Chapter 42
The Sentinel took her somewhere deep in the labyrinth.
She tried to remember the path, tried to hold on to the twists and turns she’d spent so long traversing in her own mind – but terror had blinded her now.
‘P-please,’ she begged. She’d lost too much blood from the claws still gripping her body. It was so cold she could see frost forming on the torchlit walls. ‘Please, just let me go.’
A sob scraped the back of her throat as they stopped before a cell. ‘No. Gods, no—’
She screamed again as those claws were suddenly ripped out of her arms.
‘We do not speak of the enemy inside these walls,’ the Sentinel hissed and leaned close enough that she could see into the shadows beneath his hood.
She could have sworn she saw fangs as the beast shoved her inside.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days that she lay there, curled up on the black rock.
Alone, bleeding, cold.
Three days.
That was all they had before the Long Day ended, before Realmbreak was over …
And she would not make it back in time.
She had failed.
She’d failed Arawn. Izill. Alaris.
She’d failed Six.
Her father … Erath …
She was the Acolyte’s daughter.
She laughed at the sheer madness of it.
But was he even Erath? Or was he someone else wearing Erath’s skin? He was supposed to have been killed by the Masters; another lie she’d believed. At this point, she wondered if she’d ever learn the real truth.
She’d told Six to leave her, should anything go wrong. But some part of her knew …
The Acolyte would not let her raphon go.
It was the image of Six imprisoned again that drew Ezer to her feet.
She tried to pry open the barred door, but found it had no handle. She tried pounding her fists on it, screaming Erath’s name.
Please, she prayed. Please, don’t let them hurt Six.
Because she wouldn’t be able to survive that. She wouldn’t be able to get past knowing the raphon’s death was her fault.
‘Why?’ she whispered into the dark. And she wasn’t sure if she was speaking to the gods or to herself, to her mother’s spirit on the wind, but somehow hearing her own voice kept her panic from spiraling out of control. ‘Why did it come to this?’
She paused, cocking her head.
Because that was the sound of footsteps in the dark.
She had no time to gather herself before the door was pried open.
And a darksoul … a darksoul she knew, stood on the other side.
‘Zey,’ Ezer breathed.
‘Wolf Bait,’ said Zey.
She was once achingly beautiful.
Now she looked like the queen of nightmares.
Her pale, buttery hair was wild and free from its Sacred braid, with rings of black tied to the strands. Her eyes, once the color of the sea, had darkened to a pure, depthless black. The telltale dark veins spread outwards across her face. She wore darksoul robes.
And when she crossed her arms in a very Zey-like way … Ezer saw claws, where her fingertips once were.
She had completely changed.
‘You’re still alive,’ Ezer whispered.
Zey smiled, and those were fangs in her mouth. Fear rushed through Ezer, even as Zey stood twenty paces away.
She knew the darksoul could kill her in a breath if she wished it.
‘I’ll admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you.’
‘To make it here?’ Ezer asked.
Zey chuckled. ‘All this time you pretended to be lost, to be a fledgling … and it turns out you weren’t Unconsecrated, after all. You are his. The Princess of Shadows.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Ezer spat. ‘Have you come to kill me?’
‘Quite the opposite. I’ve come to offer you a final chance at life.’ Zey looked pointedly at her cloak. ‘No sense hiding it anymore, Wolf Bait. Let’s see it.’
With trembling hands, Ezer reached for the small black book in her inner pocket. She held it out, wincing as she imagined Zey’s claws reaching for it.
But the darksoul didn’t move. ‘It’s not for me. The Shadow Tome became yours the day you picked it up.’ She smiled with her fangs. ‘Open it.’
‘Why?’ Ezer asked.
Zey rolled her dark eyes. ‘Because every part of me wants to rip out your throat. But as you are still on the precipice of being redeemed –’ she clacked her dark claws against one another – ‘I cannot kill you yet. Open the Tome. Read it. Before it’s too late.’
She turned to go.
‘Wait,’ Ezer said.
Zey paused and glanced over a shoulder.
‘Six,’ Ezer whispered. She could barely ask the question. ‘Is she …’
‘Safe,’ Zey said. Relief flooded Ezer’s chest, until Zey said, ‘But I cannot promise you for how long.’
She sat in the darkness for hours after Zey left. She knew that outside, the Long Day was still here, if only for the fact that the war had not resumed. She would have felt the rumble in the stones.
Beyond that, it was impossible to tell when it was. As if the darkness had stolen all semblance of time away.
Had the gods turned their eyes to this realm?
Had they granted their godsblessing?
Whatever it was …
The king himself had warned Kinlear that he needed to be home before the blessing was granted.
Read the Tome, Zey had said. Before it’s too late.
She didn’t want to. Everything she’d been told was to turn away from the darkness, to deny the Acolyte, to walk with the Five. And on the other side, she’d seen that darkness in full. She’d seen Kinlear, a man she’d thought loved her … completely abandon her.
She was a fool to believe in him.
He’d left her for dead. Just as Erath had done to Styerra.
But why?
Why would anyone …
The wind suddenly gusted through the cell, and she knew it was her mother’s doing. It fluttered past her, flicking open the pages of the Shadow Tome.
And when Ezer looked down … she saw the symbols.
The ones she’d seen in the entrance to this domain.
She slammed the book shut.
‘Stop it,’ she hissed to Styerra. ‘I thought you were gone.’
The wind rustled past her again, flicking open the pages.
‘I said stop.’
But her eyes went to the symbols … and she paused.
What sort of book could be powerful enough to get someone to lay down their own religion, to step aside from everything they’d ever known and believed in … and choose to follow the Acolyte instead?
Even if it led to death.
Even if it led to a journey across the Expanse, cold and alone and uncertain of what they’d even find on the other side.
‘One page,’ Ezer whispered.
The wind circled her in a cold embrace as she looked at the symbols.
And began to read.
At first, there was only One.
The One created time and space and a string of realms twelve in number, upon which were breathed the very first signs of life.
The pillars of magic: wind, fire, air, realm, and the Ehver.
The One reigned over all in peace.
But as time wore on, peace became lonely. So, with a great burst of power, the One called upon each pillar of its creation to breathe new life.
And soon were born the Five.
They were given control over the twelve realms, so long as they kept a single vow:
They would bow to the One for eternity.
For a time, all was as it should be. The One ruled, and the Five obeyed.
But soon, the Five began to grow wary of the One. All creation sang the One’s praises, even their own pillars of magic.
The Five longed for adoration, too.
A root of bitterness sprang up in them … and with it, they devised a plan to turn the One into the None.
Together, they gathered their power and created a new realm.
A thirteenth: a place of chaos instead of pillared balance, which they fashioned into a mighty cage.
They fooled the One into going inside … and sealed shut the door.
Without the One, the Five realized that they, too, needed worshipers, and so they gave of themselves to create something new entirely:
Humanity.
Lesser beings, weak and insignificant and meant only to serve the Five for all their days.
But the Five soon learned that humanity was restless, and even when the Five walked among them, Humanity complained. Humanity groaned.
Humanity was never satisfied with what the Five gave them, always hungering for more.
Over time, Humanity began to worship itself instead. They bowed to the strongest, the prettiest, the boldest.
And when they did, their belief in the Five waned.
And so did the power that the Five claimed, their hold on the Thirteenth realm beginning to waver, until a crack formed in the cage they had created.
A hairline fracture, just enough for the Five to fear the One’s ultimate return.
‘We need to make Humanity worship us again,’ the Five said. ‘We need to make them believe in us, fear us, so they will never forget about what power we hold over them.’
So the Five gave a kernel of magic to Humanity. They chose the ones most pliable. The ones they were most capable of controlling, so that their hearts and their minds would never turn away from the Five.
And they called them the Sacred.
Each one was given a pillar of magic to wield, and a vow to keep.
It came as a book of laws, a thousand strong. A single day of Absolution, to show the Five’s grace. And should the Sacred obey …
Then someday they could join the Five in the Ehver and live in glory for the rest of their days.
‘A prayer for a bit of power,’ the Five promised the Sacred. ‘So long as your heart remains pure and true.’
And the Sacred, loyal to their bones, obeyed.
Each time they wielded, their strength waned – a failsafe, created by the Five, to ensure that Humanity still knew who was in charge.
Each time they wielded, the Sacred proved to Humanity just how powerful the Five were. Each time someone saw and believed, the Five kept their strength.
And the Thirteenth Realm remained a cage.
It existed like that for eons.
The Sacred had more Sacred, and they obeyed the book of laws, and all was good and well.
Until one day, when a Sacred child heard a whisper on the wind.
Her name was Wrenwyn, and she awoke by night, swearing she heard someone cry out for help.
For revenge.
For freedom.
Night after night, the One whispered on the wind, and Wrenwyn listened.
‘I hear the call,’ Wrenwyn told that whisper. She turned her eyes north and made a promise: ‘I’m coming.’