Chapter 11 Jane #3
Glade blinked at me for just a moment before replying, “You noticed.” A hint of admiration laced his every word.
“Dragons and humans have been interacting for as long as we’ve inhabited this planet.
Somewhere along the way, they picked up our language.
Now, if only I could speak hers.” He nestled his cheek against Mir’s, and she leaned into him.
“They are wonderful companions. Mir and I have known each other my whole life. I had a lot more free time on my hands than Jion did—you know, the spare life,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
“I explored almost every nook and cranny of the kingdom.”
Mir closed her eyes, a contented rumble emanating from her throat as if she, too, was recalling their shared adventures.
Glade continued, “One day, when I was still quite small, I was incredibly bored, so I hiked up here, curious about what I would find. That’s when I discovered her. She was as big as she is now, but she didn’t frighten me. She treated me like a baby.” He giggled, and Mir nodded in agreement.
“You were a baby,” I chimed in with a playful smirk. I lifted my eyebrows as high as I could. “Perhaps you still are.”
“Good one, Princess,” Glade snapped back, though he chuckled at my jest.
Mir’s purring transformed into a series of quick, joyful bursts, as if she were imitating the sound of a human’s giggle. Did the dragon just laugh at my joke?
Glade stroked the spikes atop Mir’s head.
“We’ve been close ever since. I come up here a few times a week and bring her extra meat from the castle.
It’s pointless, though; she’s a far better hunter than we could ever hope to be.
Really, she should be the one feeding me!
” He pushed her snout, as one might do with a dog, prompting her to retaliate with a mild nudge that nearly knocked him over. “You silly old girl.”
“Well, I’m very jealous, Glade. You might just have the coolest pet in the universe,” I declared, expecting more laughter.
To my dismay, both Glade and Mir ceased their games and instead shifted to glare at me.
“Mir is not a pet,” he stated firmly, his jaw clenching as he stared me down. “She’s my friend.”
Mir huffed out a plume of smoke in a show of indignation.
My heart sank. Oh God, what have I said?
Turning to Mir, my voice laden with sincerity, I said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Glade exchanged a knowing glance with Mir. “Earthlings,” he drawled with a hint of mockery, “think they can own everything.”
Mir puffed in agreement.
“And what do you know about Earthlings?” I hissed as irritation rose within me. My nostrils flared, and my lips pursed.
Glade’s jaw ground together, his demeanour hardening as he said, “Enough to know they are vile and loathsome.” His eye twitched, and Mir’s head swung back and forth between us, monitoring the escalating tension.
How could he make such an over-generalization about an entire planet? About the people I loved? Raw and unrestrictive fury bubbled up within me.
“You know nothing about Earth or its people!” I shouted, shoving my finger into his chest.
Mir jerked her head upwards, snorting loudly through her nostrils. With a swift movement, she stood on all fours and stretched her powerful limbs. In a flash, the dragon galloped away, as if she were fleeing.
Glade’s lips curled into a snarl. “I know that Amantius took away Earth’s ability to harness Source Light a long, long time ago.” He raised his forefinger to his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. “Now, why would that be, Jane? Why would Amantius deem Earthlings unworthy of her light? Hmmm…”
“That is unfair. Humans haven’t been able to harness Source Light for thousands of years. You can’t possibly believe that an entire civilization is unworthy of Amantius’ power! That’s eight billion people you’re speaking of!” I retorted, though a small part of me grappled with the unbearable truth.
I understood all too well why Earth had been deemed unworthy of harnessing Source Light.
Violence and destruction marred the planet, but daily acts of kindness endured.
Amid the wretched were also the remarkable.
The truth was far more complex than black and white. It existed in myriad shades of grey.
“They are heinous beings who slaughter and torture one another! The whole lot of them are disgusting and despicable!” He jabbed a finger in front of my face as the veins in his neck bulged.
My mouth formed a hard line as I swallowed deeply. “How can you say that about my people, Glade? You sound just like your father!”
Glade’s expression shifted to bewilderment as he glanced around, arms stretched wide as if embracing the enormity of his declaration. “They are not your people, Jane! Your people are dead!”
As soon as the comment left Glade’s mouth, regret flashed across his face. But knowing that he felt remorse didn’t dull the sting of his words.
I flinched, stepping back as if I had been struck. Though my body bore no physical wounds, my spirit felt irrevocably fractured.
Eyes squeezed shut, I blocked out the world beyond me.
My lips pressed tightly together, a silent promise not to utter another word.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to quell the anxiety rising within me.
Forcing myself to turn to Mir, I mumbled that it was lovely to meet her before I pivoted and retraced my steps down the path.
I was done. I had no desire to be near this ignorant bastard any longer. It was my own fault for allowing Glade to lead me here in the first place.
“Jane!” he called after me, but I pressed on, ignoring his desperate pleas.
Did I know this mountain and forest like the back of my hand? No. But I would find my way back to the castle without his help.
Normally, my reaction to confrontation would be to explode with passion, to lash out and protect myself fiercely. But today, I felt too exhausted.
Too exhausted to fight.
Too exhausted to think.
The kidnapping, the altercation with the king, the assassination attempt on my life, my failure to harness Source Light—it had all become too much. My body and mind felt weak, and all I wanted was to lie down and sleep forever.
Before long, I had already made my way through the forest.
See? I can do it all by my—
Twigs and leaves crunched beneath my feet, and the ground gave way. A gaping void opened, swallowing me whole.
A scream erupted from my lungs as I plummeted twenty feet through the brush, landing hard below on solid, frigid Earth.
Snaps resonated through the darkness. Blinding pain shot through my left arm, my left leg, and my pelvis, radiating agony that obliterated all other thoughts. I cried out, rolling to my other side to escape the pressure on my broken bones.
Through the foggy haze of suffering, I tried my best to focus on my surroundings.
Daylight seeped into the pit via the gaping hole above, revealing a manufactured tunnel stretched before me, its walls lined with lanterns patiently waiting for their next spark of light.
A rope ladder clung to the wall, reaching toward the foliage where the ground had once been.
“Jane!” I heard Glade’s urgent call ring in the distance.
Relief surged through me. Did he follow me? It didn’t matter. He was here now.
“Glade!” I whimpered through trembling sobs. “Help!”
The leaves above rustled as he pushed through the underbrush, and soon his face appeared over the edge of the pit, wide-eyed and shaken.
“Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed.
“There’s a ladder!” I shouted, hopelessness and pain fuelling my words as I fought to ignore the searing torture plaguing my left side. “Right there, on the wall!”
After what felt like an eternity, Glade carefully, but urgently, descended the ladder. He knelt beside me as he examined my injuries. Each touch of his hands sent fresh waves of agony coursing through me, and I fought the urge to cry out, wishing I could simply black out from the pain.
“Glade,” I managed to murmur through gritted teeth, “there are lanterns.”
“What?”
“Lanterns. There. On the walls.” I struggled to point, using my good arm to direct his attention.
Glade turned his head and exclaimed, “What the…” He jumped to his feet and rushed over to the lanterns lining the tunnel’s walls. He brushed one, and a soft golden glow erupted from his hand, filling the darkened space.
As the tunnel illuminated, I glanced past him and noticed unusual markings etched into the stone archway. Filling with dread, I recognized the same symbol that had been branded on the Tenebrae’s forehead.
Glade caught sight of it too and staggered back. He opened his mouth but couldn’t form any thought. All he could mutter were two simple words.
“Holy shit.”