CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EMMERY
The Sacred Lands remained exactly how Emmery remembered them. Lavender-coloured magic clouded the air like smog, an eerie quiet dominated the space, the bioluminescent glow of purples, blues, and greens lit the darkness, and black trees lined the winding path.
Destonne and Brennen walked beside her. Together, the trio carried nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Destonne was dressed as he was that day in Malheim, all in black, hood drawn to hide his crown, and thick garments meant for travel underneath.
Emmery wore similar attire, less her green cloak which she’d left behind at Blackdawn Castle.
She wouldn’t risk ruining it, so she’d donned a plain grey.
Without her dagger and ring, she felt naked. Periodically, she clutched Destonne’s crystal which still hung around her neck and willed it to guide her somehow.
The hollow in her collarbone where Aera usually snuggled was cold as they encountered a fork in the path and took an opposite route from the one Vesper and her had taken all those months ago.
It wasn’t long before the trail ended, the overgrown foliage parted, and a body of water appeared in a small clearing.
The trees circled the area in an unyielding cage.
It certainly didn’t help Emmery as she stared into the pool the same black lifeless hue as the Whispering Spring.
Her pulse thrummed in her throat and her ability to swallow, to move, to do anything, was forgotten.
She placed her hand on the barrier, the last remaining thing that kept her safe from that dark abyss.
“Are we—” She swallowed hard. “Do we really have to swim in there?”
“I’m afraid so,” Destonne said as his arm brushed hers. Was that his version of silent support? And why did she want to lean into it? “You alright?”
Emmery nodded and dug her nails into the barrier as she choked back her fear. There was no place for it here. “I don’t have my dagger to draw blood.”
Destonne twisted his mouth to the side and extended a hand.
She stared at it. Hesitance swam in her gut, but Emmery let her hand rest in his anyway. He lowered his head and pricked her finger on one of his thorns until a tiny trickle of blood appeared. At her slight wince, he released her, and mouthed a silent, “Sorry.”
But her hand remained outstretched, lingering in the air between them. For some insane reason, she hadn’t wanted him to let go.
Emmery dabbed the blood between her fingers and slammed her eyes shut. She searched until she found that familiar place in her mind where the barrier lived. And with a rush of breath, she released her khaos flame.
The gold swept out in a torrent of impatient fury, licking up the barrier, devouring it, spitting out ash like the bones of its enemy.
The extra dose of magic from when she relit the khaos flame gave her fire that much more power.
She’d seen it, too, in the tiny fraction of time it took to destroy that Hollowhound a few nights ago.
As her magic easily destroyed the barrier, a little voice in her head reminded her she was dangerous.
But she was also strong. She was fierce and powerful and she would make the Hollow bow at her feet. Then kiss her boots and beg for mercy.
Emmery’s exhale scattered the ash into the air, the only remaining evidence of the barrier. The black water glared back at her.
As they stood at the edge, her legs wouldn’t move. This wasn’t like the pond. This was entirely different, and a whole lot scarier. She couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t see the bottom, or a current, and the moment she descended into it, she would be blind to any danger.
Her gaze slid to Destonne. He appeared as hesitant as her and studied the water like it contained those flesh-eating fish he’d teased about.
When he noticed her stare, he turned to her and caught his crystal between two of his fingers.
“Keep this safe. You did promise you would look after it for me. I’m holding you to that, angel. ” He dropped the crystal.
Emmery tucked it under her tunic where it sat icily between her breasts. “I’ll do my best."
“Should we count down?” Brennen asked. He dipped his head to peer into the water.
The three of them teetered on the edge of the shadowy body that resembled a starless night somehow, but certainly not in a comforting way since there was no bottom in sight. No direction or translucency offered. Just the promise of death whispered in pure, inky darkness.
“On three. Count it, Bren,” Destonne said. His attention darted between the determined set of Brennen’s face, and Emmery, who was desperate to rein in her terror and tie it down. Gods forbid she let her fears run rampant.
“One.”
She couldn’t breathe.
“Two.”
Oh, fuck. What had she agreed to?
Fool. She was a fool.
Emmery startled as Destonne’s finger grazed the side of her hand in a silent question, and she glanced up to find him studying her. His brows creased with worry, but the certainty in his eyes steadied her. As if to repeat his words from all those weeks ago, I will never let you drown.
Their stares collided in opposite forces of black and gold. Emmery twined her fingers with his, and her fear vanished.
Because she believed him. She knew he would keep his word.
When right and wrong fail, the truth does not falter. And her truth now, whether it was right or wrong, warranted or undeserved, light or shadow, brave or cowardly, it wormed its way inside her.
She trusted Destonne O’Daire and, gods help her, despite all of his shortcomings and unending frustrations, they were friends.
Brennen’s final word echoed in her head. “Three.”
There was no going back.
They jumped into the obsidian water and it opened to swallow them as they sank within its depths.