.
Knight lifts a hand, signaling for us to move in a tighter formation, and the others press ahead, bodies angled like they’re bracing for something. I slow instead, letting my fingers trail over the stone. It’s warm and slick in places, like the rock is sweating.
Makes sense, being in the Dragon Lands. They breathe fire, after all.
“So how many bodies were found here?” I ask.
“You tell us,” Creed mumbles.
Sinner chuckles, but I roll my eyes.
“These were found the day after your roommate,” Creed answers reluctantly. “Two Ordinaries, Stygian born, and both part of the young ordered to report to Rathe. They didn’t listen.”
Sinner shrugs. “So it’s almost like someone did us a favor, cause we would have had to punish them anyway.”
Creed scowls. “Shut up, Sinner. An authorized murder of our people is an act of disrespect. They test us. Question us.”
“Or maybe they’re just fucked-up and like to kill people.” I shrug. “It’s honestly kind of fun to try new ways to slaughter and see what works faster.”
Again, several narrowed sets of eyes lock on me. “Don’t judge! It was a sport at home. Like, we held actual competitions and shit.” I grin, pushing my hair over my shoulder so it hangs down my back. “Guess who is the reigning winner.”
Legend chuckles, and it’s a deep, appreciative sound that licks along my spine.
“I don’t know why we are taking her to the murder site,” Creed complains some more. “We have what we need. Time to get back to debrief Vicente and the others. Send teams across Rathe, leave no stone left unturned until we find the cursed soil and destroy it.”
“Are you being dumb on purpose or…”
“If you have something to say, say it.” Creed glares and, honestly, it should just be his permanent face at this point.
I scoff. “You know what? Never mind. Go ahead, send your little wasted search parties. What do I care?”
Sinner lifts a brow. “Just fucking spit it out. What makes you think we won’t find the source?”
“Because it’s not a fucking garden that can be planted wherever one chooses.”
“What does that mean?” Knight presses.
What are they not understanding?
“I told you guys the curse is in the soil. That soil is cursed because of what it hides, and those flowers were born of the curse as a way of protection. They were created by nature itself.”
“So, nature could have felt it needed protection and bloomed them at our site.”
“Wrong.” I shake my head. “They exist only as a form of defense. They protect the forbidden gems. It’s the only reason it exists. It’s why you have no knowledge or history or proof of its existence.”
Creed’s expression begins to fall. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was concern in his eyes. He turns to Legend. “And where are these gems?”
“I got a feeling we’re not gonna like what she’s about to say,” Sinner begins, a grin on his lips. “But go on, chaos queen–”
“Do not call her queen.” Creed snaps.
“Speak, Haide,” Knight commands.
I glare at him, something sizzling beneath my skin, but then Legend’s knuckles find my chin and he tips my head up. Blue eyes lock with mine and my limbs settle.
“Where are the gems, little monster?”
“Where they were born. On Exile Island.”