Chapter Eighteen
KAEL
The group has been waiting a while in the cleft between the mountains. Therion, ever alert, watches as I squeeze through the fissure from the mines.
I look away, but I won’t be able to avoid him for long—I know we’ll be having a conversation about whatever changes he can sense on me.
“Is that everyone?” Merrik asks, looking less irritated now that he’s back on ground level. “Did you find anything?”
“One more,” I say, and gesture back to the opening where Death’s hulking frame breaks through the fissure, rock and debris crumbling as his broad shoulders push through. “Everyone—meet Morrathys, God of Death and Order.”
Gasps cut through the air.
Seren bows her head graciously, having already been through the formalities. But the others? They drop to their knees and bow their heads low, and through the scrambling chaos, I hear Jax curse the Stars themselves.
Ronyn pops his head up, eyes of adoration fixed on Death. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Big fan.”
I hold my breath, but Death looks to me, “This is the archer you were telling me about?”
“Hard to miss, isn’t he?” I say.
“He knows me! Everyone, God of Death knows me!” Ronyn tries to whisper, though it comes out loud, as always.
“Pleased to meet you. Morrathys,” Death replies, despite needing no introduction at all, and grips Ronyn’s arm in a warrior’s embrace.
“Not to be fucking rude—”
“Everything you say is rude, Jaxxy,” Merrik says, cutting her off. “I think what she was about to ask was: would you mind sharing the details of whatever happened down there?”
Jax grumbles, but no one pays her any mind.
“Get Rubi and Daelen—I’ll explain it when we’re all here,” I say, and the ground rumbles beneath my feet.
A tremor rips through the pass.
Rocks break free of the mountain, tumbling down in a cascade of jagged edges. Jax’s hands go up on instinct, throwing out a Nullveil barrier to protect us from the falling shards.
“What in the fucking Stars is happening?” she yells, eyes darting around the pass to make sense of it.
The ground moves again, quaking and rippling as if the world itself is splitting apart.
My boots skid across loose gravel.
Everyone’s weapons are drawn, waiting for the threat to appear.
Sharp edges ricochet off the Nullveil, and that’s when I feel it—
A steady hum that possesses the air. A buzz that ignites my senses, and commands the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention.
Therion eyes me with knowing.
We both know what’s coming.
“Where are Rubi and Daelen?” Seren screams, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective embrace.
“If this is what I think it is, they should be safe where they are!” I yell through the torrent of rocks.
The night splits open with light—not soft like Starlight, but burning gold, searing through shadow.
A Gateway of Threads yawns open into a gleaming portal.
“Mavyrn,” Therion murmurs, and the brusque woman walks through the Gateway as if she didn’t just rain an avalanche of razor-edged shards down on us.
“The old bat? Kinda missed her—she was a good time,” Ronyn says sincerely.
The rumbling settles, and Jax retracts the Nullveil.
“What are you doing here?” Therion snaps, indignant.
“Nehvara warned me this was coming,” she bites back, stalking towards us, the heavy fabric of her skirts dragging across the ground behind her.
“I knew you’d walk this path, but you’re ill-equipped to handle it.
How in the Stars did you plan on getting out of Kryntar?
Boys and their idiotic plans!” she scoffs with disdain.
“And he,” she spits, pointing at Death, “just puts a bigger target on your back.”
Nehvara? How the fuck does she know Nehvara?
“I agree,” Jax concurs, folding her arms across her chest, smug as sin.
“I actually think that might be the first time I’ve ever heard you agree… with anything,” Ronyn quips with a sly smirk on his face.
“Ronie!” Seren admonishes.
“And I agree with Ronyn about Jax never agreeing with anything,” Daelen calls from behind us, Rubi slumped in his arms.
“Rubi!” Therion rasps, panic slicing through his words. “What happened?”
“She slept through the whole thing. Think she knocked herself out with brask,” Daelen answers.
Therion lets out an exhausted sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How the fuck are we related?” He exhales, the question more to himself than anyone else.
Rubi creaks one eye open, and raising an arm, she drags a sloppy hand down Therion’s cheek, “Why so serious, Teddy? I’m here for a good time, not a long time. You need to loosen up.” Her hand trails down his chest, before hiccuping and curling back into Daelen’s chest.
Mavyrn’s beady eyes drag across us, sharp and critical. Her bedraggled gray hair hangs across her shoulders like it hasn’t been brushed… ever.
“So, this is the unit tasked with reclaiming The Lightborne and breaking Maldrak’s spell?
” Mavyrn presses, incredulous. “And you think you can do this without your magic? Foolish child,” she stares me down, poking a crooked finger in my face, the tarnished silver ring on her finger glinting in the moonlight.
Fuck.
All eyes shoot to me, save for Therion. He tips his head back, looking to the Stars for answers.
“Gods, son. You have done more stupid things in the last few weeks than your entire life combined,” Merrik chastises. “Explain,” he demands.
“No explanation could justify this, Kael,” Jax snaps.
“Mind your tongues,” I snap icily. “We cut a deal.”
Mavyrn shakes her head in admonishment, like I’m still the same young child for her to lecture.
“We can’t kill Maldrak until we’ve broken the curse on the Marked. The spell Maldrak used must be reversed—only then can we cull him.”
Therion lets out a furious growl.
“So, how does this explain your magic, or rather, your lack thereof?” he snaps, voice cutting.
I don’t like being challenged. Not even by my General.
“Morrathys will help us rescue Elyssara and reverse the spell, but he’s weak—Maldrak drains his power every day. I gave him my magic so we could see this through,” I say curtly, not interested in a discussion.
The air thickens.
Tension palpable.
They don’t like this.
But whether they like it or not is none of my concern. I’m not here to manage feelings, I’m here to win, and take back what’s mine.
I want my woman, my war and my throne, and I’ll meet the Final Gate before I back down.
“And Maldrak’s fate is mine,” Morrathys’ voice rumbles through the group. “No one touches him. He deserves eternal suffering in the echo-plane.”
The silence is deafening, everyone holding their breath.
Slow nods of understanding move through the others.
Understanding of why.
We’re all warriors—we’d demand the same fate, too, if we’d been trapped in an echo-plane of endless suffering for a decade.
But Ronyn slices through the silence with a welcome reprieve.
“Magic is overrated, anyway. Kael with two god metal swords is better than most Starborn—no offense,” he says to Therion. “I do just fine with my bow.” He pats his quiver affectionately.
“We need a plan,” Seren says, ignoring Ronyn.
But I’ve been planning since the Gateway of Threads closed behind Elyssara.
“I already have one,” I announce.
Therion huffs a sharp breath, agitated. “I’m fucking General of War, Kael. Let me help.”
But I can’t.
Not after Zak. Rhyven. Torvyn.
Not after everything.
So I push past his hurt.
“We infiltrate under a Shadowweave cloak, and find The Shield’s Apprentice. Nalya said we need to find him—he’s on the inside. He’s one of ours,” I say, speaking of the rebels we command across Aevryn. “From there, we cull everything that stands between us and my woman.”
My woman.
My Starbound.
My love.
“We’ve tried a Shadowweave cloak before, Kael,” Therion argues.
But he’s wrong. This isn’t the same repeated plan. Because this is the first time my Starbound is on the inside.
“It’s different this time,” I say, curling my mouth into a snarl. “Maldrak has always known when we’re coming. The Decay tips him off, or the watch towers, the outposts. But this time… we have her,” I say, tipping my chin towards Mavyrn. “She can place us within the castle walls.”
Jax sucks her teeth, shaking her head like she already hates this plan. “Even if that’s true, Kael, Maldrak always has at least one hundred guards posted around the castle. How will we get through?”
My restraint snaps.
“I don’t fucking care! We cut through them—Ronyn takes the high ground, Morrathys uses my shadows, it frees me to wield both swords.
There’s more at stake than ever. This is the best chance we’ve ever had, and I’m not backing down.
So if you’re not with me, stay in the Belt.
I won’t make you fight. But I’ll ask you to. ”
I suck in ragged, jarring breaths.
Staring each of them down with a vicious glare. One born of desperation.
“I’m with you, brother,” Ronyn announces, nodding with unfaltering loyalty.
“It’s a fool’s mission, but I’m obviously coming,” Jax huffs, averting her gaze.
“You fucking know I’m with you,” Therion grunts, hurt still heavy in his tone.
Everyone nods.
They know the risks.
They know how slim the chances are.
And they’re with me.
My chest tightens.
They’re fucking with me. All of them.
“Leave the horses, and get ready to travel by Gateway,” Mavyrn says without fuss. “I’ll bring us back here once we have Elyssara.”
“Don’t you need something from the place?” Seren asks. “Do you have something from Kryntar?”
Mavyrn grabs me by the shoulder, and plucks a hair from my head. “Him,” she says, gesturing her head towards me.
“Where will you open the Gateway?” Seren presses, hungry for details, for a thorough plan.
The old woman’s mouth lifts into a cunning smile.
“Don’t you worry about a thing—I know my way around Kryntar Castle,” she croons, and the ground begins to rumble, vibrating up through my ribs. The electric buzz of magic fills the pass.
Before us, a Gateway of Threads rips the world apart.